#stand by what i said but made relevant corrections

[nextinline-if]

I'm tired of watching creators get stepped on (with a clarified statement regarding the forum poster)

I don't frequent this forum - I went here to investigate pirating. Several people have insisted that the person going by the COG founder's name is not actually him, so here's my updated post. I retract that it's Dan but not what else I said. I still stand by what I said.

Hi, it's me, your friendly Vi with something on my mind. Unfollow if you will but I gotta speak my mind on behalf of the authors who spend countless hours creating the games that bring you joy. Sure, I've been away from Tumblr so I'm probably late to this but oh well. Still decided to post this.

I moved my game to Twine in August because I don't want to be associated with Choice of Games (COG). Here's a great example of why...

People in a forum asking for and sharing pirated content from indie creators' Patreons.

The author saw it and responded:

[ID: A snippet of what the text reads. Please take this down. This is just...really not cool guys. My hands are trembling as I right this, because I'm both hurt and stunned that someone would take *everything* from my Patreon and post it. If you ever want - redacted game name - to get finished, then try not to do things that will cause me to have a breakdown. Please. /ID]

Here's the response from someone going by COG's founder's name (per screenshots below - apparently it's not him but I do wonder why he lets someone use his name or isn't aware?):

I know this image is small, so here's what it reads:

"Let me tell you something, those who haven't subscribed to your patreon isn't magically gonna subscribe if they don't get stories elsewhere, and those who have already did that means they care about you and I'm pretty damn sure they aren't gonna unsubscribe anytime soon. If something anything changes due to the leaks then it's your popularity, readers are gonna be more interested in your titles and perhaps once they have enough money then they can even subscribe and donate that money to you, right now many members of this forum don't have enough resources to purchase things online such as patreon subscription, hence they had to rely on leaks to sate their excitement of reading the stories. Do think about it, from their perspective and if you can then try to make old stories and demo available for public this way they may not needs to rely on leaks and will read from official source.

Sincerely, Dan Fabulich"

What I said originally when I thought it was Dan: The guy is probably a millionaire (or, at the very least, well off compared to most indie creators) and he has the nerve to create an entitled response like this to an INDIE AUTHOR who uses choicescript.... wow. To an author who yes, has a pretty good following but is spending 1000s of hours creating for the enjoyment of others.

New statement: It's still fucking the way this person is speaking to an indie author. Still seems odd to allow a forum to use your name (and also basically insinuate it is supported by your company)...I would certainly be angry. But then again, I'm not rich and living off indie authors' work.

He (still) has more money than most of us indie authors ever have in his pocket from creating a company that pays pennies to the writers who make it money. People who just rely on passion to create these stories. Even if you make money on Patreon, most people cannot be sustained full-time. Most of the pirated content is not from bigger authors (but some is).

And before anyone says anything, yes, I am aware that many people can't afford Patreon and "don't want to wait." I get it. I promise you, I know the struggle. But like, it's fucking entitled to think you deserve to read someone's work without their permission.

And it's fucking entitled to throw the authors that pay for your lifestyle under the bus. (I still believe the company does this).

I am SO grateful to the majority of you out there who are kind, supportive, and overall amazing. But this is not okay!

Vi, out.

P.S. as an anon suggested, I will try to contact Dan to see if he's aware of this person using his name to make statements like this

#edited statement #stand by what i said but made relevant corrections #still think its fishy #again just my opinion #if you like COG great #i dont and thats my choice #i feel my reasons are valid. this forum is scummy regardless

[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

#De #disco elysium #harry du bois #Kim Kitsuragi

[ecoamerica]

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[lollytea]

Unfortunately due to TOH being cut short by Disney a lot of character arcs and more storyline could not be fully fleshed out and finished as Dana had to wrap up everybody’s story in just a few episodes

I'm fully aware that Disney's intervention is responsible for a lot of the plotlines getting suffocated. Which is why I don't think it's fair to go harassing crew members with "why didn't THIS happen??" and all that, because nobody really knows what they endured working on those final episodes and how much they had to cut and rewrite. But from things Dana has said, it was likely a very stressful and exhausting experience. So I don't like to make assumptions about the crew being incompetent. Nobody knows how the season WOULD have turned out if they had been granted full creative freedom and breathing room to develop it to their hearts content.

However, me not directing personal ire towards the crew doesn't mean that I think that the show is immune to criticism. Its flawed. It might not be entirely the crew's fault but that doesn't mean we can't talk about how it's flawed. If anything, I think acknowledging and dissecting its weaknesses is a good learning opportunity for what we should consider when creating our own stories.

Season 3 is a bit of a mess. There's good stuff. There's some less than good stuff. I think ultimately, as a story about Luz, King and Eda, it knocks it out of the park. When they were left with no other option, they decided to prioritize the writing of their three protagonists and I think that was the correct choice.

But I've been thinking about the three specials and how they stand on their own, quality wise, and honestly, there's valid criticism to be said that is completely unrelated to the shortening.

Bear in mind that the crew has known since Follies that the show was getting cut short and they needed to start wrapping up loose ends. So it's not like they started writing Thanks to Them believing it was the first of 20+ more episodes. They knew that they were going to be writing a 40 minute special. So the execution had to be tight, concise and satisfying, right?

Well...it was....weird. Definitely fun. Good for fan service. The main hook was the witch kids navigating the human world in their dorky witchy way. And initially, that was enough. But once the novelty of that wears off and we focus on the plot of the special, what do we have left?

Thanks to Them is very guilty of lore baiting. Dropping in stuff that they know damn well that they're never going to elaborate on, leaving the audience with a feeling of intrigue that is never going to be satiated.

I personally think that is just bad writing. They knew they didn't have a full season 3 and rather than rewrite the means of which the hexsquads finds answers, they still made the choice to drop in what are most likely vague ideas from the initial draft.

I think, if they had no intention of developing it in future specials, there was no point to that scene of Masha telling the Wittebane story. It was just...filler. To stretch out the running time. Which is....kind of precious. Only 40 minutes. If you're obsessive enough about lore, you already knew the story from the Hollow Mind paintings. That scene was for casual viewers. Which is useless, because there's no point in casual viewers learning about Evelyn and Caleb because it never went anywhere.

Also. I personally think that if there was any value to learning the Wittebane lore without making it plot relevant, it would be for the sake of character development. We wanted to know how the kids would react to this knowledge.

Well how did they react?

*Shrug* They seemed a little unnerved but they kinda forgot about it the second they got off the hayride.

So what was the point of all that? What was the point?

Is it because we wanted "Goodbye, Evelyn," to be more of gut punch?

Was it worth it? Was "Goodbye, Evelyn" worth it? We know fucking nothing about Evelyn.

I think the rebus was a stupid and lazy means for the kids to discover Titan's blood. You introduce this mysterious object that was hidden under the floorboards and then you just use it as a plot device.

When the kids uncover the rebus and find the secret code inside, the viewer is not thinking about how it can be used as a means to an end (finding blood) The viewer is thinking "what the fuck is that thing and how did it get there and how did Flapjack know it was there?"

Questions that will not be answered <333

ALL IM SAYING is that I'm sure the crew could have come up with another way for the kids to have a Titan's blood treasure hunt. Maybe they could have dug a little more into the history of Gravesfield and follow leads on weird things happening on this one spot in the graveyard (which turns out to be because there's magical energy there, revealed when Luz realizes she can use glyphs)

I just think that if you're gonna leave the mystery box a mystery, you shouldn't have included it.

And I know. Its subtle storytelling. There's elements of what could have been a far more complex story and they're leaving hints of it here and there.

Well the thing about that is I think the hints are very unsatisfying and weaken the episode's plot significantly.

Also I don't think they should get to just pick and choose what parts of the lore are subtle and what parts are ham-fisted.

YES we are going to be reminded like three times that Flapjack is being secretive and hiding things from Hunter.

NO we are never going to get a payoff for that because he gets shanked and dies first.

BUT!! BUT!! If you squint, its IMPLIED that Flapjack belonged to Evelyn and blah blah blah

You don't get to rub things in the audience face and then choose to be all subtle about it at the last minute. Pick one or the other.

Anyway....I think they could have written Thanks to Them as more of an intriguing and suspenseful horror mystery where they spend forty minutes gathering clues and everything finally clicks together at the very end. That's not what we got.

We got a very weak attempt on the Hexsquad's part to be little detectives, but like a minute of screen time was devoted to them dicking around in a library, a costume shop, and a zoo.

I don't think we can blame the shortening for this.

#very sorry i got distracted and went on a little rant about ttt #this was unrelated to your ask i just tend to go on tangents #i needed to unload it somewhere tho

[carooosa]

Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)

Word count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ascended Astarion x AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, ear play, violence against an NPC AO3 link: Exposure

Summary: Astarion can exert his control/power as he maintains composure while fucking you, and while he may not be as strict with his council when doing so, the harshness behind his actions is still there. But when you torture him by making him moan in front of everyone who is beneath him? Not only will it show him weak, but it’ll show his weakness.

It’s another boring day as a consort while you sit on your lover’s bare lap, slowly rolling your hips into him. Ever since the ascension, Astarion has refused to let you out of his sight for too long, always wanting to have some part of him touching you. It upset you, at first, having to sit in on all of the dreadful conferences and dull discussions. But as always, Astarion made sure that it was worth your time.

He’s droning on about some inaccuracies in recent reports he’s received and his fingers dig into your hips as the proprietor of the counting-house stumbles out an excuse. You can’t help but giggle when you picture the proprietor trembling as he tries to talk his way out of this mess. You remember his name being quite the joke as well, something like Sparkleboard or Glimmerbrook.

“Rakath Glitterbeard,” Astarion barks at the dwarf before berating him for his inadequacies. He shoots you a mischievous glance, confirming that he too is bored with this meeting, so much so that his mind had wandered into your own.

Of course the poor sod’s name was something ridiculous. If he was going to have a name as awful as that, he should just change it to Goldcoin or something similar. At least then it’d have relevance to his job.

Astarion pinches your hips in an attempt to stifle any laughter that may come out, and you yelp in surprise. You look at your lover and notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The ramblings from Rakath stop, and Astarion’s head snaps towards him. “Have you run out with excuses already, Glitterbeard? Or have you simply come to your senses and decide to own up to your shortcomings?” Astarion says with a growl.

You turn your head as well, excited to see what’s about to unfold. The dwarf readjusts his collar before clearing his throat, and the idiot decides to speak up against your Lord.

With the arrogance of a little kid, he says, “No, Lord Astarion, I just noticed that you seem to be preoccupied and thought I would wait until you regain focus.”

Astarion scoffs and you feel him grab onto your ass with one hand as he stands up and kicks back the chair he was sitting on. With his other hand, he pushes off all the paperwork that lay strewn about the desk. He sets you on the edge of the table before pushing you down so that your back is against the hardwood. He stares directly at that insufferable banker as he begins to thrust into you – hard.

“What was that about losing focus?” Astarion says with a crazed look in his eyes.

Rakath’s face turns bright red as he tries to stammer out a response, but it’s no use, as Astarion has already made up his mind.

“Silence. Pick up those documents and put them back on the table – in their correct order. After that, you will redo all of this week’s reports, as well as the last 4 month’s as well.” Astarion is interrupted by a noise of disapproval, his frustration reaching its highest point today. “I said silence. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how that tongue of yours works, shall I cut it out and show you?”

Rakath drops to the floor and begins frantically gathering the papers, all the while Astarion continues to slam into you with reckless abandon as he addresses the rest of the meeting attendees. 

“Do I need to remind everyone that you’re in the presence of the Vampire Ascendant? I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend, yet you wager your lowly lives just to make some ridiculous point. I could replace you with the snap of my fingers and no one would even care. I keep you around because I couldn’t be damned to get rid of you – however, give me enough of a reason and I’ll put the dungeon to use.”

You weren’t sure exactly how or when it started, but whenever Astarion would get annoyed or pissed off during a meeting he would yank you closer and begin to fuck you, right there, in front of everyone. Somehow he was able to maintain composure as he catered to your needy whines, asserting his dominance over the room while he dominated you. He always took care of you, and one day, you got the brilliant idea to care for him in return.

You’re once again sat on your lover’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you. His nose is deep in a document, a contract with an architect from Neverwinter, and his shoulders are tensed. You delicately reach your hands behind his shoulders to start massaging the knots. He doesn’t acknowledge you save for a quick twitch in his ears, so you push harder, hoping to alleviate some of the stress the Vampire Lord must feel. Moving up to his neck, you meticulously knead every knot you find, humming a soft melody as each point of tension slowly comes undone. When you finish giving him a massage, one of your hands slightly brushes against his ear, causing a shutter to ripple through Astarion.

You quickly look at his face and notice his lips part, a silent moan leaving them. Interesting, you think to yourself, and you slowly reach out to stroke his ear.

You watch as Astarion gasps, eyes fluttering closed in contentment, the contract falling from his hands. He desperately tries to regain control by focusing on his breath. You caress the helix of his ear and his breathing hitches before a pleased sigh escapes his mouth and he leans into your touch. His hands move to your back to stabilize you as he begins to roll his hips, ever so slightly fucking you.

He looks so beautiful like this, you think to yourself. Astarion’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and if your heart was still beating, you’re positive it would’ve skipped a beat.

You can tell from his posture that he’s about to move your hand away, and the mind-link connection you share confirms that. The Vampire Ascendant has an image to upkeep, and he can’t show any vulnerability outside of the bed chambers. He starts to shift in his seat when suddenly, you take his ear lobe in your mouth. He mindlessly bucks his hips forward and grasps the armrests of his chair, splintering the wood. You nibble on the lobe, pressing and flicking your tongue against the soft skin.

He can vaguely see in his peripherals the guests from Neverwinter glance at each other and shift in their seats. One of them clears their throat and Astarion tries again to regain his poise but all he can think about is your lips on his ear. You roll your hips and gingerly reach out to his other ear, pinching and rubbing the tip. A quiet moan starts in the back of Astarion’s throat as you coo at him, telling him that he’s such a good lord, so strong, incredibly smart, your love. All the meeting attendants can do is watch as the Vampire Ascendant comes undone beneath your touch.

Astarion is panting as you whisper sweet nothings in between giving attention to his ears. You bite down on the flesh in your mouth – harsh enough to draw blood – and moan from the sweet ichor that flows into your body. The nobility that would usually cower at the mention of the vampire lord’s name now sit watching, unable to do anything in fear of retaliation. One of the younger nobles, the son of the architect, begins to slowly stroke his fingers against his strained trousers.

Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.

“Stop.”

You pause, concerned that you may have gone too far. Before you can ask if you did something wrong, you’re sat alone on the chair while Astarion is on his feet and holding the young man by his throat. He raises the boy above his head and dangles him above the table, his claws piercing into his flesh. The architect starts to get out of his seat but a nearby guest stops him.

“You fucking degenerate. How dare you please yourself while looking at my consort,” Astarion bellows.

The boy is unable to respond as blood fills his throat, causing him to suffocate. Astarion slowly closes his grip around his neck, watching as the architect’s son struggles to pull his nails out. The boy stops thrashing, the life drained from his eyes as his body goes limp.

Astarion continues to hold the corpse in the air as he addresses his room. “Leave. Now. And if so much as a word of today’s events is whispered outside of this room,” he pauses, throwing the body onto the table where the group congregates, “I will personally hunt each and every one of you.”

A few days later, a rumor silently spreads across Baldur’s Gate. Astarion, the unforgiving and merciless Vampire Ascendant, has a weakness. While many laugh and make jokes about how the powerful tyrant gets turned on with the touch of his ears, a resistance group takes note of his true weakness, and their key to his demise: you.

Part 2 Here

#astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #bg3 durge #fics #ascended astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!durge #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female durge #astarion x female reader #my writing

[zwolfgames]

Yandere Alhaitham x reader

Requested: / (Havent even done the Sumeru quest but when you have motivation, you have to write.)

(Warnings: manipulation, i guess, plus kind of kidnapping.)

(3rd person POV)

'The late blossoms bloom when the sun stands at the top. Water evaporates when she shines. May the goddes strike as it falls again.' You repeat in your head as you read over the text.

"So is this an official document or some random dude's poetry?" You ask the scribe in front of you with a deadpann. This thing made no sense.

"What? It used to be on a stone tablet but I translated it for you." Alhaitham pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he sighs.

You make an 'oh' face and nod. You may be smart when it came to your academia major but not to things like this.

"So what do you think it means?" He asks you with a serious face.

Curse who-ever put you two together for this project. You had hoped you got one of your more familiar colleagues. But the one you'd be grave exploring with was none other then Alhaitham.

He was stoic, practically never listened to anything you said either with those stupid headphones of his.

"I'm not sure... but perhaps it's a riddle. Meaning that this 'goddes' will appear as the water falls again. Probably as in rain... after this 'sun at the top' so a summer." You think out loud and Alhaitham tilts his head just a bit. The only indication that he's listening.

Alhaitham nods, as if telling you to go on.

With what? You've read this text once. There was no more.

He sure was expecting more though. You sigh and read the translated text over again.

As you turned your gaze to the paper you failed to notice the subtle smile on a certain scribe's face as he looked at you.

Do you know why you were partnered up with him for this project?

Because he wanted that. Alhaitham has high influences in the Akedemia.

You wouldn't work with some other random colleague. And especially not that one you looked at with such adoring eyes.

He couldn't understand how you saw none of his signs. I mean, he translates the stone tablets for you. He brings you a coffee when he goes to get one.

How did you not see his overflowing love for you?

But that wasn't relevant at the moment. You were before him now. He had to be on his best behavior to impress you.

"So? Any more toughts?" He leaned his head in the palm of his hand, propped up on the table by his elbow.

He looked you in the eyes and you couldn't help but feel nervous.

He had a scary and intimidating gaze. Like It's piercing into your soul.

"Yea... I think, if my theories are correct, that this is a riddle. Meaning that the tomb we're researching might 'open' when the first rain falls after the summer." You explain in the most professional tone you can manage. Not wanting to piss this serious guy off.

"I see. Thats very good, Y/N." Alhaitham speaks quietly and looks at the paper himself. His hand brushes yours.

You think it's a normal accident.

It's not.

"So that means we have about a month of space to relax. The first rainfall doesn't happen untill then." Alhaitham informs with what you tought was a stoic face. It was a smile. Tough he was so bad at smiling, you'd never tell.

You nod and neaten your notes up a bit to occupy the silence that had befallen on you two.

That is untill something unexpected happned.

He took your left hand in his. Not strongly. Almost like he didn't want you to notice.

Like a ghost of a touch. But you weren't numb, you felt that.

"What are you doing?" You say in confusion as you look up at him and then back at your held hand.

"Nothing." He says stoically. His hand no longer holding yours. It's like it never happned. Thats how faint it felt.

Did it happen? Were you going crazy?

You blink and shrug it off, tough you can't help the hairs on your neck standing up.

Alhaitham just... creeped you out somehow. You didn't know if it was because of his eyes or simply because of how smart and powerfull he was. Perhaps both.

An awkward silence commenced between you and the scribe. Honestly, you wanted to get eaten by the floor right now.

It seems your awkwardness wasn't shared by Alhaitham as he simply watched you. Like a predator would it's prey.

Thats how it appeared to you at the very least. Alhaitham was actually just looking at you with loving eyes.

His face just couldnt portray that.

So, as the seconds ticked on agonizingly long you waited for any sort of words to come from him.

There were no words. He reached over and oh so gently brushed a stray strand of hair back into your usual hairstyle.

And guess what. He denied that too when you asked him what he was doing.

Were you... dreaming, perhaps?

Because this was too eerie to comprehend.

Just silently being stared at.

Luckily for you, your working hours came to an end and you could bid Alhaitham farewell. In... an awkard manner but it was polite.

You walked back to your little house outside of Sumeru's main city. Just casually cooking dinner.

If you had to guess, you'd need to meet with Alhaitham twice or thrice more to discus the plans for the actual thomb diving mission.

But for now, you could let that slip out of your worries.

A nice plate of spicy food later and you're in your bedroom. Observing various clues about the thomb.

Just some notes of old explorers and travelers, nothing out of the ordinairy.

No one's ever been inside. Thats the only thing salvageble about this project. You may have to work with Alhaitham, but you got to explore the unknown!

As such, days pass. You've discussed the plans with Alhaitham now. There was no need to see the man untill the first rainfall of the season.

So now, you could enjoy your daily activities.

Like talking to your crush- colleague.

A nice student at the Akedemia, like you.

You've known him since before you two enrolled here, and honestly, you've caught quite the crush.

But someone wasn't pleased with that.

You didn't notice, he knew you wouldn't, that he was watching from the sidelines.

Alhaitham had to watch how you fawned over some simpleton.

He almost felt bad for what he was about to do. Untill remembering that for once in his life, he was allowed to be selfish.

He had done his duties, helped the Akedemia. And look at that. You were one of the people in it. So shouldn't he get a reward of choice for being so helpfull and amazing?

He would, in due time. He only had to be patient for a couple more weeks.

______________________________________

"Y/N. Stop pacing like that." Alhaitham sneered in annoyance.

You've been pacing in front of the thombs entrance for half an hour now. The rain was slowly stopping. Only a few droplets falling on your soaked form.

Yes, Alhaitham had an umbrella, he even offered for you to cole stand under it with him but you declined.

Not wanting to stand that close to him or wait in one place.

He watched you pace. Your hair dripping rain water, he saw you shiver. But he couldn't act on his smothering insticts... yet.

You nod and stop pacing, now biting your lip and bouncing your foot as you wait.

Alhaitham sighed at your nervous behavior.

You tought he absolutly hated your guts... wich made the waiting all the more agonizing.

Eventually, the drizzle comes to a spot and the entrance opens.

You squeel and observe each and every detail in the newly opened door.

Alhaitham approached and put a firm and strong hand on your shoulder. Keeping you grounded.

He nudges you inside, tough he subtly makes you walk behind him, as if protecting you from... uh.. dust?

That analogy was very wrong since after you two descended the stairs, deeper into the thomb, there stand a robotic creature. Its face eroded.

It looked eerie and old. You were guessing this was the 'goddes'.

It surely was big enough for the title but you had a feeling that it's god-like beauty had long faded.

It creaks as it moves, the gears scraping against eachother harshly. It's old.

Alhaitham notices its movement and pushes you to the side of the room.

"Don't dare move, stay there." He orders in the harshest manner you've heard of him yet.

He unsheats his two swords and circles around the mechanic goddes in an intimidating way.

Even with its impressing size, you could already tell who would win.

The scribe waits for the bot to make it's first move as he circles it.

The mechanic goddes moves its arm for a swing. Its slow and creaky.

You bet ut was an unstopable killing machience back in its glory days.

As the bit has attacked first, Alhaitham takes the chance to strike it. First, a simple blow to put it off balance.

And then, a swift strike to the core.

He twists the blade and the bot twists and stutters untill it's few lights fade and it slumps to the ground with a loud thud.

It's mechanical body limp on the floor, sprawled out like a true goddes.

You almost feel sad for it. It had to protect this thomb and it tried... wich had led to its 'death'.

Alhaitham doesn't even spare a glance at it's body and turns back to you.

"Come on, we can move on." He says like that bot was nothing. Gesturing for you to come to him with his hand.

You shake your head to break out of your shock and step closer to him.

I mean, if he wanted you dead he would have let the robot do it...

He leads the way, further into the thomb.

Its beautifull.

The sunlight shines in from certain hole's in the roof and somehow the decorative fountains and ponds have remained clear over the centuries.

You look in awe at all the vines and flowers that grew here.

Its like a small paradise.

You got exited and ran around to see everything.

Taking photo's for the Akademia with your kamera. Surprisingly, Alhaitham didn't stop you from exploring. Wich was strange.

You had tought he'd be that cautious guy who would tell you to watch out for traps.

Maybe he was just as enamoured by the thomb as you!

You find multiple rooms. Its almost like it's a cool house.

A dining room made of the same stone as the thomb. Nicely decorated with plants and flowers.

Likewise were the other rooms.

A bathing room,  bedroom, multiple lounging rooms.

Yea, who-ever died here had a nice place to lounge in the afterlife.

So you continue trough the thomb, trying to find the actual room where the potential dead person was.

Perhaps a royal, or someone of high status?

You just had to know who this beautifull thomb was for!

You eventually cirkled back to the hall that lead to the room with the robot in.

Only to find the door...

Gone?

Closed?

Well whatever it was, it was now just a dead end. And that freaked you out.

You opened your mouth to shout for Alhaitham in a panicked manner, thinking he was still in the room with the bot, or perhaps in the thomb.

But you didn't get the chance to scream as he appeared behind you and put a hand on your mouth, silencing you siwftly as his other hand snaked around your waist in a firm grip.

"Don't scream. They won't hear you. Do you like my surprise darling?" He murmured as his breath hit your ear. He was close, uncomfrotably so.

He let his hand fall off your mouth so he could hug you closer.

"What do you mean?" You ask, voice shaky. Nothing was making sense.

"So smart, yet so clueless." Alhaitham chuckled and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. Still standing behind you.

You felt offended, not to mention uncomfrotable.

You were left stunned as he kissed the top of your head.

So loving. What was happening.

"Y/N... you're mine now... do you realise that?" He whispers and turns you around softly, facing back to the thomb.

You were so confused, he found it adorable.

It was so easy to get you intrested in this thomb he had forged.

Create fake files. Make a bad robot. Some riddles...

And you were hooked! Enough to work with him. Something you never did, even avoided.

And now, you'd live here, where no one but him could admire you.

You liked this place no? The pretty water, the nature, the sunlight trough the ceiling.

You'd be stuck in paradise. Isn't that amazing?

Just you and him. You wouldn't be able to stare at that crush of yours, so he wouldn't have to get jealous.

It was a perfect plan. This way, you could have the whole thomb to walk around and live in, and he could keep you to himself.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" You practically growl and begin to squirm in his grip.

He laughs and lets go. He knew it wouldn't be easy to get you to love him back.

It didn't need to be easy. As long as he had you where he wanted. They had all the time in the world.

Oh how saddned the Akedemia would be to find out a student had gone missing.

Good thing he would take care for you.

"Relax, Y/N. Welcome to your new house. With me, your new husband." Alhaitham laughed, a genuine show of emotions but it only looked deranged to you. It just felt too out of character for the stoic scribe.

"You can't just decide that." You back away but he doesn't mind.

You'd realise his love for you in due time.

And he'd make that realization start with a passionate kiss.

______☆______ Okay Shows over, you can go home.

Lol, this was originally only slightly yandere and mostly angst, but i changed my mind ehe.

So now i hope you enjoyed this monstrosity, i dont even like Alhaitham either.

Have a nice day/night!

_____☆_____ Words: 2424

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere alhaitham #genshin #yandere genshin impact #alhaitham #yandere oneshot

[thesiltverses]

Hello! Just wanted to say, and hopefully this isn't an odd compliment to receive, how much I adore the episode titles of the silt verses. One of my favorite things to do after I get someone to listen to tsv is point out that the episode titles make a poem when you read them back to back. It always tends to blow their minds and I get great satisfaction from seeing their reactions. What I especially love about them is how they can stand on their own and reflect events of the episodes while still connect with one another to make a bigger picture so to speak. (For example, how Faulkner and Carpenter's reunion episode in s2 is titled "But We'll Never Be Rid of Each Other" to reflect their relationship as two people that can't seem to untangle themselves from each other, for better or for worse ((and how this title hangs over the episode ominously when contrasted with how happy their reunion makes listeners, as if just waiting for events to come)), but then connect it to the next title "My Song, My Sorrow and I" and it slightly changes the context where it feels more like it examines the characters' various complicated relationships with their gods)

(Though, on a tangent, speaking of episode titles and how they match each episode, I think constantly about "One Final Fall From Grace" with Faulkner and how it's the episode where he loses all but one of his acolytes, idk there's something about it that gets me so bad/pos)

I was wondering how you go about deciding on episode titles? Has the poem already been written out since the very beginning of the show? Is episode order dictated and determined by said finished poem? Or am I overthinking how each line fits each episode? What made you decide on this format compared to I am in Eskew's episode naming convention? Sorry for such a long winded question! I just cannot overstate how much I adore the episode titles, sometimes I'll go back and read everything all over just to hear the words.

Thank you very much!

So the plan was always roughly along the lines of:

Season 1 titles begin by trying to outline a kind of epic poem, then get distracted by describing its hold over the poet

Season 2 titles are about the poet's yearning to be free from the poem, but ultimate acceptance that their fates are entwined

Season 3 is about the realisation that the poem will outlive the poet.

Beyond that, there's generally plenty of flex and it remains a semi-spontaneous act of play - like you say, I might think I have something in mind and then realise at the last minute that another line works better for the themes of the ep (and sometimes there's no thematic relevance at all and it's just filling in a necessary rhyme to keep the whole thing going).

This leads to imperfections and a bit of a shaggy-dog story feel - if I could go back without confusing everyone, I'd correct the very first ep title to 'First I'll Sing Of Revelations' so the terminology is consistent - but I like imperfections, and I like shaggy dogs.

As to why? It just felt like a different way of being playful; the Eskew titles were fun for me because of their simplicity (I have vivid memories as a very young kid, not being old enough to be allowed to watch the video-tapes of Blackadder II, all of which had really evocative, teasing single-word episode titles - 'Head', 'Money', 'Potato'. So I'd just sit back on the floor and imagine what those meant.)

But for TSV, it felt appropriate and fun to begin with these trappings of epic storytelling and religious verse in the episode titles, and then gradually pan outwards to show that it's more of a story about being entrapped by stories and the impossibility of escape.

[faceless-mirror]

In a world where vampires are actively trying to fit in with humans, coexist safely and help each other, Vinny and his ESV(Emotional Support Vampire), Ricky, are getting to know each other and learning more and more. Adapting to the life in the contract they both signed, and are living with. As they do they border the line between Friends.... and Lovers.

Tags: @cookiesupplier @phxntxsmicgoricxl

Chapter 1: A Desperate Plea

Vinny was hot. Overheating but he needed to wear his hoodies. Ever since the accident he was in… the one that took the life of his best friend… He couldn’t manage his anxiety without it. His hair was a mess, and here he was in public. The ride here had been awful. He kept to the back streets, and keeping a bit below the speed limit. He rubbed his face. He was so exhausted. He was finally being assigned an ESV. It had taken so long to get to this point. Months of waiting to hear about emotional vampires that were available and looking to help. Apparently, one had just refreshed their application and it was a match.

When his name was called he stood up quickly rushing to the door, following the therapist he knew so well by now. “Is- is there anything i should know-?” he asked following her closely with wide eyes as he tripped up a bit in surprise when she shook her head. “Let’s get you into the room and meeting him. He’s worked with us for years his last contract ended rather poorly but that’s because of differences. You’re also looking for a job correct?” “Well yes- but I don’t see how that’s relevant-” Vinny insisted as she opened the door ushering him in, his eyes still focused on her as he slipped in. As soon as he was in he sat down and looked up.

His eyes widened seeing Ricky Olson- leaned back in a chair, ankle crossed over his knee dressed in leather and a t-shirt, tight black jeans- He wasn’t dwelling on that right now. His hair was draped over his shoulder as he smiled at the anxiety ridden mess of a man. “You must be Vincenzo.” he said simply, standing gracefully and held out a hand. “Richard Olson- You can call me Ricky.” His voice was like butter, warm and soaked in easing his tension as he shook his hand. Vinny was suddenly and sharply aware  that he himself looked like he crawled out of a gutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ye…yeah. Like….likewise-” he got out almost choking on his tongue as he swallowed his anxiety trying to instinctively shove it down.

“Mind if I help?” the guitarist asked still holding his hand. “Just to help.”

Vinny merely nodded and gasped at the relief of his anxiety as Ricky’s grey blue eyes turned a vibrant ocean blue as he drank down some of his anxiety. His breathing steadied out as he looked at him in relief. Like a gothic angel coming to grace his life so fully.

“Thanks.” He whispered weakly, as he sat back as Ricky sat back down.

“Now that the introductions have been made… Ricky, you already had a chance to glance over Vinny’s history, censored of course. Your band is currently looking for a drummer, correct?”  she asked, pulling out the contract. 

“Yes we are. We’re looking for a drummer since my last contract left the band. I saw some of Vinny’s drumming videos that were submitted as well. I’ve talked to our vocalist and he’s fine with giving Vinny a chance.”

Normally his head would be swimming with violent anxiety, choking him and his thoughts fully out to the point he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. 

Yet here he was functioning. Fully. 

“If Vinny would like to take it at least.”

Vinny took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. I can… I can do it.” he announced making his therapist raise her brow but smiled handing over the contracts. 

“This is a temporary contract showing that you, Ricky, will only take the amount of anxiety and stress needed to keep Vinny healthy and any other emotions that may cause him harm like Depression, sorrow and anger. However, in the event you cannot you are also willing to do what’s needed to help support him through those emotions. Vinny. Your contract is explaining you will work with Motionless in White temporarily until you are either officially offered the position and that you will not disclose the fact Richard Olson is an emotional vampire unless he deems it okay.” she explained going more indepth and answering questions as they both read through.

Vinny signed first, understanding all the details faster considering his contract was shorter, breathing a sigh of relief. Green brown eyes shifted to look over the vampire who was reading everything, noting down all Vinny’s tells. He’s done this before, so many times it seems. 

He knew Motionless In White. He loved them. Practiced to them alot. He would have never guessed that Ricky was an ESV. He watched as Ricky signed the documents and handed them back.

“All right. I will go get these filed. You guys are good to go. You should both probably get to know each other.” She commented with a warm smile, seeming to know that Vinny and Ricky were going to end up closer than what they intended. That’s what happened with Ricky and Chris. Who knew how long it would go this time…

Vinny stood up running his fingers through his long curls, swallowing, “...do… you wanna go get coffee?” 

Ricky chuckled, “Sure. I’m buying. But let’s get to your place and get you in shape before you meet the guys.”

The guys.

Right. Job. He was getting a job and an ESV. 

#vinny mauro fanfic #vinny mauro fic #ricky olson fanfiction #bestillmyfoolishheartmiw #motionless in white fanfic

[bi-bard]

Insecurities & Loose Lips - Max Wolfe Imagine [Gossip Girl (2021)]

Title: Insecurities & Loose Lips

Pairing: Max Wolfe X Reader

Word Count: 946 words

Warning(s): talk of sex, arguing

Summary: (Y/n) trusted Max. Trusted that anything vulnerable spoken to him would remain between the two of them. They are soon shown that their trust was likely misplaced.

Author's Note: I don't really have anything to say here... but it felt important to write this. An important discussion.

-------------------------

I always had this inherent understanding that if a friend told you something in confidence, then you don't share that information without their permission.

Especially when it comes to deeply personal information.

You don't go around telling people stuff that a friend told you about their past traumas or their insecurities. You just don't. It's wrong. It's fucked up.

It always felt natural to think that way. Unless I thought someone was a genuine danger to themself or another person, I kept what they told me to myself unless I saw them discussing it with other people. It wasn't my job to decide what they were comfortable sharing.

Apparently, that's not a universal concept.

I would never have known if Audrey hadn't said anything. We were sitting together, working on some project that I could barely remember now. She muttered some light-hearted joke about me.

My sex life.

My lack of a sex life, actually.

It made me pause.

If it had just been an off-handed comment, then I wouldn't have questioned anything. But this joke had a very specific detail that she shouldn't have known about.

My heart was instantly kicked into the back of my ribcage.

"What," I asked, trying to play it cool.

She repeated herself.

"How do you know about that?"

I had only told one person. There was literally one person in existence that I had felt safe enough and comfortable enough to open up to about stuff like that. And that wasn't Audrey, that was-

"Max told me," she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why did that even come up?" I explained. "Especially because I wasn't even there. What conversation caused that to even be relevant?"

She shrugged. "It kind of just came up. Not really sure."

I wanted to be angry about her casual tone about whole the conversation. But I couldn't. Chances are, Max convinced her that this wasn't a big deal. That it was a normal conversation to have.

I felt sick.

I took a deep breath before standing up, trying to quickly gather my stuff.

"Hey," she said. "What's going on?"

"I... I just need to get home," I muttered. "I forgot that my mom asked me to be home early. I'm sorry."

"If this is about Max-"

"I'll see you later," I cut her off, just trying to get out of the situation.

I walked out before another word could be spoken.

I had originally planned to go home. To go home and collect my thoughts before I confronted Max about any of it. But it was like my body moved without my mind's control because I ended up at Max's door.

I stared at it for a moment. There was a weight sitting in my stomach that was starting to hurt. This needed to happen. I knew that much.

I took a deep breath.

Seeing Max again was so... strange.

He truly looked like nothing was even close to wrong. Like he had no idea that he did anything that would make me uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't. Or he just didn't care.

"Hey," he grinned at me.

"We need to talk," I said, deciding to skip any polite small talk. I just needed to get through this.

"Okay," he furrowed his eyebrows, drawing out the word a bit.

"Did... Did you talk to Audrey about the stuff I told you about," I asked.

"'Stuff?'"

"About... About the... the sex stuff, Max."

"Oh," he replied. "Yeah, it came up."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was just a conversation," he scoffed.

That made me feel gross. "A conversation about private things I told you. Things I told you with the expectation of respect and privacy."

"It's not that big of a deal."

"To you," I corrected. "You knew very well how anxious I was talking about that kind of thing. Why would you think that sharing it without my knowledge or permission was okay?"

"God, will you relax?" he rolled his eyes. "You're acting like I went around telling everyone about it. Or I was shaming you for it."

"First of all, you don't know if whoever the fuck you talked to is going to keep their mouths shut," I snapped. "Second of all, whether or not it gets spread around or it was meant to shame me or whatever, it was my fucking business."

He just shook his head.

"I trusted you," I continued, anger peeking through my quiet voice. "I confided in you about things I was anxious about and had insecurities about. You knew how much it took for me to be comfortable talking about that. I... I thought you respected me enough to keep your damn mouth shut about it. You went around and talked about it like it was nothing. All without telling me that you did. It's fucking disgusting."

When Max didn't respond again, I scoffed. He couldn't even offer some kind of apology.

"I... I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you... I want to completely ignore your existence from this point forward," I said. "Go fuck yourself, Max."

I turned around and walked away. I stormed back through his front door and started my walk home. I was tired. Tired and angry and sad and just... done.

That was the best way that I could describe it. Done.

And the worst part was that Max couldn't even bring himself to apologize. Even if it was half-assed or insincere... it would've been better than nothing.

Maybe I should've known better than to expect so much from him.

-------------------------

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#max wolfe fanfiction #max wolfe x reader #max wolfe imagine #gossip girl 2021 fanfiction #gossip girl 2021 imagine #gossip girl 2021 x reader #gossip girl x reader #gossip girl fanfiction #gossip girl imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

[heart-of-a-rebel16]

25 Kalluzeb, for the angst/fluff prompts. Bonus points if it's a sequel to prompt 94 you already wrote 😁

25: “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Pairing: Zeb/ Kallus, Star Wars: Rebels

sequel to #94 || part 3

requests: open

—x—

He woke up in a cold room, with his hands bound tightly above his head and an ache in his chest. Something about this whole scenario seemed a bit too familiar. Darkness clothed the room; he could barely make out the outline of a bed and desk. If he squinted, he could also see the rough forms of frames hanging on the walls.

These were Thrawn’s personal quarters. Kallus barely repressed a shudder.

The door slid open, and the lights responded, flicking on and near blinding Kallus with their harshness. Wincing, he shut his eyes tightly for a fraction of a second, if only to still the pounding in his head.

When he opened his eyes, Grand Admiral Thrawn was standing in front of him, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me like this once more, Agent Kallus,” he said, his odd, lilting voice echoing slightly in the sparse room. “I do enjoy it so.”

“It wasn’t a choice then, and it’s not a choice now,” Kallus bit back. “And I’m not exactly employed anymore. You can drop the ridiculous formalities. I know what you want, and I won’t give it to you.”

Thrawn tilted his head “What do you think I want, then?” The phrase ‘Agent Kallus’ went unspoken, though it was more than implied.

“Codes. Information. Locations,” Kallus scoffed. “You want me to betray the rebellion. I’ll die before I do that. You might as well start torturing me now to get it over with.” He did his best to punctuate the sentence with a glare, though he suspected the thumping pain in his head was making it a bit less effective than he would like.

Thrawn hummed in thought, then kneeled down on one knee so his eyes were level with Kallus’. Red eyes probed across him, cataloguing his changed appearance. It made Kallus feel utterly exposed, like the chiss man was peeling back all his layers with his mind only.

“Still as stubborn as ever,” Thrawn murmured. “You are correct in your assessments. My primary objective is to force relevant information from you, though I’m saddened your think is stoop to such barbaric levels to obtain it.”

It didn’t stop you the first time, Kallus thought sardonically. He opened his mouth to fire back, but found all the breath stolen from his lungs when a cold hand gently brushed against the side of his face. Thrawn’s slender fingers traced the curve of his jaw, finding the nape of his neck, then traveled a bit upwards to the tie holding his hair back. Slowly, he began to tease the leather loop away.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Kallus seethed. He tried to jerk his head away, only for Thrawn’s other hand to clap harshly over his mouth, fingers digging sharply into his cheekbones.

“And you say I am the one that talks too much,” Thrawn mused. His nails cut deep into Kallus’ skin; the bruises that were sure to form on the planes of his face would not be without company. He jerked Kallus’ head up and to the side, exposing his neck and half-unbound hair. Thrawn’s fingers continued in their mission, successfully pulling the tie away. Kallus felt the familiar weight of his hair settle over his shoulders and into his face. A sharp prick of fear shot through his heart. Thrawn’s objective might have been to procure information, but he had never been one to play by the rules. If Thrawn wanted something from him, he would take it in any way he saw fit.

“The rebellion has changed you,” Thrawn said. His fingers began to comb through Kallus’ messy tresses, teasing out minute snarls and knots. Kallus was sure the Grand Admiral could feel his heart racing; he was sure that it would explode from his chest in a few minutes if Thrawn didn’t release him. Torture, he could withstand. Thrawn knew that. Of course he knew that. This, though? This mockery of intimacy? It was almost too much for him to handle.

“You seem to have developed a camaraderie with the Lasat,” Thrawn continued. His fingers never stopped their ministrations; once all the knots had been undone, they had moved on to arranging the red-gold strands around his face and shoulders. “I suppose you feel an immense sort of guilt towards him. Is that why you joined the rebellion? As penance for your crimes?”

I joined the rebellion because Zeb opened my eyes, Kallus thought, barely biting back a wince as Thrawn’s punishing grip on him grew tighter. Because I had become a monster in the name of the Empire, just like you have.

“Ironic, seeing as how he and the rest of his crew has left you,” Thrawn murmured, and all other trains of thought came to a screaming halt. His eyes must have widened, because Thrawn nodded at him with a cold smile.

“It seems as though you’ve entertained the foolish notion that anyone would ever accept you into their fold, Agent. What a pity.”

No. No. That couldn’t be true. Thrawn had to be lying; the Spectres wouldn’t just…leave him. Zeb wouldn’t just leave him.

Why would they keep you? A dark, traitorous sliver of his mind whispered. Why would they ever want someone like you? You’ve hunted them down to every corner of the galaxy, you’ve taken everything from them. And you have the gall to think that anything you could do would make up for it? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

“They have fled as of now, but rest assured, my dear agent, I will find them.” Thrawn drew Kallus closer, close enough for the angry flare of his red eyes to fill his vision completely. “And when I do, each one of them will die before you, so there will be no doubt in your mind that your foolish rebellion will burn.”

With that, Thrawn drew away completely, releasing Kallus from his grasp. The sudden lack of contact, however harsh, left him feeling colder than he ever felt on Bahryn. Darkness filled the room once more as Thrawn left, the automatic lights clicking off as the door slid shut. It left Kallus feeling more alone that he had ever felt before, with only the ghost of Thrawn’s touch and his own spiraling thoughts to keep him company.

What the hell were you thinking? You just had to go and fall in love with Zeb, you just had to let all your walls down for a group of people who would abandon you at a moments notice. Why wouldn’t they? Why shouldn’t they? Why, why in the whole blasted galaxy did you ever convince yourself that you could be loved and cared for? What kind of a delusion are you living in?

He didn’t even make an attempt to push the thoughts away. Why delude himself further with lies? Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. The Spectres might have abandoned him, yes. But the rebellion would live to fight another day. It had to. And if that involved his lonely death at the hands of Admiral Thrawn?

So be it.

#DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!!!!!!!!! #one more part to go after this :) #star wars rebels #swr #sw rebels #agent kallus #alexsandr kallus

[princeescaluswords]

I always find there's such a stark difference between tgt fans and soc fans, and this is could possibly be because of the way the fandom interprets the texts. Six of crows is a heist novel, about people who aren't chosen ones and just live in Kerch. You don't have to be special to be worthy of getting your story told. Soc fans get that. But Darkling fans? Well, it just *can't* be that Alina chooses to be ordinary over being the Darkling's queen, so she apparently *must* end up with her abuser, even though she does not share his morals; even though she is the antithesis of everything he is because she will never see others' lives as expendable for a greater cause. Alina is compassionate and revels in being the 99%, and Darkling fans seem to hate that. Alina was never meant to be a power fantasy, but for Darkling fans, the idea of being normal was never an option - because to them, why would you not choose to be part of the 1%; why would you not turn this into a power fantasy, even when when the author always intended for tgt to be the opposite?

Unfortunately, I have only seen the Netflix adaptation of the Grishaverse. I don't know what "tgt" stands for. However, I can talk about the unpleasant intersection I find between power, status, and ethics that occurs in fandoms. When I refer back to Alina, the Darkling, and the other characters in the Grishaverse, you should bear in mind that it is constrained by my limited knowledge, and I welcome any correction of what you feel is a misinterpretation.

When it comes to many people in our culture, they may claim to want a good story, but they tend to be quite simplistic in their value systems when they think they're not going to be judged for it. Which means they want power fantasies, instead. The problem, of course, is that power fantasies don't make satisfying stories. It's like trying to survive on a diet consisting solely of cheeseburgers.

Let me give a concrete example. In my primary fandom, Teen Wolf, I recently came across an unlabeled post-season 2 story where Jackson Whittemore -- who, for those who don't know, is white, rich, good-looking, entitled and captain of both the lacrosse and the swim team -- is talking about Scott McCall (the lead protagonist in the show but not this story) in very negative terms, complaining about Scott's lack of decency in not telling Allison Argent that her mother was bitten by Derek Hale, an alpha werewolf, while Mrs. Argent was trying to kill Scott. The bite caused Mrs. Argent to kill herself, and, for a time, Allison blamed Derek for her mother's death.

Now, they set aside the fact that the show made it clear that Scott didn't tell Allison because, by the time he figured out what had happened (he was unconscious when Derek bit Allison's mother), it was already too late to change anything, so Scott decided not to tell Allison so that wouldn't be the last memory she had of her beloved mother. You would think that people would view this as an effort to be kind, right? Wrong!

Fandom sees this as an utter betrayal, because it is Derek Hale's feelings, as a white, rich, god-looking, entitled Alpha Werewolf, that should take precedence over Scott's girlfriend's feelings. It doesn't matter that while Derek did come to Scott's rescue, he had beat, manipulated, lied to, betrayed, and tried to murder innocents under Scott's protection for almost all of the first two seasons.

Also relevant is that this is the same Jackson Whittemore, who witnessed his next-door neighbor "kicking the crap" out of his son, Isaac Lahey, and said nothing about it to anyone. This is the same Jackson Whittemore, who when he got the Bite, dumped his girlfriend and told a homeless man to go die in another parking lot, before turning into a murder lizard slave. This is the same Jackson Whittemore for whom the only solution that Derek Hale managed to come up with when this happened was straight-up murder. This is the same Jackson Whittemore whom Scott fought to save from Derek. There is no hint in this fandom story that Jackson is being a hypocrite or being ungrateful or even aware of the contradiction.

The author chose this. Jackson's signature callousness and selfishness simply vanishes just long enough for him to condemn the person who tried to save him for not wanting to hurt his girlfriend's feelings. Why? Jackson is privileged, and he has that in common with Derek, so it is obvious that Jackson will take Derek's perspective in the matter.

Which brings us back to your example. Alina is the Sun Summoner, a living saint, and incredibly powerful. Of course she's supposed to take the side of the Darkling, who is also incredibly powerful. His creation of a slave caste for his kind, his manipulation and murder of countless others, and his creation of the Shadow Fold poisons her nation. This is irrelevant to power fantasy, where power should make her perspective identical to his.

In the modern day, our culture certainly talks about the dangers of the elite, but fandom gives its participants the way to celebrate a freedom from the ethical consideration when it comes to personal power. To them, since fiction =/= reality, they can indulge in their lust for power and status regardless of the consequences. To them, there is no reason for Scott McCall to value Derek Hale's feelings above Allison Argent's; Derek is more powerful, richer, and better looking (and a guy!) so Scott should choose Derek's side. To them, there is no reason that the Sun Summoner will choose a course in life that will prevent her power from corrupting her; if she allowed herself to be corrupted, she'd have all the status of the Darkling.

The problem they have is that the artists behind both the Grishaverse and Teen Wolf, which you are free to consider trivial, still examined the world around them and came to the conclusion that power doesn't supersede the necessity for ethical thought. In other words, the artists realized that power fantasies might give momentary pleasure, but in the end, they don't produce meaningful stories.

Some people have a problem with that.

#scott mccall #alina starkov #darkling #grishaverse #derek hale #jackson whittemore #fandom problems #fandom racism

[ninnosaurus]

|| "Trust your doctor" ||

What the fffffffffuck. I've had this laying almost fully finished in my Google Docs for mooooooooooonths. But I just now actually finished it. This is just a oneshot related to the "Within The Shell" moving topside AU. In said au, Donnie becomes a very famous and well renowned doctor, working with both humans and mutants and creating the new mutant school of medicine that focus solely on mutant/hybrid kind.

I haven't written anything serious in a while so please be kind 🥺🥺

Trigger warnings: Hospitals, doctors, death, small mentions of gore and light mention of emetophobia. You read this on your OWN risk.

|| || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || || ||

“Doctor?” Donnie lifts his head to look at the source of the voice calling for him. “Yes?”, he responds right before taking a sip of his coffee.

“We have a middle-aged man in room 5 who is asking to see a doctor for abdominal pain.” Donatello nods and reaches for the tablet where the patient’s chart is being stored. He reads over the important parts and thanks the nurse who hurries to their next patient. 

Knocking the door, Donnie clears his throat as he walks in to his patient.

“Hello, Mr.Derricks. I’m doc-”, before he gets to finish introducing himself, the man on the bed rudely interrupts him. “I asked for a human doctor.”, Donatello just smiles at his patient and walks up to the bed. “I can assure you, Mr.Derricks, I am fully capable of-”, once again he gets interrupted. 

“I don’t care if you’re “capable” or not. I asked for a human doctor, not one of you.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m the only doctor working today. So,” lifting his tablet from one of his pockets, the tall terrapin looks down at it before continuing; “I see that you’ve come in today for… abdominal pains, is that correct?”

All the man does is look at Donnie up and down before sighing in annoyance before confirming what it says in his chart. 

“I would like to feel around your stomach area to see if I can pinpoint where your pain is located.”. Putting the tablet back into his coat pocket he walks over to the stand on a wall right next to the door where gloves and aprons are being stored. Shortly after his work in the medical field skyrocketed the hospital he worked at made sure they customized gloves specifically for his three fingered hands. “Now,” his voice gets muffled as he covers it with the pastel blue facemask before walking up to the man, “please, let me know when it hurts.”, the patient scoffs but relents.

The poking and the prodding go on in silence for a few minutes before his patient looks at him in just pure uncensored disgust.

“You. You’re one of the first?”, he asks as Donnie jots down some information on the tablet before mumbling out a “yes.”

“How many of you were there? I forgot.”, the man’s slight change of tone didn’t go unheard for the doctor. “We’re four.”

The man just nods as a small “hm” comes from him. 

“Mr. Derricks, I’m going to help you with your pains. But to help me do that, can you tell me how you would rate your pain at the moment on a scale of one to ten. One being no pain at all and ten being the worst pain possible?”

Mr.Derricks thinks for a minute as he squirms around on the stretcher, trying to decipher. “Four.”, he sneers. Donnie nods and presses the number “4” on the pain chart. 

“What do you do for a living, sir?”

After asking that question, the atmosphere shifted.

“I’m a hunter.”, Donatello’s demeanor changed but he knows he has a reputation to uphold, so he keeps it professional and so writes “hunter” in the patient’s chart. “Is that relevant?” He looks Donnie up and down. 

The doctor hums a bit, “It is, actually. I’m going to help you with your pain, but I need to know what you do for a living so I don’t accidentally give you painkillers that will interfere with any potential chemicals you might have in your body already.”

Mr. Derricks nodded. “I hunt your kind. Mutants.”

As Donnie examines his patient for a while, asking all kinds of relevant questions, the man continues to talk about his “job”. Telling Donnie how “mutant scrambled eggs” tastes, or how he pulled the skin off a mutant child with his bare hands himself. 

The details made Donnie’s stomach turn and he worked to keep the contents down. He’d seen alot working as a doctor. But hearing how unborn children were being sold on the Black Market to be eaten was too much for him.

Donnie clears his throat to get the man to stop talking. 

“I think I have all the information I need, Mr.Derricks! Please, give me a few minutes to prepare your painkillers and you’ll soon be out of here. Thankfully, your pain isn’t anything serious or life-threatening. It’s most likely just a pulled muscle in your abdominal area.” He smiled as friendly and reassuring as he could towards his patient before continuing, “You just lay back, and I’ll go fetch your painkillers.” Tucking the tablet back into his white doctors coat, he leaves to prepare.

He returns a few minutes later with supplies.

“Now, sir, this is a really good muscle relaxant. It’s going to make you feel a little sleepy at first, but give it a few minutes and you’ll be free of your pain.”

The man watches his every move as he fills the IV bag that’s pumping him full of fluids. “I’m going to be right here with you until it takes effect, alright?”, his patient just shrugs.

They do some light small talk that Donnie is very thankful isn’t centered around Mr. Derricks job as a poacher. They talk about family, sports… Hobbies and the latest news. Mr. Derricks even cracks a few jokes until he starts nodding off. As soon as the turtle notices he does, his look changes. Donnie’s eyes turn dark as he gets up from the chair he had been seated in during this time and almost strides over to the door. 

Donatello gently pushes to exit before he bids his farewell.

“I would say it’s been a pleasure treating you, Mr.Derricks, because I do take great pride in my job, but if I’ll be honest.”, a dark grin grows on him, “It was more of a pleasure watching you die.”

Before the man gets a chance to reply to him, Donnie leaves, and blends into the bustling corridor outside.

Hm… Coffee sounds nice. He thinks to himself as he marches towards his office to prepare for the news that Mr.Derricks has died of acute cardiac arrest.

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Tags: (let me know if I've missed anyone...) @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @s-s-ironnie @mysticboombox

#bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donnie #bayverse donatello #tmnt au #WTS-au #Within The Shell au

[ecoamerica]

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#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[nabataprophet]

so like..........what is sophia

intsys hates consistency and also me, personally

sophia is MY fave specialist little half-dragon dark mage and I get to talk about what kind of dragon i think she is

(contains spoilers for fe6, fe7, and engage (implied))

Case 1: Dragon Tribes in Elibe

In Elibe, we have explicit confirmation that there are Fire Dragons, Ice Dragons, Divine Dragons, and Mage Dragons.....sort of.

“ok sophia uses magic she’s probably a mage dragon then case closed” (EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER)

Mage dragons in Elibe are not a separate species, but rather a corrupted Divine Dragon. The terminology is a little muddy, because while the kanji is the same as Archanean Mage Dragons, Idunn is specifically referred to as a Demon Dragon in Heroes. Binding Blade still lacks an official English localization, so Heroes is the only official English s-

Just kidding this has been sitting in my drafts for so long that Engage happened. Surprise!

Engage has Roy remark in his DLC bond supports with Zelestia that Mage Dragons do exist in Elibe, though it’s unclear once again if it’s as separate species or not.

Roy: You’re a Mage Dragon, right? Those exist in my world, though I’m not aware of any like you.

[ロイ] ああ、ごめん。セレスティアは魔竜の一族なんだよね。 君のような魔竜もいるんだなって思ってたんだ。

I’ve included the Japanese text as well for funsies, but he’s saying more or less the same thing. Either way, he’s clearly talking about Idunn here, and thus more or less soft de-confirming Sophia as a Mage Dragon.

“why”

Otherwise he could’ve been like wrow.....i also know a mage dragon who uses magic like you.........but actually that would’ve made a banger conversation with veyle instead because she actually has access to dark magic. damn. 😩

But I digress.

Case 2: Arcadia

Things get a little dicey here because of the nature of FE7 existing as a prequel that was released after the fact and the two games don’t always agree (god help me).

Jahn: “That is correct. However, the Divine Dragons did not agree with us. They said that that would be defying the laws of nature. As we were discussing how we could persuade the Divine Dragons to help us, they suddenly disappeared.”

-FE6 Ch 24

...

Elder:

“Master Roy… We knew that the girl you sent here was captured by the Dragons. Still, we did not try and rescue her. We feared that our kind would be in danger if we showed ourselves in front of the other Dragons again. But now, I wonder whether my judgment was correct.”

-FE6 Epilogue (True End)

These quotes seem to imply that Arcadia was where the Divine Dragons escaped to, so it stands to reason that the citizens of Arcadia are primarily Divine Dragons, descended from Divine Dragons, or fully human (Hawkeye and Igrene, for example). This especially makes sense when we consider Arcadia is particularly sensitive about not letting Fae’s existence leak to the outside world. The other dragons think the Divine Dragons are gone entirely and Jahn, the last of the full dragons in Elibe (not counting the dragons through the Dragon’s Gate etc etc etc), has no idea Arcadia exists.

So it stands to reason that Arcadia is where the Divine Dragons disappeared to, yes?

HOWEVER.

In this cg of (past, hi Nergal and Athos) Arcadia from FE7, we see two manaketes in their dragon forms.

Ok. So. One of those dragons in the back is a Fire Dragon (you can tell by the distinctive flame plume wings) and the other is...probably an Ice Dragon? It’s hard to tell for certain because the area where the (lack of) wings would be is hidden, but it has those fins on its head.

“limit why is this relevant” 

Because it confirms Divine Dragons are not the only ones making up the gene pool of Arcadia! This could’ve been easy!!!!!!! intsys i hate your ass!!!!!

Case 3: Color Coded For Your Convenience

Sometimes Intsys is really nice and color codes dragons by type. Sometimes they just tell you to fucking guess. Depemds.

Jahn is a Fire Dragon. He’s red! Ninian and Nils are Ice Dragons. They’re light blue!

Divine dragons in Elibe are....um....anywhere from bright pink and silver. Sophia is...purple, which I guess puts her somewhere in the middle of that range.

It’s not very conclusive evidence, though, is it?

Back to the drawing board.

Case 4: Hybridization

Engage fully confirms that dragons can hybridize between tribes however if I think too hard about this I want to explode.

Case 4: The Cipher Flashbang

girl huh. can you just. drop that information in cipher. is that allowed?????

You can’t even make the excuse that the skill is referencing Fae or even Idunn because it’s specifically in reference to Sophia cards! HUH??????? ?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??! GIRL WHTA

Verdict

Even putting aside the dubious canon status of information from Cipher, it’s highly likely she’s probably at least part Divine Dragon thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#📚 ooc #📚 hc/meta #//i obviously care more about this than intsys does but its been a while since i allowed myself a rambling meta post haha #fe6 spoilers // #fe7 spoilers // #engage spoilers // #//is this coherent? who knows! onto the dash it goes regardless

[thundergrace]

The poster made a correction that was actually North Little Rock High.

Like we keep saying, if heroes/activists/victims of the civil rights era are still alive, so are these people.

Jerry Jones confirmed it's him and basically claimed that he just wanted to see the students walk in and see what happened and he does appear to just be standing there watching.

Though he gets no points for just standing by and watching his fellow white students bully Black kids, either, even if he didn't participate. And it's gross that he just couldn't handle the FOMO of missing his fellow white students bully Black kids (cause he said the football team, which he was on, was told to enter through the back and not be anywhere near this because they knew what would happen but he just had to go see it). Yeah, he was 14. But I give teenagers the respect they're due. He knew that shit was wrong and at the very least should've just not gone to see it like it was entertainment.

The relevance for me is just that this is the first time I've seen a prominent living figure identified in one of these historical pictures on the wrong side of history.

#jerry jones #dallas cowboys #segregation #civils rights era #civil rights movement

[iron-touch]

Author's Notes: Chapter 37 (Swing and a Miss)

And I'm back! Again, this chapter took a little bit longer to come out due to other commitments. But I'm pretty proud of how this one turned out nonetheless.

While I always planned on having Hol Horse have an inner monologue about intending to ditch the group at Chicago IX, some of the context of this scene had to be redone from my initial outline because, as discussed previously, him leaving here wasn't part of my original plan. That being said, it did end up going well with the golf setting.

Okay, for some context. About a year ago while I was still planning this arc, @allshaftsfall played Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach on stream with the intent of 100%ing the game. One of the game's achievements calls for you to get a low score on the minigolf minigame, centered around the alligator animatronic Monty. Shaft lost his mind trying to get this achievement. "Gator Golf" has since become something of a meme between us and our friends (most of which are probably reading this right now; hi!), and I knew I had to incorporate it into Iron Touch somehow. This informed several different things about the chapter, like Screaming Jay's appearance, Mr. Williams' golf clubs, and the moment where Mr. Williams is disappointed he didn't get a hole in one. I mean, hey, I was already doing a resort/beach arc anyways. Those places usually have golf courses.

That being said, the golf course itself did end up changing a bit from start to finish. I originally planned on having it be a glow in the dark putt putt course like Gator Golf (which is, in my objectively correct opinion, the superior form of golf), but decided against it because I liked the visual of the sun setting as the chapter progresses, symbolizing Hol Horse losing all his options to go out with someone else (and drawing us closer to the next chapter). My next thought was to make the golf course feel "alive" somehow; like maybe slopes would form in the ground that would guide the ball to the hole or something. I decided against that because I felt like it made it seem like I was trying to hard to make Chicago IX feel like this weird, cryptid location that bends the rules of reality. We already have the giant spider car wash portal, we don't need a living golf course. I considered making this Mr. Williams' Stand ability instead, but I couldn't think of a good "mechanism" for how it would activate. The physicality of Stands is very important to me; the Stand can't just "do thing" because the user wants them to. There's gotta be something the Stand does that makes it work, or have it be part of the Stand's design. Plus, I wanted Mr. Williams' Stand to be less obviously tied to golf. Eventually I just settled on having it be a plain old golf course.

Mr. Williams' half-afro hairstyle was inspired by a picture of a real person I found online (where someone was arrested mid haircut), but is also meant to symbolize how the stress of running Chicago IX is causing him to lose his hair. I also liked how it split down the middle, like how his Stand does.

"What kind of a person just walks around with cough drops in their pocket?" Me. I'm person.

Here's a video of what the club flip would look like, if you're curious.

I rewrote the paragraph where Screaming Jay activates like two times in order to really sell the gross out factor of it. Iron Touch needs more body horror in it! I mean...not like this is the last bit of body horror we'll see this arc. Teehee.

Originally I was very hesitant on adding an animal Stand user to Iron Touch because I didn't know what else I could do with the idea that Araki hadn't already done himself. I didn't want to make an animal Stand user just because, I wanted the fact that the character is an animal be relevant to the story. While I suppose you could replace Lucky with an old and or terminally ill human, I think the narrative of Mr. Williams restructuring Chicago IX around Random Access Memories works much better when it's his pet and not another human. I also didn't want Chicago IX's owner to be Random Access Memories' user because I thought the narrative of seeking out supernatural abilities for personal gain was too similar to Depeche.

I had to fight every fiber in my body to not have Hol Horse say "Do me a favor and shut the fuck up" instead of "Do me a favor and shut the hell up." Even in a post Stone Ocean-dub society, I'm still only allowing myself one F-bomb in the fic, and I shan't waste it here!

Shit's gonna start going down next chapter :)

Music references:

Brackish, the resident brainwasher that Mr. Williams mentions, is named after a song of the same name by Canadian heavy metal band Kittie. Originally this character had a generic name; making it a music reference was a last minute change made literally as I wrote these author's notes. I like the implication of Brackish being important enough to warrant a music reference.

Mr. Williams is a weird one. Two of the collaborators on the album Random Access Memories were Pharrell Williams and Paul Williams (not related to each other). They're "co-references" of sorts. I'll add a Pharrell song to the playlist just to prevent things from getting too cluttered, but think of them both when you listen. Plus, I felt that the name William would be very fitting for a Fnaf inspired chapter.

Mr. Williams' beta name was Screaming Jay. My initial idea for him was for him to constantly be whispering despite his name, maybe have him lash out into a yelling fit when he starts rambling, but I decided against it because that wouldn't show up well in the prose.

Screaming Jay was named after American singer Screamin' Jay Hawkins. Honestly, I just wanted to put I Put a Spell On You on the playlist. Sadly, the Hocus Pocus version isn't on Spotify.

Screaming Jay's beta name was The Romantic, after the American rock band The Romantics. This was another Fnaf reference; since their song Talking In Your Sleep was used extensively during promotional material for the movie. However, once I actually got to writing the chapter, I realized that I hated the sound of the name and decided to change it to something else.

Lucky was named after the song Get Lucky from the album Random Access Memories.

#iron touch #author’s notes

[secondsonaym]

The Vessel Project - Sociable [Heket 1]

(read on Ao3 here)

---------

So it’s my turn to recount events now? Sure, why not. 

The younger me would have been jumping for joy at this opportunity--and that’s not to say I dislike doing this, not at all! It’s just…

Well, my feelings aren’t particularly relevant at the moment. Let’s get back to the point.

So, Narinder left us off right when we had all first met, okay.

If I recall correctly, after he had introduced himself…

------------------------

“Narinder? Ooooh, that’s such a cool name!” I gasped, unable to keep myself from clapping my hands a little. “Well, it’s nice to meet you--All of you, actually!”

I looked to the other three with my usual big smile, oblivious to the fact nobody was really returning it. But I didn’t really care.

As a child, socializing was just second nature to me. I had many siblings, and no shortage of conversation partners or playmates. The concept of ‘restraint’  just wasn’t in my best interest.

The other four certainly seemed various levels of reserved, too, so I sort of hoped by expressing my energy a bit more, they’d lighten up. After all, we had each been selected for what was obviously a big deal in our orders. We should be happy!

 “Can’t say the sentiment is shared, considering after tonight, we will be on different sides of the battlefield.” Shamura said, rolling all four of their eyes--That was a cool trick! Could all spiders do that? I recall wishing I had four eyes in the moment, because I wanted to do that as well.

“Why, though?” Leshy suddenly asked, taking everyone else by surprise again. He sure did a lot of staring and not much talking, but when he did talk, it was when nobody expected him to!

“I mean… All of the sects--Chaos, Famine, Pestilence, War, and Death, they’re all lumped under the ‘Old Faith.’” He continued. “If they’re all different parts of the same thing, why don’t they get along?”

“That’s a good question.” Narinder said quietly from his spot, and I nodded along, seeing Leshy’s point.

“Perhaps they were, once,” Shamura spat. “But when things are compartmentalized, it is their nature to branch off and become their own thing. It is a natural progression.”

“Compart… Mental…?” Leshy asked with a tilt of his head.

Shamura sighed and rubbed their face.

“I hate talking to children.” 

“Um, but you’re a kid, too?” I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“A teen, actually.” They corrected, squinting at me, which only made me laugh more. It was silly, how much they seemed like their bishop.

“Whatever you say, I guess.” I snorted, before turning back to Narinder. “Say, I gotta ask… What’s the Death sect like?”

“Huh?” Narinder’s ears stood up straight, which I found quite cute. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not an evil cult that sacrifices young and old alike, is it?” I pressed. I had heard all manner of haunting stories from adults in my village, who spoke of Michael as an omen of destruction. Some had even told me he drank the blood of naughty froglings who didn’t go to bed on time! Though… That one may have just been to get me to behave.

“Of course it isn’t!” He stammered, fur standing on end as he frowned. “Nobody dies of anything but natural occurrences. Sacrifice is forbidden.”

“Forbidden?” I echoed. “Why would it be forbidden?”

“Lord Michael said that…” Narinder began, voice starting to shake as everyone fixed their eyes on him. “To give up one’s life just to prove your devotion was an affront to Death itself. You can only die once, and it is much more meaningful to accept what fate has in store for you than to claim you know better.”

We were all quiet for a moment, unsure what to make of his logic. I certainly didn’t understand it at the time, because sacrifice was commonplace in Phanuel’s order, and from what I had heard, was a practice in the other sects as well.

“Michael’s wrong.” I finally said, having uncharacteristically considered my words for a moment. “Sacrifice is probably the ultimate way to prove yourself.”

“Under Lord Raziel’s domain, traitors are sacrificed without hesitation.” Shamura said matter-of-factly. “If they shed their loyalty, then we take it back by force, with their last breath. Death is the ultimate punishment.”

“Um… Lord Verchiel says there’s a certain splendor in death.” Kallamar said slowly. “And when sickness crops up, if we show him a death that meets his standards, he heals us. Death is an amusement, really, to him, at least.”

“We see all deaths as sacrifice in the Darkwood.” Leshy mumbled. “Death could happen at any moment. We just don’t know.”

“And as for Lord Phanuel, He…” I started, looking at where my hands rested on the table. “He says that even when dead, bodies have use. The meat feeds creatures, the bones feed the earth. By sacrificing yourself, you open yourself up to become much more useful than you could have been alive. Giving up one’s body is the highest form of devotion.”

We all sat in silence after sharing these perspectives, looking to Narinder, who had shrunk down into his shoulders as we spoke. I wonder how it felt, to be told just how wrong your teachings were.

I could certainly see the perspectives from the others, though the idea of death being a ‘punishment’ didn’t exactly sit right with me either. But at least they all agreed that sacrifice was a natural part of worship.

It made me a bit concerned for Narinder, really. He definitely didn’t seem like a normal kid, and Michael’s teachings must have been giving him a really skewed perspective of the world.

“Anyway,” I then said, not wanting to dwell on that topic and make the cat feel any worse about his faulty logic, “Could you at least tell us a bit more about this temple, Mury?”

“What did you just say?” Shamura’s flabbergasted face made me grin. Had they never had a nickname before?

“You know, Mury! It’s a nickname for Shamura, ‘cause that’s a bit of a mouthful. And Kallamar, I could call you Kal if you want!”

“Lord Verchiel says nicknames obscure the beauty of one’s full name.”

“And yet he calls you ‘Opal’ when your real name is-”

“Like I said!” Kallamar interrupted. “He does it for everyone in the upper ranks, and it’s the rules, so I’m fine with it, really. R-Really, please stop calling me Kallamar. Opal is fine…”

He stared down at the table, starting to fiddle with his robe as bright red shimmered onto his skin. 

“I say go along with what Opal wants.” Shamura huffed. “Lest you get accused of trying to convert him.”

Oh dear, I didn’t want to do that! For starters, that wasn’t my job, and who knows how angry Verchiel would get if he thought I was trying to take away his disciple on Lord Phanuel’s behalf!

“Sure, Opal! Whatever you want.” I said with a smile.

“As for the temple,” Shamura said, “I’m not letting any of you step away from this table. Who knows what sort of sabotage and subterfuge you all could get up to in the library!”

“Well, if this place is a library, I’d probably find a dictionary, so I can know what ‘subterhuge’ means.” Leshy mumbled.

“Subter fuge. ” Shamura hissed. “There’s an F in it! It’s spelled S-U-B-T-E-R-F-U-G-E.”

“Then why isn’t it pronounced, ‘sub-ter-fudge?’” Kallamar asked.

As Shamura started to tremble with anger,  I looked back to Narinder, only to deflate a bit when I caught sight of him.

He was crying. He held his arms like he was giving himself a hug, and stared down at the ground as tears wet his cheeks. From what I could tell, he was doing his best not to make any noise, as he shook now and then with silent sobs.

“Hey…” I managed, moving over to him, though he recoiled away. 

I left the other three to their squabbling as I focused on Narinder. Guilt was already lumping up in my throat, and I hated it when people were upset… Especially because of me.

“I didn’t mean to…” I started, but was unable to think of what I didn’t mean to do. 

‘To tell you your bishop is wrong’? No, I still believed Michael was wrong about sacrifice. But… that was the only thing I could think of that Narinder might have been upset about.

“You all think I’m weird.” He managed, making me freeze up a bit. “Don’t you?”

“Of course not!” I insisted, clenching my fists. While he certainly wasn’t a typical kid, I didn’t think that was weird. I knew all sorts of kids! Not all of them are gonna be the same!

“I do.” Shamura said from the other side of the table. “I’ve never heard of any kid following Michael, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, don’t-” I started, only to be cut off.

“You really look up to him, it seems like.” Leshy commented. “Defending his views on sacrifice, and all. But worshiping Death itself… Isn’t normal.”

“I don’t worship it!” Narinder insisted, raising his head to show his reddened eyes. “I respect it! That’s what Lord Michael told me from the start, it’s not something to be worshiped, it’s-”

“Then why even have a sect at all?” Shamura probed. “Why be part of the Faith, and why involve himself in the business of the other bishops? Lord Raziel says Michael thinks he knows better than the other bishops, always telling them what to do and calling their ideas stupid, well-”

“ CUT IT OUT! ” I bellowed, stomping my foot so hard the table rattled. My loud voice probably hurt everyone’s ears--No! No, I didn’t care at that moment, because they weren’t cutting Narinder any slack!

“Can’t you see he’s crying? He doesn’t need any more of your dumb questions, Shamura!”

“All I’m doing is pointing out the inconsistency in his faith!” Shamura growled in return. “Lord Raziel says to think critically of outside information, and--”

“ ‘Lord Raziel says’ this, ‘Lord Raziel says’ that, are there any thoughts of your own in that brain of yours, or is it all--” I started to shout back, anger overtaking me. My retort didn’t get to finish, however, as I was cut off by a noise from the door to the main temple chamber.

A horrific screech, like shattering glass mixed with a dying owl, sounded from past the doorway, making all of us freeze. Though most of us hesitated to move, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Kallamar had gone sheet white. 

“L-Lord Verchiel!” He managed, finally bringing himself to move to the door. 

As he hurried, another scream, this one more guttural and ragged, let loose. It was Narinder’s turn to realize who it belonged to, as his fur stood on end before he darted after Kallamar. 

Shamura, Leshy, and I remained where we were, both unsure if we should follow and worried we may hear the sounds of our own bishops. Finally, curiosity overcame me, and I began to move as well, hearing Shamura and Leshy’s footsteps close behind me.

The first thing I saw was blood on the floor. The crimson color was off-putting in the pale light of the moon, and I desperately looked around the scene for details to distract me.

The trail of red was distinct, forming a clear traced line from Verchiel’s taloned feet to Michael’s hunched form. The bishop of Pestilence looked absolutely livid , tense as if prepared to make another strike.

None of the other bishops looked surprised, or even interested in what was happening before them, let alone enough to intervene. They merely looked down at where Michael kneeled, waiting for his response.

Michael was on his knees, neck drooping so his head lay on the ground. The Red Crown had been knocked from his brow, laying a few inches away from his head, the eye staring up at the bright moon. I could see him breathing heavily, but it took me a moment to realize that some of the red on his robe was not, in fact, part of the usual design.

Verchiel had struck him in the neck, sending a spray of blood down to stain his robe and the floor. I could hear his haggard breathing from where I stopped, halfway between the door and the perimeter of the moonlight. Narinder stood just a bit in front of me, frozen in shock and horror.

“You dare mock my decisions as a bishop, when you can hardly call yourself one! I will not let such insults stand.” Verchiel hissed, oblivious to our arrival.

“Hah… You’re angry because I’m correct, though.” Michael responded, voice twisted into a hard to decipher croak. 

“ I should kill you right now. ” Verchiel said, voice so venomous it sent chills up my spine. 

“I’m not afraid of empty threats.” Michael managed, before he started to move. Slowly, with everyone’s eyes locked on him, he pulled himself to his feet, standing straight despite the ghastly wound. He picked up the crown, setting it on his head as if nothing had happened. 

“You won’t kill me.”

“And just how do you know that?” Verchiel asked with a tilt of his head. “The strike just was a warning. But I could go further.”

“Because,” Michael replied, head now turning so he looked into the shadows, right where Narinder and I were standing. “I know how I am going to die.”

He then turned around, ignoring Verchiel’s enraged growl. 

“Come, Narinder. We’re leaving now.”

Narinder twitched upon hearing his name, but took a moment to actually hurry after Michael, scampering as fast as he could. Before the pair stepped out of the large temple doors, I saw Narinder clutching worriedly to Michael’s robe, looking up to him and asking a question I could not hear.

And then they were gone.

“That serpent…” Verchiel grumbled after a moment of silence had passed. He turned his attention downward, immediately set on smoothing out any wrinkles in his robe. “Forcing me to get my talons dirty with his blood. This will be hell to wash off.”

“The children are back.” Raziel noted indifferently, having seen where Michael had looked and catching sight of the rest of us. “I suppose with that little outburst, along with how late it is, we should probably disperse as well.”

“Fine by me.” Lord Phanuel huffed, not needing to be told twice. “Heket.”

I jumped to attention when I heard my name, and began to stride after Lord Phanuel as He went to the door. I risked a glance back, but didn’t see much else aside from the other disciples heading towards their bishops.

“If I may ask, My Lord,” I began, looking back to Lord Phanuel. “What did Michael say?”

“The truth.” Lord Phanuel responded casually. I liked that about Him. He didn’t beat around the bush, and was honest about things when you asked. He kept no complicated secrets.

“Michael had said Verchiel was self-obsessed to the point of being so far up his ass, he couldn’t see the ruin Anchordeep was falling to. Verchiel didn’t like that, of course, so he, well…”

 “Will Michael be okay? N-Not that I care, but that kind of wound…”

Okay, the caring thing was a bit of a lie. Even if I didn’t agree with his views on death, I didn’t want Narinder to be without a bishop, that’s all.

“The crowns impart abilities to the wearer that can prove beneficial, though it varies with each crown.” He explained. “The Red Crown allows its wearer to endure much more than would otherwise be possible.”

Wow… 

“Unfortunately, there was not much to glean from tonight’s discussion.” He then scoffed. “The others bickered, as usual, and it was mainly Raziel who was focused on the project.”

“Do you know what’s out there, past the border of the Old Lands?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Lord Phanuel was quiet as was continued to walk. Normally, He would have opened a portal by now, but we were already out of sight of the temple, and still moving on foot. 

“Wouldn’t that be something for you to find out?” He finally asked, glancing at me. 

“Oh, um… I suppose that makes sense.” I apologized. 

Right, if I were to be His chosen disciple, I’d be the one going out to explore and claim new land for Him, just like He had explained when He had first selected me. 

But thinking on things, I was just so amazed by how big the world was. As a toddler, Anura seemed to sprawling and vast. Then I learned of the other territories of the Old Lands, and it all seemed so overwhelming. To hear there was probably even more out there, well… 

“Speaking of you finding things out.” Lord Phanuel said, stopping in His tracks to look at me. “What did you learn of the other children?”

“Hm? Well…” I stopped beside Him, putting a hand to my chin as I thought. I had definitely learned a lot about each of the others, but I knew Lord Phanuel well enough to know not everything was going to be to His interest.

“Raziel’s disciple, Shamura, is very loyal. They were saying a lot of stuff Raziel had told them, and wouldn’t let us look around the room we were waiting in.”

“Figured that much.” He said with a roll of His eyes. “Kid’ll probably tear out their own heart if she told them to.”

“Seemed like it…” I said, doing my best to block out the disturbing imagery. “I wasn’t sure what to make of Zuriel’s disciple, Leshy. He was very quiet. But as for Kalla-er.. I mean, Opal…”

“Go ahead, say his real name.”

“Kallamar… I tried calling him that for a bit, but eventually he wanted me to go back to calling him Opal, ‘cause it was the ‘rules’ or something…”

Phanuel let out a loud snort at this, a brief instance of amusement on His face. He quickly suppressed it, however, and returned to His typical deadpan expression.

“Verchiel sees others as little more than toys. You no doubt saw the results of xer explosive temper. This ‘Opal’ likely fears that.”

“Probably…” I agreed quietly.

“What about the cat?” He then asked, making me pause. 

“Narinder?”

“Michael called him that as well, so I’m assuming that’s his name. Yes, I mean him. Michael never said anything about taking on a disciple. It was a surprise for all of us to see the boy there in the temple.” Lord Phanuel explained.

“Well…” I thought a bit, wondering what I should pass along to Lord Phanuel. “Honestly, I’m… Worried about him.”

“How so?”

“He was talking about how sacrifice is an affront to Death itself. Whatever Michael is teaching him, it’s giving him such a backwards view of the world. He wasn’t really like any of the other kids, either. While Leshy didn't talk much to begin with, what little he said was at least appropriate. Narinder, meanwhile…”

Lord Phanuel remained quiet, staring down the craggy path that lay before us. After a few moments, He finally raised His head, making a motion with His beak so an angular black hole appeared before us. 

He stepped into it, dropping downwards as if descending a staircase, and I quickly followed suit.

“Michael is a dangerous one, to be sure. I’ve no idea what his plans are for that boy, but they cannot be good. If things get too bad, perhaps we can intervene.”

“Really?” I asked. I certainly liked the idea of helping Narinder… He seemed like a kind boy, warped views aside.

“It is a mere consideration.” He insisted, tone firm, though not overly so. “For now, we will leave them to their devices. When we return to the temple, you are to go straight to your sleeping quarters. Tomorrow, we will formally begin your training.”

“Yes, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord.”

#usurper au #ch5 #blood cw #(no seriously quite a bit and there's a single image dedicated to it) #violence cw #michael #verchiel #raziel #phanuel #shamura #leshy #kallamar #heket #narinder

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Samantha has filed her notice of appeal in her defamation suit against our Saint and Dan Wootten is reporting that her lawyer also is asking for Catherine to be a witness. by u/Von_und_zu_

Samantha has filed her notice of appeal in her defamation suit against our Saint and Dan Wootten is reporting that her lawyer also is asking for Catherine to be a witness. Sorry, but I have to rant for a moment. I don't know who the clueless person is in this scenario - Dan Wootten or Peter Ticktin - Samantha's lawyer. There were what seemed like a bazillion twitter posts yesterday based on Dan's post about the notice of appeal and Dan's assertion that Samantha has requested that Catherine provide a witness statement. First, Dan asserting it and then everyone and their mother commenting on Catherine providing a witness statement. Then there was a tweet from Samantha that - oh no, her lawyer made that statement before we knew Catherine had health problems. (Not exactly correct, it was before they knew Catherine's health problems included cancer). Now there is an Express article on this and I can't stand it anymore.Yes, it is correct that Samantha filed a notice of appeal. That notice of appeal was bare bones, like all notices of appeal, and said nothing whatsover about seeking a witness statement from Catherine. Copy of the notice available here. https://ift.tt/KmrdT47 is because there is no possibility of even asking for a witness statement from Catherine unless and until they WIN on appeal, the case is remanded down to the district court, and discovery resumes. (Unlikely, in my opinion.} And THEN, they still would have to show that Catherine has information relevant to Samantha's specific allegations against her sister to be able to take a witness statement, which in the US would be a deposition under oath. What on earth do they expect Catherine to add to Samantha's claims against Megs? Moreoever, to depose a non-resident who does not want to be deposed is a major time-consuming expensive undertaking.This is a tempest in a teapot for absolutely no reason. They are not going to ask Catherine for a witness statement now because it is not an option. And even if they win on appeal, the case goes back down, and discovery starts up, and they ask for a witness statement from Catherine then - I don't think they would get one then either.I don't expect Dan to know how the American legal system works, and maybe he misunderstood Ticktin on the issue of seeking a witness statement from Catherine. But Dan certainly has whipped up a frenzy about it and undermined his own credibility, as far as I'm concerned, by claiming Samantha was going to seek a witness statement from Catherine.But Samantha, why do YOU think you can ask Catherine to provide a witness statement at this point? It certainly appears as if you do believe it, otherwise you would have put out a different statement,( i.e., This is a big misunderstanding. We won't be asking for a witness statement until we will on appeal and the case is sent back to the district court.) Did your lawyer tell you that you can ask for one now? If he did, he is dead wrong and you need a new lawyer with a brain. Because, to me, you look just like your sister here invoking the royal connections to get yourself in the news.​https://preview.redd.it/okefu3z6ogtc1.png?width=750&format=png&auto=webp&s=5af40d3951e8853753ed3c540c87e578bbf037fd​https://preview.redd.it/cj5mu2lkogtc1.png?width=718&format=png&auto=webp&s=b8bc8d14225319694d3ba2eb222a77a48aad30e0​https://preview.redd.it/lqyq4f0wogtc1.png?width=684&format=png&auto=webp&s=4ad1602afb03d60d694580abe990d6052151cf71 post link: https://ift.tt/F32dCXM author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: April 09, 2024 at 04:32PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

#SaintMeghanMarkle #harry and meghan #meghan markle #prince harry #fucking grifters #Worldwide Privacy Tour #Instagram loving bitch wife #Backgrid #voetsek meghan #walmart wallis #markled #archewell #archewell foundation #megxit #duke and duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #doria ragland #rent a royal #clevr #clevr blends #lemonada media #archetypes with meghan #invictus #invictus games #Sussex #WAAAGH #american riviera orchard #Von_und_zu_