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constantvariations · 10 months

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The most annoying problem of rwby is how it will say something like "the White Fang assassinates board members of the SDC" while never actually following up on it. We spend several seasons in Atlas and not once does this come up

Despite Weiss literally being the one projected to take over the company, she never interacts with the business and the danger attached to it. No board members popping in to talk to her or Jacques, no guards talking of upping security as a result of another attempted attack, no personal escorts for any of the Schnees whenever they go to the recital

The show says that Schnees and associates are under constant threat by the White Fang, a threat that should have escalated after the fall of Beacon, but nothing in the show's actions even suggest this. Jacques only complaint is about the embargo costing him money, Winter has washed her hands of the SDC entirely, Whitley's focus is being Weiss's annoying (affectionate) little brother, and Willow barely exists

Yet rabids will call you stupid and illiterate for asking the show to... show these things. Just because things are said or things like guards and spies are logical for situations like this doesn't mean that the story gets to slack off in implementing these elements

Shows are akin to a court case. You can't just point at someone and cry, "They're a murderer!" You have to establish a timeline, motive, and method, and provide physical evidence like the weapon used or footage of the person at the scene of the crime. No jury worth its salt would condemn a person on he-said, she-said

You want me to care that board members are being assassinated? Introduce me to them so I can either want them protected or pray for their death. You want me to believe that the Schnees are under constant threat? Have Willow be paranoid to the point of never going outside and never letting Weiss and Whitley go anywhere without a ton of security. You want me to worry about spies? Ilia would've been perfect here! Have her play the demure servant while we see her sneaking into Jacques's office to steal SDC documents

Not only is relying on distant dialogue and exposition a lazy way of establishing elements of the world, not only is it a surefire way for folks w bad memory/auditory processing issues (me) to miss out on important information, it's fucking BORING

#rwde #why yes i am being a petty bitch abt this #sorry that im asking this show to be a SHOW #if i wanted to listen to a story I'd be going to podcasts or audiobooks #also real classy insulting my intelligence then blocking before I could reply. we may be called rwde but youre the one who threw a tantrum #god why didnt ilia get to be a spy in atlas instead of getting wasted and ditched in the menagerie arc #you know how many people id kill for white fang spies all over the globe but especially atlas?#in ohar blake is literally a wf undercover trying to get close to Weiss to learn sdc secrets #god i wish i could work on ohar proper #twould be a dream

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warriorfujoshi · 1 year

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im seriously so obsessed with brassius and hassel’s “transgenders who met when they were in their teens/early 20s, sought solace in each other while going through the toughest times of their lives, then made it into adulthood, which eternally bonded their souls” energy

#like I’m obsessed w how brassie looks gloomy and depressed but he’s really… so cute and energetic when you meet him #i like to think that hassel being there for him is what created this gap moe…#old men HEALING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BEING THERE FOR EACH OTHER #ITS IMPORTANT TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #THEYRE TRANSGENDER BTW !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#(inarticulately) it’s very resonant. (he does not elaborate.)#pokemon sv #brassius #hassel #its about being kind of young and stupid and not being able to care for someone perfectly but holding in your heart so strongly #that you want a better future for them #IMPERFECT LOVE!!! THAT IS GETTING BETTER AS TIME GOES BY #ITS ABOUT LOOKING BACK AND BEING AMAZED AT HOW YOU GOT HERE AND HOW DESPITE IT ALL OOMF (LOVE OF YOUR LIFE) HAS BEEN HERE FOR IT ALL #it’s about. Old men living the transgender dream #it’s about. transgender old men.#I do call them old men bc it rolls off the tongue but I do think they have genders. these old men are my mothers btw #if I think about them too hard I start getting so emotional like liquid pouring from every orifice in my face #those old men are MARRIED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#^on the topic of them having genders I think they should both do drag . Twould be sexy #nvm who said that must’ve been the wind (looks away dejectedly like a scorned maiden) What… what was that… nay… pay it no mind

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ralofofriverwoods · 5 months

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My dream job is to get commissioned by dropout for a d20 season’s artwork. This is currently impossible however, because of a barrier called. No way to get paid currently. And also, more importantly, I would explode immediately into a thousand little bits like u do in Lego Starwars.

#also my parents would surely kill me with an m32 rotary grenade launcher. or by classic stoning #assuming they ever found out lol #idk I have a long long way to go before it’s even a possibility. but a girl can daydream!#when u admire ppl so much you can’t help but think about working for them…#buck wild that I’m dreaming about working for someone. but here we are #dropout;s people do seem like an absolute pleasure to work with though #between Brennan and Rick and Aabria and the many other amazing ppl that work on those shows?#twould be insane #in the best way possible #random #dimension 20 #idk if I should put this in the actual tag bc #tired sick midnight rambles #but like it’s one small text post. it’s fine lmao

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vaulter · 2 years

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i mentioned this before i think but maaaaan i wanna go to merrie monarch

#twould be extremely expensive and ethically dubious at best #but a girl can dream #i LIKE hula

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h-i-raeth · 2 years

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Fucking Love Renne Faires

#in love with them even. gods.#want to work a goddamn food stall at them year round for a living wage #twould be my dream occupation methinks. or something to the left of it #I Am also very tired & also my back hurts though #although a lot of that admittedly has to do with my overnight accomodations

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avelera · 1 year

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Introducing "Keeping Sanctuary"

Not sure if anyone noticed yet BUT the chapter count on Giving Sanctuary has changed officially and pretty dramatically and HERE'S WHY:

I've decided the next and final arc of the story is different enough from the core of Giving Sanctuary that it makes more sense as a mini-sequel.

After ch. 22 of Giving Sanctuary, we're leaving the year 1689 behind for good. I vacillated wildly back and forth on whether or not the next part, where we explore what changes as a result of Hob and Dream's altered 1689 meeting, counted as core to the story or if it was more of a long epilogue.

Knowing me, the "after 1689 epilogue" could become a very, very long "epilogue" indeed. 'Twould be par for the course at this point.

I didn't want people who've been holding off on reading Giving Sanctuary until it's complete to have to wait while I explore a super long epilogue of what else changes. The core of the story is still, "How their 1689 meeting went differently," and so this second part will be, "And what that changed about their lives going forward."

So without further ado, I'm debuting what will hopefully be the final "split chapter" of Giving Sanctuary, which will now be followed by "Keeping Sanctuary" in which we will follow Hob and Dream from 1690 to the modern era. The latter fic is not posted yet but if you subscribe to the series linked here, you can be alerted once it's up.

Ch. 22 of Giving Sanctuary will be a long chapter as a result, since I don't intend to split the chapters any further but to simply wrap it up here however long that takes in terms of word count. Apologies for the delay so far, I tend to feel a lot more pressure on the final chapters in terms of 'getting them right' out of a desire to reward my faithful readers for their patience, so that and some life stuff has slowed things down, but I am optimistic about getting it to you soon!

#1689 fic #giving sanctuary #dreamling

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hard-boiled-criminal · 3 months

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Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 2 - Baldur's Isekai

< Ch 1 | Ch 3 >

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

Pliiing…pling-pling-pliNG-pLING-PLING. The rising notes of a plucked violin could be heard in the otherwise silent room as you sat there, steadily tuning your violin. Bing-bong-bong-bing. You smiled in satisfaction at the sound of the four perfectly tuned strings, softly humming after being plucked one final time. And then you purposefully altered your e-string, tuning it to be an e-flat instead. You’d always loved the solo in Danse Macabre with how the violin was purposefully out of tune to create that haunting tritone, the diabolus of music.

You pulled up the song on your phone as you stood up and let it begin to play as you readied your violin on your shoulder, bow in hand. You took a deep breath and put your bow to the strings, playing along with the music. You swayed along to your playing, letting the natural movement aid in your pushes and pulls with the bow.

You played the final note and stood there, relishing in the aftermath of a piece well-played. With a satisfied grin you gently moved the violin off your shoulder.

«That was lovely.»

You startled, hearing a disembodied masculine voice in your head, instinctively tightening your grip on your violin, afraid of dropping it.

“…Thank you? I suppose?”

Your eyes darted around the room, understandably confused and a bit freaked out at the situation.

«Ah, yes, one should introduce themselves when first meeting an other,» the voice, low and smooth, spoke in dulcet tones. «Thou mayst calleth this one Astaroth. A pleasure to make thine acquaintance.»

‘Astaroth? I feel like I’ve heard that name before…’ you thought to yourself.

«Yes, there is a chance thou hast heard of mine name before,» the voice responded to your thoughts. «If thou art willing, there is a request I wouldst ask of thee.»

“Wait, wait a minute,” you backpedaled. “Look, buddy, I have no idea what’s going on. Am I going crazy? I must be. I’m hearing a voice in my head and talking to myself.” You laughed to yourself. “Ok, (y/n), no more late-night horror for you—you know it always gives you nightmares, and now they’ve started seeping into the land of the living.”

«I assure thee, thou art of good health, thy mind included,» they spoke again, further dashing your hope of there being a sane explanation for this. «I only ask of thee to first hear mine plea.»

“…Fuck it, whatever. Go ahead.” You sat down, violin hugged tight to your chest. You must be dreaming, so you might as well let it play out.

A sigh of slight disappointment, though not malicious, came from the voice, «‘Twould seem thou still hast thy doubts, yet I thank thee all the same,» a pause and then they speak again, «I am knownst as Astaroth, a demon lord of the Abyss. I have cometh to thee in search of aid for thou hast magickal potential untapped and untampered with, and thou hast not been influenced by an other entity.»

“Okay, maou stuff, classic anime, gotcha,” you nodded, playing along with whatever dream scenario your subconscious mind has come up with.

«I knoweth not what thou speakest of, but mineself senseths no hostility, so I shall taketh thy words as positive.»

“Cool. So, what didja wanna ask me?”

«I require’st thine aid in—Zshaa!» They interrupted themselves mid-sentence with a surprised and desperate shout, a sound reminiscent to the violent crash of a wave.

The air in front of you rippled and you froze, a scream stuck in your throat as the space in front of you tore to reveal a black void.

«Quick—!» The voice was barely able to shout out a single syllable before it was abruptly cut off at the same time a giant tentacle emerged from the dimensional rip. You pressed yourself against the back of your chair as it shot towards you before everything went dark.

…

You awoke to the feeling of your mind being pulled at, an unnatural force compelling you to wake. It was a sensation unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as if your brain got whiplashed while your body held still, with a pinpoint headache forming at the center of your forehead.

‘If this is what it feels like to open your third eye, then I’m never opening it again.’

This was your first thought as you were forced to consciousness, your eyelids flickering open, lacking the usual heaviness felt when being woken up.

‘…why is there a person-sized Cthulhu in front of me?’

Your second thought was about this strange creature in front of you, slate-purple in color with four tentacles in place of a mouth. You watched in morbid curiosity as the Cthulhu raised its four-digit hand and reached out towards you.

‘Is Cthulhu asking for an E.T. moment? Well, far be it from me to deny him.’

You tried to raise your hand, but found it trapped underneath something. Attempting to look down and see what held your hand hostage was met with failure as your head was suddenly snapped back up to face the creature head on. You started to look around in a bit of a panic, not understanding why your body was being pulled around. That panic increased tenfold as you watched the Cthulhu hold up a fleshy, leech-like creature and slowly bring it towards your face with its other hand. You tried to back up against the odd-textured surface behind you—solid in some places and squishy in others.

You tried to close your eyes, but they wouldn’t listen to you. They were being held open as the leech came closer, closing in on your eye. You could see it clearly: tentacles sprouting from its lips, serrated teeth forming a circle within its mouth, a high-pitched screech growing louder as it came nearer. You couldn’t tell if the screech was from it or if it was your own. Frozen in place, you could only watch as it leapt forward, grasping your eye.

You can’t recall what happened after that, now finding yourself spread out on the ground, the beginnings of a migraine forming behind your eyes. You sit up slowly, legs bent and splayed to your sides, hand resting on the floor in front of you. You stare ahead blankly, looking but not truly seeing what’s in front of you. You sit there in silence, minutes passing by, all sounds around you muffled to complete unintelligibility.

“…What the fuck,” you shakily whisper, but no one was around to hear it save for you.

Your senses slowly come back to you, letting you begin to process all the stimuli assaulting you. It was warm—hot— sweltering in the dimly lit room. The sound of roaring wind can be heard through the walls, interrupted by rumbling roars and quick, intermittent explosions.

«…ng one? Young one, art thou able to hear mineself?» You hear the warm voice of Astaroth, the only thing that’s at least slightly familiar right now.

“Astaroth?” You weakly ask. “Wha-what’s going on?”

You hear a sigh filled with relief and guilt pass through your mind. «I must apologize to thee, young one,» his voice is low, sad, and filled with utmost remorse. «’Twould appear that mine defenses were lacking, for a nautiloid breached mine channel and hadst used it to taketh thee. Thou art in a realm different from thy home, connected to a material world far removed from thine own.»

“I’m what?” ‘A different realm? A material world? What the fuck is happening?’ You glance over the dark room you find yourself in, trying to discern what exactly happened. You see your violin and bow scattered across the floor, both close enough for you to reach over and grab. You hold your instrument close as Astaroth continues to speak.

«…I am truly sorry, young one. More shall be discussed yet that must wait for a later time. I senseth the approach of three beings whose intentions I knoweth not.» He pauses for a brief second before taking on a serious tone, not unlike one of a commander. «Unto thee I swear this: For as long as thou art willing, I shall protect thee until the time hast come when thou returns to thine home. On mine name and on mine honor, I commit to this oath.» His tone then returns to a much softer one, gentler than anything else you’ve heard from him. «’Tis mine own fault thou art in this predicament. I shall aid thee. Thou wilt not be bound to fulfill mine request, though I hope thou shall consider it once there is time laid before us to allow us to speak.»

“I—I still don’t really know what’s going on, but thank you, Astaroth,” you can feel yourself begin to smile, “I’ll put my trust in you.”

You feel a gentle warmth bloom throughout your body, starting at your chest.

«Of course, young one. Now be on thy guard. The three of whomst I hast spoken of have arrived.»

You nod and stand up on mostly steady legs. ‘You can do this. You have a demon lord in your corner, after all.’ You hold your violin by its neck in one hand and hold your bow like a sword in the other. You really don’t want to damage it but if you can poke that squid-face’s eye out with it, then so be it.

Across the room, the sphincter-like portal opens by twisting apart from the center. The motion combined with its design made you want to retch. More light filtered in, enough where you could clearly see the finer details of your surroundings. Three humanoid figures entered, weapons drawn—well, one of them just held their fists up but to each their own. Then, you got a good look at them.

By the gods, they were beautiful. Three gorgeous femme figures: A pale one with dark hair tied in a long braid, one red-haired and green-skinned with black markings, not human but you shouldn’t be surprised after seeing a Cthulhu-type creature earlier, and finally a dark elf—a drow, skin purple and hair white as snow.

Your appreciation is sadly cut short when they point their weapons, or fists, courtesy of the drow, at you. Violin and bow still held tightly, you raise your hands: the universal sign of surrendering, or at least you hope it will translate as such in this different realm. Then the drow speaks. It’s a language unknown to you, its syllables filled with as many consonants as seemingly possible, including sounds you aren’t even sure your mouth can make. You stare, eyes wide open and flickering between the three of them.

“Uhhhhh…”

«Ah, yes, I hadst almost forgotten. This may feeleth a bit strange to thee, but it shall allow for you to understand the tongues of this world and its realms, to an extent,» Astaroth said, though it seemed the people in front of you couldn’t hear his voice, or they at least made no indication of hearing him. You feel a gentle touch to your temples, that same comfortable warmth you felt earlier spreading throughout your head and easing the small migraine to nothingness.

You see the drow open her mouth again before you flinch at a sharp pain in your mind in the same place as the migraine you had just been relieved of. You see flashes of one of those tentacled beings putting a leech in the green one’s eye before floating over to do the same to you. These aren’t your memories. You open your eyes, not realizing you had even closed them, and see the drow clutching her head, wincing in the same way you are.

“Looks like you’re in the same boat as us,” the drow says.

Your eyes widen a bit, amazed that you can understand her. You can still hear her speaking that odd language, but it is almost like it’s being automatically translated in your head.

“First things first, we need to get to the helm to get off this ship,” she continues. “You should join us. We infected should stick together, don’t you think?” She smiles kindly at you.

“Chk! We cannot afford to pick up any more strays, istik!” The green one, sounding very annoyed, directs her gaze to the drow.

“More allies means more firepower, right?” The drow tries to placate her.

“Hmph. This one looks pitiful. If they fall behind we leave them. I have no interest in the weak,” she turns around after spewing some harsh words at you. “We have no time to waste. We must get to the bridge now!”

As the green one starts to walk out of the room, the drow smiles sheepishly at you while the ravenette stares at you, appraising you, with arms crossed.

“Ah, don’t mind Lae’zel,” the drow says, “I’m sure she just stressed. We don’t want to get left behind, so let’s get going, yeah?”

“Oh, uh sure. Yeah,” you clumsily agree and step towards her.

She gives you a confused look but shrugs it off in favor of following the one you now know as Lae’zel. The pale woman eyes you one last time before joining her. You quickly fall into step beside them, the three of you trailing behind Lae’zel.

«Looks like you’re able to understand them now. I’m glad.» Astaroth speaks in what you presume to be his native tongue. His language is beautiful, sounding like softly droning ocean waves. «I’m afraid I was unable to, for a lack of a better term, import the ability to speak these languages into your mind. It is much more difficult to implant such finite muscle memory paired alongside their respective reverse-translation routes.» He hummed in thought, «This will take some time for me to formulate but I will grant you the ability to speak common as soon as possible.»

‘Ok, cool, but a quick question. Why did your speech pattern suddenly change?’ You ask him.

«I’m a bit embarrassed to say this but my knowledge of your language is a bit outdated. How I spoke to you is the most recent knowledge of your language I have,» he explains, sounding a tad sheepish. «If you would allow me to look into your mind, I could begin to compile an updated vernacular.»

‘As long as it doesn’t hurt, then sure, knock yourself out.’

«Thank you. Hopefully this will help quicken my composition process to allow you to speak freely. But for now, I’ve been seeing that drow stealing glances at you.» You turn your head to see and end up meeting the drow’s eyes. «I’ll leave you to speak with your new companion. Fret not, though, I’ll be here should you need me.»

Locking gazes with the drow seemed to be all the permission she needed to strike up a conversation with you. “Well, I think some introductions are in order. As I said before, that’s Lae’zel,” she pointed to the grumpy red-head. “The quiet one is Shadowheart,” she points at the ravenette this time, “and you can call me Tav.” She smiles at you, “and what about you? What’s your name?”

“…(y/n).” It’s just your name, so you shouldn’t need to rely on a translator, right?

“Huh, never heard that one before,” Tav taps her bottom lip once. “I like it! Exotic and pretty!”

“Silence your mindless chatter!” Lae’zel shuts down your introductions. “The bridge is just up ahead.”

Speech key:

«Astaroth»

(“Tadpole talk”)

‘Thoughts’ - can be to self or Astaroth, depending on context

“Spoken aloud”

Next Chapter >

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #BffT

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keicordelle · 3 months

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Chapter 9 of A First for Everything, Perchance to Dream, is up! Thancred is still feeling a bit out of sorts after that near-kiss, and Urianger convinces him he should rest early -- in Urianger's bed. With Urianger. A plan that surely has absolutely no flaws and will definitely not make Thancred's palpating heart speed even faster.

Read it on Ao3 at the link above, or check out the first chapter on Tumblr here.

Thancred dragged himself away from Urianger, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Maybe some sleep really will help," he muttered to himself, drawing up beside the sofa he'd taken as his bed. Maybe if I go back to sleep, he'll try again.

He threw back the blanket with perhaps more force than was necessary, trying to banish the unhelpful thought. Just lay down, close your eyes, and turn off your brain. And when you wake up, maybe you can convince yourself this was all a dream. Not bloody likely.

A hand caught around his wrist before he could drop down onto the dingy cushions. The scent of Urianger filled his nose -- hells, it always filled his nose these days, permeating the air in his little house until it had become the new norm. But this close, Thancred could feel the heat from Urianger’s body at his back, his grip surprisingly firm on his arm.

Thancred’s body wanted to turn into him and melt into that warmth, maybe even pull Urianger tight against him and do something he couldn't take back, like kiss him senseless. Instead, he tensed beneath his grip, forcing himself still so he wouldn't do something he'd regret.

Urianger drew back instantly, his hand falling away to his side. Thancred’s eyes followed it, watching as it clutched at his skirt, before he dragged them back up to Urianger’s face, kicking himself internally. Was that hurt he spied in the depths of Urianger’s eyes, or just worry? Was he going to drive himself insane overanalyzing Urianger’s every move? Only one of these questions did Thancred have an answer to.

"Pray forgive mine impertinence," Urianger hastened to say. "But thy bedding is hardly fit for a man in good health, let alone one who suffers a malaise. 'Twould be unthinkable that I permit you remain here when there exists a perfectly comfortable alternative not ten paces away."

Thancred frowned at him. "Urianger, we've already had this argument. I'm not going to let you give up your bed for me. I'm already asking too much by asking you to let us stay here." Urianger opened his mouth to protest, but Thancred waved off his concern. "Believe me, I've slept in far worse places than this in far worse condition."

If Thancred had expected him to drop the issue, he was in for a surprise. Urianger’s lips thinned into a flat line as he considered his rebuttal. But they’d already settled this weeks ago, when Urianger had apologized for being "ill equipped to receive guests." Nothing had changed between then and now; if he hadn't had an argument to convince Thancred then, he wouldn't be able to now. He ought to know that.

He tried anyway. "If thy concern rest in my wellbeing, perchance there is a suitable compromise. My bed is surely of a size that we might both lay comfortably upon it."

Thancred choked. Okay, maybe he could come up with a new argument. Thal's balls. "Urianger, I'm not going to share your bed!"

"Whyever not? Full well do I know that thou art accustomed to sleeping alongside others. 'Tis hardly different from the close quarters a scouting party must share. Mine only regret is that the thought did not occur to me sooner." He hesitated, fingers fiddling with the chains on his skirt. "But if the notion discomfits thee so, then thou hast mine sincerest apologies. We needs not speak of it again."

"No, it's not that at all," Thacred rushed to say before Urianger could turn away. "You know that I'm perfectly comfortable with you. It's just... It's different."

"Why?"

Because you're my friend. Because you're Urianger. Because I want nothing more than to wrap you up in my arms and hold you close, and I can't for the life of me figure out if you want the same or if I'm just imagining things. Because I think I care for you in a way that I'm not sure I've ever cared for anyone else. Seven hells, he was overthinking this, wasn't he? Yesterday he wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing a bed with Urianger. Why should that have changed just because Thancred wanted to kiss him a little bit? He was an adult. He was perfectly capable of controlling himself and sharing a bed with his friend without it being weird.

What would be weird was if he continued to refuse Urianger’s offer. Because he was right, unless Thancred wanted to admit to his newfound urges to do things other than sleep chastely next to him in that bed, there was no good reason for him to deny him.

"You win," Thancred said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You're right. If we can both fit in the bed, there's no reason we can’t share it. For now, at least. Though you may find I'm not as pleasant a bed companion at you think. I've been told I thrash something fierce."

Urianger chuckled, his eyes creasing at the corners. They were bright as he smiled at him, a soft golden warmth in them that Thancred could feel over his skin. "A fact I have long since discovered for myself. Thy limbs have a notable tendency to upset any and all books within arm's reach of thy resting place."

Thancred ducked my head with a chagrined snort. "Ah, sorry about that."

Urianger waved off the concern, turning to lead the way into his chambers and the bed that awaited them there. The singular bed. With one blanket. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Thancred squashed the thought, trailing closely after him. Watching the slip of ankle that showed beneath the swish of his skirt as he walked, eyes carefully lowered lest his hindbrain get any silly ideas about how that robe clung to Urianger’s backside.

He did have to admit that the bed looked significantly more comfortable than the dingy sofa he'd been sleeping on, with its lumpy cushions and springs desperate to make the acquaintance of his kidneys. A good night's sleep would be a welcome turn of events -- assuming, of course, he could turn off the ceaseless scamper of his thoughts long enough to actually enjoy it.

The chains around Urianger's waist chimed as he unhooked them, setting them carefully aside atop the nearby chest of drawers. Thancred froze, hesitating at the foot of the bed. Hells. Was he going to strip down before climbing into bed? Was Thancred supposed to strip down before getting in? He couldn't just sleep in his clothes, could he? Well, he supposed he could, but that would be even odder than just stripping down to his underwear, wouldn't it?

Twelve preserve him, what did Urianger even wear to bed? Surely Thancred had seen him around the Rising Stones before bed before. Why couldn't he remember for the life of him what he'd been wearing? Did he have a nightgown? Sleep pants? His smalls? Sweet heavens have mercy, Thancred couldn't picture that. Didn’t want to picture that, not while he was staring at the delicious curve of Urianger’s back, elegant and exposed to his hungry eyes. Or the pale arch of his neck revealed as he pulled away his collar, long and slender and graceful.

The collar tinkled lightly as he set it aside with the rest of his chains. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Thancred, pink dusting his cheeks. "I know 'tis foolish, but I prithee, avert thy gaze."

"What? Oh! Of course! Sorry, I didn't mean to--" Thancred shut his damned mouth, spinning on his heels. Okay. Alright then. Stripping. Thancred could strip. This was fine. He'd stripped in front of Urianger before. This was no different than when Urianger tended to his wounds. Expect with a much higher likelihood that Thancred would find his bare flesh pressed up against Urianger’s.

He gave his head a sharp shake, cramming his misgivings into a little box in the back of his mind. In one quick motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. It was easier, then, to talk himself out of my boots, like he'd broken some sort of seal. Besides, who wanted boots in their bed? His hands hesitated over his belt. No. No, tonight the pants would stay on. Surely Urianger wouldn't fault him for that.

"Ah, my thanks for thy discretion," came Urianger's voice at his back.

"No problem." Was Thancred imagining the flush that still graced Urianger’s cheeks when he turned? Or was it possible that he was drinking Thancred in like Thancred was drinking in him?

Not that there was a great deal to drink. If anything, the nightgown Urianger wore covered more skin than his usual robe. But there was nothing wrong with that -- a little mystery could be just as enticing as something revealing. It reminded Thancred of the robe he used to wear, long and unflattering, but somehow Urianger still managed to look stunning in it. How had Thancred never noticed how beautiful he was before? He shifted uncomfortably, praying that Urianger wouldn't notice his more-than-casual interest.

It seemed that whatever gods existed on the First had heard his prayer, because Urianger didn't so much as glance down before he turned away to throw back the blanket. It was almost a relief to crawl into the bed, where at least Thancred could hide beneath the blanket and pretend that he wasn't so uncomfortably aroused by his friend. Of course, then Urianger climbed in right after him and fairly well shattered that illusion. Thancred could feel the heat of his body on his skin despite the distance that separated them, the sound of Urianger’s breathing a pleasant rhythm in his ears. The urge to pull him close and snuggle into his side struck Thancred like a punch to the gut, and he forced it down, holding himself carefully still in the sheets. He didn't dare roll onto his side -- the bed, while a significant improvement on the kidney-seeking sofa, had a notable slope to the mattress, like fate itself seemed determined to force them together, and he didn't trust himself not to roll into Urianger in his sleep. Or roll onto him and crush him. Urianger was bigger than Thancred was, but that didn't mean he wanted to be buried under the weight of his body in his sleep.

"Rest well, Thancred," Urianger murmured, his voice a soft caress in Thancred’s ear. The bed creaked as he snuggled into the blanket, perfectly at ease next to him.

"Sweet dreams," Thancred whispered back.

Urianger’s breathing evened out into a rhythmic lull, faster than Thancred could ever have expected for one who spent so many nights pacing restlessly beneath the stars. Thancred glanced over to him, watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. He looked so sweet like that, curled up on his side with his hair falling over his face, blankets tucked up under his chin. Thancred watched him like that for longer than he would ever admit, with only the steady beat of his heart in his chest and the rhythm of Urianger’s breathing to track the time.

Then Urianger shifted, the bed creaking as he moved into Thancred. His arm fell over Thancred’s waist, pulling him in against him. Urianger’s body curved around his, one leg tangling with Thancred’s and his breath tickling at his neck. Thancred froze, waiting for Urianger to stir and draw back, but he only settled more comfortably against him, sighing contentedly in his sleep as he nestled into him.

Slowly, moving carefully so as not to wake him, Thancred wrapped his arm around him, drawing him in until his head rested on his chest. Urianger snuggled in closer still, his skin a pleasant warmth on Thancred’s. His hair was soft and silken, the feathered ends of it teasing at Thancred’s chest, and though it felt a little too much like tempting fate, Thancred dared to brush his fingers through it. It slipped around them like water, and he did it again, marvelling at the way the grey locks shone silver this close. There were highlights in them he'd never noticed before, strands of blond and ashen white tangled with muted browns to give it a warmth that fairly glowed against his palm. Urianger sighed again, leaning into his touch, and Thancred couldn't help the smile that curved his lips as he looked down upon him. Urianger’s lashes fluttered gently, their silvered sweep casting subtle shadows across his cheeks. His lips parted lightly around his breath, and gods did they look soft too. A little bit thin, but no less inviting for it. Thancred could imagine how they'd feel moving on his own. Parting beneath him to let him in, the wet brush of Urianger’s tongue against his and the taste of him filling his senses.

Thancred hesitated, staring down at his lips. Maybe he could understand why Urianger had tried to kiss him while he was asleep. He could finish what Urianger had started right now. Draw his mouth up to his and brush their lips together -- gentle at first, exploratory, and then with intent, kissing him until he would never forget the feeling. Or maybe just a quick brush, just to know what it would feel like. He wouldn't ever have to know.

No. What was he thinking? He didn’t want their first kiss to happen like that, stolen while Urianger slept, without him even aware it had happened. Their first kiss (and when exactly had it become a given in Thancred’s mind that they would even have a first kiss?) should be sweet and tender. Hells, for all he knew this could be Urianger’s first kiss ever. He wasn't about to steal that from him against his wishes, no matter what he wanted to read into his actions. When they kissed -- and they would, one way or another, of that much Thancred was certain -- it would be beautiful and magical and everything Thancred wanted Urianger’s first kiss to be -- regardless of if Thancred really was that first kiss or not.

Instead, he brushed Urianger’s hair carefully back from his face, pressing his lips to his brow. This much, at least, Thancred could allow himself. The rest, he was perfectly happy to wait for.

Thancred fell asleep curled up in Urianger’s embrace, his arms as tight around Urianger as Urianger’s were around him. And when he slept, his dreams were more peaceful than they had been in years.

[Chapter 10]

[Kofi/Commissions]

#ffxiv #thanuri #urithan #thancred #urianger #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #first for everything #~k

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joannerenaud · 6 months

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Enchant the Heavens review

I've been revisiting a lot of my favorite old historicals since my beloved kitty Peggy died about a month ago, and one of them is Enchant the Heavens by Kathleen Morgan.

When I was a college student I loved romance novels, particularly historical romance, even though most of my friends at the time thought it was ridiculous and made fun of me for reading them. It made me even more stubborn, and I clung to the genre like a barnacle onto the hull of a ship. However, there was one book at the time that was too cheesy even for me, and that was Enchant the Heavens.

I found the cover embarrassing. Look, my teenage self thought, the hero’s hands look like he’s about to crack the heroine’s skull! And the hero, Marcus, was so earnest. The book was so earnest. The culture at the time was saturated with snark and irony, and sadly, I was not immune. I set the book down.

Years later, in 2011, I revisited Enchant the Heavens, and I found myself… well, enchanted. I was swept away by the epic nature of the story and the endearing characterizations. And I reread it just a week ago. I admit, I was afraid the suck fairy might’ve visited it over the intervening years. But I found myself devouring it happily just as I did all those years ago. And it’s good.

Enchant the Heavens was the first novel Kathleen Morgan ever wrote, and it was a labor of love. It’s a big, passionate, visceral, breathtakingly earnest romance.The story involves a British chieftain’s daughter, Rhianna, and the Roman governor’s nephew, Marcus, during Boudicca’s revolt, and their love is an anguished, star-crossed love that takes a great deal of blood and tears and hard work to resolve. Unlike most romances set during this period, the Celts aren’t romanticized into nature-loving New Agers, and the Romans aren’t evil. And neither the heroine or hero give up their cultures or identities in the end; in fact they work on uniting their communities in the aftermath of war. It’s mature and refreshing.

The language does have a lot of archaicisms that kind of annoying. ‘Twould! ’Twas! Naught! Okay… You just have to run with it. But if you’re willing to dive in, there is a lot to love about it. Rhianna is not afraid of revenge, or using her sword, which is really delightful (to avoid spoilers, I won’t tell you who she kills). Marcus is a reasonable guy too, but there’s just the right amount of deeply felt angst that is perfect for a story about forbidden love. Sometimes I feel that Marcus and Rhianna verge on being idealized archetypes then actual people, but it kind of fits with how epic and operatic the story is. (It really captures the vibe of ancient Irish stories like Deirdre, which was the author’s intention.) The author walks the line of having them be larger-than-life figures, but they still grow and change, from a thoughtless girl and a career-driven aristocrat to a responsible, compassionate leader and a humbled man ready to sacrifice his dreams to help his lover and her people.

The research put into this book isn’t perfect— towards the end of the book, there’s an hummingbird, native to the Americas, in Rome — but it’s thorough and thoughtful, and I liked the depiction of the historical figures. For example, the depiction of Nero, who has a brief and memorable cameo, is almost miraculous in how… sensible it is (and ahead of its time given this was written long before the current reassessment of Nero and the 2020 show at the British Museum). There’s no orgies or lions or gladiators or martyred Christians or any other cliches that I’ve seen over and over again in the few historical romances set in this period. It’s astonishing.

Anyway, this book is long. It’s also epic and sweeping in every possible way, and I have a feeling a good chunk was left on the cutting room floor. I would kill to have the original, unedited draft. Rhianna’s relationships with her friends Eilm and Cordaella are given short shrift. Also I feel the destruction of Camulodunum, and Rhianna’s role in it, was also cut a lot. I would have liked to see more of that, and Rhianna coming to terms with how her actions affected innocent civilians.

But the pacing, given how long it is, is surprisingly tight. I thought the consistent themes of freedom, symbolized by the goshawk, was really beautifully done; not heavy-handed, but subtle; and the story really embraces the pagan religions of the time in a way that’s delightful. There’s so much I can’t get into, or this review would be twice as long. There’s battles, druids, psychic visions, continent-spanning political intrigue, murder, and possibly supernatural white boars sent by the gods.

And the ending is really satisfying. I wish it were 20 to 30k longer, but it’s great as it is. It’s an absolute banger of a story. It’s not perfect but I’d give it a 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Of course, what really sucks about it all is that this was going to be the beginning of a series, and the hero’s best friend Quintus was going to get a sequel.

There was, in fact, one sequel (Enchant the Dream) featuring the heroine’s brother Cerdic. But then the author converted to Christianity sometime in the late 90s, and her entire pre-conversion historical and fantasy backlist are completely unavailable. (Of course, her post conversion backlist is available.)

It pisses me off so much, because Enchant the Heavens is so good! And I wanted to see Quintus’s story! But that’s never going to happen. And there’s never going to be a legal digital copy of this book either, because the author has seemingly disavowed it.

But we’ll always have Enchant the Heavens, and even if Morgan wants to forget her pagan past, I am grateful she wrote this book. I highly recommend it.

#enchant the heavens #kathleen morgan #book review #review #ancient rome #ancient britain #celts

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resurrection-of-soul · 2 months

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Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 2

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Rei, Kaoru, Adonis, Koga

Kaoru: Ugh, could you please stop caressing my chin? It's, like, totally gross actually! And like, the amount of disgust I feel seeing someone who looks just like Rei-kun going around doing stuff he'd never do is seriously unreal!

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Time: A few hours later

Location: In front of the AIIE Experimental Facility

Rei II: [Welcome, members of UNDEAD.] [So I finally get to meet the "real" me. I've been waitin' for this.]

Rei: Oh dear…

Rei: 'Twould seem our ill omen proved true.

Kaoru: Th-the fake showed up just like that, huh. I thought he'd, like, hide or something.

Rei II: [Hey Kaoru, shut up for a second. Can't ya see me n' Mr. Original over there're in the middle of a conversation?]

Adonis: This is what is known as the uncanny valley. I came across the term while I was researching AI. It seems we feel an instinctive unease when faced with things that resemble us, but aren't quite the same. It's probably because our brains get confused when our internal memories and perceptions don't match up with reality.

Rei II: [I keep tellin' you~] [I'm tryin' to talk to the "real" me, so could you small fry quit prattlin' on about useless stuff?]

Kaoru: …The fake Rei-kun is like, weirdly mean. Is that an intentional part of the design, or?

Rei: This is oddly unsettling… I do apologize; my counterfeit has quite a poor attitude…

Kaoru: Hey, that's still better than complete silence, right? I mean, look — there are fake versions of the rest of us over there, but they totally haven't said a word?

Kaoru II: […]

Adonis II: […]

Koga II: [Hah? You wanna fuckin' go, punk? I'll kick your stupid taco-lookin' ass!]

Koga: Why's my fake the only one with a weirdly low IQ?!

Koga II: [Hah? You're makin' fun a' me, aren'tcha? You wanna get bitten to death, asshole?!]

Kaoru: Ohh, haven't heard that one in a while. You really used to say that kinda stuff a lot~

Rei: Hmm… Judging from the fact mine own counterfeit is one of those so-called "ore-sama" characters, 'twould seem these imposters are meant to mimic the past selves whom we were so recently faced with.

Rei II: [Ahaha. With only a week's worth of experimental data, it's pretty hard to get deep into your consciousness. All we could do was pick up on some fragments of the past.] [Replicatin' your current behavior's still beyond our reach.]

Kaoru: That's good, isn't it? It makes it easy to tell us apart.

Rei: Verily. Though I am equally abashed to be so relentlessly confronted with my youthful follies now as I was during our shared dream. Now then, let us cut to the chase. Pray tell, what exactly art thou intended to be?

Rei II: [You've already figured it out, haven't you? You and I are both the same super smart and clever Sakuma Rei-kun, after all ♪] [We're HELLSING, the imposters who have been pretendin' to be you.] [We're artificial idols, born from the AIIE experiment.] [To be more specific, we are entities with mechanical bodies who have had the data collected from you durin' the experiment installed into us.]

Kaoru: Actually, I've been wondering about that. If you were made from the AIIE experiment, doesn't the timeline not match up?

Rei: Aye. According to the records, HELLSING made their debut shortly after we began the experiment — within a day of our seclusion from the world, in fact.

Kaoru: Yeah, that's a bit too quick. I can't help but think they already had our fakes prepared before the experiment started.

Adonis: That's true. Perhaps data was pre-installed via the internet or the like, but the timing still confuses me. Why have the imposters begin their activities before the experiment's conclusion?

Koga: We might not know the details yet, but the whole thing already smells rotten.

Rei II: [That one's a mystery to us too. We machines are slaves to our human masters, y'know~ We can only move accordin' to the orders we've been programmed to follow.] [You could say we're just followin' our instincts.]

Kaoru: So basically, if we want to know the details, we'll have to go and ask the person who manufactured and programmed HELLSING directly.

Rei: Indeed. Though this may sound harsh, these four are ultimately nothing more than puppets dancing at another's whim.

Koga: But how're we s'posed to figure out who made 'em? Durin' the AIIE experiment, that plain-faced guy's robo-lookalike was the one handlin' all our meals n' stuff. We never saw another livin' person even once. They said it was to avoid muddlin' the data, but now that I think about it, ain't that kinda off?

Rei: By the "plain-faced guy," dost thou perchance refer to Mashiro Tomoya-kun? That aside, thou art correct in that there has been an unnerving absence of any contact with living humans throughout this ordeal. We were entreated to partake in this most peculiar experiment through HoldHands, and having assented, we were guided through the whole process by machines. There must be someone profiting off of this manipulation from behind the scenes, yet at present, we lack the information to so much as speculate on their identity.

Kaoru: AIIE is supposed to be some kinda top secret project managed by ES, so it might be one of the bigwigs at ES behind all this, y'know?

[ ☆ ]

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#ensemble stars #enstars translation #undead #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #adonis otogari #flashback #psychobreak

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spotofmummery · 1 year

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Choose Amon's Adventure

“What’s this?” Almont stared with surprise at the bag of gil that Amon extended toward him.

“’Twould assume ‘tis enough gil to get your racing chocobo empire off the ground, my lad,” the bard answered.

“But… how…?”

“Remember that community project I told you I was organizing over the weekend?”

“Aye, but…” Almont struggled to put the two together at first. When he did, his surprise merely doubled. “You raised this money? I can’t possibly take…”

“I did raise this, specifically for you, and would be most pleased if you’d accept it,” Amon jangled the bag of gil at him. Then he added, “I’ve never seen a lad so adverse to taking free gil in my life.”

“I can’t pay you back…”

“Yet,” the bard noted.

“I can’t promise we’ll make money from the races.”

“You don’t know until you try,” Amon clapped the lad on the back with one hand, firmly depositing the coins in Almont’s unsuspecting grasp. “Now why don’t we head to Bentbranch – together – to ensure my investment doesn’t find itself somewhere it shouldn’t?”

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

Almont didn’t put up much more of a protest as they traveled through the Shroud to the chocobo stables. It was dawning on the lad that his dreams were back in swing, and there was a familiar light of excitement in his eyes.

When they arrived at the race chocobo breeder and made their intentions known, the breeder offered a choice between two registration forms.

“Huh,” Almont glanced at Amon for input. “Which gender should we choose to start with?”

Note: I am unlocking chocobo racing with Amon as you make your votes in this story. He has not raced before, so you will be helping to guide him!

#Amon of Syrcus #Choose Amon's Adventure #FFXIV #FFXIV RP #Poll Fun

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dwellordream · 1 year

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THE EMPEROR Upright for Queen Tywin and Aerys?

Tya knows the Queen dislikes her, but Betha Blackwood can hardly hide her relief when they are done questioning the septon. No, he was not some drunken sot they found in a brothel.

It is not difficult, especially in the days of Aegon V, who very publicly broke a betrothal to his own sister to marry his true love, to find septons willing to publicly oppose the practice of sibling-marriage.

It was nearly as easy to find a fervent believer as it would have been to find a wastrel willing to marry them for a few coppers. Septon Reynald is steadfast. Yes, he was entirely sober, knew that his actions were counter to Prince Jaehaerys' will for his son, but believed 'twould be a greater sin to force Prince Aerys into marriage to his own sister, a match he did not consent to.

The Faith has outlawed forced marriage, after all, and has since the early days of the Andals. That does not mean it does not still happen, but in theory, both bride and groom are supposed to be willing.

High Septon after High Septon has affirmed that it is a grievous sin to force a man or woman into an unwanted match purely for the sake of material greed or mortal lust. Or even for supposed prophecy.

Seeing that the septon will not be intimidated into recanting or denying his actions- even sporting a few cuts and bruises from the Kingsguard, Prince Jaehaerys has stormed out in a fury. Princess Shaera is less wrathful but distraught over the shame this will bring upon Rhaella, rejected by her own brother.

"I cannot help but think this a boon for Rhaella," her mother snaps at her at one point, and that is when Tya knows they have won.

Aerys is doing a passable job of looking grim and sober, the duty-bound boy, but when the King throws up his hands and says he cannot repudiate the match, and they must write Lord Tytos immediately, he breaks into a giddy grin.

Tya keeps her composure- if she sits there smirking and preening, it will go badly for her, for the Queen thinks she is an arrogant, hard-faced little schemer who thinks only of her own advancement. But apparently she still prefers that to a dreaded match between her grandchildren.

Septon Reynald is still being punished, of course- sent off to some remote place to serve a godless community with hard labor- but he seems thrilled to have set some new precedent for defying the old ways of Valyria. Doubtless this is the first chapter in an illustrious career. Tya, meanwhile, manages to keep it all in until she and Aerys finally have a moment alone. She is sixteen; Aerys fourteen. While she likes Aerys, likes his fits of wild temper and silly, useless ambition, likes his gaudy manner of dress and his fierce dreams and his cruel streak, she does not actually believe herself in love.

She doesn't think she could ever love him the way a prince is meant to be loved. But in a few years, she supposes she might find him physically appealing. For now he is a slight, somewhat jittery boy, crushing her in an embrace which ignores the fact that she is three inches taller.

"We did it," he says. "We did it. Fuck!" He lets go of her and wheels around the room, his arms swinging at his sides. "Did you see the look on my father's stupid face? Gods! I'd give anything to have it painted on."

When he is dead, Tya thinks, that can be arranged. Jaehaerys has always been of fragile health. It's well-known. His children, however, are the picture of vitality. Doubtless half the realm will be scrambling for the chance to wed Rhaella, now that she is unattached.

Tya's money is on Steffon Baratheon; perhaps a cousin-marriage will console Jaehaerys and Shaera. Or perhaps they'll go for Hoster Tully instead. It was his aunt who Jaehaerys scorned for his own sister. Or maybe the Martell princeling.

Tya is decidedly ambivalent about Aerys' sister as a person- Rhaella has the personality of a cup of warm milk, in her opinion- but she does care who her goodsister weds. Deeply. She'd propose Kevan, but of course, she's not that stupid. Now her priority is breaking her sister's idiotic betrothal to the Frey.

"You were so brave," she says, though she's never been good at playing the gushing maiden, and Aerys knows it. He pretends that's what he wants, some insipid little wallflower hanging on his every word, but really, he likes a touch of frost.

He can't seem to decide if she's teasing him or not; he kisses her instead, which is, again, passable. A small burden to bear for his victory.

#tywin lannister #aerys targaryen #prompt fill

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