#which freed terrible monsters in yet another reality

[theskeletonatthewritersblock]

When Catha nearly dies after an attempt on their life, they wake to the loss of sight in their left eye, and the ability to see into the oceans of Tathos, of the Seraphina galaxy, which is contained in a reality separate from their own.

Vicen falls at the hands of a rival Sea Master, but when he rises it is with sights on a city known as Palmoa, located on a world not light years away, but time lines.

Together Catha and Vicen, bound by a tether stronger then the laws of reality, must aid in their separate struggles to seek revenge on their killers, and stop a gate from opening that may see the ultimate destruction of both of their worlds.

[linkspooky]

What did you think about Rize’s journey from Tokyo Ghoul?

She doesn’t really have one? Rize is a character who doesn’t change from start to finish, and she’s never really written from her own perspective. She never really gets to be the protagonist of her own tragedy, or have her circumstances explored, she dies at the end a sacrifice to Kaneki’s story. There is a personality in Rize buried deep down. You can see her as yet another of the broken children produced by the garden each of them unfixable in their own little ways. She parallels characters like Furuta, Arima, and Hairu. 

The common thread she has with all three of them is that each of them are trying to cope with a trauma that really can’t be coped with. There was no good or healthy way to adjust to the trauma of the garden. Instead of coping, Hairu, Furuta and Arima just don’t. 

The amount of trauma from the garden would break them if they ever truly tried to process it all. They just can’t. A child should never be expected to cope with those circumstances. The result is all of the garden kids are permanently warped and violent in their dysfunction. They are in a state of permanent lashing out. 

This is something everybody from the garden does. To run away from their tragedy they indulge themselves in violence. Hairu lives for the sake of getting praised, so she slaughters ghouls en masse. She pretends she is loved by Arima and that her life has a purpose in killing ghouls rather than face the reality she is a child soldider to be used and disposed of. 

The thought of getting a chance to exterminate everything brings a smile to Hairu’s face. It’s tragic that she thinks this is the only way she can ever truly be loved, but it’s also a learned sociopathy. She doesn’t care about the lives of others. 

Almost every garden child does this. They trample over the lives of others recklessly, because they know their own lives do not have any value. Even Arima who wants to value life and thinks that murder is an absolute evil, still... murders a whole bunch of people because he doesn’t see any alternative to himself. 

The crux of the garden children is that they all become what they were raised to function as a little too well. Furuta is far better at being the heir to the Washuu household than Matsuri, and runs the CCG way better than any of the previous Washuu did and ramps up the killing, and the iron fisted control because those are the circumstances he grew up under his whole life. Arima was raised as a tool, so everything he does he acts like he’s merely a passive, helpess tool who can only obey orders. Even in his rebellion he just changes who’s orders he’s obeying and becomes Eto’s tool instead. Hairu was raised to believe she had to kill in order to survive, and receive any kind of love and security, so she does that. 

We finally reach Rize. Rize is not a person. Rize has like, personality traits, and ideas that float around her, however they never really connect into a whole person. Rize was meant to be a womb to carry children and nothing else, and when she escaped she just became a ghoul that eats in order to live. On the inside of the garden, and on the outside of the garden, Rize was never a person so as a result she embraces her ghoulness as a substitute to any real identity. The same way Arima is a tool, Hairu is a child soldier, Furuta is a Washuu, Rize embraces her role as a monster. 

She is who she is in rebellion of who she was raised to be. She is also permanently broken because of who she was raised to be. These ideas exist in a crazy tension within her character that Rize never really reconciled which made her act even more inconsistently. 

You could even make it a foiling point between Rize and Kaneki. They both relate to the story of the black Goat, whereas Kaneki is the protagonist terrified of inheriting the violent instincts of his mother, Rize sees herself as the Black Goat. It’s just easier for her to be a remorseless murderer, because she doesn’t ever have to see herself as a victim that way. 

Rize rejects everything. Both her victimhood and her personhood. She just doesn’t want to deal when she can keep running away. 

Nobody around Rize really views her as a person, but Rize is actually more comfortable this way. She even plays it up a little bit. She’s observant enough to notice the expectations of others and plays to those in order to manipulate them. Rize knew that Kaneki was looking for a girl who understood him, so she pretended like they had so much in common and that she was intrigued in him. 

I’d say this behavior is much more than simple revenge against people’s expectations and perceptions of hers. I’d say that Rize by playing up this femme fatalle image denies her own personhood. Everything about her is a performance in order to lure people into her traps and eat them, therefore there’s no real Rize. There’s no girl. There’s only a spider trying to lure in flies. Rize cannot see herself as a person because that involves dealing with a lot of trauma so she just doesn’t. 

Rize doesn’t change over the course of the story, because she can’t change. Not really. She’s too busy running away from herself, and her past. However, we do at least see different perspectives of her filtered through several different people. The first one is obviously the shallow ones that Kaneki perceives as her. He sees her as a mother figure, incredibly interested in his development and journey as a ghoul, a symbol of his own strength. Kaneki’s perceptions of Rize are twofold, one that she’s some untouchable goddess and symbol of strength, and two that she’s really, really interested in his development. 

Banjou sees her as a free spirit, because Banjou himself is someone who has little control over her own life. He focuses on her fickleness and indecisiveness and the fact that she doesn’t care about others feelings at all as something to be admired because it’s total freedom that he can never have due to the fact that he is so weak and constantly living with his head down. 

However, none of those traits Rize has are good ones. She’s just a selfish little child coping poorly. There are reasons for her selfishness yes, and it’s sort of impossible to survive the garden without being seriously stunted as I elaborated above but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s no freedom in what Rize’s doing. She’s just lashing out wildly. She is as caught in the cycle of violence as everybody else. 

Renji sees her as a pure victim, and she’s reduced to this state by Kanou. Agencyless, and starving. Rize also becomes her most childish when perceived this way. She begs for her father to come save her, and is terrified of the dark. 

Furuta is someone who knew Rize before the trauma set in. Not only does he know exactly what happened to Rize, but also he’s the closest to knowing the child she used to be. That is also the problem however. Rize and Furuta suffer from the exact same trauma, and they both spend their lives avoiding their trauma. 

Literally no matter what, neither of them were ever going to be able to face each other as people. They both remind the other too strongly of the worst period of their lives. 

Furuta murders Rize, because she reminds him of the youngest and most vulnerable time in his life. Rize is also a mass murderer who kills people in order to avoid feeling her trauma because she would rather feel like a powerful ghoul than a vulnerable little girl. Furuta’s actions are inexcusable. Rize’s actions are inexcusable. Both are informed by trauma. It’s not even gray really, it’s black, on black. 

Furuta can’t recall a perfect image of Rize from his childhood, because she represents everything good about the kid he used to be, and also everything terrible about the environment he grew up in. It’s likely the same for Rize as well. She can’t face Furuta because that means facing the garden. No she doesn’t owe Furuta anything for saving her. What I mean is, Rize can’t like. Remember. Any of her memories from the garden. Good or bad. It’s not just Furuta, Rize also can’t have friends, or positive relationships in general. The two people who have helped Rize in some way in life, Furuta who freed her, and Shachi who raised her as a father she basically doesn’t care about either of them.  Because she is too busy running away from all of them. That’s why I say Rize is unfixable, even when people show her love, or selflessness she’s just incapable of receiving it. Rize associates Furuta with the garden. Furuta associates Rize with the garden. Rize’s spent her whole life trying to run away from the garden, so she just feels nothing about Furuta either way. Furuta has spent his whole life trying to destroy both the garden and himself, so he desotrys Rize. It’s kind of impossible not too because they were both raised so close in such equally horrible circumstances. 

Shachi sees Rize as a daughter figure but once again, Rize played the role of daughter for awhile and then got bored of it and left. It’s impossible for Rize to feel truly content, or even accept love because she’s always presenting a fake version of herself to avoid any and all actual emotional vulnerability. Rize basically sees herself in every interaction as a monster pretending to be human, and she does her very best to keep acting that way, but because of that she can never know closeness, and is always disatisfied. She’s incapable of relating to anyone. And this is once again, a foiling thing with Furuta. They are two people who are both constantly wearing masks and pretending to be monsters because they can never return to being the vulnerable children they once were. 

Furuta’s last memory of Rize is when they’re both children again, and the firendship between them was genuine. While yes Furuta projects a lot on Rize, there’s also something genuine about his reassurance to her here. 

What they both wanted was to be able to grow up and get older. However, growing up for Rize meant horrible things would be done to her by the Washuu. Growing up for Furuta meant he would become just like the Washuu that hurt Rize. 

Neither of them ever had a future to begin with. Neither of them were ever going to grow up. The tragedy of the manga belongs to Furuta and Rize because they were both children born in this world only to die. Rize never grows up, not really, but also she wasn’t ever meant to grow up. 

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Eridians, Sirens, and the great Destroyer

The Eridian empire was vast, timeless, and completely insular. Their species had watched hundreds of others crawl out of backwater planets over the eons and race headfirst into extinction shortly after, so hairy little pink monkey bipeds that made irritating noises and had gross soft bodies didn’t exactly hold much interest for them. 

Their only real interactions with the system’s humans were with the Siren hosts who were drawn to Nekrotafeyo over time, women who’s energy hummed in the same melodic frequency the Eridians used to communicate, and they would have been more than happy to keep it that way.

Incredibly technologically advanced and so long lived that they would seem immortal to lesser species, they were completely unchallenged in their total dominance of the Galaxy... and still would be if they hadn’t fucked up so badly. 

Big ol’ lore post under the cut, baybeeee:

Siren Song = They just vibin, man. 

It's the constant, endless sound the great powers make. They are alone in that place of other, floating through the endless dark of eternity, so it's not a form of communication or an attempt to reach out - it just is. It just exists in the same way the Siren entities always have and always will.  Maybe they aren't even making noise and the song is just how human brains translate the information they are taking in? Who knows. Not really any of our business anyway.

It reverbs through everything linked to them, so eridium, Siren hosts, Eridian architecture and ruins? They all sing, it's just that most can't hear it.

Pandorans can over time because they live so close to the greatest reservoir of eridium that exists, and it is screaming under their feet. The problem is that once you start hearing it? Well, you can’t really go back.

All Siren hosts are drawn to Pandora not because of what their brain tells them, not cause they want riches, or to make a name for themselves, or to be a Vault Hunter, they are drawn there because it feels like home. Somewhere in the back of their minds, in a part of their brain they can’t access, the song is still singing.

Eridians = Ancient insectoid race of space farers. Cool guys. Really good at poker, terrible at charades.

Through a mix of technology and natural affinity to the great Sirens, developed premonition (future thread sight) and warp travel (colonised a huge amount of planets). Communicated through a chittering song on a frequency inaudible to humans. 

It was similar enough to the hum Siren host’s emanate that they tolerated the women’s confused pilgrimages to their home planet, drawn by the melodic lure of the eridium and the Eridians themselves.

Eridium = Crystallised Siren-Entity energy from their plane. Purple. Sings if you know how to listen to it, tastes like fried pickles.

The Eridians naturally as a species were able to tap into the great power's plane and siphon energy from it, which fueled their entire civilisation. The great Siren Entities did not give a shit about this, they don't about anything in general, it was infinitely replaceable and in no way harmful to them for the Eridians to extract. They wouldn't even notice, really. They don't exist on the same cosmic fuckin' reality anyway.

Eridium sings in resonance with the entities’ song, it's part of them in a very roundabout way, and that’s why Siren hosts can consume it to boost their Siren’s manifested powers.

Destroyer =  The great Eridian fuckup. Don’t blame it though, it would rather just go home.

When your species has developed premonition that’s almost entirely accurate bar when trying to predict Siren power touched outcomes, it’s easy to get overconfident. If everything always works out in your favor, risks feel less dangerous, and holy fuck did these giant cricket dudes take a stupid risk.

Time made them greedy, and ego made them dumb. As their civilisation spread and power needs grew exponentially, they developed machinery to siphon eridium into physical crystals instead of using their own innate abilities, and eventually decided to open a direct link into the Siren Power’s realm. An umbilical that was meant to allow a constant flow of power and increase harvesting, but instead released something terrible... 

For real though it's only a lil guy. The “Great Destroyer” is just a parasite, a bug. Another being like the Siren entities that’s native to their plane except minute in comparative size and power. It's a gnat, a tiny flicker of life that harmlessly swam through the Siren song and consumed energy, till a group of insectoid arseholes ripped it out of it's own reality and into a very shitty one. 

It's confused and pissed, so it does what anyone would do in its position.

It starts eating.

Great extinction = Eridians have fucked up so badly they decide the best plan is to just mass kill themselves out of pure cringe so they won’t have to deal with being laughed at by shitty little monkey bipeds. 

The umbilical was designed to siphon from the Siren power’s plane, never to push something back. The Eridians understandably brick themselves as a race once the problem with this becomes rapidly apparent. The Destroyer is running rampant, consuming everything in its path and growing in size exponentially. Their weapons only seem to feed it more, and it’s being attracted to what it knows - eridium and the song it hums. The energy that fills their cities and resonates through their bodies is now a death sentence.

Their planets have been decimated, and the monster’s sights are set on Nektrotafeyo next. Cue Nyriad and her huge, sexy brain.

Siren hosts have always been attracted to Eridian planets. Their bodies reverberate with the same song despite the huge differences between the two species, just like the eridium that fills their cities. It’s an involuntary lure across the dark of space for women who already feel isolated and removed from their own planets.

Nyriad had been on Nekro for some time before The Destroyer was released - enjoying a friendly if mildly frustrating relationship with beings that saw her as a shitty little monkey biped who was slightly better than all the others because she had rad tats and made a noise they like.

It was her that raised the idea to GLUT this thing into naptime by feeding it the energy it was being drawn so desperately to, and to surround it with eridium after.

...but it was the Eridians who raised that the greatest concentration of that energy was within them.

Billions sacrificed themselves to the beast’s hunger, Nyriad crumbled under the of weight of so many deaths she felt truly responsible for, and it slipped into a great slumber.

Pandora is not a cage, it's a cradle. The Destroyer sleeps surrounded by the sensation of being where it belongs, no longer lost or afraid as it dreams from within the Siren’s song.

Eridians leave = Goodbye bugs, thanks for pretty much nothing.

There were plenty left after the great sacrifice, but they left the system not long after it was completed. 

Whether it was a “Ah fuck, sorry” response or they saw something horrific coming in the future is up to debate, but they left a long, long, long time ago. 

If they had seen something terrible on the horizon, then it either ended up not happening or they left the system a HELL of a lot of time before it was due to. Then again, they couldn't see Siren touched futures, or The Destroyer would never have been accidentally fished out of the nether.

Maybe they will come back some day, but it’s likely the only contact humanity will ever have with Eridian civilisation is through the ruins of what they left behind, and the constructed guardians that defend it so viciously.

The maddening = The great psychosis that ripped across Pandora and whispered insanity into the minds of those abandoned by the corporate wars.

29 years before Borderlands 3 starts, The Leech Siren entity is freed after millennia of rotting alone in a cell. Removed from the song, torn from the others,  half in and half out of the plane it should exit in, it's lost. It’s frightened, it's desperately lonely, and in its panic to find a host ends up split into two, torn between seperated bodies it never wanted in the first place.

Its song joins the chorus, and the sound is horrific. Broken, distorted notes, sharp and flat in all the wrong places, a cacophony of screeching voices and sounds impossible for human brains to comprehend. 

It rips across Pandora's hum like a distortion, and its madness locks into the minds of all those poor, innocent people who'd been around eridium long enough that they could hear the melody without even realising yet.

Pandora goes mad, Bandits screech of the great maw, the all-seeing eye, and Leda Calypso soothes her broken twins.

Phew. 

So, nutshell?

In my Leech Lord AU, all eridium screams in confused song - half The Leech's distortion, half the rest of the entity's melody.

Sirens are drawn to Pandora, not because of whatever reason their logical mind tells them, but because it’s the only place in the Universe with such a concentration of the energy that’s part of them - part of the great powers themselves.

Each Siren host hums with their own sound, Troy and Tyreen differently, like 2 parts of the same broken voice overlapping and crackling. 

When together, they harmonise... and that's why their streams are so deadly. 

That's why they skyrocketed to the level of intergalactic fame they did.

Like, Follow, and Obey.

...it's not the Twins who are saying it.

[jackdawyt]

Solas: “I walk the dinan’shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

Lord of Tricksters and He who Hunts alone, kin to His People. He who could walk on both sides of Gods without fear, they all trusted him, and all of them were betrayed. He told the Creators that a blade was forged in the heavens and the Forgotten Ones that it was hidden in the abyss, and when they went searching for it, he sealed them both in their realms forever, paying the ultimate price. He comes in humble guises but strikes those who are vulnerable, Thedas has never been in more peril than ever before, Fen'Harel will rise again.

Hey guys, Jackdaw here! Given the many revelations of Tevinter Nights, we have a lot of plot threads and teases hinting at what Solas may do next in his grand scheme to destroy the Veil and restore the Elven Kingdom. Indeed, the Dread Wolf has risen, and we’ve got a lot of theorising to do!  

So, with that said, I ask that you don your tinfoil hats, respectively, as we examine the Dread Wolf rising, and the next stages of Solas’s scheme that will inevitably destroy Thedas.  

Sandal: “When he rises, everyone will see!”  

Fen’Harel has risen as a beastly and ill-natured creature held from within, mantled in the disguise of an elven mage.  

Discovered in “Callback”, the final Fresco that Solas drafted out in Skyhold’s Rotunda before leaving the Inquisition, revealed an outline of a beast stood over a stabbed dragon; two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass with confused forms. The beast is shown to be a horrifying wolf, having absorbed the dragon’s power, stood crooked over all.

“The eighth and final panel of the fresco, meant to commemorate the battle against the blighted magister Corypheus, was unfinished. It showed only rough shapes, outlines that the mass of color crawling around the room now rushed to fill. And as detail and depth emerged, something was wrong.” (Callback, Page 121).

The depiction of the unfinished fresco relates to Solas’s embrace with Mythal at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition. For many years, we’ve been scratching our heads about this exchange between Mythal and Solas. Thanks to Tevinter Nights, and more aptly, Solas. We have the truth.  

“But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.” (Callback, Page 122).

This fresco uncovers that Solas absorbed an unknown quantity of Mythal’s power, with her essence he can rise as the Dread Wolf. For what purpose, we’ll discuss later. However, an essence of Mythal, somewhat lives on, as she seemingly placed a piece of herself into an eluivan before Solas took the majority of her power, in order to rise.  

Mythal: “It was only a piece, but that’s all I needed”.

I certainly don’t think that’s the end of Mythal. I believe quite the contrary, I think Solas’s scheme that has been set in motion was Mythal’s idea in the first place. Without her power, Solas wouldn’t be able to rise as the Dread Wolf. It’s only because of her immolation, he can rise! I think Mythal too will rise in the future, perhaps in another body.  

Regardless, the fact that Solas engraved rising as the Dread Wolf with Mythal’s power in Skyhold, before the orb broke, proves that Solas always intended on meeting Mythal, to take an aspect of her power.

Mythal’s sacrifice was never a backup plan to Solas, regardless of his orb’s destruction. Solas always planned on paying her a visit, with or without the orb, having the same intention of absorbing her power so he could rise.  

The orb would only fulfil one purpose, and that’s to rip a hole in the Veil. Whereas taking Mythal’s power had a different purpose – to prepare for Solas’s transformation into the Dread Wolf. And, so with that power now invested, the Dread Wolf has risen.  But only willingly on Mythal’s part.

Solas: “I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time…the world of the elves.”

With the orb’s destruction, Solas will be looking for a new way to destroy the Veil. Perhaps the Red Lyrium Idol is his backup attempt, and tracking down the Idol is his current quest, so he can successfully destroy the Veil with it, as intended.  

If that solves how Solas could destroy the Veil, then what’s Solas’s plan behind rising as the Dread Wolf? He’s not rising as the Dread Wolf to destroy the Veil, so, what is the Dread Wolf’s purpose?  

Perhaps Solas needs to rise as the malicious Dread Wolf so he can vengefully deal with the many hostile forces after the veil is destroyed.  

Although there will be plenty of opposition against Solas destroying the Veil, like the Executors, Qunari, Inquisition and so on. Nothing in Thedas today can equal what lies beyond the Veil, lingering in many places like the Void and the darkest depths of the Fade.  

Ancient beings, things left forgotten, and The Evanuris.  

Solas is rising as the Dread Wolf to slay his ultimate adversaries. The next protagonist may think that we fall among that category, but nothing can measure against the insane, wicked powers of those who dwell across the Veil, and will soon be released from their shackles if Solas succeeds, and destroys the barrier protecting Thedas against the Fade.  

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

Solas: “They killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

Mythal was murdered by her own people, the Evanuris, in their lust for power, they betrayed her. When the Veil is destroyed, Solas will rise as the Dread Wolf, seeking justice for Mythal’s murder, he will find and kill each member of the Elven Pantheon that wronged his queen. The deaths of the False Gods will bring forth a new elven empire ruling over Thedas, with Solas and Mythal at the top.

Flemeth: ”Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me and I will see her avenged!"

I believe that Mythal exchanged the majority of her power to Solas, so he could follow her scheme of vengeance/justice against the Evanuris. Through the ages, Mythal seeks her own reckoning against those who betrayed her, her one aim has always vengeance. With Solas waking from his long slumber, the two have since schemed an ending against the Pantheon. Solas, using Mythal’s power, and rising as the Dread Wolf will be the False God’s demise.  

Solas and Mythal will have their vengeance, and a new world for the Elven people. However, the Veil hasn’t been destroyed yet, and there’s still time to stop Solas from reaching that reality. The best lead on Solas’s plan regards the Red Lyrium Idol.  

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (TDWTY, Page 490).

“He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Red Lyrium Idol is still a mystery, and I say that with exasperated lungs, because I’ve talked about this blasted relic in every lore video I’ve created since The Dread Wolf Rises trailer back in 2018. Because of that, I’m going to rush through the details on this Idol.

It’s been described as: “a couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves”, or “a god mourning their sacrifice.” However, disregarding what it supposedly looks like, this idol belongs to Solas. It’s his, and he wants it back, he has a purpose for it.  

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.” (TDWTY, Page 496).

For what? Well, Red lyrium is known to thin the Veil, and this idol has magical properties too. It’d be a pretty good catalyst for the Veil’s destruction.  

Secondly, when the Idol was used in a blood and binding ritual, it revealed a most intriguing ritual blade, perhaps Solas wants or needs this blade. Could this be the blade to end all wars? Does he need it to finish his ritual? Or is it just a nice sharp dagger to cut Lavellan’s heart out again?  

“It was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern.” (TDWTY, page 495).

And my final reason for justifying Solas’s genocidal actions.... In “The Hunt of The Fell Wolf” codex, Ameridan killed a great canine beast with a mysterious ‘fade touched’ Idol. This Idol was the only thing that ‘could prove the monster’s doom.’

“The wounded knight in darkness

Found within the cavern's gloom

An idol of fade-touched stone,

Which could prove the monster's doom.”

(The Hunt of the Fell Wolf, Stanza 15)

Perhaps this Idol from Ameridan’s story is the very same Red Lyrium Idol, and Solas is looking for it because the Idol is one of the only things that can stop and kill Solas, just like the beast in the codex. So, if Solas finds the Idol before anyone else, he’s got full security over his own victory, and no one can stand against him.  

The Red Lyrium Idol belongs to him, perhaps it’s like a ‘Horcrux’, you destroy the Idol, you destroy an aspect of Solas? If that’s too far-fetched, then perhaps the Idol is just very strong with its magical properties, and Red Lyrium compound, and that’s what can defeat Solas. Or, potentially, the ritual blade released from the Idol is the ultimate blow against him? It’s really a matter of tinfoil at the moment.  

What’s unknown is the Idol’s location. Does Solas already possess the Idol? If not where is it? More apropos, who has it?  

This seemingly pre-veil artefact found in the Primeval Thaig by Hawke, which was then stolen by Varric’s Brother, Bartrand. And then sold to Knight Commander Meredith, who crafted it into a greatsword, that granted her, and the sword magically capabilities.   Apparently when Meredith went boom and almost destroyed half of Kirkwall, the sword made from the idol was also destroyed, however, the idol stayed with Meredith as she transformed into a red lyrium statue.   It lingered for a while, until the Carta extracted the idol using a potion created by a Dalish Elf. It was then sold to House Qintara in Tevinter, the house traded it to House Danarius for information, then a Magister from House Danarius took it to the Grand Necropolis for a ritual.   The ritual ended in chaos and flames as the Dread Wolf was summoned, however, the idol escaped Fen’Harel’s grasp, as a noble’s son grabbed it and fled into Tevinter lands.   At this point, the idol’s location gets a tad fuzzy, apparently the idol somehow made its way to an auction, off the coast of Rivian, on the Island Llomerynn. Supposedly, the Dread Wolf made a physical appearance and took his idol back, and that’s the end of it. However, it seems that this could’ve been framed as a lie, or bluff, so Solas could retrieve the Idol, and stop those who seek it from getting it. (TDWTY, paraphrased a lot lol)  

In short, the Idol’s whereabouts are set up for interpretation in “The Dread Wolf Take You”, by the end of the story, we don’t quite know where exactly this idol is, and even if we take a guess, it doesn’t feel concrete... Did Solas actually take the idol from an overbearing auction, with quite the hysterical crowd located off the coast of Rivian? (doubt face) Or did a Noble’s son smuggle the Idol safely back into Tevinter war-torn territory?  

While, I lean to the side; Solas lied throughout the story, so therefore he doesn’t have it, and it’s somewhere in Tevinter, in the occupancy of Maker-knows who.... That still doesn’t give us any clues.

Fortunately, we have some new information, so we don’t have to continually guess, like a dog chasing its tail. Thanks to Dark Horse, Dragon Age comic writer Nunzio DeFilippis, we have an understanding of where this idol was originally supposed to go, before the comics were reworked with Dragon Age 4’s iteration reboot.  

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial BioWare Forum that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the Red Lyrium Idol. The original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the Idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed.  

So, regardless of where the idol may be right now, is Solas’s retrieval of the blasted thing inevitable considering the comics would’ve had this plot solved before the next games launch? Is it a matter of time before Solas finds his idol? Or has the plot changed a lot since then? Maybe we’ll have a shot at grabbing this idol before Solas gets his hands on it in the next game?  

With that, we don’t have a solid placement for where the Idol is, but we can assume that it will end up in Solas’s hands soon enough. However, regardless of the Idol, Solas already has set-out an ominous ritual to destroy the Veil.  

Solas {He} sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.” (TDWTY Page 506).

Whatever this ritual is, beats me. Solas mentions that it’s going to take a few years until it’s complete. And then boom, it’ll be down with the Veil, and the Dread Wolf shall rise.  

This once more begs the question, if Solas had made plans to destroy the Veil, then why does he need the Red Lyrium Idol? But again, like I said, perhaps he needs to retrieve the Idol because it’s his greatest weakness if used against him. Once he has it, he can destroy it, or throw it in the rubbish, so no one can stop his plan.  

Back to Solas’s ritual. The Dread Wolf has taken residency in the Fade, where his ritual has started to affect.  

“But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Mortalitasi organised their own ritual to push the Qunari back home, using blood magic and binding spells. These types of magic are undoing the work Solas has set in motion, they’re a hinderance to his ritual. Therefore, the Dread Wolf made his presence known at the Grand Necropolis, in Nevarra, forbidding both types of magic, if anyone dare binds a spirit, or uses blood magic, your life is his for the taking.  

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

So, clearly any magic that requires demons and spirits, or changes a spirit’s original purpose, is undoing Solas’s ritual. Most likely because the spirits of the Fade serve Solas willingly, they’re probably required in his ritual. Taking them away from that purpose, is undoing Solas’s work. Spirits and demons want the Veil to come down so many of them can pursue their desires to enter the physical world, so it’s no surprise they serve Solas freely.  

Regardless, what exactly is this ritual doing? It’s already affected the Fade.... So, is Solas slowly decaying the Veil over time? Is he reaching into the Black City? Does this ritual have something to do with the Old Gods? Is it in preparation for killing the Pantheon? Is Solas’s ritual going to take him back in time to restore the Elven Kingdom? So many ideas, very few answers.  

Also, to change the pace from the ritual. Let's say Solas is successful and the Veil is destroyed, how are the elves going to survive the Veil’s destruction? When talking to Charter, Solas tells her that the world will be better off for the remaining elves that survive. But how can anyone survive the Fade crashing into Thedas?

“I have no choice. What I am doing will save this world, and those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.” (TDWTY, Page 506).

Is Solas taking those he deems worthy to a safe place, so they can rebuild the elven empire once the Veil is no more? Is he building a metaphorical ark, gathering the elves, as his flood destroys all of Thedas? How can he guarantee safety to the elves? Surely, he has a plan for them to survive this calamity?  

Ultimately, more questions that we’ll need to answer for ourselves when Dragon Age 4 arrives. Although we still clueless on Solas’s ritual and the Red Lyrium Idol’s purpose, I can say; without doubt, that Solas has risen as the Dread Wolf. A lupin, evil creature that seeks the end of the Evanuris, and Thedas as we know it.  

Solas may think that his plan is for the greater good of his people, but I believe he’s naïve to the one who’s fundamentally been pulling the strings of his scheme all along. The one who has set his very purpose in motion, and that is Mythal. A Queen he would not see go unavenged, and someone he’d do anything to achieve justice for in her name.  

I believe this trust Solas has for Mythal will be the end of him, that he is nothing but a puppet to Mythal’s plan for vengeance. I believe this conquest for justice, will send Solas down a path of anger, decay, and ultimately death.  

The biggest threat against Solas is himself, as he admits, he’s foolish, prideful and doing what he must. Will we be the one to stop him before it’s too late, changing his mind?  Or will we grant him a finishing blow, silencing our once beloved friend?  

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[vehkthesnake]

Dagoth Ur

Based on The Devil card of Tarot.

The Devil is a controversial figure. In its most traditional and basic sense, The Devil is all that is considered evil. Some interpret The Devil as a negative card, as a force of illusion and oppression, rule of desire over reason. For others, The Devil is a power to confront with courage and mirth, power to integrate those inevitable “darker,” animal aspects of human nature that society prefer to overlook or stigmatise. From the psychological point of view, The Devil is the darkest side of human nature. In Jungian psychology there is a concept of the Shadow. Shadow is the part of our psyche we are not consciously aware of. It contains things that one has decided to disregard about themselves, things that are too disturbing for us. Yet those things remain, but untouched by light of the consciousness they govern over it and cannot be controlled until faced. Many people are drawn to the Shadow because it contains a great power of all those hidden desires and dark impulses. In order to progress in the spiritual journey, one needs to claim this power, and to own the power of the Shadow, one must face and integrate the Shadow into one’s own conscious personality. “The Devil represents the universal principle of mirth combined with stability. This is the only card in the entire deck which has undergone transformation within itself. During Greek mythology, this symbol was Pan, half-man and half-goat, the God of Merriment and Sensuality. In Egyptian mythology, this symbol was Ra, the Sun Deity, a symbol of life force and energy. During the Middle Ages, there was a backlash to the panistic cults and the archetype of the Devil was created. The panistic goat was changed into the Devil.” In the Rider-Waite deck, The Devil depicted as more of an oppression figure that holds humans enslaved by their desires. But this is the most common and surface meaning of the card. In actuality, The Devil implies a great deal more than sexual rites and violent energy. In a wider sense, it symbolises the life energy locked up in the dark hidden areas of the self, which cannot be entered by ordinary means. It is called The Devil because for those who are not prepared to receive this energy, it can manifest itself as monsters, a sense of the universe as filled with evil, or the temptation to indulge in violence.   In the Thoth Tarot, The Devil is creative energy in its most material form. The impulse to create takes no account of reason, custom, or foresight. All things are equally exalt to the pan. He represents the finding of ecstasy in every phenomenon, however naturally repugnant, and he transcends all limitations. Dagoth Ur is the main antagonist of Morrowind, and is The Devil of this world. Dagoth Ur creates, but his creations are perverse. Dagoth Ur enslaves the people of Morrowind through illusions - the dreams and nightmares he spreads. Dagoth Ur uses the Heart of Lorkhan as his source of power, and the ultimate goal of Dagoth Ur is to extend himself upon all the world through illusions, violence and disease. Like the Devil he creates without looking back. In Morrowind, we can’t say that The Devil really owns the power, but he definitely holds and uses it and needs to be confronted before power may be freed. Like the personal Shadow governs over a person’s life from the unconscious part of the psyche, Dagoth Ur governs the people of Morrowind through their dreams and makes them do things they would not consciously do. Dagoth Ur builds colossal mechanical golem powered with Heart of Lorkhan. Akulakhan is a manifestation of Dagoth Ur’s will. With Akulakhan, Dagoth Ur intends to conquer the world, make Akulakhan the new God and become his high priest. I depicted Dagoth Ur as a priest of Akulakhan. Dagoth Ur is sitting on a rectangular pedestal like the Devil from Rider-Waite deck. The pedestal reminds us of an altar and a throne simultaneously. The symbol of the scarab is the sigil of the Sixth House, the ancient House of Dagoth Ur. The motion Dagoth Ur makes with his hands is similar to the gesture of The Devil of the Rider-Waite deck. This sign with a gap between two double fingers, is the gesture made by the High Priest in Jerusalem to bring down the spirit force. Instead of a head, there is a brass vortex mounted on Dagoth Ur’s shoulders. It extends his throat and broadcasts his music, his terrible divine voice from his body directly into the world. Behind the figure of Dagoth Ur is his creation, Akulakhan, still in the process of being built but already working. At the brow of Akulakhan, on the place of third eye, the Head of Dagoth Ur is placed. Dagoth Ur wears this mask in the game. Akulakhan is the tool of Dagoth Ur and is directly controlled by him. In some sense Akulakhan is the second body of Dagoth Ur, bigger and more powerful. Separation of head from the body is traditional symbol of connection to the world of spirits. It means that head of person (in this case the priest) resides in another reality. Dagoth Ur is the entity that foremost manipulates others in the dimension of their dreams. He does this by tuning spirits of mortals with his music.

[matildainmotion]

The Monstrous Shame of Motherhood and the Quest for a Cure

I feel exhausted. Even-more-than-usual exhausted. Whoever knew that staying at home could be so incredibly tiring. We have our daily outings – mainly to the golf course, which is the nearest green we have. The other evening, when we had finally made it out the house, and the children were running ahead of me across the fitted-carpet grass, I had a thought: “Maybe it will be okay,” and instantly I wanted to cry. It wasn’t a thought only about the pandemic. It was about the lot: the pandemic, plus how to get an autism diagnosis for my son that supports him, plus my 78 year old mother staying well, plus my husband’s work and the theatre community surviving in a post-Covid world, plus managing to finish my book, plus both my children’s long term futures, plus the world’s long term future and climate change, plus racial inequality, plus economic inequality, plus gender inequality, plus, plus…..

In that moment I realised that a kind of deep worry is such a constant for me now that I have grown accustomed to it, so that it is like the planes that used to fly over our house in London – a noise so familiar that after a while I no longer hear it, and yet it is there, every few minutes, unnoticed, another monstrous metal groan. And when it stops - when the planes stay down, when the worries lift up - the sudden silence is startling, enough to make me cry. But – here’s the thing- thanks to the lockdown I have realised that it isn’t just worry to which I have grown accustomed in this way. There is something else, even more monstrous, which it has taken me a long time to name – and its name is shame.

I believe the shame comes from a thousand ‘shoulds,’ from the many things I feel I should be doing as a mother and am not.  Motherhood, along with the paraphernalia of nappies, wipes and purees, comes with a huge bundle of shoulds. The very first thing I did, nine years ago now, on discovering that I was pregnant, was to rush out to Waterstones and buy a book on what I should and shouldn’t eat during the next nine months– and that was only the beginning. The shoulds come from everywhere, a mountain of well-meant advice, not only from books, but from doctors, midwives, family members, partners, friends, other mothers, even complete strangers. I remember standing in a shop queue with my three-week-old son in a sling, when the woman behind me leant forward and touched one of his toes. “Where’s his socks?” she said, “He’ll catch his death of cold.” On the one hand I felt reasonably confident that carrying my son around sock-less was not going to endanger his life, on the other, as a brand new mother, I was nonetheless shaken by the idea that my son’s survival was up to me, and that many different people had many different ideas about how best I should fulfil my role of raising and protecting him. At times, even my instinct, that famous maternal inner guide, seemed like a mysterious thing that someone else had told me I should follow.

Mothers Who Make began, in part, as a response to all these shoulds. When I went along to the new mother and baby groups, that I also believed to be obligatory, I noticed a distressing pattern. All too often we were simply swapping ‘shoulds’ with each other and coming away feeling worse than when we arrived. No place or position was safe: I met mothers who felt they should be breastfeeding, mothers who felt the need to put a label saying ‘breastmilk’ on the bottle they fed their baby in public, as well as mothers who felt they should be weaning their baby and moving rapidly onto solids. I met mothers who felt bad about co-sleeping and mothers who felt bad about not doing so. In those early days of mothering - when you should be feeling overjoyed - there are even charts that tell you what should be happening when, how much your child should weigh, by when they should be making eye contact etc. It is not that these charts are entirely unhelpful or inaccurate, but they certainly encouraged my constant questioning: is my child okay? Am I okay? Am I doing this right? And if I thought I wasn’t, if I was not doing what I should, I felt ashamed.

I have felt many parallels between lockdown and early motherhood – the sudden cessation of all usual activity, the focus on ‘intensive care’ and care-taking, the washing, the sense of vulnerability, the way leaving the house seems like an epic adventure, the isolation and longing for connection. And, as in early motherhood, our diverse lives are again apparently aligned. We are all in the same situation: all the mothers in those baby groups had a new born / all the mothers I know now are in lockdown due to a pandemic. This makes comparison seem possible, even appropriate. There is a set of scales around again – I weigh our lives on it and find myself at fault.

Let me give you a small sample of some of the shoulds that fly low over my home, through my mind, like aeroplanes, a few of the many that I have collected over my nine years of mothering. I should get my children to bed earlier. I should give them less screen time, or it shouldn’t happen first thing in the morning, or I should manage the whole issue of screens in a better, different way. I should give them less choice about what they eat. I should make sure they eat more fresh foods and less sugar. I should make them help around the house more. I should hold the structure of the day better. I should make sure everyone stays at the table when we’re eating. I should take steps towards weaning my daughter. I should never resort to threats – to the ‘if you don’t stop x, you won’t get y’ pattern. And so on and so forth – you get the gist. And because I do not do these things - and I imagine a thousand other mothers who are doing them wonderfully - I feel ashamed. I realise as I write this that my ‘shoulds,’ as listed here, are nice, white, middle class ones- signs of privilege. Shame is a heavy word and it is associated with far darker things than letting your kids watch too much telly. I want to acknowledge that my issues are trifling compared to those many have to navigate, but shame, whatever the context, is still shame and it is powerful. As someone who was once anorexic, I know that shame can sit alongside privilege and that, where present, it undermines the ease of even the most comfortable life.

Back in Jan 2019 I wrote a blog about guilt. I now think I was muddling up some of my guilt and my shame. In general, I feel guilty about specific instances that have an immediate, present moment, ground-level reality: I shouted at my son when he blasted water over the bathroom with the shower head and that triggered one of his big, aggressive rages. If I feel guilty about something, I can say sorry about it, to the person or people I have wronged, and then it’s over. Shame, for me, is more like the ongoing aeroplanes, it is long term - a long haul flight. On the bad days, motherhood seems like a very lengthy exam, the end of it still twenty years away. My children are not the examiners – certainly not for now – they are the results. Depending on how the children turn out, I will pass or fail. There are external examiners, keeping track, making notes, of all the things I am doing or not doing. And who are they, these examiners? I think, somewhere in my psyche, there is an impressive panel of them, made up of everyone who has ever shared ‘a should’ with me, from the author of the book on what to eat during pregnancy, to the woman in the queue who wanted my son to be in socks, to the many other authors, friends and strangers who have offered me advice - they are all sitting there, scribbling on their notepads, shaking their heads. They are not bad people. Many of them are people for whom I have enormous respect, which makes it worse. I believe in their advice – seriously, I should be following it.

In my blog on guilt, I found my guilt a figure – made it into an image that helped me connect to the things that mattered to me, lying underneath the guilt. It turned out to be a Mary Poppins-like character, flying a kite. I think my shame has a very different form. There is the panel of judges, frowning from a distance, and then there is the shame herself, much closer in, and, like the sound of the low-flying planes, she’s monstrous.

My son’s latest obsession is the Beast Quest books (he has moved on from My Little Pony - woe betide you if you mention his former interest to him). There are over a hundred Beast Quest books, all with the same basic formula – boy meets monster. Giant birds, snakes, insects, spiders, bears, apes, hounds, trolls, ogres, dragons – you name your flavour of nightmarish monster, it will be there. I am glad to say there is a reasonable spread of gender representations across the monsters – sadly none of them are trans but there are some mothers. My ‘shame monster’ is definitely a mother. She is immense, stinking, gruesome and green. Her roar is the soundtrack of my days, to which I have grown accustomed. In some of the Beast Quest books the beasts are evil and must be destroyed, but in some they are good, set under an evil curse, from which they must be freed. I think my monstrous shame mother is one of these – good at heart but under pressure, after years of judgement, she has turned malevolent. And here is the irony: I believe her malevolent aspect has a more toxic impact on my children and our household, than any of the things such as screen time, sugar, late nights, unstructured days, which have driven her into this terrible state. Her constant growling makes me tense, fractious and very, very tired. I don’t think I can go on like this. So, what to do? How to release her from the curse? And who would she be without it?

Often the opposite of shame is presented as pride. But I think pride too is problematic – the panel of judges, external examiners, is still present in the dynamic, it’s just that they are giving out good marks instead of bad. So, if the shame-beast, when transformed, does not turn into the proud mother, who does she become?

As ever, when I am wrangling with a question in my mothering, I look to my making for answers. Throughout the lockdown I have been writing whenever I can. Always, when the children are having their screen time. Often, when I should be getting them dressed, or focussing on making us breakfast, or preparing them for bed. I don’t write because I should. I write because I want to do it, because it helps me give things meaning, because it brings me joy. I think back to that teary moment on the golf course, watching the children run ahead of me over the grass. What made the worry lift, the planes stop, the monster turn out good? Yes, I think it was a moment of joy. I think, when the gory green monster is not sweating with shame, she is lit up with joy.

So much, so often, is laid at the mother’s door. On the one hand we are ‘just’ being mums, with minimal status, doing an insignificant job, and on the other, we are accorded huge significance – everything can be traced back to us, to our care or the lack of it, our early influence. I do not wish to deny our responsibility as mothers, but I do not believe our shame helps us to shoulder it, or that we should shoulder it alone. When I started Mothers Who Make I wanted it to be a held peer-support space where women could share their challenges without shame, and celebrate, even cultivate, their joy. I wanted to create a group in which we did not find further fault, did not inadvertently end up undermining or judging one another, adding to the great big bundles of shoulds already carried. It is why it is still vital to me that we welcome every kind of mother – breastfeeding, bottle-feeding, those who keep their mothering and their making strictly separate, those who take their children to work – every kind. It is also the same impulse that lies behind our Matronage scheme. Rather than a panel of judges telling us whether or not we are worthy, I want to see whether we can hold each other up. We have been asking people to become our ‘Matron Saints’ by giving us the price of a coffee a month - £3. We need 300 of you to become self-sustaining. So far we have a fantastic 99! Once we reach 100, I am going to announce a new project in celebration– a way, I hope, to keep the same ethos of grassroots peer-support alive and kicking – kicking off the shoulds, turning them into wishes and dreams.

And in the meantime, whilst you are all rushing to bring us over the 100 Matron Saint mark, (go here to do so: www.motherswhomake.org) these are your questions for the month: as a mother and/ or as a maker what are the ‘shoulds’ and ‘should nots’ you carry around with you? Do your ‘shoulds’ turn into shame? And then- as an antidote to this -what brings you joy? In your mothering? In your making? As we slowly emerge out of this pandemic, can you do more of this? Can you create a more shameless world? Can you help make the monsters joyful?

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E58 (Apr. 16, 2019)

Gooooood evening, everyone! @eponymous-rose may have social obligations she was actually looking forward to tonight, but I had a birthday party I was desperately trying to get out of, and so I am here, and Henry is also here, looking immensely put-upon at this human flopped on his pillow.

Tonight’s guests: Liam O’Brien & Taliesin Jaffe. Liam’s shirt is remarkably Tal-ish tonight. Rep it, boys.

Tonight’s announcements: New campaign journals available at therooktheraven.com/criticalrole. They’ll be at Denver Pop Culture Con next week MONTH! sorry!--Ashley will be there too! It’ll be the first time everyone’s been at a con together...possibly ever! Liam: “Four years in the making.” Everyone’s sick & Brian took Nyquil thirty minutes ago. This should be an interesting evening. Three days left in the Kickstarter campaign! Earlier today, they cracked $10 million, which means Travis’ll be filming himself traipsing through a haunted house. Good heavens. This Thursday, about half an hour after CR ends, Joel Hodgson from MST3K will be coming on the show to hang out with the guys & celebrate.

And now...Episode 58: Wood & Steel

CR Stats: briefly derailed by accusations that Brian’s hair looks like a shark fin. Caleb’s spent 1475 gold on paper and ink so far. Liam: “God, grad school, man.” Caduceus has used Eyes of the Grave 13 times. “It’s a little panic spell, really. Every now and then it helps. It’s nice to be able to walk into a room and go, ‘hey, is there anyone undead in here?’“ This episode was Yasha’s first natural one stealth check. “Not Ashley’s, though.” “No.”

Tal’s shoulder is still peeling from Ashley’s roast of Sam pre-show last episode. Neither Liam nor Tal think Sam was really prepared for it, and now Sam’s working overtime to make up for it. The president we deserve, honestly.

Re: Cad’s check on Fjord: “Clay loves these people. On the other hand, he also has a sense about what an addict is. I love you, I trust you, and I’m gonna go through your wallet real quick.” He was trying to validate his own trust in Fjord just in case he needed to stop him doing anything dumb later.

Taliesin is REALLY excited (one might say gleeful) about making Travis’s haunted house experience as terrible as possible. Brian suggests tasers in case Travis starts barreling through walls in panic.

Caleb is feeling as if he’s blown a bit of his cover lately; the filthy disguise that he’s maintained for so long is pointless now. He’s expecting someone to come “knocking at the door soonish.”

The whole idea of consecution really, really messed Caduceus up. “Clay doesn’t know what to think. This is definitely a...bedouin monk having someone try to explain the flying spaghetti monster to him. It feel offensive and yet harmless...something’s rubbing him the wrong way and he doesn’t know what it is yet. He’s not really about the souls--that’s not what his order is about. His order is about flesh & what happens to the remains; the souls are the souls’ business--that’s what the Raven Queen is for. He’s not sure if it’s his own prejudices.”

Caleb has to think of Nott as a totally different person now. He doesn’t know what she wants, if she wants to run off with her husband now. His feelings for her haven’t changed. He thinks they were codependent for a long time, but now he’s faced with the reality that she doesn’t need him nearly as much as he needs her anymore. He hasn’t even had a chance to talk to her lately “because he’s not even sure if the script is the same.”

Marisha bombs the set with a laser pointer nerf gun. I am so happy I’m not kidding.

They discuss who did the laser pointer addition (Christina) and attempt to shoot off Brian’s hand. It misses & hits a plush. Brian: “You almost hurt Molly. Oh, wait.”

Clay hasn’t quite figured out the interpersonal relationships of the group yet. He’s kinda noticed the Caleb/Nott relationship (although it doesn’t make much sense to him), but he has figured out he and Yasha have the most in common. He first thought he’d get along most with Jester because they were both clerics, but now knows they’re completely different people who heal for completely different reasons (one out of enjoyment of healing, one forced). He really wants to keep Fjord & Caleb on the straight & narrow, and he sees his relationship with Yasha as more straightforward “I’ll help you, you help me.” Brian’s interested in hearing what Cad thinks Caleb’s right path should be. Me too!

Tal talks about how when they’re traveling at cons, he sits & thinks about other people’s characters and how he/Clay relates to them.

GIF of the Week! Big Shaft. What more needs be said, really. The winner gets a Cobalt Soul journal which Brian says is available on shop.critrole.com as well as the UK store which is A STRAIGHT UP LIE, BRIAN, THEY ARE 100% SOLD OUT, I LOOKED EARLIER TODAY, WHY DO YOU TAUNT ME WITH THESE LIES. >:((((((

Caleb didn’t ask Waccoh about dunamancy because it wasn’t the right time. Cad is very interested in the staff. Liam likes the Ring of Evasion.

What did Tal think of Fjord’s very Percy-esque intimidation in the last episode? “Take it! Run! Murder them all!” Percy loves the dodeca & would have loved to play with it. Both Liam and Tal marvel at how easily threat came to Travis.

In terms of the broken sword, Cad’s hoping for a lemonade-out-of-lemons situation. Brian & Liam switch seats so Liam can pet Henry. Understandable, really. He feels like it’s the world communicating to him that it is meaningful. “He always moves forward to something that feels meaningful. His job was to speak to people about their lost loved ones. He ran a funeral home. So while he doesn’t entirely understand how people relate to one another, he understands how people function, and he’s fascinated by that.” Tal constantly has to weight if his decisions are based on gameplay or something about Cad’s observations. He’s very acutely aware of the difference between his intelligence and wisdom scores.

Liam dabs & regrets it. Then he talks about how that’s why Cad makes Caleb nervous. It’s like talking to a human lie detector. Tal keeps talking a bit about how Cad sometimes spooks Caleb, but I’m 100% distracted by Henry jumping up & sitting between Brian & Tal. Poor Liam.

Everyone worries a bit about Ashley’s low AC, except Liam, who worries sarcastically. Ya jerk.

Liam answers an interesting question about Caleb’s selfishness--is his generosity this last episode a show to prove to the group that he’s a team player or is he just genuinely caring more about the entire group? Porque no los dos--he’s trying to keep them alive and working well together, and now he has different reasons to do what he’s doing. “Everything’s changed for him” over the last few episodes.

Everyone discusses how motivations change slowly over time and how it’s not a smooth journey--sometimes they’re selfish one day and selfless the next, and sometimes the “shitty purpose on the macro scale” still has “good happening on the micro scale.” It’s not a straight road and people can backslide. Taliesin: “I love something that’s complicated.” Liam talks about how Percy freed Whitestone and did some very dark things on the way there. Dani: “It’s all part of being one person with lots of facets.”

Fanart of the Week! I really hope it’s that GoT video! Ahh, it’s @morphenominal12′s portrait of Yasha. Okay okay okay, this is pretty good. Respect. At least Liam doesn’t taunt me with a journal I can’t buy. Why do I keep thinking it’ll stop saying “Sold Out” if I keep refreshing the page?

A question points out that all three of Taliesin’s characters come from large families (even if those families are dead or adopted). Tal says he doesn’t know much about being an only child & is from a large family himself. It’s part of starting from what you know, and he likes having a few pre-built relationships that he or the DM can build on later. He says maybe being an only child will be his next challenge.

Very, very belatedly, the crew adds a graphic of dollar signs falling from the top of the screen. They do it three times before everyone realizes it’s because Tal said he’d do only-child plots for money. “And on this show, we spend five minutes deconstructing a bad joke from the tricaster.”

Cad doesn’t know how he feels about consecution. They’re not undead...but what are they? It’s making him a little queasy but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s spent a lot of time thinking about how a nature cleric relates to larger heroic destiny, and about his need to see the kiln.

They tuck in a sleepy Henry. I would die for this dog.

Liam signs us off with all of Brian’s catchphrases. What a nerd.

And we’re out! Is it Thursday yet?

[thefloatingstone]

overlordraax replied to your post: Not feeling much better after waking up. Somebody...

List your top fave fanfics. List your top fave tropes in fanfic.

Oh noooooo this is a really good one too sdjkjdhfsh

I was actually thinking of doing a fanfic Rec list tbh!! I hope you don’t mind that they’re all Undertale fics! I think I’ve read more fanfiction for this fandom than I’ve read for any other fandom I’ve ever been in. (Including MLP which is a friggen miracle if you stop to think about it)

BUT ANYWAY! Please check out these fics by some incredibly talented individuals (some of these I’ve put in lists before but w/e here it is again!)

(in literally no particular order at all)

Postcards from Waterfall

Rating: Explicit (Fic as a whole is T but occasionally has specific smut scenes which are marked for easy skipping)

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic timeline

Word Count: 353 763

Ongoing

After an unremembered Genocide timeline, Sans is struggling with lingering feelings of dread. On top of this, coming to terms with his own childhood, and dealing with a lifelong recovery from a massive accident in his youth. However, things seem to slowly improve as he unexpectedly grows closer to Grillby, and feelings turn towards the romantic. But there are still things lurking in the Underground that would do them harm.

(the fic mostly focuses on Sans’ childhood trauma dealing with a apathetic Gaster, an mysterious “Accident” he can barely remember in his near-childhood, his developing feeling for Grillby, and their awkward relationship developing and reacting to situations around them. the plot is paced slowly, but I wouldn’t call it a slice-of-life story as there are larger things at play and get slowly revealed as things move forward)

Thunderstruck

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader / Underfell Papyrus

Setting: Classic Timeline with Underfell Sans and Papyrus

Word Count: 263 284

Ongoing

It’s the classic timeline, and monsters have been on the surface for almost 2 years already. In the Skeleton household though, Sans and Papyrus have acquired two tag-alongs in the form of Underfell Sans (Red) and Underfell Papyrus (Edge) who have come from a much more violent and desperate timeline with no way of going back. This wouldn’t be so bad, but a lifetime of being on constant alert and being intimidating and scary to everyone, where it once had Edge be the most respected of monsters as Captain of the Royal Guard, now sees him severely emotionally and socially crippled. Unable to make friends due to his learned behaviour of being scary and permanently angry, unable to find work because most monsters AND humans find him too hard to handle, and struggling to find his place in his own family unit, with his relationship with his own brother awkward after so many years of pretending to be “boss and henchman”, a strained relationship with Sans who does not trust him (for admittedly good reason) and with the only person he seems on good terms with being Papyrus (who also represents everything Edge could have been but have no hope of achieving).

Things change when caught in a pretty bad thunderstorm, Reader (you) finds him hiding in an alley outside your apartment. And lucky for him, you’re crazy enough to let a terrified stranger into your home until the weather improves, and even crazier, as you decide once he starts yelling, that you’d like to stay in contact with him.

The story is a slowburn Reader-insert romance, but it’s almost much more than that. Told from Edge’s perspective, it’s a recovery fic more than anything. Recovering from a lifetime of trauma, violence, learned survival behaviours, mending relationships with family, learning to fit into a world that at first seems completely incompatible with you, and finding a place in life. Lots of self reflection, sometimes self loathing, pining, confusion, frustration, brief arguments over stupid petty things, arguments over really IMPORTANT things, and a lot of tenderness, even if you’re not someone to go for Reader-insert stories, I highly recommend this one if only for the characterisation and emotional and psychological exploration, especially for Edge and his relationship to to his brother and the world at large. It definitely sold me on his character in a way I’ve never really considered.

Panic Room

Rating: M (note cw on fic)

Ship?: Nothing yet but working towards Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 150 548

Ongoing

It’s been years since monsters broke the barrier, stormed into Ebott, and forcefully took over, place Toriel as the monarch and cutting the city off from the outside world. Ebott has become a dystopian dictatorship, where humans are second class citizens who can have incredible luxury depending on how useful and accommodating they are to their new monster rules, or simply be exterminated if stepping out of line. Reader (you) have been imprisoned for almost a year, living in torturous conditions, scarred from beatings and with no hope or future to even think of. But due to your spirit of Perseverance, you continue to live, to not give in to despair. One day, Swapfell Papyrus (Rus) wanders into the prison, looking to “buy” himself a human (for reasons unknown to you) and, for whatever reason, picks you.

He brings you home, has you cleaned up, healed up to the best of his ability, and then has the hurdle of trying to present you to Swapfell Sans; the Lieutenant of the Royal Guard and Alphys’ right hand man. On the verge of throwing you out, Sans allows you to stay and work as the maid in his meticulous home. A hard job, but you accept, unwilling to try your luck on the streets of Ebott. And so your new life begins with the brothers, and the longer you work there, the more you learn. You learn more about the very touchy but at his core good-hearted Rus, you learn more about the terrifying and ruthless Sans, and the sadness and desire to show kindness behind his mask, and you learn more about Ebott. About the constant servailence, the propaganda machine, the injustice, the violence, the broken system ruled by the blind and terrible queen.

You don’t know what sort of life or future is in store for you now, but it’s better than the prison (ANYTHING is better than the prison) and just at the edges of reality, where you can’t even see or notice them yet, a change is coming. Invisible and far in the distance, but slowly approaching.

Dirty Laundry

Rating: T

Ship?: Reader/Papyrus Reader/Sans (poly relationship, no f//ntcest)

Setting: Swapfell

Word Count: 49 369

Ongoing

Reader (you) have recently moved to Ebott for a change in life (it being monster central may or may not have something to do with that). It’s been a few months since monsters were freed, and many are integrating with society slowly but surely. One day, while at the laundromat, you find yourself watched by a scary but ultimately nervous and “I don’t know how to laundry!” Swapfell Papyrus.

In time, a friendship forms. He’s a really sweet guy, anxious but eager to please. It would all be very cute if not for the fact that his asshole brother doesn’t seem very pleased with you (or anybody?) “worming their way” into his baby brother’s life. Nevermind that their therapist said they needed time apart! Nevermind that Papyrus has asked him for some space! He’s going to make sure his little brother is safe! Just as he always had.

Besides... if he doesn’t, what else is there for him to do? Leave Papyrus alone? Leave both of you alone? Accept that Papyrus doesn’t need him any more? May not even want him any more?

...would that make him happier?

Fired Up and Bone Weary (Series)

Rating: G - T

Ship?: Sansby

Setting: Classic Timeline

Word Count: various

Complete

A collection of short stories and oneshots, documenting the everyday life and events in Sans, Grillby and Papyrus’ lives, starting underground and early dating, and working its way to surface life and marriage. Mostly just fluffy, slice of life settings, only now and then undercut by misfortune or drama. Dealing with Grillby’s complicated family, trying to manage Sans’ fluctuating depression, and Papyrus’ role and desire for a family. Most of it is just small, everyday happiness though. And the fear that at any moment all of it could disappear with a reset is (most of the time) not thought about.

(I haven’t finished the series myself just yet. I got stuck on the third last story in the series, the one with the most chapters, due to personal reasons. I do plan to finish it at a later date, but at this point in time it hit a little too close to home. I still recommend all of it whole-heartedly, as I doubt other people will react to it the way I did.)

There are also a few oneshots as well as fics I’ve mentioned before (like SSLL for instance which I STILL love and you guys should STILL read!!) but these are the main ones I’m reading/have read at the moment!

If you guys want I can make a list of oneshots too. Just let me know 8′D I also didn’t include people’s tumblr names just in case they didn’t want it spread around for any particular reason, and I didn’t include more than one fanfic per author, I may add some of their other work in another post at some point. But I wanted to give each author equal exposure in this post.

Anyway! Hopefully you guys consider any (although you really should read ALL) of these fics! And give the authors comments and kudos!

[tough-girl9]

I decided to compile a list of all the Strange Magic fics I want to write in one place...

Afterwards

Post-movie two-shot. After their confession, Bog and Marianne have to decide where to go from here. Featuring Bog and Marianne navigating a very awkward, cute, shy first date, discussing Marianne’s dreams of uniting the kingdoms, and wanting very badly to hold hands but not being sure how to go about it.

Alone

Short one-shot. On one side of the border, a goblin king’s loneliness and hidden hunger to be loved eat away at his heart. On the other side of the border, a fairy princess sobs herself to sleep on what would have been her wedding night. A feel-good little character study type of thing comparing Bog and Marianne before they meet and after.

Beauty and the Beast

One-shot. Bog is in bed with a fever, so Marianne decides to share one of her favorite stories from her childhood with him. ButterflyBog fluff with a fairy version of the Beauty and the Beast tale, and Marianne and Bog bantering about how their own story fits.

Blue Eyes and Purple Wings

Multi-chapter AU. A fairy child and a goblin boy happen to meet on the border of two kingdoms and an unexpected friendship blossoms between light and dark. I know it’s been done before, but it’s too cute an idea not to try my hand at a version of it.

Boggy Woggy

Short one-shot. Marianne knew that the Bog King utterly despises Roland. What she never expected was to one day walk in on her current fiance attempting to strangle her ex. Inspired by a conversation with a friend who wanted to know how Bog would react to someone other than Dawn calling him “Boggy.”

Concerning Children

One-shot. With their wedding in the near future, Bog and Marianne have a serious discussion about what will happen to their kingdoms once they are married and the conversation turns to children. Marianne thinks they are discussing possibilities in case a goblin and a fairy are not able to have a child together. Bog thinks they are discussing the topic for a very different reason. Bog being his usual insecure self that can’t imagine Marianne desiring him, and Marianne reassuring him that that’s definitely not the case.

The Dark Side of the Moon

Multi-chapter fic. Not in the same continuity as most of my post-movie fics. Two kingdoms united, a fairy queen wedded to a goblin king, and dreams come true. But Roland has not yet given up on the throne and puts a new plan in action that could ruin everything. Dark and angsty, involving Roland attempting to have Bog assassinated, stealing the throne, and coercing Marianne into being his queen, Marianne striking a terrible deal with Roland to allow her unborn child and the rightful heir to live, and Sunny and Dawn leading an uprising against Roland.

Dates and Questions

One-shot. About a month into their relationship, Marianne and Bog are out for a date and find the courage to start asking each other some of the questions they’ve been wondering about, to learn a bit more about each other and put some of the myths surrounding their respective cultures to rest. Total fluff and humor with some exploration of fairy and goblin cultures.

Different Is What I Like

One-shot. When Bog finds his eldest daughter in tears, he finds himself giving her the same comfort that he had once given the woman who would become his wife. Bog as a father and teenage Princess Rosalind struggling with her biracial identity.

Double Date

One-shot. About a month after the events of the movie, Dawn and Sunny are planning an outing together, but when Dawn invites Marianne and Bog for a double date, things get a little awkward for a certain elf who is still a bit wary of his future brother-in-law. ButterflyBog, Potionless, and Bog & Sunny bonding.

An Eye For Beauty

Character study type of one-shot. Bog has a knack for seeing beauty in the most diverse and unexpected places, Marianne notices. There seems to be only one place where Bog can only find ugliness.

Fairy Princess, Goblin King

Human AU one-shot? That could possibly turn into more? Bogdan Kingsley is well aware that he has no life. The only thing he really enjoys are his weekly LARP group where he can immerse himself in his fantasy alter-ego of the dreaded goblin king. But when a newcomer joins the group, Bog finds his life turned upside-down.

Fairy Wings and Ferris Wheels

One-shot (or possibly two or three-shot with fairly short chapters) Human AU. Marianne, Dawn, Bog, and Sunny participate in a scavenger hunt challenge at their favorite theme park. Bog and Marianne being aggressively competitive dorks, Dawn and Sunny being cute together and pretending like they don’t know those two animals who are taking bumper car competition waaaay too seriously, and sisterly bonding.

Handsome

Three or Four Shot. Bog is happier than he’s ever been with his beautiful, fiery fairy girlfriend. But a chance reminder of his own hideousness sends him spiraling into worry and doubt over whether he is good enough for Marianne. So he goes to Sugar Plum Fairy for a different sort of potion, but Bog’s plans don’t go quite as he expected. Angst with lots of hurt/comfort fluff.

I Could Have Lost You

One-shot. During a tender moment, Bog becomes deeply distraught. As Marianne seeks to comfort her husband, she learns that he is still haunted by a moment from their past. My take on Bog’s guilt over coming so close to killing Marianne on the night they met.

I Think I Love You

One-shot. Marianne still caught her cheating fiance, but feeling emboldened by her freed self that has emerged, she decides to go to the Dark Forest to prove her dream of peace is possible. She finds the last thing she expected: a friend who understands heartbreak just as well as she does. But then, when everything is perfect, she has to go and mess it all up. I know it’s been done before multiple times, but I want to try my hand at it. Friends to lovers (when everyone but the two of them are well aware of what is transpiring and bets are being placed on who ends up kissing the other one first).

I Wish I Had Boys

Two-shot. In which the Fairy King gets his wish, and makes the effort to get to know his future sons-in-law a little better. Dagda & Sunny and Dadga & Bog bonding time.

Kidnapped!

One-shot. When Bog went to sleep that night, the last thing he expected was to be kidnapped. In which Marianne gives Bog a taste of his own kidnapping medicine and takes advantage of having a sexy goblin king in her power.

A King’s Wrath

One-shot. Marianne makes the mistake of confronting Bog in front of his servants when he’s chewing them out. Bog responds with seeming aggression and anger, damaging Marianne’s trust in him, but afterwards he comes to her privately to apologize and explain to her that goblins rule in a very different way than fairies.

A Lesson in Love

One-shot. Marianne couldn’t love her goblin boyfriend more, except for one thing. Every time he disparages himself or suggests that he is not enough, it is like a dagger in her heart. And so she decides to break her insecure boyfriend of the habit once and for all by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Lovestruck

Multi-chapter AU. My take on the “what if it was Bog who got a face-full of love potion” scenario, because it’s just too delicious not to explore.

Meat

One-shot. Early in their relationship, Marianne stays for a meal in the Dark Forest with Bog and is confronted by a reality that she knows she should have realized beforehand but still can’t help but be deeply disturbed by, and she realizes she’s going to have to make a decision about whether she can truly accept Bog for who he is and everything that entails. Based on my headcanon that fairies do not eat meat.

Monster

One-shot. Bog overhears a group of fairies gossiping about their princess and her monstrous paramour. When Bog doesn’t show up for their date, Marianne goes looking for her lover.

Nothing Goes As Planned

One-shot. Both Bog and Marianne long to be parents, but they are beginning to think it might not be possible for them. Bittersweet Bog/Marianne bonding and comfort and discussions about alternatives to having biological children.

Oh You Scaly-Backed Cockroach

One-shot. Bog overhears (OK eavesdrops on) Marianne talking to Dawn about him. What he learns about how Marianne sees him is startling to him, but he decides to put this new piece of knowledge to the test, even if it takes him decidedly outside of his comfort zone.

One Fateful Day

Two or Three Shot most likely. Fifteen years ago, Bog almost ruined the life of the girl he loved and he’s lived with the guilt of his deed ever since. Now, he decides he finally needs to do what he should have done all those years ago and finally put the ghosts of That Fateful Day to rest. Bog-centric, but also deals with Marianne’s trust issues. I haven’t run across many fics that really deal with Bog’s guilt and shame for attempting to use the potion or him trying to make amends for what he did, so this is my attempt to explore that.

Only Fools Rush In

Multi-chapter fic. An alternate ending to Strange Magic where the “Tell Him/Her” confessions never took place and Marianne is not quite so sure she’s ready to give her heart to another man, even one like Bog. Basically, my attempt to explore what I felt would have been a more satisfying ending, where Marianne and Bog are not rushed into confessing their feelings and both of them have more time to wrestle with their hang-ups surrounding romance and finally come together on their own terms when they feel ready.

The Prisoner

Multi-chapter AU. When she marries the love of her life and the handsomest fairy in the kingdom, Marianne expects Happily Ever After. When King Roland declares war on the Dark Forest and takes the goblin ruler as a prisoner, Marianne gets something else entirely. On the dark and angsty side.

See You At the Dark Forest

Multi-chapter Human AU. Marianne and Dawn decide to check out the Dark Forest Café, and Dawn becomes quite smitten with the tall, dour owner. Marianne, on the other hand, is decidedly less smitten.

Stormy Evening

One-shot. An unexpected storm keeps Marianne a prisoner in the Dark Castle. She and Bog find plenty of ways to pass the time however. Fluff, make-out sessions, and Marianne and Bog having a conversation about Bog’s Obliviousness to the fact that he totally a goblin stud.

Unclad

Short one-shot. Bog finds himself worrying over whether his state of…undress is embarrassing to Marianne.

Unmarked

Multi-chapter Soulmate mark AU. Marianne has always had a strange dream about a place where light and dark meet, where blue eyes meet hers from the darkness, and a clawed hand with a mark that matches hers reaches out to seize her wrist. But the dream is pushed aside when she meets a dashing blond fairy with a matching mark and knows she’s met her soulmate. But nothing is quite what it seems, on either side of the border. Unabashed cliché, I know, but I don’t think I’ve run across a Strange Magic soulmate mark AU, so why not? In which Roland is his usual terrible, lying self and Marianne meets a goblin king who is mysteriously Unmarked.

Wedding Bells

One-shot (or possibly two-shot). ButterflyBog wedding! As Bog prepares for his wedding with old goblin customs, he shares a tender moment with the person who never gave up on seeing her boy happy beyond his wildest dreams. Bog & Griselda bonding, goblin wedding traditions, and the royal wedding of the century.

Where the Asters Bloom

One-shot. One day, Marianne notices that Bog seems particularly distracted. As it turns out, today is a day with special meaning for Bog and he decides to introduce Marianne to someone very dear to him. Bittersweet fluff with some exploration into Bog’s childhood and fairy and goblin customs surrounding death.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 23

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted!

Originally, the plan was for Mickey to wake up, but as I've been writing this story I realized I've been veering dangerously close to the "Happiness In Slavery" trope, and wanted to get that nonsense outta there. Hope you enjoyed the Cave of Wants arc - coming up, we finish the map with the Wish arc! It might be shorter than the others, we'll see.

Summary: Are your greatest desires that far away from your greatest fears? Panchito and Jose struggle to help their friends, and the clock is ticking! Can anyone fight the things they've tried to hide?

Daisy had always expected herself to die alone, perhaps in some vast wasteland where she had wandered off and couldn't find anymore people to con. Suffice to say, this was merely one of the shocks she was going through as Donald's iron fingers gripped her throat, piercing her skin, and crushing her voice-box. Screaming was impossible, and she gagged while frantically trying to pull him off, finding no strength in her hands. “S-stop...stop! Stop it! Donald, please!”

“This is what you wanted, RIIIIIIIIGHT?!” Donald's quacky voice was now demonic and dark, his beak curved into a twisted grin with fangs sticking out in bizarre angles. “All you ever do is hurt people, and you hate yourself for it! You can't trust anyone, because no one has ever trusted you! That Eye wasn't a gift, it was a curse! Your whole tribe deserved to be wiped out!”

Now the other crew-members popped up alongside Donald, but they were hideous creatures with deformed faces and maniacal grins, reaching out with their own hands to join in strangling her. Daisy could feel hot tears flowing from her bulging eyes. “That's... not... true!” But even this was a lie, and she knew it, she hated herself, hated the Eye, hated her family for having this cursed blood, hated so deep and maliciously that it eradicated all goodness she ever had.

“You've always been able to see other people's secrets, and when everyone learned that, you were chased out of every village!”

“You do nothing but cause pain to everyone! You've always known it! You want to stop, but you can't, because you don't have a real heart!”

“SO YOU JUST SHOULD JUST GIVE UP AND DIE, AND THAT WILL HELP EVERYONE!”

“GIVE UP AND DIE!

“GIVE UP AND DIE!”

“GIVE! UP! AND! DIE!”

The voices continued shouting the horrible mantra, and Daisy was finding it harder to disagree. She was a monster, and in all of Scheherazade's stories, the evil monsters were killed. Maybe everyone would be better off if she was gone for good. She'd said such a terrible thing to Donald about his family, and there was nothing she could ever do or say to make up for it. Had she been looking for a way out of the crew the entire time – or a way out of the world? She was always alone, and had always accepted it, and so in turn pushed away anyone who could dare change that. She just wanted to stop hurting people. She just wanted to stop hurting herself.

In the end... she just wanted everything to stop -

~*~

“Stop, Daisy!” Jose immediately jettisoned the plan he and Panchito had silently made, kneeling by Daisy's side and trying to pry her hands away from her throat. “Wake up! Daisy, wake up! Come on!” He slapped her hard across the cheek, but even that wouldn't stop her, as her once peaceful smile was now open in a silent cry for help.

Lotus Blossom whipped around, startled by the noise. “What the... why aren't you two asleep?!”

Panchito jumped ahead, aiming his pistols at her pretty face. “Undo your magic, thief! Free my friends right now!”

The booming, evil voice from the dark orb was now even more furious. “You damned woman, you were supposed to make them all look at the glass!”

“Hey, this is NOT on me!” Lotus began to fish for the same piece of glass from before in her sleeve. “You said once they all looked at, they're down for the count! You tell me why these two aren't in dreamland!” She found what she was looking for, and suddenly held out her hand, revealing a small piece of glass that was held in a golden frame, shutting her eyes for a brief moment.

Nothing happened.

Panchito blinked. “This is an improper time to show off your new monocle!” Jose, meanwhile, had managed to rip Daisy's hands off her neck, and had to pin them down at her sides to keep her from trying again.

Lotus paused, then shook the glass, even tapping it with her finger, all while making sure not to look directly at it. “This isn't a monocle, it's glass from the cave! You're supposed to be trapped within your greatest desires and worst fears about yourself! Everyone has them, so... get to collapsing, already!”

Panchito gave this some thought. “Worst fears? Hey, Jose, do I have a worst fear?”

“Panchito, my one and only, surely you would have told me such a thing!”

“Ah, yes, very true. I know I can always count on you, my loyal compadre!”

The orb began to shake in anger, which Lotus ignored, too stupefied by what she was hearing. “Come on! Everyone has doubts about themselves! Don't either of you have any tragic backstories? Any character arcs to develop? There has to be something about yourself you hate! Something that eats at you morning, noon, and night! There isn't a single person in the world who is content with themselves!”

Again, Panchito took a moment to consider things, and then shrugged. “Nah. I'm pretty okay with myself.”

“And I am also having little to no problems with my life, aside from my dear friend trying to join the afterlife,” said Jose while trying to peel Daisy's hands from her neck.

Lotus dropped her arm in disbelief. Perhaps this was where some flowery elaborate sentence about Panchito and Jose's mindset would go, but the truth of the matter was that they were not terribly complicated birds. Sure, they had their desires, as all do, but there was no great driving need behind them. They were just happy chappies with snappy serapes. Lotus, on the other hand, didn't believe that at all, and decided they were merely too stupid to have any fears. “Well, I'm blaming this on you.” She waved a hand toward the orb. “Can't pull off a successful heist without the right intel.”

“SILENCE, ALL OF YOU!” the voice roared, now sounding so beastly that even Lotus was quick to back up. “If you two fools won't die by the hand of the cave, I'll take care of you myself! And you, servant, you WILL bring the boy and the genie to me!” Lotus was about to take issue with being called “servant”, but that seemed very inconsequential when a different snarl came from the portal. Panchito recognized it as one of the shadow monsters that had been sent after them before. This one stomped with hard, heavy feet, taking the shape of an elephant as warped by the darkest of magics.

Panchito cocked his guns, ready to fight to free his friends. “Jose, we can take on this over-grown pachyderm!”

“Panchito, while I am both impressed by your valor and vocabulary, we have another problem!” Jose's usually calm demeanor began to unravel further, because now Donald was moving his arms, and it was a good guess where his hands were going!

~*~

How many members of his family had Donald met by now? He had lost track, but it wasn't important. He'd get to see them again, sure enough. His sister happily trailed alongside him, rattling off names and titles and pieces of history. Donald nodded along, shaking hands and exchanging hugs, but as he continued to meet and greet, he found he could hardly get a word in otherwise. Didn't they want to know what happened to him? The life he led before meeting him? How he was finally freed from his prison of false princehood by... by...?

He'd been about to shake the hand of yet another cousin, but suddenly yanked his hand, catching his breath. The blonde-haired man tilted his head, and Donald felt hundreds of eyes on him. “I-I'm sorry!” Donald sputtered out, feeling a little silly. “It's just... I don't know why, but, somehow, I forgot... my friends!” He let out a relieved laugh, glad he could remember those dear to him. “You'll want to meet them too! They're the ones who've helped me through so much! They're going to love you guys.” At first, he didn't notice the water under his feet, or that it began to rise to his ankles. “You could... you could kind of say they're my other family!”

“What a stupid thing to say,” his sister said, before suddenly shoving him hard into the water.

Donald fell face first, sputtering about and trying to sit up. “HEY! What's the big...” But as he looked around at his family, their formerly cherubic smiles were now gone, replaced with wretched scowls. “... idea...?”

“This is your family,” his sister now loomed over him, tall and imposing. “Not those misfits who took pity on a pathetic soul.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, you're misunderstanding things!” Donald tried to back up, but now the family members were forming a tighter circle like a white cage. “I don't love you any less than I love them!”

“Love?” She repeated, tilting her head at an unnatural angle, and Donald suddenly found the water rising higher and higher. “What in the world does someone like you know about love? You were raised by a man who only cared about money! You're no better than an insipid child, but even children are braver than you are! You never even wanted to find us!”

Donald felt the now cold hands of his uncles and cousins start trying to pin him down under the water, and he screamed, trying to keep his head above water. “Th-that's-that's not true! I always wanted to find my family! But – But Mickey – he needs help, he-”

“He's nothing more than an excuse!” Now she was on her knees in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his robes. “You cling to him to make sure you never have to look reality in the face! You're a monster, a freak! You don't know how to love, so you stick to anyone who even looks at you kindly! YOU WERE BETTER OFF UNDER GLOMGOLD'S THUMB! YOU WERE BETTER OFF NEVER BEING BORN!”

Donald gasped for air, but he was forced underwater, his lungs filling up. Even with his head submerged, he could hear all of their cruel taunts, and all the cruel truth behind them. He was scared, so scared, of the life he would lead once Mickey found his parents and left the crew behind. How could Donald understand the concept of love and family when he had been denied both since birth? Was his family better off never finding him? Was the entire world better off if he never existed?

Maybe... Maybe he should just stop fighting -

~*~

“Fight it off, Donald!” Jose pleaded, needing to use all of his strength to keep Donald's arms pinned down. “You can do this, my friend, I know it! You have to hear me!”

Everyone else was having difficulty hearing Jose, as Panchito and the monster he was fighting were making plenty of noise. Panchito had tamed many a wild horse in his younger days, but trying to wrangle a phantom elephant was a new one. He had used up all of his bullets trying to make the thing back away, before grabbing the massively long trunk and climbing atop its head. Now it was a fierce battle to steer the monster away from his sleeping friends, which was proving more and more challenging by the second. It rammed itself into the walls of the caves, causing the rocks above to come tumbling below.

Lotus was pressed to one wall, a few bored glowworms falling into her hair. “If that keeps up, the entire cave will collapse!”

“Grab the prince and the genie!” the dark voice bellowed, unconcerned with anything else. “If you want your promised fortune, then you will do as I have commanded! You won't see a single coin unless you bring forth what you promised!”

“You better triple the price, boss!” Lotus narrowly dodged a hard swing of the elephant's trunk. “Make it quadruple! Risking my life was never part of the deal! Some things are worth more than money!”

“I'll pay you ten times the agreed amount if you JUST DO WHAT I DEMAND!”

Well, some things were worth more than money, but that was a lot of money. Lotus pried herself off the wall and managed to slide over to the bodies, but her eyes widened when she saw the state Mickey was in. “And I'm guessing the deal's broken if Big Ears is also broken!” She reached down to try and stop Mickey's moving arms...

~*~

It was a great and glorious celebration! A banquet that would never end! Mickey led his friends and family in song again, with the entire palace full of people and the world full of joy. His father and mother, safe and sound, and Mickey without a title that had been unwillingly attached to him all his life. When the chorus finished, Mickey plopped into his seat, exhausted from fun and full of his favorite foods. As he tried to catch his breath, his father let out another merry laugh. “So, son of ours, have you thought what you wish to be known as?”

Mickey blinked, and then scratched his head. “Huh... I hadn't really thought that part out yet. I guess I should be known as something, if I'm not going to be the Son of Scheherazade anymore.”

“Maybe something like, Hero of the Desert?” Goofy offered.

“Legendary Pursuer of the Lost?” Daisy suggested.

Minnie sat comfortably in Mickey's lap, snuggling up. “How about, Husband of Minnie?”

Mickey felt his cheeks grow warm, and he chuckled nervously. “Aw, shucks... Those are all pretty good ones, I guess!”

“I have the perfect idea,” Scheherazade rose from her seat, approaching Mickey's side and fitting something in his hand. He assumed it was another goblet of drink. “From henceforth, you shall be known as Mickey... the Murderer.”

Mickey jerked upright in his seat. “What?!” It was then what he saw what had been placed in his hand – his sword, soaked in blood. He tried to throw it out of his hand, but his fingers wouldn't release the handle. He felt Minnie drop from his lap and onto the floor, and when he turned his head, he saw her lying motionless, a horrific cut on her neck. Mickey screamed, and screamed more as he saw everyone in the palace dead, save for his parents – Goofy, the crew, his servants, even Pete, their bodies strewn about with the same wounds, the banquet food rotting and drawing flies and the stench of blood inescapable. Mickey fumbled out of his seat, hitting the stained rug, eyes hot with tears. “Th-This isn't real! I didn't do this! I DIDN'T DO THIS!”

“It's inevitable, isn't it?” His mother asked, her pleasant voice now dripping with disdain. Droplets of blood began to dribble from her neck. “You may try to stop being my child, but you will always be your father's son. You carry his anger, and there's no denying your destiny.”

“No! I'm not like him! Pa, he, he changed! I just – I have to control my anger! I will, I swear it!” No matter how hard he tried to pull the sword from his hand, it wouldn't leave. Why did he want a sword so badly in the first place? Because, deep down, he wanted to fight? To hurt? To kill? “No! No, I just wanted to defend myself! I just wanted to be my own person!”

“And what good is being just you?” His father was behind Mickey now, his shadow dark and dangerous. “You who hurt others time and time again? What good is controlling your anger after it's already happened? You're a lost cause, you never should have left the palace. If you aren't the Son of Scheherazade, the life you are isn't worth living! ”

Mickey's arm trembled, and he found his own sword being pressed into his neck – in the exact place where the servant had tried so many years ago -

“IT'S YOUR FAULT THE PHANTOM PRINCE TOOK US, SO YOU COULD BE USED AS A PAWN!”

“IT'S YOUR FAULT MINNIE IS SUFFERING AND NO ONE CAN GO HOME!”

“IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT YOUR ANGER WILL DESTROY EVERYONE!”

“EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT!”

Mickey's tears rolled down his face, and he had never been more afraid in his life – what was he without the title he loathed? A murderous madman who couldn't be stopped? A stupid fool who kept trying to save everyone without seeing if they wanted to be saved? Had the grief-stricken servant been right to end things when he was a child? Why had he even been born?

Why did he think he had a right to live, why -

~*~

“Why is this happening?!” Jose at this point knew full well why, but stress often causes people to ask silly questions. Right now he was very stressed, as he was trying to use every limb to prevent his friends from strangling themselves, which now included Goofy, who was tormented by a wife and son who didn't know him because he loved adventure more than them, and Horace with Clarabelle, whose beloved Master berated them about their idiocy and who were only using him as a distraction to avoid facing their real problems. The parrot was being stretched thin, and it was a losing battle. “I can't keep this up! Lotus Blossom, you have to break them out of their trance! I beg of you!”

“I don't know how!” Lotus was amazed how strong little Mickey was, as it was a real struggle to keep him pinned down. “I didn't ask for details when I got into this plot! Listen, once I broke out prison, this stupid orb found me, and told me what to do and where to go! He offered me more money than I'd ever steal in my life! All the big guy said was not to look at the glass and I'd be fine!”

“Only I have the spells to break them free,” the dark voice sneered, “And I will only use them once I have the prince and the genie! Do you fools have any idea what you're up against? No one has the willpower to break through the Cave of Wants! It's taken thousands of lives, and they will be next!”

“That can't be true!” But even as Jose said it, he was getting a sick feeling that it could be true. He wanted desperately to believe in his companions, but every ticking second was showing that the voice was right. Right at that moment, the monster bucked hard enough to send Panchito flying, and he landed hard on his back near Jose. “Panchito!” He jumped off his allies to rush to his fallen friend, trying to help him sit up. “Panchito, you can't keep fighting that thing, you're out of ammo! It's going to kill you!”

“It's going to kill all of us if we don't do something!” Panchito said after wincing, his body aching with pain. “I refuse to believe they can't fight this! I know at least one of them can pull through! They are warriors!” He staggered to his feet, his chest heaving with pained breath. “They've gone through so much, and I've been honored to fight alongside them! If need be, I'll be honored to die defending them! I will never stop believing in my friends!” He looked down at Jose, and offered his hand with a tired smile. “What say you, Jose Carioca?”

Jose shook his head, but smiled all the same. “Common sense has never been your good friend, Panchito Pistoles... but I've always been yours.” He took Panchito's hand and rose to his feet, holding out his umbrella. “We are the Three Caballeros! No matter where he goes-”

“The one, two, and three goes!” Panchito squeezed Jose's hand tightly, and when they broke their tender embrace, they charged for the monster, ready to battle with every last ounce of strength they had.  Their hearts burned, knowing that surely in one of their friends, they were fighting too!

~*~

Cave? What cave? There was no cave to speak of here. The sun was shining down softly on a pair of lovers atop a flowery hill, the breeze calm and the world quiet. Minnie was safe in Mickey's arms, sighing in contentment, not wanting to leave this embrace for anything. Her eyes stayed closed, her back resting on his chest, and every so often, she'd say, “Please say it again.”

And he would comply each time, “I love you.”

It was amazing what true happiness three simple words brought. Minnie smiled, nuzzling her cheek affectionately to his. They didn't need anything but each other, and so she thought of nothing but him. She couldn't remember anything but him. She lifted her head, touching his soft cheek. “I want to be like this forever,” she murmured, even if she did sort of miss the way he'd blush so hard it'd touch his ears, or his stammering as if his words had fallen down the stairs. But... maybe it was better this way. Better for him to be confident in all he said and did.

“Don't worry,” Mickey chuckled sweetly, “it will be. It'll always be like this, forever and ever. I'll never let you go.”

Minnie pulled back, ready to place yet another dear kiss on his lips, when she saw that the golden mark on his neck was gone. She blinked, blinked twice, her mind fuzzy. “Where... where did the scar go?”

“Oh, that?” Mickey shrugged one shoulder, dismissive. He raised his hand to link with her fingers. “I didn't really need it anymore. After all, it's just as I said, I'll never let you go... so I'll never wish you free.”

Did she – did she hear right? Minnie tried to pull her hand back – and saw that the cuff on her wrist, usually golden and baring her and her Master's names, were now gray and dirty, with a long, unending chain attached. “What...?” She looked at her other wrist, and it was exactly the same here. “What are...”

“You don't ever have to worry about being useless again,” Mickey's charming smile grew pointed and devilish. “Because I'll bind you to me until the day I die! Isn't that the purpose of a genie?”

“You-” Minnie scrambled to get out of his lap, and when she did, she saw her ankles also chained. “Y-You're not my Master! Let me go!” She pulled at the chains, but they wouldn't budge, the grass and flowers dying.

“Of course I'm your Master, you refuse to call me anything else!” Mickey stood up, endless chains flowing from his empty hands. “Because you know you can't be anything more than a genie! You've been doing this for thousands of years! You think you could ever survive being a mortal? You can't even say my name!”

“That's – that's not...” Minnie tried to crawl on her hands and knees away from Mickey – Master – whatever this was – but the sun was being blocked out by prison bars now as high as the heavens. “I'm just... I'm just scared! It's all I've ever known!”

“So why should anything change? You can't do anything else! Can you cook? Can you clean? Can you even care about another person? HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY YOU'RE REAL? DO YOU HAVE A HEART? DO YOU HAVE A SOUL?” Now the beast with her beloved's form threw a chain at her neck, and it wrapped around like a deadly snake. “JUST STAY A SLAVE FOREVER! IT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED!”

Mickey held the chain in both hands, squeezing it around Minnie's throat. She tried to yell, tried to cry, and the weight of his words weighed heavier than all the chains now wrapping around every part of her body. Every step they got closer to saving Mickey's parents was a step towards her being a mortal, and facing all the consequences of it. How could a normal woman be of help to a prince? She wasn't like other people, she wasn't even a person. Wouldn't it be best for Mickey, best for everyone, if she just stayed in slavery?

Her Master – Mickey, Mortimer, all the ones she had served in her long life – pulled tighter and tighter, mockingly chanting the same words over and over.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!”

It would be best for everyone, best for the crew, best for all who rode that flying ship, that strange ship that didn't belong in the sea...

… And... somehow... that stayed with her. Because, in all the long, long, long years of torment and servitude...

“I've... never... seen... the... ocean...” Minnie breathed each word, opening her eyes.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!”

“I've... never seen the ocean...” Minnie repeated, her words stronger.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU -

“I want to see the ocean!” Minnie screamed, screamed as loudly as her lungs would allow, screamed with every century, every year, every day she ever had to give up her dreams to serve someone else. “YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT I WANT!” Her fingers found the strength to move, and they tried to slide under the chain on her neck, pulling and yanking. “It's been so hard... it's been so lonely... this isn't a life anyone should have! No one deserves to be a slave!” Inch by inch, the chains began to loosen. “But if I really thought I was better off this way... I wouldn't keep waking up! I wouldn't keep living! Even if I never understood before... a part of me has always... always... always been dreaming of freedom!”

The beast of her fears tried to tighten her prison again, but she slammed her forehead into his, throwing him off her body. “I don't deserve this life! Even if I am scared... even if I don't know what I'll do without my powers... Even if I can't help the person who means the most to me...” She would always be scared, but her love, her hope, her will, would triumph. If she didn't know the answers now, it didn't mean they'd never be found. “I won't run away! Whatever comes next, I'll face it! This is my life! Not for the crew, not even for him... but for myself! I WANT MY FREEDOM!”

“I WANT TO BE FREE!”

And with a huge, gulping gasp, she was – her body thrusting upward, she bolted upright, panting hard for air. Minnie was back in the cave, surrounded by her suffering friends. She touched her neck, and felt no chain. “What the...” But there was clearly no time to question much of anything. A shadowy monster was thundering towards Panchito, who couldn't get up in time, Jose having fallen some feet away. Minnie sprang up, running as fast as she could, and tackled Panchito away just in time to avoid being stomped.

Panchito landed on his back, and stared up at his heroine. “... Minnie? Oh, Minnie, you're not trying to off yourself! I am so relieved!”

“And I am so confused!” Minnie said right back, now seeing Lotus trying in vain to save Mickey, and the orb spewing smoke. “Okay, I know she had something to do with this, but what else?!”

Panchito managed to get into a sitting position, using his empty pistol as a cane. “That orb must belong to the Phantom Prince! That's what kidnapped Mickey's poor parents before! And now they're trying to take him and you! And if we don't find a way to wake everyone up, they're all going to die! The Phantom Prince said he'd only wake you and Mickey up, once he got his hands on you! And the cave might be collapsing! … But it's still nice to see you.”

That was a lot of information to get in fifteen seconds, and time was running out for everyone. They couldn't afford to wait and see if the others would find similar revelations Minnie had. “Mickey... he must need Mickey to force Lady Scheherazade to work for him!” And it didn't take a genius to know why anyone would want a genie.

“Hey, you're saying his name now! Good for you!”

Ignoring Panchito's ill-timed compliment, Minnie stood up, thinking fast. She had only one chance, and one idea, but it was time to put actual trust in herself. She was going to be free someday – not because she earned it, but because she deserved it, as all living things deserve to be. The Phantom Prince wouldn't stop what was rightfully hers – a life! “This ends here and now!” She bolted off, running around the monster's legs, running faster than it could, jumping around the falling rocks and debris. With her accumulated speed, she took a leap of faith, figuratively and literally, kicking Lotus right off her Master's body. “That's for so many things, I've lost count!”

Lotus fell on her side, the glass bit rolling out of her sleeve. “Oof... that's fair.”

Minnie pulled Mickey's sword out of his scabbard, and slammed it down hard on the glass piece, breaking it into dust. It didn't wake everyone, but now it couldn't be used to hurt anyone else. She could hear the monster approaching, and she stood in front of her friends, brandishing the sword. “Hear me, Phantom Prince! I am Lady Minerva of the Lamp, Minnie to those who love me! You need Mickey alive for your plan to work, but I'm not going to let you have him! He'd rather die than be used as a weapon against his parents, and that's exactly what's going to happen if you don't undo the spell right now on everyone!” She thrust her sword in the direction of the rampaging monster. “Either your whole plan falls apart right now, or you do something right for once and set them free!”

The monster continued to stampede forward – Jose covered his eyes, as did Panchito albeit letting his fingers slip a bit – but just as it would have stomped Minnie – it stopped. Abruptly. It looked down at her, its presence dwarfing her already small stature. “You lie,” the Phantom Prince said, the quietest he'd ever been. “I've seen your trials, I've seen your bond. Your words are bold, but your heart is weak.” There was odd assurance in his words, Panchito and Jose both noted, as if this was something he was very sure of. As if this was not the first time they'd met. The monster raised one large foot, ready to stomp, ready to force her back and make her beg for mercy.

Minnie did lower the sword, but not out of submission. No, now the sword was turned toward her Master as he lay in his haunted dreams, his eyes wide with untold horrors and his fingers secure around his throat. Minnie couldn't imagine the torture he was enduring, her own still fresh in her memories. Of course she wasn't going to kill him – of course this was a bluff – of course, of course, of course, she told herself, in order to drown a thought that was more terrifying than the prison she recently escaped. She had fought so hard, against the mirror dream and herself, to be free and independent – and here she was, making a choice all on her own, and what if – what if – what if her love for Mickey wasn't strong enough to stay her hand? This felt like an eternity, but only seconds passed, each one making the decision more difficult. But she grit her teeth. She wouldn't give in to tears.

“Can you really afford the time to test me?” Minnie didn't move, didn't shake, didn't blink.  The sword was pointed above Mickey's chest, above his beating heart.“Wake.” Jose tried to get to his feet, surely she wouldn't - “Them.” Panchito was making the same scramble, was she out of her mind  - “Up.” The sword was raised high -  “Now.” And then thrust down -

And then the orb began to float in the air, the smog beginning to swirl back inside, the portal vanishing. Minnie yanked the sword back, holding it close as she caught her breath. The monster dissolved into black ash, and a hidden wind blew it across the fallen heroes – who all began to jump into life. There were many startled cries, rubbing of throats, Horace and Clarabelle held each other while nearly crying with Goofy joining in a group hug. Jose and Panchito flew to Donald, tackling him back down with hugs and kisses and shouts of celebration, Daisy was struggling to process what was real and what wasn't, and Mickey threw himself at Minnie's back, holding her tight. “Minnie! You're alive! Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness, you're all alive! I could just kiss you!” A swift, hard pause. “I mean, not like – you know – not that I wouldn't want -  why are you holding my sword?”

While Minnie was grateful to hear Mickey's charmingly embarrassing misdirection, the day was not yet over. “Because this isn't done.”

“Huh?” Mickey lifted his head, and saw the floating orb – the smog it had collected was now rearranging itself to take on a solid form, a young man with a thin mustache, now holding the orb in his left hand, a hood over his head, his body continuously moving and shifting with the smoke. Mickey's eyes widened as he understood, letting go of Minnie so he could stand by her side. “You're... the Phantom Prince.”

“In the flesh, so to speak.” The Phantom Prince snorted at his own joke. “You surprise me, genie... to think you've changed after all these years. But you will learn your place.”

“Give me back my parents!” Mickey demanded, and soon he was joined at all his sides with his friends, each one willing to bring a brand new fight. “Your plan will never work! Your kingdom is dead, and my mother will never help you revive it! And we'll never stop fighting you! No matter what you throw at us, we'll never give up!”

“Even if you don't know where the final piece of the map lies?” The Phantom Prince asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Admittedly, that did knock the wind out of Mickey's sails briefly. “... Was kind of hoping you didn't know about that...” He shook his head, trying to restart the heroic speech. “We'll never stop looking for it, even if we have to go all around the world!”

“That won't be necessary,” The Phantom Prince waved a hand around the orb, turning it momentarily into a globe. “It's located in the fishing town of Alnihayat. It should only take you a few days to fly there.”

Now the sails, anchor, and entire boat of Mickey had the wind soundly knocked out of them. “Uh. Isn't... part of the whole 'evil villain' bit that you're not supposed to help us?”

The Phantom Prince snorted. “By helping you, I am helping myself. Why bother continuing to drag you to me if you're coming to me already?”

“This couldn't be a more obvious trap if he held up a big sign that said TRAP,” Horace whispered.

“No,” Minnie said, taking a step forward, sword still in hand. “I think he's telling the truth... he doesn't have a choice.”

Daisy leaned in closer to the group. “Did someone replace Minnie while I was out?”

“I've been thinking a lot about your plan, Phantom Prince,” Minnie continued, her sword pointed at his chest. “There's been so much of it that doesn't make sense... unless you look at things a certain way. But this entire scheme today proved it once and for all. You've had your monsters, your minions, and some bimbo thief-”

“Okay, harsh.”

“- Do all your work for you, and now you're practically giving the map on a silver platter. You waited all this time to kidnap Lady Scheherazade, her stories were legendary before Mickey was born. I don't think it was just good timing – I think it's the opposite... you're running out of time!”

Mickey was floored at the bravery Minnie was displaying, and it was only ignored once the pieces began to connect in his own mind. “Hey, I think I know what she's getting at! You're getting weaker! Whatever magic you've done to yourself, it's taken its toll! You're not the Phantom Prince because no one knows who you are... you're literally becoming a phantom yourself! And soon you'll be nothing but smoke and ash, just like your dead monsters!”

The Phantom Prince said nothing at first, his fingers curling around the orb. But even with his body slightly translucent, it was coming clear he was trembling with rage. Dark red eyes shone out from under the hood, and his voice began to thunder. “Such clever boys and girls you think you are... But in the end, I still have the Sultan and Sultana. Even at my weakest, I am still more powerful than you can ever dare to dream! I will have my kingdom restored, and I will be the rightful ruler! I AM THE PHANTOM PRINCE, AND YOU ARE NOTHING BUT THE STEPPING STONES TO MY ETERNAL GLORY!”

With this last blasphemous boast, the orb split open, and powerful dark magic struck out into the caves, slamming hard into the stone surrounding them – the walls began to crack, dust began to fall, the ground underneath their feet trembled, and there was a dull roar beginning to echo throughout the caverns.

“The cave's coming down on us!” Mickey declared, grabbing Minnie by the wrist. “Everybody out, NOW!” Goofy scooped up Lotus into his arms, and the entire crew headed back towards the entrance, the sunlight now free from the clouds. Daisy thought she heard Donald say something, or make a noise, perhaps he tripped, but there was no chance to see if he was all right. The cave was collapsing right behind them, and with one last, final, earth-shattering blow, it toppled down and sent out a harsh wind of dust and debris. Outside, the group fell over, the earth underneath them having moved due to how large the once mighty cave had been. Once the noise had stopped, Mickey dared to lift his head. “Maybe... next time... we call the magic bad guy weak... when we're outside.”

Goofy sat up, trying to do a mental count. “Everyone make it out okay?” One, two, three, four... wait...

Jose knocked some dirt off his hat. “Donald? Where is Donald?” Heads turned, but indeed, there was no sign of the bird.

Daisy sighed, getting on her feet. “Okay, before we all lose our heads, he's fine. Guy is way too dumb to die. Just give me a second to find him with my Eye, all right?” With a flourish of her hands, she closed her eyes...

… and saw darkness. Nothing.

Daisy slowly opened her eyes. “I... I didn't see anything,” she said slowly, unable to hear the words she was saying.

“What do you mean, you didn't see anything?!” Mickey demanded. “It's all the All-Seeing-Eye, it's supposed to be All-Seeing!”

“Shut up, I know what it's called!” Daisy hissed, before closing her eyes and trying again. Darkness. Nothing. Darkness Nothing. “No, no, no no no no...” If there was nothing to see, then that could only mean - “Noooo, no no no NO!” That the person she was trying to find was - “NO! NO NO NO NOOOOO!” Gods damn it all, her last words to him couldn't have been a mockery of his family! To rip his heart in two! “DONALD!” She threw herself at the remaining pile of rubble, trying to shove away the rocks. “DONALD, YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO BE THERE FOR ME, SO YOU CAN'T DO THIS!” He wasn't allowed to leave her! He wasn't allowed to be gone without a goodbye, a proper goodbye, she was crying and sobbing and this was worse than any stupid glass dream! “DONALD!”

The other members of the crew, save Goofy, began to pale and gasp in terrible understanding. Of course, Goofy paid attention to things no one else did, like moving sand. As the rest of the crew joined in on the desperate digging, Goofy gently set Lotus aside, stood up, brushed down his pants, and headed to a strange lump in the sand.

“DONALD!” Daisy screamed again, her fingers becoming dirty and bloody as she dug through the remains, even digging through the dirt even if that was a mad place to search. “DONALD, PLEASE! Please ... I want to wake up! The dream has to be over now! Everything's supposed to be okay now!”

Goofy stuck his hand in the lump, grabbed the softness within, and yanked it out. He then returned to the group, setting it down, dusted it off, and began tapping everyone on the shoulders one by one.

Daisy made a retching noise, unable to see anything anymore, Eye or not, with how hard she was crying. “I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it... I didn't mean any of those things... Please, don't... don't go... I'm sorry...”

“Apology accepted.”

Daisy stopped, and then whipped her head back so hard the snake in her hair flew a few inches off into a rock, sitting up dizzily. There stood Donald, looking quite amused, his entire body covered in mud and dirt. He wiggled his fingers. “Hello.”

Daisy's relief was muted by her anger and humiliation. “... WHERE THE HECK WERE YOU?!” She grabbed a fistful of pebbles, ready to throw them.

“I tripped,” Donald said, “And I knew if I got up I wouldn't make it out in time. So,” he held up one finger, letting lightning swirl around it. “I used my powers like a shield and let it fall on me. Neat, eh?” He managed to dodge the pebbles.

“NEAT?!” Daisy shrieked, ready to strangle Donald herself in place of the glass replicas. “My Eye couldn't see you!”

“Well, yeah, I got dirt in my eye.” Donald pointed at his eyes, “And it hurt, so I shut them. You probably just saw the insides of my eyelids. But!” he finished with a clap. “More importantly! Sooomebody caaares~!”

Daisy froze, now acutely aware of all the knowing eyes on her, each one more gleeful than the last. “... No, I don't. Nooo, I don't. Stop looking at me like that!”

“Daisy's got a heee-aaart!” Clarabelle sang, and Horace joined in, the two of them swaying and singing. “Daisy's got a heee-aaart!”

“SHUT UP! I do not!” Daisy huffed, stomping her heels into the ground. “I am an unfeeling monster! I lie and trick and use people for tools! I don't like anybody! QUIT SINGING THAT STUPID SONG!”

“Aw, what nice little lies,” Donald teased, pulling Daisy into a hug and patting her head. “There, there. Welcome to the world of caring.”

“You guys suck,” Daisy mumbled into Donald's chest, lying again.

Mickey rolled his eyes, taking his sword back from Minnie. “As exciting as the last couple of minutes have been, we do have another problem on our hands... with the cave like this now, how are we supposed to find the map piece? It'll take forever to dig it out!”

Lotus stretched her arms as she stood up, reaching for one last thing in her sleeve. “About that... any good thief always has a back-up plan.” She pulled out a familiar piece of paper. “And I am a very good thief.”

Minnie's jaw hit the ground, all her newfound dignity and respect gone. “You... had that piece of the map with you... the entire time?!” She hated this woman! She hated this woman so much!!!

“I found it in there, and didn't tell the big guy,” Lotus said as she handed over the piece to a stunned Mickey. “He offered me a fortune to trade you guys, but I always make it a habit to keep secrets from my employers. If you're working for a bad guy, you have to expect bad things might happen to you too. This make us even, Big Ears?”

Mickey slowly took the piece from her fingers. “You... are a horrible person. You have to know that.”

Lotus shrugged, not really caring. “The world's not always so black and white. Being gray can be the most fun. But before you guys head out on the next leg of your journey, I got one last question... why doesn't that Phantom guy just tell you where his lost kingdom is, instead of telling you where the next piece of the map is? Won't it take longer to find the kingdom itself?”

Mickey held up the third piece of the map in the sunlight. Like the other two, the words were difficult to read, the lines didn't make sense, and it didn't seem to fit in any direction with the others. He needed to think like clever Minnie. Flip it around... If the Phantom wasn't taking them to the kingdom, but to the map, it was because...

“It's because... this map isn't a map at all! We're not looking for pieces of a map – we're looking for pieces of a spell!”

[zippdementia]

Part 32 Alignment May Vary: The Beginning of the End

This is the post that will take us to the very final moment of the campaign of Tomb of Haggemoth. A year ago, I found this campaign by reading a number of forums online, looking for something adventurous and seaworthy to fill some time while I prepped Red Hand of Doom. I was originally looking for a simple set of one shot adventures with time gaps between them, but once I read the final room description in Haggemoth, I was hooked, and thus began a nearly year long side quest which has taken my players, moment by moment, up through the levels. Because we are nearly at the end and I want to catch up with them, I’m going to gloss some of the final level of this dungeon. The big events come at the end, and that’s where my focus will be.

To start us off, we found the dirge Tyrion sang for Samuel and Biggs, the fallen comrades of Twyin and Xaviee:

Homeward Bound:

A Dirge to Fallen Soldiers ​Bright shines the sun over the morning crest, A scattering of rays glistening as sparks in the valley below. The soldier’s arms capture the light, imbuing them with the power of the stars. ​Humble mortals, handed the keys of greatness.

​The road home, the road home! Always out of sight around the corner. ​The singular soldier wanders a quiet path Which always leads home. ​Whether above the ground, or below.

​We call their names, Biggs! Samuel! Their presence the eager tear through the dark. ​With them, we feel keenly their passing. ​Without them, we’d feel nothing at all. ​The soldier’s life holding true to burden.

​For no soldier stands alone. ​Each is a brother, in a line of brothers For whom the plight of a one is a plight of all. ​A wolf pack! A pride of lions! An army of ants! ​One should fear the gathering of these men against them.

​We bid farewell this day to two brothers in arms. ​Without you, we must carry on. ​Our homes aboveground lie, Our battles not yet ended. ​But Samuel and Biggs have found their home, here. ​And take thy rest.

Long ago, Haggemoth the dwarf mastered the arts of his ancestors, perfecting and in fact improving on many of their designs for armor, weapons, musical instruments, and artifacts. Then, still thirsty to learn and create, he began studying magic. His brethren discouraged him in this pursuit but Haggemoth’s curiosity soon turned to infatuation as his quick mind picked up the intricacies of first one school of magic and then another. When he began studying the school of necromancy, his tribe had had enough. Banished from his homeland, Haggemoth wandered the world, continuing his studies. He never had trouble making money, for he still knew the secret arts of his people and could make powerful magical weapons, which he sold to the highest bidder, following wars around the world like a wolf chasing sheep. His beard had been shorn off as part of his banishment and he determined never to regrow it, wearing his bald face as a sign of pride. Eventually, as grew his power so too did his reputation. He did great things, and terrible things, in his pursuit of power. He befriended great wizards, too, and his closest ally became the elf Udo the Grey, who sought to control the weather of the world.

After many great adventures, Haggemoth began to grow old and in his old age his heart began to yearn for the one thing his power could not grant him: a return to his home and acceptance by his people and gods. Determined to make amends, Haggemoth began a long and difficult process of cleansing his soul. It would take a lot: a lifetime of sins against his gods had brought him much of his knowledge, and a simple attonement spell would not save him. And so Haggemoth took on his greatest challenge: the challenge of erasing sin.

Removing himself from the world was his first act in the process. He needed time to think and to plan and furthermore he wanted to isolate himself from having any further impact on the world. Rori Rama was the perfect location, a vile jungle island at the edge of civilization. Using powerful magics, Haggemoth raised a reef in front of the island to serve as his “wall,” eventually people would come to live here (these would become the ancestors of the natives which took in Rayden after his doomed journey came to an end) but no one ever came to live on the island except for Haggemoth.

The island was isolated, but more importantly it was geothermically active. The whole island was an old volcano and Haggemoth built directly over its source, harnessing its power to build his fortress, his tomb, his sanctum, and his sin-erasing contraption. The inner sanctum was his only home during these long years. He only had a single visitor, and that was Udo the Grey, who came once at Haggemoth’s behest, to take from him a silver key and use it to lock Haggemoth forever inside the sanctum. Udo the Grey would be the last humanoid to ever see Haggemoth alive.

Still, Haggemoth did not live in discomfort. His sanctum was equipped with a magical kitchen so that food would never run out. His rooms were spacious and the furniture had been enchanted to be his servants, brooms and dustpans cleaning up after him, chairs rearranging themselves to his liking, and tables setting themselves for his repasts. Above all other treasures, Haggemoth valued knowledge and his library was filled with histories and philosophies, tales of ancient heroism and future musings. He captured the power of the volcano to light his lamps, an early form of electricity, and to heat his baths. A veritable zoo was kept in his lower dungeons, the creatures there all in some way essential to his work: an otyugh dispensed of his waste, and a cockatrice provided rare alchemical and magical supplements. A grey ooze, carefully contained, put off a chemical that was particularly useful for making magical weapons and armor. One creature roamed the sanctum more freely: a clever phasm named Lhouee whom he mostly kept trapped to talk to and keep him company.

There were also darker things down there. Haggemoth had long ago achieved the highest level of power that could be gained through study, and so he had then turned to more infernal means of acquiring it. A Herzuo demon lay trapped in his sanctum, bound so that it could never claim the soul that was promised it in exchange for its power. There it sat, roaring all through the days and nights until Haggemoth moved it outside of his sanctum into a hidden hall and cast a spell of silence over it, then locked it away, forever.... or so he thought.

With the demon bound and locked away, Haggemoth continued his work. Some of it was yet done for pleasure, works of carving and mosaics and painting, but most of his efforts were put to use at his grandiose forge, creating the things that he hoped would set his soul free. And there was the treasure, too. A lifetime’s worth of it, the accumulation of Haggemoth’s wealth both ill-gotten and good, that Haggemoth intended to put to a final use. Worth well over a million gold pieces, it was, enough treasure to buy a kingdom (or break one), to establish a line of heirs going far far into the future, enough to outlast even the most voracious spender. Or possibly, just enough to save a soul.

Day after day Haggemoth worked, forging first a set of massive scales, then gears, then a huge chain which he put runes on to make it susceptible to lightning. He ripped his soul from his body, setting it into a phylactery, and this became the very focus of the object he was building. Last he made a forge hammer, imbued by days of ritual casting with the power to activate his machine. And then the day came when it was done and he prepared to free his soul, once and for all.

But on this day, misfortune struck. There are beings known as the Inevitables, constructs built by the gods to have divine insight and truly neutral perspective, to be able to properly judge the world. Three of them, there are, and they represent the realities that all men must face. The Inevitability of Fate, that all must face the consequences of their actions. The Inevitability of Justice, that upholds divine contracts and the general laws of nature that govern the world. And the Inevitability of death, which all men must face. When a person attains such power that they are able to break these inevitable truths, these constructs activate and seek to right the wrong done.

In this case, Haggemoth’s demon was his undoing. For in breaching this infernal contract, Haggemoth attracted the attention of The Inevitable of Justice, who descended upon his sanctum via magical teleportation and sought to forced Haggemoth to free the demon that Haggemoth had imprisoned. A great battle was waged in the sanctum, then, as the Inevitable chased Haggemoth through his lair, each of them casting powerful magics upon the other. The battle destroyed the main halls and released the monsters from the dungeons. Haggemoth moved defensively, working his way back towards his final creation. He summoned Earth elementals to cover his escape, but the Inevitable nimbly darted around them. Haggemoth used a golem to attack the Inevitable, but the Inevitable had the upper hand, even when weakened. Finally, Haggemoth used a powerful spell to turn the hard rock around the Inevitable to mud and then back again, trapping the celestial inside a prison of stone.

The Inevitable let loose one final spell as it was trappeed and the cavern they fought in shook with the force of its command. Stalactites freed themselves from the ceiling and fell to crush Haggemoth underneath. Pinned, with his left side crushed and trapped. Exhausted and already gravely injured, Haggemoth could not survive the blow. He made one attempt to command his golem to help him before expiring. The golem made it to him but with its master dead, it simply knelt by his side and waited, still executing his last clear command: Expell the Intruder.

Meanwhile, the sanctum slowly filled with the creatures Haggemoth had kept for his work. Trapped here, they fought over what territory was available to them. The Cockatrice settled in the bedroom, turning Haggemoth gorgeous bed into their nest. The ooze ate the creatures too stupid to avoid it and then settled into a hibernative state. Rust Monsters ate much of Haggemoth’s forge and stash of metals, growing large and bold in the process. They dug tunnels that lead all through the sanctum, though none find their way up to the surface. A strange intelligent mold grew rampantly in its keeper’s absence, consuming the old monster cages and killing anything that dared return there. The Otyugh fought a grand battle for the magical kitchens and eventually set itself by the enchanted pantry, screaming every moment for food to fill its insatiable hunger. Eventually it grew to such bulk that it could no longer move. Filling one corner of the massive kitchen, it lived in its own excrement and filth and eventually the magic of the place became corrupted, spewing forth only maggot infested or rotted food. Lhouee the Phasm was worst off: more intelligent and self aware than the others, it recognized its predicament for what it was—an eternity trapped in a dungeon. For a while it amused itself by transforming into furniture to mock and mimic the enchanted furniture that still sought to tend to Haggemoth’s lair. When it grew tired of stomping around as a comfy armchair, It tore through Haggemoth’s books, seeking some spell or power that could free it. But his greatest books had been given to his device, and Lhouee could not reach that, as it was still guarded by the earth elementals and the golem. So it despaired, and slowly grew strange and gloomy in its solitude.

The demon, meanwhile, still raged against his prison, his screams falling silent against the spell that held him still. His contract was not completed. The Inevitable had failed. Haggemoth was dead, but his soul did not pass on, trapped as it was in the phylactery he had set in his grand device.

And there his soul waits, still, for a group of adventurers to find it and pass final judgement.

Critical Success

This large vaulted chamber is ringed with braziers that flicker with the glow of unearthly fire. At the north end is an imposing set of massive Stone doors, reinforced with Iron and covered with runes. A complex locking mechanism holds them closed.

The adventurers use the silver key they got from DenDen (Rayden), which originally was given to Udo the Grey. It unlocks the great double doors and they enter Haggemoth’s sanctum, the end destination of the journey they began months ago. Each comes with their own story, a story that has developed over the course of our adventures together. 

Abenthy, Aasimir born and once a great innocent, has switched alleigance from Lawful Good to Lawful Evil, believing himself to be the ultimate arbiter of justice, in service to his father, the fallen Angel I’afret. His once pure white wings have broken and rotted, becoming skeltal husks... though, ironically, the rest of the party has yet to see this, due to a comic level of irony. They have all been knocked out each time Abenthy has triggered his new true form, and thus are mostly unaware of their friend’s changed nature. It is worth noting that Abenthy is not a common lawful evil villain. His transformation began with self doubt at the beginning of this adventure. He put up his sword many a time rather than strike down a foe, for fear of straying from the narrow path he walked. But much death has occured on this adventure. He has lost allies, seen innocents harmed, and seen how villains will go unpunished. In this, he found the strength to strike without question—little thinking that perhaps the questining was his true strength and not his weakness.

Karina began this quest seeking answers. Instead, she has found only pain and more questions. Rayden’s mind is lost to her, forcing her to think on what her destiny might be, if not revenge. She has become hardened over the course of the adventure. Indeed, she is the only survivor from its start, back on the prison ship. Her original team was murdered by the Demon Pirate on the Moonsea and she carries the burden of survivor’s guilt. Whereas Abenthy has questioned less and less, more and more she finds her thoughts plagued with uncertainty. Was this worth it? Should she turn around? Will others be hurt because of her actions? Beginning as a Chaotic Neutral character, she has begun the slow but sure road towards Good. She is also becoming a legend: the legend of the Seeker of Callax, whose right eye shines brightly with the jewel given to her by the giant of Friezorazov. Each scar on her body tells a story that she knows the telling of, but not the ending of.

Tyrion’s change has been drastic. Once a well spoken dandy, he has morphed into a foul mouthed cantankerous lech, hungry for power, abandoned by his college, convinced by what he has survived with this party that he is destined for greatness beyond what others can offer him. The demon that he has taken inside of him fuels this desire and feeds in him an inner rage and disappointment that questing has not been as romantic or as heroic as the songs say it is. Determined to shape the world the way he shapes music, Tyrion has lost his originally Chaotic Good alignment and shifted into Chaotic Neutral, not caring for the world around him or the cosmic battle for good and evil as much as for how to best gain power. Ironically, this is the very path Haggemoth walked, perhaps why the demon that Tyrion inherited from Haggemoth has found him such an appropriate vessel (and letting him multi-class as a bardic warlock). The demon will continue to push for him to fall into evil, though Haggemoth’s Sanctum may contain the very thing Tyrion needs to cleanse his soul and remind him of the purity of music that first set him on his quest.

Xaviee, too, walks with them, a man who went from soldeir to shipwrecked to found. Xaviee has been through a hellish trial: everything he thought he had lost forever was given to him again, then snatched away, this time with a note of finality. Tywin is dead. Samuel and Biggs are dead. All that remains to him now is to survive, to serve, and to one day cross again the Dragonfang mountains to return to the land of his birth and reclaim in the name of those who are slain the old fortress of Vraath Keep, where his life first took a tragic turn. 

As these companions make their way through the sanctum they encounter many of the creatures Haggemoth kept here. Lhouee escapes in the guise of a armchair, goofily making his way past the bemused players who, not understanding his true nature, let him go without much fuss. He escapes to the surface world, perhaps to be seen again in another story. The cockatrice they leave well alone, but the Otyugh they engage in combat, Tyrion actually leaping inside of it and cutting it open from the inside, pushed on by the power (and insanity) of the cursed Battleaxe of the Brave. They restore the ktichen to somewhat working order, using Purify Food and Drink to restore the magic to the pantry, and take the magical lid to the pantry with them for possible use in the outside world. There is even some emotional growth for the party, as during a long rest in Haggemoth’s library in which they are interupted and nearly killed by the Grey Ooze, Karina grows closer to Abenthy, huddling next to him for warmth and comfort as Tyrion snores away and Xaviee stoically watches the entrance to the library.

But there are dangers, here, too, and the longer they spend in the sanctum, the weaker the party grows. They quickly discover that the weapons and armor they took from upstairs is fake and are thus left a little more defenseless and a little less powerful. The cursed weapons Karina and Tyrion weild are strong but Karina has a tendency to roll either critical failures or successes and each one now leaves her blinded by bloody tears. Tyrion, too, though made very strong by the Battleaxe, now rushes into combat headfirst and often goes down quickly. His health is detiorating rapidly as well due to a mysterious unidentified illness, his hit points dropping permenantly after long rests and leaving him with a bloody cough that worries them all. The rust monsters decimate their armor even further before being pushed away in an action-heavy battle which includes this wonderful scene:

“Tyrion!” Abenthy shouted. “There are more coming from your left!”

Tyrion spun at Abenthy’s words, spinning the battleaxe with his momentum, grunting as the blade cut through the legs of the Rust Monster leaping at him. The flea-like monster was mid leap as its legs were cut from under it and its final jump carried it over Tyrion’s head and into one of its fellows attacking him from the other side. They were everywhere, and he couldn’t now remember why it had felt like a good idea to rush into their midst alone. Yet he was oddly glad to be here, with the smell of blood and battle around him. Now if only they would stop chewing on his damn armor.

Behind him, Abenthy raised a fist skyward and the black gauntlet around the Assimir’s wrist began to glow red. With a roar, Abenthy spun and punched the Rust Monster closing in from behind him square in the face. The beast went flying backwards.

Karina, meanwhile, was behind the rest of them, still making her way onto the battlefield. She was just now squeezing through a gap between the two rooms, pushing past a narrow space left by a hole in the wall.

“Are you all still alive in there?” she called out. Her answer was a squeal of pain as the Rust Monster that Abenthy had punched flew into the wall in front of her, then comically slid to the ground on its back, legs pumping furiously in the air.

“Nevermind,” she shouted again, drawing her rapier and burying it deep in the monster’s exposed belly.

The biggest disaster comes in the battle with Haggemoth’s modified Earth Elementals. Two guard the chamber leading to where Haggemoth met his end and they nearly TPK the party, rolling exceptionally well and smashing through the players’ weakened defenses. With their ability to move through the stone walls and pillars of the chamber they quickly gain a tactical advantage and surround the party. In the end, it becomes a game of Karina healing Tyrion, getting knocked unconscious, and then Tyrion healing her before being knocked unconscious, with this keeping one of the elementals occupied long enough for Abenthy to reveal his true form and take out the other. Abenthy himself goes down before Tyrion and Karina can come aid him (again missing his true form because of him falling unconscious). It’s a constant game of attrition and one they only barely win. It chews up their resources and leaves all of us feeling uneasy about the Golem that still awaits them. They find out about the Golem by sending Moonglum alone into the next room, where he promptly fails a dodge roll and is crushed to death in the Golem’s massive fists.

Inevitability

I go into the Golem fight a little concerned. The Golem is a CR 10 and nothing to scoff at. It rolls a +10 to attack and hits for an average of about 25 damage a strike. It’s immune to many attacks, resistant to magic, and has an incredibly powerful ability to slow the party, drastically reducing their effectiveness. In addition, Tyrion is bound by his curse to charge it, Karina’s arrows will have little effect, and everyone is badly armored and fairly hurt (though they take a long rest after the elemental fight). I never know what will happen in Dungeons and Dragons but I know that there is a possibility for a TPK here and it would be a shame so close to the end. I have a plan in mind in case the party dies in the Sanctum to keep us in the story for a while, and I think tonite will be the night to use it.

Except I end up not needing to. Not only do I roll abysmally, but Karina comes into this fight on fire (not literally). She uses Chill Touch, which bypasses magical resistance, and ends up with a nat 20 on her first roll. As her magical skeletal hands tear at the Golem’s eyes for somewhere close to 40 damage, her curse kicks in and she started to cry tears of blood, blinding her for a couple rounds... ironcially, just as Abenthy lets loose with his skeletal wings. Yup, as fate would have it, Karina yet again missed his transformation. Tyrion sees it: but Tyrion is deep in battle rage at this point and barely takes notice. He and Abenthy move in close. The Golem opportunity attacks as they come and... totally misses, despite only needing to roll an 11 to hit either of them. It tries its Slow spell next and both of them roll 18s for their saves. Karina is stumbling around blindly but decides to take another pot shot despite her disadvantage and... rolls a nat 20. Using inspiration dice to get rid of the disadvantage the attack counts as another hit and, yup, she’s blinded some more. Abenthy and Tyrion start beating on the Golem and for a while they trade blows. But the Golem is much stronger and when Abenthy and Tyrion miss four attacks in a row, I mentally declare the battle over. The Golem fells Tyrion with a single blow and turns to finish off Abenthy.

Only Karina’s blindness has worn off by now and she rushes in behind to take advantage of sneak attack and flanking and pulls her cursed scimitar free to do battle. And Nat 20s again. With sneak attack.

The battle doesn’t last much longer than this. The Golem tries to once again rally and use its slow ability to buy it some reprieve, but the lowest save roll comes back 17 and so again this plan is thwarted. It retreats, to try and put some distance between it and the fight and Karina uses Chill Touch on it as it goes...

... and once again Nat 20s. Two skeletal hands emerge from thin air, wrap themselves around the Golem’s head, and crush it with one decisive movement, into a fine dust.

The extreme variable is one of the selling points of the D20 system for me. It doesn’t work as well for gritty realistic games, like Shadowrun or Fallout, but for a fantasy setting it gives those nice heroic moments or massive party killing disasters that the things of legends are made of. I know my players will remember this fight and Karina’s crazy rolls during it.

Speaking of legends, a while ago I gave my players a crystal orb that can show them the past and all throughout the dungeon they have been using it to keep track of the decades old battle between Haggemoth and The Inevitable. They have seen the Inevitable, a tall mechanical figure weilding a large blade and wearing a dramatic cloak, but they have not been able to recognize it for what it is. Only Abenthy has come close and then only because he grew up in a monastery, where stories of such things are common. Even so, he doesn’t realize what is trapped in the huge boulder in this room, the one that keeps shaking and moving as if it has a will of its own.

Exploration of the rest of the area reveals that Haggemoth was working on something big. The party finds giant molds for making humongous gears. They find large chains inscribed with reactive runes, causing them to explode and disintegrate upon contact with lightning. In Haggemoth’s skeletal hands they find a magical forge hammer, imbued with the power of lightning.

While Karina and Tyrion are focused on the mystery of what Haggemoth was building, Abenthy turns his attentions back to the boulder. Using his extra-ordinary senses, he perceives that a Celestial is trapped inside the rock and suddenly he puts two and two together. Not telling the rest of the group what is going on, he approaches the rock and uses his helmet of telepathy to reach inside and find the mind of the Inevtiable.

The voice that booms inside his head is beautiful and terrible at the same time. It prods at his memories, touches his fears, digs deep into his concsciousness to pull free thoughts Abenthy didn’t know were his own. And then it addresses him...

“I was sent to bring Haggemoth to justice for his crimes,” the Inevitable tells him, his voice booming inside his mind. “Release me, so that I may finish my task.”

“What has Haggemoth done that has decided his judgement?” Abenthy sent back. “I also am a follower of justice. Perhaps I would understand.”

The feeling that struck him gave Abenthy the impression of mockery, that he was being derrisively laughed at. “You? You do not understand, cannot understand. You were not built for such understanding. You think you can deliver justice? You are wrong.”

“I deliver justice,” Abenthy protested. “I have many times, in the name of my father, I’afret.”

The voice inside his head hissed like an angry cat. “You follow false gods and mete out flawed judgement. You cannot see the way I do. You think you are above the pettiness of mortals?” Images flashed suddenly inside Abenthy’s mind. He saw himself murdering pirates, sending their souls to his father. He saw himself taking patches of skin off the pirates and wearing them as badges of honor and of fear. He saw himself keeping Tywin’s blood soaked rags. He saw himself sending Targaryen to his father. He saw Verrick die as he fell from the bridge, and heard Karina’s scream of dismay again, and smiled because now he could claim her for his own.

The images slowed suddenly, and the voice returned, full of confidence and judgement. “I can see all that you have done. Even you doubt yourself. So how can you judge another? Release me, so that I may do justice.”

“No,” Abenthy responsed, his mind filled with cold clarity and a deep sense of purpose. “You are the old way. I am the new. You are obsolete. I am the new arbiter of justice. I will leave you here, old creature, and I will take your role as the new Inevitable. The world does not need your justice anymore.”

And then he cut the connection and turned, leaving without a backward glance or a word of explanation to the others, who had only seen him with a hand on the boulder, the boulder which now shook violently as if it would tear itself apart. But it did not, and Abenthy did not stop, and the world continued to turn.

On a Grand Scale

Past the golem’s cavern there is a cave lit by a red glow. The players step into it and finally I get to read the words I’ve been waiting a year to read, that first intrigued me about this adventure:

A 10’ wide stone bridge arcs into this enormous subterranean space. A mighty river of lava roils violently through the cavern 60’ below, and the roof can only dimly be seen 60’ above. Situated in the middle of this river is a significant hunk of dark, glassy stone, and upon the stone is what appears a colossal set of balance scales. The scales are a complex mass of huge gears and pulleys, but instead of rope they are threaded with sturdy metal chain, and the entire device is covered in faintly glowing runes and magical symbols. From either side of the massive apparatus, the chains support circular platforms of iron-braced marble, each 20 feet in diameter. The entire artifact is ornamented with appointments of silver, gold, and adamant, and sitting on the balances are huge piles of treasure: weapons, magical artifcts, great tomes and books, jewlery, chests of coins and gems. Too much to count, the worth must well exceed a million gold pieces.

The stone bridge extends over the lava towards the center of the scales, where a mighty anvil appears to have been built into the device. A crystal set into the top of it glows brightly, and branching out from the anvil’s sconce are bridges allowing access to the two hanging marble platforms.

This is, of course, what Haggemoth was building—a grand set of scales to balance his soul (currently resting in the phylactery in the anvil) and erase his signs. The entire device is inscribed with powerful magic, making it in essence a massive attonement spell. The treasure is the key to the spell: each side balances the other, one with magic and knowledge the other with forge items and cunning of the hands (though it also includes magical weapons). The scales need to be in balance to work—if at any point one side exceeds the other by 40lbs, the scales begin to tip. Tipped too far, the scales will rip themselves apart. 

To activate the magic of the scales, the anvil must be struck with lightning magic (like the forge hammer Abenthy claimed from Haggemoth’s corspe). If in balance when this happens... well, that’s for my players to find out.

The treasure here is truly tremendous. All of the weapons are ungodly strong, the spell books go up to level nine with rare and powerful magics, and probably the pinacle gamebreaking item is the Staff of Power tucked into the magic scale—a +2 to everything (including AC) weapon that can expend charges to do massive spell damage—which in Tyrion’s warlockian hands would wreak havoc on enemies. It’s amost too much to actually put into the game, but hey they’ve earned it. Now they just have to go get it.

Of course, there is more than just treasure here. Haggemoth’s soul hangs in the balance, too, and that in itself is a prize (albeit more of a roleplaying one) to certain members of the party...

The group knows none of this, of course. They see the scales and the treasure and are smart enough to piece together the purpose of the device, but only experimentation will tell them how it works. Karina begins using mage hand to lift items off of the scales. She gets one of the powerful spell books, a book of histories, and a jeweled harp for Tyrion (who begins to cry at the sweet heartwrenching sound it makes) before the scales tip out of balance... and also we remember that mage hand cannot lift more than a few pounds and Karina suddenly cannot cast the spell anymore today. Oops.

By now, Tyrion is walking towards the balances, a hungry look in his eyes. He halts himself just before reaching the one holding the magical items and shakes his head as if to clear it. Something inside him was yelling for him to rip, to tear, to destroy. He pulls back, suddenly disconcerted. But the hunger inside him does not go away: it shifts. He begins to think of the phylactery. If these items are the work of the soul entrapped there, then how powerful might the soul itself be?

Karina was watching him, her sweat cold despite the heat of the chamber. “Do not move any further!” she warned, gesturing towards the balances. “They have fallen out of balance. I don’t know how much more they can take. We have to balance the other side.” She looked at the balance and the thin bridge that led to it, and the 60′ fall into the lava below. Crossing would take concentration and willpower. But without her mage hand, what choice did she have?

So focused was she on the task of moving forward that she did not see Abenthy behind, standing by the anvil and staring down at the crystal phylactery, its blue light casting eerie shapes and shadows over his face. She did hear him, though, as he placed a hand on the crystal and spoke a name: I’afret. The name of his father.

A chill went through her and she turned, the plea on her lips, but Abenthy had already raised the forgehammer and, with the scales yet unbalanced, he brought it down on the anvil. 

What happens next we will discover next post.

[swipestream]

Science Fiction and Fantasy New Releases: 23 March, 2019

Jules de Grandin, Black Tide Rising, Russian wuxia litRPGs, and Larson and VanDyke’s Galactic Liberation return in this week’s roundup of the newest releases in science fiction and fantasy.

Black Moon (The Complete Tales of Jules de Grandin, Volume Five) – Seabury Quinn

Today the names of H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, August Derleth, and Clark Ashton Smith, all regular contributors to the pulp magazine Weird Tales during the first half of the twentieth century, are recognizable even to casual readers of the bizarre and fantastic. And yet despite being more popular than them all during the golden era of genre pulp fiction, there is another author whose name and work have fallen into obscurity: Seabury Quinn.

Quinn’s short stories were featured in well over half of Weird Tales’s original publication run. His most famous character, the French supernatural detective Dr. Jules de Grandin, investigated cases involving monsters, devil worshippers, serial killers, and spirits from beyond the grave, often set in the small town of Harrisonville, New Jersey. In de Grandin there are familiar shades of both Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, and alongside his assistant, Dr. Samuel Trowbridge, de Grandin’s knack for solving mysteries—and his outbursts of peculiar French-isms (Grand Dieu!)—captivated readers for nearly three decades.

Available for the first time in trade editions, The Complete Tales of Jules de Grandin collects all ninety-three published works featuring the supernatural detective. Presented in chronological order over five volumes, this is the definitive collection of an iconic pulp hero. The fifth volume, Black Moon, includes all the stories from “Suicide Chapel” (1938) to “The Ring of Bastet” (1951), as well as an introduction by George Vanderburgh and Robert Weinberg and a foreword by Stephen Jones.

Bone Dungeon (Elemental Dungeon #1) – Jonathan Smidt

Ryan doesn’t remember much about his life before becoming a dungeon core. Only that he had a bit of a disagreement with the church — something to do with a beheading?

Now reborn, Ryan begins to arm his darkness dungeon with devious traps, bestial zombies and ill-named skeletal creations, without doing anything too evil. Well, mostly. Some adventurers just deserve a stalactite to the head.

But Ryan quickly learns being a darkness dungeon isn’t all loot and bone puns. With a necromancer on the rise and the Adventurer’s Guild watching his every move, he must prove that not all darkness dungeons are malevolent… even if they do have a few skeletons in their caverns.

Sadly, all of these issues keep distracting him from his own guilty pleasure, skeletal fight club. But don’t tell his fairy about that.

Bushido Online: War Games – Nikita Thorn

Promises have been made, and promises will have to be kept.

After all the drama surrounding the invasion of the White Crane Hall, Seiki gave his word to Ippei that he’d join the War Games. So, when he hits level 14 and finally gets eligible for his first troops, Seiki gets ready to face the Demonic Clan and begin his climb up the military ranks.

But before he can claim his unit from the Shogun, Seiki has one last promise to fulfill. Together with the whole band, he has to clear Nezumi Temple—aka the rat dungeon—in order to secure a rare armguard for Yamura as a thank you for saving their neck back at the siege. However, the drop rate for the item could be as low as 4%. And after running the instance for close to twenty times, they’re all starting to wonder whether the darn piece even exists…

Dragon Heart: Stone Will – Kirill Klevanski 

“Dragon Heart” is one of the top-rated Wuxia LitRPG novels in Russia.

He was born anew in a world where martial arts were indistinguishable from magic.  He only received a neuronet and meaningless desires from his past life.

What lies ahead?

He dreamed of adventure and freedom, but those dreams were taken away from him. The same way his mother, father, and sister had been taken away. They took the Kingdom, they took his own destiny.

But he is willing to wage a war, against the whole world if need be, to bring everything back.  Even if the army opposes him, his sword won’t waver. Even if the Emperor sends the legions, his step won’t falter.

Even if demons and gods, heroes and enemies alike are to unite against him, he won’t bend to their will. His own will is iron itself, unstoppable.

His name is Hadjar and he heeds the call of the dragon heart within him. 

Homeguard (The Kin Wars Saga #4) – Jason Cordova

The Dominion has been torn apart by betrayal—the likes which had never been seen before—and civil war reigns. Brother wars against brother as factions vie for control, and the losses are staggering.

For the Espinoza clan, the war within the Dominion of Man has taken a far more personal turn. A horrible truth has been revealed at last, and the surviving members of the family battle the rising tide of betrayal and hopelessness. Blood has been spilled, and the only response is to take blood in return. For every member of the family, the shadow of war against their kin is out in the open. From the shattered cities on Belleza Sutil to the still-smoldering throne world of the Dominion itself, the cardinal Espinoza rule is still the same:

Above all else, family remains.

But can even family survive when all hope seems lost?

No Planet for Good Men (Forgotten Fallout #1) – M. R. Forbes

Earth. After the invasion.

The planet is in ruins. Humankind struggles to survive.

Hayden is a Sheriff in a world without law. A good man in a world gone bad. He knows the fallout of an alien attack when he sees it. He’s never seen anything like this before.

Isaac is a Marine in a world without order. A good man with troubles of his own. His mission was to protect the innocent, including his son. Instead, he’s the only survivor.

Two good men. Two frightening discoveries. Two paths to one inescapable truth:

The invasion may be over, but the real fight is just beginning.

Return (The Resistance #3) – Nathan Hystad

The Rift opens once again.

The battle for Earth continues.

Only the Eureka and her crew can turn the tides.

The Eureka returns to Sol through the Rift as an extreme time dilation creates complications. With a familiar face now the Earth Fleet’s Grand Admiral, Ace and the others struggle to acclimate to their new reality.

When one of the heroes is captured by the Watchers, the others plan a rescue that hinges on the success of the entire war. To end the thirty-year endeavor, the Fleet must align with a longstanding enemy, but knowing who to trust isn’t so simple.

Straker’s Breakers (Galactic Liberation #5) – B. V. Larson and David VanDyke

It’s been five years since the end of the Hive Wars. Straker has handed over the burden of governing the Earthan Republic to civil authorities.

This should be a happy time, as Straker and his most loyal soldiers retire to a planet and step off the galactic stage. Unfortunately, authoritarian forces within the Earthan Republic are still simmering with rage at his victory. Rumors reach Straker of a growing new Republic Fleet manned by state loyalists. Planets begin to fall under their influence and go dark. Even in retirement, they see Straker’s Breakers as a threat.

Fearing he may have to move again in the name of freedom and the people, Straker begins to train and plan. Will they dare to come for him? His battlesuiters have formed families and planted roots on Culloden. What of their children and stories of neighboring worlds reverting to dictatorships?

Valhalla Station (The SynCorp Saga: Empire Earth #1) – Chris Pourteau and David Bruns

Revolution threatens a longstanding peace…

Thirty years after the Syndicate Corporation saved Earth from climate-change extinction, SynCorp’s Five Factions rule the solar system with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Food, entertainment, safety, security–SynCorp provides it all. In return, the Company requires complete loyalty and obedience to corporate law.

The Soldiers of the Solar Revolution claim life under SynCorp is slavery cloaked in comfort. They launch their rebellion, targeting the pillars of corporate production: sabotaging refineries on Mars, shattering Callisto’s orbital ring. Meanwhile, brutal pirates siphon off Company resources in the Belt, and hackers tap into citizens’ implants, addicting them to fantasies shaped from their own dreams.

Besieged on all sides, SynCorp’s Five Factions are in retreat. The rebels aim to destroy the Company to free mankind. But does mankind really want to be freed?

Voices of the Fall (Black Tide Rising #7) – edited by John Ringo and Gary Poole 

The zombie apocalypse is here in these all-new stories from John Ringo, Sarah A. Hoyt, Michael Z. Williamson, Jody Lynn Nye, Travis S. Taylor, and many more. Sequel to the best-selling anthology Black Tide Rising.

Civilization had fallen. Everyone who survived the plague lived through the Fall, that terrible autumn when life as they had known it ended in blood and chaos.

Nuclear attack submarines facing sudden and unimaginable crises. Paid hunters on a remote island suddenly cut off from any hope of support. Elite assassins. Never-made-it retirees. Bong-toting former soldiers. There were seven and a half billion stories of pain and suffering, courage, hope and struggle crying out from history: Remember us.

These are their stories. These are the Voices of the Fall.

  Science Fiction and Fantasy New Releases: 23 March, 2019 published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[violent-as-flowers]

Welcome to my 2018 Yuletide letter, Yuletide is a fanfiction exchange for rare fandoms that happens during the winter months. I’m on AO3 as ViolentFlowers and I’m a lurker who likes to write with a deadline breathing down my neck.

I’m not strict on the format for gifts, I love first/second/third pov, past or present tense, fic or art; so please feel free to write in what you enjoy the most. Any rating is fine.

Likes!  I enjoy stories about women with established relationships where the sharp edges of the characters remain, but because of or in spite of those edges the characters still fit together and make each other happy. I like restraints and power plays. I’m into snarky characters that bounce back from being pushed down. I’m also way more into Rivals to Lovers then Friends to Lovers. I love femslash.

I’m open to dark themes, but I also really enjoy it when even dark stories can make me laugh. I enjoy crack so feel free to play around. My favorite type of story is one where the normal tropes are subverted in interesting ways. I’m very fond of music, band, or musician AUs. Throw them into any of these fandoms!

I love porn! I enjoy reading about characters exploring their bodies as they fantasize and figure out what gets them hot and bothered.  Stories that include masturbation would be amazing. I’m interested in both plot-driven stories that have a sex and PWP (Plot What Plot/Porn), but I’m also fine if you fade to black on the sex or if the characters just show affection to each other. Hugs, hand holding, kissing, support, and love are also great! If for whatever reason you don’t want to write porn please don’t force yourself, I love the bond that characters can have with each other when they love each other and that doesn’t have to be detailed porn… unless you want to write that.

Do Not Wants - No incest, please. I do not want men raping women, but I’m okay with rape in other aspects. I do not want watersports or scat.

I would prefer if underage characters were aged up to 16 for explicit porn. For fade to black sex, I don’t mind if the characters are underage.

Fandoms!

Anya’s Ghost - Elizabeth Standard, Anya Borzakovskaya, and Siobhan

You do not need to include all of the characters I’ve requested in your story.  

Anya Borzakovskaya - I’d love to see Anya deal with more ghosts or supernatural. What happens in the future? How does she deal with college and moving away? Does she share her experiences of the supernatural with anyone?

Siobhan - I’d like to see her encounter the supernatural just to see how she’d handle it. Does she freak out? Take it in stride? Call Anya in a panic? Does Anya ever tell Siobhan about her freaky ghost encounter?

Elizabeth Standard - I’d like to see what would push Elizabeth to the point of letting go of her bad relationship. I felt she was a pretty sympathetic character and would like to also see her deal with the supernatural. How would she handle it? What if she’d been the one to find Emily’s bones instead of Anya?

Femslash pairings (Any rating is great! Porn is awesome):

Anya/Siobhan - I’d love to see these two grow closer while dealing with the supernatural! Possessions, witches, spirits, werewolves, things that go bump in the night. How did they become friends? What kind of embarrassing crush on Anya has Siobhan been hiding? Or is it Anya that has the crush? Or does it turn out to be both? What happens when one or the other starts dating a boy/another girl? Does college change anything? Dealing with the supernatural? Getting a car?

Siobhan/Elizabeth - Siobhan is sort of a bad girl, I’d love to see her and Elizabeth, the popular girl, hook up. Sneaking around and hiding their relationship? Fake/pretend dating to get back at Sean? Siobhan and Elizabeth growing closer while trying to handle the supernatural?

Elizabeth/Anya - Has Elizabeth been trying to deny that she really likes girls or has it been a thing that she just tries not to think about because of course, she likes boys, right? All of the coming of age stories realizing that maybe they’re not straight, with spooky things.

Other ideas: Summer Camp! Ghost Busting! Cuddling for warmth! Bitten by a Werewolf!

(I know Emily was not nominated this year, but I’d still love to see her being a creepy ghost with any of my requested characters. If you want to go with possession, haunting, horror stuff or even further to rape/non-con, that would be awesome.)

Other Space - Karen Lipinski, Tina Shukshin

Karen Lipinski -  Karen is terrible with feelings and I’d love any story where she is forced to admit that she has them. Where her being successful is the first clue she has that something is wrong. What would it have been like if she’d been captain of her own ship, still stuck with Tina and the crew?

Tina Shukshin - Tina is completely self-absorbed, I’d like to see her take over and be captain of the ship. How horrible/awesome would that be? I’d like to see way more of Karen and Tina interacting with each other. What was their time at the UMP Academy like? Did they hate each other on sight or was their dislike something that grew out of their hookup.

Femslash pairing (Any rating is great! Porn is awesome):

Karen Lipinski/Tina Shukshin - I really like Karen, and want her to get closer to Tina… But Karen can’t seem to handle emotions so it’s way more likely that they’d get dosed with space sex pollen or be accidentally married or get shot into space sharing a tiny escape pod that was originally a reality show closed set where they used to shoot porn.

Feel free to use any sort of cliche SF space plot, space madness, accidentally becoming gods to a tiny civilization, trapped on a planet, aliens made them do it, fake married, hey I grew a tentacle, end of the world sex, or good old body swap.

I’d love a story set back when they were both at the UMP Academy. Maybe a story where after Karen and Tina have their terrible first time together, they for some reason keep having unsatisfying sex over and over until they manage to have really amazing sex, which ruins everything.

I’d like them to wrestle in space jello for dominance! Neither of them lose, both of them win!

Annihilation (Movie) - Lena, Cass Sheppard, Anya Thorensen, and Josie Radek

You do not need to include all of the characters I’ve requested in your story. Also while I didn't have room to request her if you want to include Dr. Ventress in your story or pairing that'd be great.

I love this movie, so I’m very excited to see it in Yuletide. I would be super excited if you want to ship any of these women with each other in any combination and I would be very intrigued by selfcest for this fandom. I love porn and PWPs and I’m also interested in non-con/rape if you wanted to explore darker themes.

I’d love to learn more about these characters and their expedition into Area X. What happened in the days they can’t remember? How did they coop with the strange yet familiar environment and the horrifying dangers that lurk in it?

I’m open for all sorts of canon divergent scenarios either inside or outside the Simmer. What if someone else came back instead Lena? What if they all came back, but are changed? What if things went differently inside Area X?

The idea of self destruction is really strong and I would be down for all sorts of body horror or dark themes. Feel free to write about them changing into monsters or acting out monstrous thoughts. Maybe they die and are reborn again and again, or maybe they become something else all together. Maybe they somehow fuse together. Maybe they start acting out all of their worst thoughts and ideas. Maybe they don’t go to Area X at all, but it still finds them. Maybe they meet each other in a completely different way.

I have read all the books so feel free to include things from those if you want to.

A Simple Favor (Movie) - Stephanie Smothers and Emily Nelson

There’s just something about the relationship between these two women that’s really intriguing to me and I really want more of it. I ship these two really hard and would love a story about them getting together or just having sex.

Future fic where Stephanie can’t get Emily out of her head and visits her in jail. All those times Stephanie got drunk and kissed Emily, did it go further than that?

Maybe Stephanie never lost touch with her sister and they both fall hard for Emily and build a family with her. Or maybe they kidnap her.

I’m open to all sorts of AUs for this. Stephanie is a high class hooker that Emily hires every now and then. Coffee shop, youtuber, or fantasy AU! I’m also into dark fic so if you wanted to go the non-con/rape direction I’m down for it.

I rather liked Sean so please don’t kill him, just either have him be okay with his wife hooking up with another women or hand wave him away into a better life.

Uprooted - Agnieszka and Kasia

Agnieszka - Does Agnieszka end up with an apprentice to teach her strange version of magic to… or is it much like her own training where she ends up with an apprentice who needs to learn a wildly different form of magic?

Kasia - How does Kasia deal with her body being so changed? Being partly a magical tree must get weird.

Agnieszka/Kasia - I’d love to know more about what happens after the books with the two of them. Do they get together, pulled back towards each other like magnets?

Does Agnieszka end up back in the capital, back in the court, charming Kasia with her awkward unaccustomed handing of court intrigue? Does she show up to save the day or does Kasia end up needing to help her out?

What would the two of them talk about while locked in prison on false charges? They’ve been there before but now they’re older, wiser, and hopefully going to confess some feelings to each other.

Alternatively anything about the time in the tower right after Kasia was freed from the Wood-queen’s influence and Agnieszka tended to her, sleeping with in the same bed while nursing her back to health. Tender face touches, hair brushing, hand feeding, leaning on each other to walk around, stolen kisses, and hand holding.

Thanks again for writing for me! If you have any questions please feel free to send me an anonymous ask or look through any of my past yuletide letters for inspiration (I also still love any fandom I’ve asked for in my past letters and would be overjoyed to get a story for one of them).

[keanevisualnarrative-blog]

Notes/Comments.           January 23, 2017.         Cyborg Manifesto 

“The cyborg is a creature in a post-gender world; it has no truck with bisexuality, pre-oedipal symbiosis, unalienated labour, or other seductions to organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity.”

“The main trouble with cyborgs, of course, is that they are the illegitimate offspring of militarism and patriarchal capitalism, not to mention state socialism.”

“So my cyborg myth is about transgressed boundaries, potent fusions, and dangerous possibilities which progressive people might explore as one part of needed political work.”  

“The political struggle is to see from both perspectives at once because each reveals both dominations and possibilities unimaginable from the other vantage point. Single vision produces worse illusions than double vision or many-headed monsters. Cyborg unities are monstrous and illegitimate; in our present political circumstances, we could hardly hope for more potent myths for resistance and recoupling.”

“There is not even such a state as 'being' female, itself a highly complex category constructed in contested sexual scientific discourses and other social practices. Gender, race, or class consciousness is an achievement forced on us by the terrible historical experience of the contradictory social realities of patriarchy, colonialism, and capitalism.”

“Both Marxist/socialist-feminisms and radical feminisms have simul-taneously naturalized and denatured the category 'woman' and conscious-ness of the social lives of 'women'. Perhaps a schematic caricature can highlight both kinds of moves. Marxian socialism is rooted in an analysis of wage labour which reveals class structure. The consequence of the wage relationship is systematic alienation, as the worker is dissociated from his (sic) product. Abstraction and illusion rule in knowledge, domination rules in practice. Labour is the pre-eminently privileged category enabling the Marxist to overcome illusion and find that point of view which is necessary for changing the world. Labour is the humanizing activity that makes man; labour is an ontological category permitting the knowledge of a subject, and so the knowledge of subjugation and alienation.”

“In my taxonomy, which like any other taxonomy is a re-inscription of history, radical feminism can accommodate all the activities of women named by socialist feminists as forms of labour only if the activity can somehow be sexualized. Reproduction had different tones of meanings for the two tendencies, one rooted in labour, one in sex, both calling the consequences of domination and ignorance of social and personal reality 'false consciousness'.”

“I have used Rachel Grossman's (1980) image of women in the integrated circuit to name the situation of women in a world so intimately restructured through the social relations of science and technology.15 I used the odd circumlocution, 'the social relations of science and technology', to indicate that we are not dealing with a technological determinism, but with a historical system depending upon structured relations among people. But the phrase should also indicate that science and technology provide fresh sources of power, that we need fresh sources of analysis and political action (Latour, 1984). Some of the rearrangements of race, sex, and class rooted in high-tech-facilitated social relations can make socialist-feminism more relevant to effective progressive politics.”

“Another critical aspect of the social relations of the new technologies is the reformulation of expectations, culture, work, and reproduction for the large scientific and technical work-force. A major social and political danger is the formation of a strongly bimodal social structure, with the masses of women and men of all ethnic groups, but especially people of colour, confined to a homework economy, illiteracy of several varieties, and general redundancy and impotence, controlled by high-tech repressive apparatuses ranging from entertainment to surveillance and disappearance. An adequate socialist-feminist politics should address women in the privileged occupational categories, and particularly in the production of science and technology that constructs scientific-technical discourses, processes, and objects.”

“From the perspective of cyborgs, freed of the need to ground politics in 'our' privileged position of the oppression that incorporates all other dominations, the innocence of the merely violated, the ground of those closer to nature, we can see powerful possibilities. Feminisms and Marxisms have run aground on Western epistemological imperatives to construct a revolutionary subject from the perspective of a hierarchy of oppressions and/or a latent position of moral superiority, innocence, and greater closeness to nature. With no available original dream of a common language or original symbiosis promising protection from hostile 'masculine' separation, but written into the play of a text that has no finally privileged reading or salvation history, to recognize 'oneself' as fully implicated in the world, frees us of the need to root politics in identification, vanguard parties, purity, and mothering. Stripped of identity, the bastard race teaches about the power of the margins and the importance of a mother like Malinche. Women of colour have transformed her from the evil mother of masculinist fear into the originally literate mother who teaches survival.”

“The self is the One who is not dominated, who knows that by the semice of the other, the other is the one who holds the future, who knows that by the experience of domination, which gives the lie to the autonomy of the self. To be One is to be autonomous, to be powerful, to be God; but to be One is to be an illusion, and so to be involved in a dialectic of apocalypse with the other. Yet to be other is to be multiple, without clear boundary, frayed, insubstantial. One is too few, but two are too many.”