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avis-writeshq · 3 months

Note

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever.

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead.

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche.

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk.

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters.

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things.

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug.

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.”

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his).

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights.

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight.

***

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

***

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in.

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door.

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there.

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features.

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face.

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

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hanafubukki · 1 year

Text

I Suddenly Became the Mother of the Red-Rose Tyrant?!

Summary: Well, fuck, somehow you isekaied and became the mother of Riddle Rosehearts

Characters: Riddle Roshearts, Reader, & Clover Family.

Notes: I have been reading way too many isekai Manhwas/Mangas. Not only that, but I saw a fanart of little Riddle and his mom and was inspired right away. This is a long fic, it’s been awhile since I wrote something so long so I am proud. 💕🥰💜

· When you had opened your eyes one day, you had woken up in a bedroom that definitely wasn’t yours.

· The room was…meticulous, and that was putting it lightly.

· Even your bed, while comfy, had a feeling of order to it; daring anyone to mess it up.

· You should probably be more anxious over your new surroundings but waking up well rested in a while just mellowed you out.

· That is until you got up and looked at a mirror, finally seeing the truth of the matter.

· Well, fuck, you really did isekai to another world.

· Maybe reading all those manhwas and mangas were not a good idea.

· You glance at the mirror one more time and this time your appearance caught and held your attention.

· You reached up and pulled at your…bangs.

· They looked to form two heart shapes.

· It was kind of cute.

· The person whose body you had, well, she looked tired and stressed.

· Lady, you need to relax once in a blue moon.

· Wait…a minute, no, no, no. Heart shaped bangs? The only character you knew that had heart shaped bangs were...

· “Mother?”

· You turned around and right at your door, dressed prim and proper, was a tiny Riddle Rosehearts.

· Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

· You were isekaid into Mrs. Rosehearts.

· After you had gotten your bearings, you had told Riddle to go study and you would prepare him food. He had simply nodded and did as you asked. No protest against studying so early in the morning or any mention of hunger. You knew his past, of course you did, but seeing it firsthand was another experience all together. Seeing his response to the request you made? It burdened your heart even more.

· As you made his breakfast, you had some time to yourself which you used to sort out your situation and feelings. Your memories before coming to Twisted Wonderland were still intact; you just didn’t remember how you ended up in this world, let alone in Mrs. Rosehearts body.

· Of whom, her memories you had full access to as well. it was as if you lived two lives together. If it wasn’t for little Riddle in the next room, you would be tearing your hair out because, of course, you would be in this situation.

· Looking through her memories, you can see why Mrs. Rosehearts had turned out the way she did. Generational trauma and unrealistic expectations seemed to run in the family. Which in turn led to her actions towards Riddle, and of which, led to Mr. Rosehearts walking out of their lives. He didn’t even fight for custody of his own child, the influence of Mrs. Rosehearts being too great.

· Generation trauma that you could have prevented from continuing, Mrs. Rosehearts, but now it’s up to me.

· You ended up taking a tray of food to little Riddle, with enough food that a child his age would eat and then some. At least with these memories retained, you also knew everything Mrs. Rosehearts did, and unlike the MC in Twisted Wonderland, you also had her powers as well. Which, given the game’s events, would come in handy in the future.

· Right now though, as you opened the door to the study, you would do your best to raise your son right and well-loved.

· One of the first changes you made was decreasing his study time and allowing him the chance to play.

· It didn’t go as well as you expected…Riddle had frozen and started shaking to your horror. Mumbling about doing better and how he could handle extra studies if you wished it of him. You had a feeling that he thought it was to test him and his dedication.

· You had to calm him down and prove otherwise.

· Giving him a dedicated set time to study, and just as much time to play. You would even join him. Drawing with him, putting together puzzles, and even playing in the backyard. You had even gone out and bought him a ball that you two threw at each other.

· What warmed your heart the most was when you baked him a strawberry tart and gave it to him with a warm glass of milk. Your tart wasn’t the best with the crust crumbling, and you should have probably let it cool a bit more, but the shining eyes and wide smile from Riddle was more than worth it.

· You patted him on the head as he scooped another piece into his mouth.

· You loved your son.

· The next step in providing a healthy lifestyle for Riddle was making sure he had friends.

· Which meant, you had to repair the relationship Riddle had with Trey and Che’nya.

· It wasn’t easy, especially having to muster up the courage to look into Trey’s parents’ eyes and apologize for actions you did not commit.

· But you were determined to give Riddle a good childhood and that meant him having friends his age and hopefully lowering his chances of overblotting in the future.

· Riddle was quiet on the day you both went to the Clover’s bakery.

· But you took a deep breath and patted him on the head.

· “Everything will be alright, sweetheart.”

· Riddle didn’t say anything and just nodded.

· You had chosen to meet Trey’s parents at closing time, and you had given them a call ahead of time.

· When you met them, you could tell they were nervous and bracing themselves.

· Little Trey looked ready for a fight.

· You had to hold your smile in.

· You ended up bowing to them and apologizing, which you could tell freaked them all out.

· Riddle was surprised and grasped at your dress, worried.

· “I am very sorry for the way I treated you all before. I know my words might not make up for my past actions, but I do hope you will forgive me in time.”

· Mr. and Mrs. Clover looked at each other before tentatively accepting your apology.

· “Mrs. Rosehearts, might we ask why the sudden change.”

· It was Mrs. Clover who had spoken up.

· You smiled and put a hand on your son’s head.

· “I have been trying to raise Riddle the only way I knew how. I had let my past and expectations I have lived through blind me. I realized that was wrong, and I want to change that. I want my son to be happy and loved like he deserves.”

· The Trey family seemed to relax after hearing your reasoning, but you could tell they were still on guard.

· You didn’t blame them, but you hope in time, they will trust your words.

· You crouched down to Riddle’s level, looking at him with a gentle look.

· “I want to show my little one that adults can be wrong, and they can change. I want to show him that I love him, and I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I love you and I hope you can forgive me too.”

· Little Riddle was trembling, and tears were dripping down his face.

· You opened your arms before he rushed into you with all the force his little body can muster.

· You hugged him just as tight, holding your own tears in.

· You got up with Riddle in your arms, rubbing his back as he cried and clutched on you tighter.

· You bowed your head to the Clover family once again before looking at Trey.

· “I hope you, you other friend, and Riddle can be good friends.”

· Trey looked a bit nervous before nodding slowly.

· You thanked them before returning home.

· Humming a song to little Riddle and kissing his head.

· You were determined.

· You would make sure Riddle Rosehearts grew up loved and happy.

· And as thoughts of the Twisted Wonderland plot came into mind.

· You would make sure he was safe.

How did you all like it? Would love to hear your thoughts 💕☺️

Tag List (open): @justeclem44 @coraldelusiondazen @h0n3ysgh0st @thatdazaikin @strawberry-pie-thoughts

#riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x y/n #disney twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twisted wonderland x you #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst imagines #twst #x reader #gender neutral #trey clover #twst trey clover

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

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May I request Mammon angst HCs please? Like the reader is possibly breaking up with him or something? (i love your HCs for mammon<3)

Mammon Breaking Up Hcs

note: Thank you i'm so glad you like them pookie!! also yes i love this idea ❤️❤️

warnings: Cursing, creepy behavior, unbalanced power dynamic, killing. Not proofread!

Female!Reader, (no specific gender, so can be GenderNeutral!Reader)

It would be best to tell him over text, since he is guaranteed to throw a toddler like temper tantrum if you ever told him in person.

So you text him over text, what happens? He 100% thinks you're joking at first. He thinks you aren't being serious at all, and that wow babe, you might even be a bigger clown than I am.

But when he realized that you were being serious, he gets angry. How dare you? Why would you ever break up with him? He is the king of greed, he has trillions of dollars in the bank, so why don't you want to stay by his side? Did he do something? Did he hurt you? What happened? Baby, we can sort this out-

In a way, still doesn't think you are being serious, which is what he tries to tell himself. So he will let you leave, and will act like he doesn't need you.

Another author said this already, but he will 100% go through the stages of grief, (he will never go through acceptance, because in his mind, you will always come crawling back to him.)

He will be in denial for a very long time. Let's say you move out, and even start residing in another ring. He will send you texts. All. The. Time.

Your phone will mods likely have 103 Missed Calls, 986 Messages, and 37 Voicemails. He is crazy, and especially crazy for you. So when you don't respond to him, he does not understand why. He likes to think that you were just going on vacation for a while. He genuinely thinks you two are still together.

Anger- Once he sees that you have indeed moved on, and that he is no longer living in fantasy land, he gets extremely angry. His general mood spikes, he lashes out (wayyy more than he used to), and a-lot of his servants are scared to talk to him. Will absolutely keep bombarding you with texts every day. He will even get his servants to start texting you on his 100's of extra HellPhones.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:34

Come hone ygu little cungt

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

ANSWERF ME.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

Do ygu knoe how easily i can replaece yu

Mamm🕸️💚 11:36

Fine go shack uo with sorm dirty hoboes you little slut

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:36

I dont kneed u and youir mediocar holes

So yeah... thats just one example. He has so many spelling mistakes because he is typing so fast, and practically brekaing his phone from how angry he is.

But in reality he does need you. You are. the one thing that keeps him running. However he will never, over his dead body, ever admit that.

Bargaining- He will send things to your... new home... in gift baskets. Fizzarolli plushies, flowers, tickets to his live events, expensive jewelry, the list goes on. It gets to a point where (if you live in an apartment complex) People start stealing his gifts and start putting them up online to sell. (And they go for 10s of thousands of dollars.)

He send these to you so that you can hopefully come crawling back into his life, so that he can control you again.

At this point, you have most likely made it public about your distance between you and the sin. Your relationship was extremely public, and known by everybody.

He refuses to speak publicly, because he wants people to think he still controls you. And when i say your relationship was big, it was definitely the most talked about relationship in all of Hell. People will go nuts about you two breaking up. Another author said this as well, but people will go crazy with the comments.

"L Mammon fumbled so bad its actually wild."

"Bros got plenty other options 💀"

"Why tf would she/they break up w/ HIM???🤰"

"Now that hes single I call dibs 🙌"

You try your best to ignore the comments, but eventually you cant, its not just online, but in real life you feel cornered as well. You might even start to reconsider your departure with him. Which is exactly where he wants you.

Depression- He spirals into somewhat of an insecure man. He strives to be better. He ups his game for his big pageants, soon to be bigger, just to impress you.

He maaaay or may not have killed people in your favor. This is known, obviously, but his obsession along with his newfound insecurity has left him no choice but to show that if you dont want to come home, he will show you its safer than anywhere else.

Overall, if you do end up coming back to him, he is overjoyed with happiness, and will take extra precautions to ensure you wont ever walk out on him and his warm embrace again.

However if you end up never wanting anything to do with him, he will be devastated, but he will force himself to get over it. He is Mammon, he truly does not need you. In reality, you were somebody he felt an unexplainable feeling to protect. He absolutely can live without you, but for some reason, he feels like he cant. If somebody were to ever bring you up, he would lash out, and make his anger everybody's problem. He may get over you after a while, but he will never fully accept the fact that you left him.

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prince-kallisto · 6 months

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I haven’t seen a post addressing this, but maybe it’s because this event happened such a long time ago?! But ever since Spectral Soirée, I cannot stop thinking about how the time works in Sage’s Island, or specifically, Night Raven College.

Malleus had the power to stop time WITHIN the barrier at NRC. So when he stopped time during the Halloween event, the rest of the world kept on going. The school was trapped in time. We don’t know how long the boys were inside the mirror realm in the event, but I’m piecing it together. At the very start of the event, Rook claims it should be 6 am. Already, the boys are 6 hours out of sync. But the boys spend a lot of time trying to figure out what is going on, and go through lots of trials in the mirror realm. A generous amount of hours should’ve passed during that.

Crowley also confirms this, as throughout the trials, the boys have been reporting to Crowley and the other teachers. But once the ghost party started at the end, they stopped communicating. So after being in the mirror realm for hours, the boys party for several hours too.

The party seems to go on all night too, as a ghost claims that they’ll dance “til dawn.”

When the boys finally leave the mirror realm, the sky is finally turning into day, and the time has changed to November 1st on their phones.

BUT THEY’RE WRONG. ITS ACTUALLY NOVEMBER 2ND AND THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW IT

THINK ABOUT IT. The event took place over many, many hours. And if they started to go into the mirror realm at 7 am (talking and prep time), they were in there for about 17 hours. Considering the exploration, fights, and the night long party, THIS ADDS UP

And the reason why their phones didn’t change back? Their phones were also trapped into the time spell- surely this messes with their internal clock. To all the phones in NRC, it is November 1st. But for the rest of the world, it’s November 2nd.

The game specifies that Malleus could only affect the inside of the barrier- the entire world didn’t stop because of his magic. The fact the boys escaped at dawn is such a convenient coincidence.

I was about to say that Malleus created his own time zone at NRC which is 24 hours apart from the rest of the world, BUT NOW IM DOUBTFUL

If this was the case, time should’ve returned back to the rest of Twisted Wonderland’s time. It means that once the time-barrier was broken, 24 hours should’ve passed in less than a second for the boys to return back to normal time. But DID this actually happen? Surely the effects of 24 hours passing in less than a second in this little area would have astronomical effects in the TWST world!

So what I’m thinking is that ITS NOT actually November 2nd for the boys. MALLEUS ARTIFICIALLY CREATED A POCKET DIMENSION WHERE TIME IS SET BACK 24 HOURS.

What does this mean?! Are the boys living a day younger than the rest of the world?! What happens when they leave the school premises?! Does everyone who enters the school premises suddenly age BACK a day?!

BASICALLY, NRC WILL ALWAYS BE SET INE DAY BACK FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD, NOT THROUGH A TIMEZONE, BUT NOW IN ITS OWN LITTLE POCKET DIMENSION THINGY

And I can just me generous and entertain the idea that time DID go back to normal so we don’t get into this spacetime, time travel nonsense. Either way, NRC now has its own timezone and NO ONE WILL REALIZE UNLESS THEY COMPARE THE TIME ON THEIR PHONES WITH AN OUTSIDER, AND NOTICE THAT THEIR PHONES ARE ALL SET A DAY BEHIND. JUST THINKING ABT THE ABSURDITY OF IT BECAUSE IF NRC PLANS EVENTS OR FUTURE SPELLDRIVE GAMES, ALL THEIR OUTSIDER GUESTS WILL ARRIVE A DAY EARLIER THAN THE SCHOOL PLANNED TO. FOR EXAMPLE, IF NRC HAD AN EVENT ON NOVEMBER 21st, ITS NOVEMBER 22nd FOR THE REST OF THE WORLD, SO EVERYONE ARRIVES A DAY EARLY. DISASTER ERUPTS YET AGAIN BECAUSE NRC HAD NO TIME TO PREPARE BECAUSE THEYRE LIVING IN A STUPID TIMEZONE BY ACCIDENT DUE TO MALLEUS

ID LIKE TO ADD THAT THIS IS TECHNICALLY NOT THAT ABSURD OF AN IDEA. SEVERAL COUNTRIES ON EARTH HAVE A TIME ZONE DIFFERENCE OF 24 HOURS, AND THE LARGEST TIMEZONE DIFFERENCE IS 26 HOURS. WHATS ABSURD HERE IS THAT NRC AND RSA, TWO SCHOOLS ON TRHE SAME EXACT SMALL ISLAND, HAVE A TIME ZONE DIFFERENCE 24 HOURS APART

Am I just overthinking this?!? (YES ANDBDBD RAWRRRRR) Is this ever explained or elaborated on, because that is just??? BAFFLING. It’s probably just a plot hole that doesn’t matter at all, it was just a silly Halloween event, but literally all I do on my blog is overthink plot holes 🧍

#IM LOSING IT #I DONT BITE I PROMISE RARRRR #HELP HAS ANYONE ELSE EVER THIUGHT ABT THIS #twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst halloween #twst spectral soirée #twst theory #kallistopost

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jayie-the-hufflepuff · 3 months

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This is an idea I've had in my head for a while now, but now I finally made something out of it. Behold my new headcanon - that the mythological Clans in the nursery tales (LionClan, TigerClan, LeopardClan) are actually big cat species from ice age europe!

Basically, I've been watching a lot of paleontology-related videos lately about prehistoric wildlife, and it got me thinking about how there actually were big cats in England once like in the stories about the ancient Clans, but they weren't the lions, tigers, and leopards we know today. That gave me the idea that maybe the stories the Clans tell about those ancient Clans now are just heavily distorted versions of true events from England's ice age era and the real big cats that roamed the land at that time, twisted through many generations of retelling. Here, we see Squirrelflight telling her brood of three (more on why I chose these particular cats in a bit) the tales of the ancient Clans, while the true ancient cats are visible to the audience above her head, and the deeds from the nursery tales about them are painted on the cave walls.

As for the big cats themselves, there were (coincidentally enough) three big cat species in the UK during the ice age to choose from. I've chosen cave lions to represent LionClan, European ice age leopards to represent LeopardClan, and scimitar-toothed cats to represent TigerClan. Scimitar-toothed cats aren't as closely linked to tigers as cave lions are to African lions or ice age leopards are to today's leopards, but they were the only ones left to choose, and dangit they look cool so who cares? :P They didn't live in real Clans as the Clans imagine them in stories, they roamed either as solitary hunters or in loose groups (or in tighter groups like prides possibly, not totally sure what the consensus is for how these big cats lived, but there's a bit of wiggle room here considering these are fictional intelligent group-forming versions of these cats).

It was interesting trying to draw these three extinct species with no living photo refs. I used photos of lions and leopards for the cave lions and ice age leopards, but made some changes like adding more fluff for the leopard and giving the cave lion the shorter and broader muzzle and thick dense fur (but no sexually dimorphic mane) they were known to have. For the scimitar-toothed cat, there's really no living analog with quite the same facial features, so I ended up using this bit of paleoart as a reference. I gave the cave lion pretty simialar coloration and pattern to an african lion, only with a bit of a duller grayer coat. The leopard I made a bit paler than the leopards we know today, and the scimitar-toothed cat I used similar colors and pattern to a lynx, but with more darker stripe-ish markings to justify the "how TigerClan got their stripes" story.

I would like to stress here that I am not a paleoartist, I am not a paleontologist or a biology expert of any kind, I am simply a humble English major and website editor who likes to watch paleontology videos in my spare time. If there are any glaring inaccuracies in this in regards to how I depicted these species, I do apologize, I tried my best, but as I stressed I am in no way an expert or even a novice in this field.

The cave paintings above each cat's head represents the story told about their "Clan" in "Secrets of the Clans". For the scimitar-toothed cat, it's the moon shining its light down to create the shadows that will carve the dark stripes into their pelts - obviously just completely made up to explain the dark stripes these cats developed, which can be far more easily be explained as a form of camouflage in tall grass. For LeopardClan, it's the tale of Fleetfoot fighting the boars to claim the river, and for LionClan, it's Sunpelt's standoff against the giant snake Mouthclaw.

But here we have another twist. These cave paintings actually depict events, and creatures, far older than even these ancient Clans, stories passed down from their own ancient ancestors, or else surmzied through finding remainds of the ancient creatures and creating a story around them. The giant snake Mouthclaw is a titanoboa (they didn’t live anywhere near the UK, but oh well - maybe just one managed to find their way over there :P) and the "boars” Fleetfoot supposedly faced are actually the terrifying “hell pig” (actually more closely related to hippos, far more terrifying than boars in my opinion), the enteledont! I based the painting of Sunpelt on a real cave painting thought to be a cave lion, the one of Fleetfoot loosely on a real painting thought to be an ice age leopard, and the enteledont loosely on a real cave painting of a running boar. I couldn’t find any really old cave paintings of snakes in that same style, so I had to kind of wing that one. Not sure it totally fits the art style of the others, but oh well, best I could do.

Now for the last bit - why I chose Squirrel and her first litter to be the ones telling/hearing the tale. Mostly because of an interesting AU I thought of - what if the Three (not counting Hollyleaf, but oh well, I couldn’t exactly stick Dovekit in here when she wasn’t born yet) weren’t reincarnations of ancient Tribe cats, but of ancient big cats? Lionblaze would be a cave lion, of course, then maybe an ice age leopard for Dovewing and a scimitar-tooth for Jayfeather? Dunno, but it could make for a really fun AU. :D

Anyway, this was a lot of fun to draw and I’m super happy with how it turned out: :D

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wordsnstuff · 1 year

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Hiya! Just wondering, what unusual and unique ways have helped you get out of a writer's creative block?

Let's talk *briefly* about writer's block.

Yes, this will be long, but I think it will help you.

It's been a long time since I was in a regular posting schedule for this blog, and that is upsetting to me (and many of you, I'm aware). For a significant chunk of that time, I considered writer's block to be the primary reason for this, but looking back on the nearly three years I've spent attempting over and over to return to the schedule and routine I once maintained, I have accepted that writer's block was never the problem. Not the way I thought.

I have, and I'm sure I'm not the only one, always thought of writer's block as if it's a tangible condition or something that happens to you, like a cold. That conclusion always prompted me to seek a solution (for instance, motivational content or exterior inspiration or anything that would enhance my capacity for self discipline). Because I thought of it as something that just developed naturally, I focused very little on the root of the issue and consequently it never seemed to improve.

For most of us, the past three years have ranged from severely abnormal to deeply traumatic, and though a lot of mythology around the process of art and inspiration tells us that conflict and pain inform a good portion of creativity, I have to admit that none of what the world has been through recently has made me want to write. When you and everyone you know have been in a survival mindset for several years, the seemingly trivial pleasure of creating fiction or sharing content about the process feels overwhelming. Every time I've returned to this space that I created long before experiencing any of this turmoil, especially because this turmoil occurred during the dawn of my adulthood, it has felt like a silly attempt at denial.

My writer's block, and I'm sure many others', was not simply a case of burnout or lack of inspiration. It's not that I had been pushing myself too hard without allowing for reasonable time for rest and recharging my mind, or that I simply ran out of ideas or reasons to want to continue. Even when you have the deepest of passion for a craft, you will always be human and therefore always affected by your environment and the events in your life. When you find yourself unable to put the pen to the paper, instead of asking what you can do to change that, ask why you're struggling in the first place. Focus on the cause, not the effect.

For me, a lot of my difficulty with writing has come from my environment and the mindset it has put me in. I am currently in university, so whether I like it or not, I have to write here and there and pull myself together to be able to do that. Every time I do so, I wonder why I can't enforce that same authority on myself for my personal projects, and it's because, for a long while, my environment has not been conducive to that effort. I haven't had the control over my schedule and responsibilities that I used to have, and finding a balance between these responsibilities and my personal goals has has a learning curve. All of these circumstances, for better or worse, have affected my mental state and my ability to write.

I did not have the freedom or even the energy to put in practice the exercises that helped me before, and as a result I haven't been writing. Coming out of that struggle hasn't been a matter of waiting for things to change or get better, it's been putting my energy toward a new process of trial and error. Since accepting that my new reality is here to stay, the priority has been finding new ways to work around it and specifically, work with it. This acceptance can require a lot of difficult reflection, and this can reach beyond your desire to write and into your desire to live a good life in general. It can feel silly or humiliating or patronizing to approach this reflection from the very bottom of things, and this includes the basics.

It may seem silly to consider the basics when the problem feels so extreme, but when you're consistently forgetting the casual maintenance of your mind and body, you will consistently find yourself failing to accomplish much beyond the bare minimum. If you struggle with mental health, this will be even more evident. Basic things like hydration, diet, sleep, movement, interaction, and joy will always be the most effective place to start when addressing why you cannot write. Once you have verified that these needs are met, then the presence of a deeper problem will reveal itself, but you'll never know if that's the case unless you check the other boxes.

So, you've checked the basics and they're all fine but you're still experiencing writer's block. Have you made time in your daily schedule for intentional rest? Are you coming home at the end of a long day and jumping straight into writing or keeping up with your duties at home or simply falling in front of a screen for a few hours? None of these things are rest. Distracting yourself with noise or housekeeping is not rest, and when it's all you do after a full day of other responsibilities, you haven't truly spent a moment with yourself finding fulfilling joy or relaxation. Yes, they can be compelling and very difficult habits within your routine to let go of, especially if you struggle to function without something occupying the back of your mind, but rest is extremely important to the creative process. If you like to scroll online a little bit or watch an episode of your comfort show after you get home to unwind, that's great. But in order to truly take advantage of your free time, try to optimize it by being intentional about the way you're experiencing it. Try not to fall into a routine of distraction because that isn't rest and it won't satisfy any of your needs.

Have you incorporated things into your routine that will contribute to your motivation to write? I don't mean you should put Stephen King quotes as your desktop screensaver or watch videos of people writing to make you want to participate. Those things help some people and that's great, but consuming things that make you think or bring you pleasure like books and well written movies or shows or music or podcasts can be just as impactful as anything else you do for your creative process. It's not just about what you do, it's about how others inspire you, and it's one thing to say you love books and reading and learning, and it's another to actually do them every day like you would wash your face or brush your teeth.

Whether you write as a hobby or an aspiration or a job, the creative process remains the same. It's important to remain consistent with the things you do to maintain your ability to write as much as it is to remain consistent with your actual writing routine. As a general rule of thumb, writer's block doesn't come from nowhere. If you want to alleviate it, you have to target the root of the problem or it will continue appearing on the surface. There is no one-size-fits-all cure to it and there are no "top ten wacky ways I solved years of executive dysfunction with the right chrome extension or tea flavor or candle scent or by typing upside down". This is internal work you will need to do, but it starts with trusting yourself. It is never too late to return to your passion. You will build it back up like a muscle, but you have to heal first.

I sincerely hope this helps,

Kate

–

Masterlist | All questions, articles, etc. in one place

If you enjoy my blog, please consider Buying Me A Coffee

#writer's block #motivation #inspiration #writeblr #writing #writer #writespo #writing community #creative writing #on writing #writers on tumblr #advice #writing advice #writers #write #qna

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margareth-lv · 5 months

Text

🤖 Why does AI art screw up hands and fingers? 🤖

... and what it has to do with our two lovebirds?

*** Article contains vampiric product placement. Not recommended for those sensitive to strong vampirism. To survive to the end of the text, consume garlic before reading.

As I mentioned, I sat under a stone for months, gloomy and angry. Nevertheless, I have been constantly updating the database. So I did not miss this beautiful love scene, real intimacy between an eternally loving couple, captured by a professional photographer.

Side note: the photos of the couple in love are, to my knowledge, the only published photos of this event (Fashion Manifesto launch event, London, UK - 13 Sep 2023) without the copyright holder's watermark.

What a funny coincidence.

I'm afraid I have no recollection of which of my Blogging Sisters was the one to point out a disturbing detail. Lovers' hands in clasp. A non-physiological position of the hands, an abnormal bending of the fingers, something strange has happened here. Something has happened that makes the viewer uneasy.

It is a well-founded fear, in fact, because the lovers' lack of eye contact, the palpable tension, the reluctance and indifference written on their faces, even more than the unphysiologically intertwined hands, seem to confirm that this couple's honeymoon is long gone (if it ever took place). They take no pleasure in the fact that fate has brought them together. It is such a sad statement. ***

This strange intertwining of hands reminded me of a photograph I found in the murky depths of Tumblr at the very beginning of my journey through fandom.

A photo of Sam holding the hand of one of his alleged mistresses. The lover was, of course, immediately identified by name, surname, age and bra size thanks to a distinctive tattoo on her wrist. A photo of entwined hands as a sign of love and devotion (read: sickeningly hot embraces amidst crumpled sheets night after night). A photo that, at the very least, proved that Sam was definitely not with Cait, since he was walking around in public with someone else's hand (with a tattoo).

And once again, the disturbing intertwining of the fingers, the swelling of the middle part of the hand. Too few fingers, or too many fingers, something is wrong here.

You get a headache analysing the image. (Although, if you compare the image of Cait's hand+🧛🏻‍♂️ and Sam's hand+Spanish fly, you can't help but notice that technology has advanced over the years). Why am I writing about this? Because I associate it very much with the well-known truth that AI image generators can't get hands right, and are notorious for adding too many fingers or morphing digits together to make them look nightmarish.

Yup. We are all living in an AI nightmare in this fandom.

We are fed a vision of the world created by AI controlled by Very Bad People, a very poor scenario. Let's not forget that their vision has nothing to do with reality.

[November 28, 2023]

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clove-pinks · 1 month

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Is there anything about your new location (the terrain, the local culture, the physical sites, etc) that has given you a new perspective on regional events of the War of 1812?

This a wonderful ask, thank you! I have been mulling over how to answer it all day! This ended up getting so long I put it behind a cut (I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS).

The Maumee River, as seen from Fort Meigs Historic Site.

One thing new in my life is a heightened awareness of important rivers facilitating the movement of trade, supplies, and settlement. Particularly in the Old Northwest/current Midwest of the USA: regions that I grew up perceiving as a land-locked "flyover country."

Like, to give one example, I had a vague idea that there was a city called Fort Wayne, Indiana, but I thought it was just in the middle of a cornfield for no reason(?). But actually it's at the confluence of the St. Joseph, St. Marys, and Maumee Rivers, leading to the Great Lakes! The strategically important location is why General Anthony Wayne—that guy again—built the original fortification in 1794. I am downriver of all of this, connected to many inland waterways.

I also have a keen sense of living in the Great Black Swamp, despite how dramatically the land has been transformed by deforestation and drainage. There are the terrifying drainage ditches everywhere (the locals seem less perturbed by them), and many other signs of the natural state of the terrain—the swamp is just barely at bay. My coworkers have said "Black Swamp" unprompted in our conversations; I've seen it mentioned in local Facebook groups talking about the need for back-up sump pumps. The idea that people of northwest Ohio have no sense of history and are unaware of the Great Black Swamp isn't true at all.

I look at the pools of water that form in every hollow and think of the words of Alfred Lorrain, marching to Fort Meigs:

We had frequently to pass through what was called, in the provincialism of the frontiers, "swales"—standing ponds—through which the troops and packhorses which had preceded us had made a trail of shattered ice. Those swales were often a quarter of a mile long. They were, moreover, very unequal in their soundings. In common they were not more than half-leg deep; but sometimes, at a moment when we were not expecting it, we suddenly sank down to our cartridge-boxes.

Swale is a new word in my vocabulary, and now I see them everywhere!

Culturally, I think there is a great appreciation of history here: a very positive difference from the Chicagoland area. Even if the average local is probably not deeply into it, they have a consciousness of major historical events that have shaped their region and take pride in it. It's a lot more like New England that way.

Because of my focus on the War of 1812, I notice the absence of Indigenous people and voices—absent from historical accounts and from the demographics of Perrysburg and its environs today. I can't single out Ohio as being a uniquely violent settler-colonial state when this is ALL of the United States; but it hits different when I have this much greater familiarity with who was forcibly removed from this land, and how. The same US military leaders who fought in the War of 1812 were behind the (very much related) campaign for the removal of Native Americans from newly acquired territories, including the infamous Trail of Tears.

Once again, it's probably hypocritical for me to notice this so much, when I literally grew up on Wampanoag land where King Philip's War was fought, but here I am. Suddenly aware of General Wayne's name on everything, etc.

General Wayne's spurs in the Fort Meigs Museum. Not pictured: the can of Maumee Bay Brewing Co. Fallen Timbers Ale that I am currently drinking.

I haven't had the chance to explore physical sites with historical significance beyond Fort Meigs and Fallen Timbers. I know I will get to the ruins of Fort Miamis soon, and I really want to explore a lot of wetlands in local parks and nature preserves (that will double as birdwatching excursions). I am always thinking about what this place looked like 200 years ago, and what I can see today that might still look familiar to a person from that time.

I had a great trip to the National Museum of the Great Lakes today, which is closer than I thought! Local maritime museums are also on my agenda, even if they're not specifically War of 1812-related.

#asks #shaun talks #ohio posting #i could add three or four more paragraphs to any given paragraph here #you activated my trap card

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lil-lost-mind · 3 months

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(This is a bit of a along post about my general experience in the qsmp fandom, both good and bad, and it does mention xenophobia but not direct experiences)

I'm happy to see people here being so nice and reminding that we(Brazilians) are welcome here

I was really hesitant about interacting with fandom at first, I actually was there the Brazilians arrived because suddenly tazercraft live appeared for me on YouTube, I joined for a moment but didn't stay long, but I did look about it later. Because Brazilians youtubers/streamers are on a server with a bunch of people from other countries? I was curious about what this would lead to

Didn't regret it, but since then, I was a bit scared of interacting on fandom. Some comments on clips were fine. But then I started using tumblr because of a friend's recommendation, I kept a look on what was happening on lore on general but didn't really interact on fandom. Hence why I created this blog, and also why it took me so long to link this blog to my main one

Because, well, if I got hate for any reason, it would only be a sideblog that I only posted about qsmp. I could just delete it or just ignore them

I am by nature a person who is very shy to talk about my interests, it might have nothing wrong about it but I'm shy, I'm the type of person who goes on asks box on anon because is too shy, even if I'm not doing anything wrong there's this fear of judgemeent.

In the light of the recent events, I am once again reminded that's why I don't use or plan to use Twitter, but still I couldn't avoid but feel... scared in a way, I don't think anyone would like to be treated that way. And even a bit ashamed of saying that I'm brazilian. Ashamed might not be the right word, but there's this feeling wich is similar, and while I'm proud of being a brazilian, I just... maybe invalidate is a more fitting word, it's just feels like my culture is unimportant compared to others.

And this is what it seems, in my understanding, what looks like suffering from xenophobia is, but I imagine it's worse suffering it directly ofc, and ironically, I don't think I ever felt like that for those reasons before. And while I can't talk about how it feels when suffering from it directly, I feel bad for the people who had to go through it(not only Brazilians). Nobody should feel ashamed of their culture or ethnicity

Ofc tumblr isn't free of people like that. After all, no social media will be free from intolerance. But it feels like it's harder to see it. But I can't emphasize enough how it makes me happy to see so many people saying their blog is a safe place for us. After seeing this stuff, it makes things better, for me, at least. It reminds me that my culture isn't less important than any other

And qsmp brought something beautiful, the unity of communities. Because even with those bad things happening, it's not the only thing in fandom, it happens, and any fandom has this, unfortunately. But I love to see every time someone talks about their culture, facts about their languages, to see people motivated in learning new languages. It's beautiful and makes me happy each time

I don't regret making myself part of the fandom, the opposite, really, I've met creators that I would have never without the qsmp. I've met amazing people there, I've found incredible artists and writers. I've had fun

I've found the motivation to learn new languages again, more passion to draw

And I'm thankful to everyone there who is incredibly nice and so made me more comfortable interacting here, even if they will probably never know

So despite everything, I think it was worth it

Was worth reading character analysis and theories, enjoying stories, seeing fanart and animatics, learning new language facts and about other cultures. Was worth seeing people being happy

Again, I'm very thankful for all the people who made me, and I'm going to assume a lot of other people who needed to hear that, comfortable and validate here, I can't express how much this made me happy, I hope everyone coming from twitter have a good time here<3

And a very big and sincere "VAI TOMAR NO CU" to any xenophobic and racist person

I know very few people will see this, or even read everything, but I had to say this somewhere, so yeah, I'm rambling on tumblr again:D

#qsmp #qsmp fandom #I have no idea of what to put in the tags #why are those so hard???#lil's rambling #also it's flipping 3:40 am for me #my schedule is so screwed

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qqueenofhades · 5 months

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Wait hold up you know SIX LANGUAGES

Like I grew up bilingual (English in school and Spanish at home) and got through my two years of a foreign language in high school relearning (terrible) textbook Spanish, and I genuinely do not think my brain could hold another language in there if I tried and wouldn’t even know where to go about start to learn another one

But holy shit SIX langauges is so incredibly impressive and I dunno if you've talked about it before, but could you share a little more about how/why you have SO MANY?

Aha, thanks. I know that someone (recently?) asked me about this, but I can't be arsed to dig through my archives to find that answer, so the short version is:

I have studied French in some capacity for most of my life (it was the main foreign language in my house; my parents both speak it); this was enough to successfully bullshit a last-minute MA graduate proficiency exam while barely studying (seriously, don't do this) and then I did medieval French history for my PhD. This means I can read most things, including complicated academic texts (I will not understand a certain word here and there, but otherwise fine), and speak/understand enough to get around in France by myself.

My Spanish and Italian is somewhat ancillary to that. I studied Italian in high school and used to remember a lot more than I do now, enough to translate things, but (alas) I haven't practiced it in a while and lost most of it (but if I worked on it for a while, it would probably come back). I live in a fairly bilingual Spanish-English city and also briefly studied Spanish once upon a time, so there are daily opportunities to read and/or hear it. I would not say my current grasp of either one is particularly outstanding, but still generally enough to at least get the sense of things I read.

I am a medievalist, so I had to study Latin. It was kind of unavoidable. Not gonna lie, I Did Not Enjoy It, though if I had actually planned my career trajectory better, I should have taken it in undergrad. But I didn't, because why would you do that to yourself voluntarily? In any event, I can read charters and documents and primary source texts in Latin, although slowly and with a lot of swearing and recourse to William Whitaker's Words. I certainly can't read literary or elaborate poems or whatever, but for what I do, it's fine.

I taught myself how to read Cyrillic and started studying Russian during the first lockdown in 2020. I can understand some basic phrases and a few grammatical conventions, read text, understand the alphabet, and a few other things, though it is (as noted) very beginner-level. I would like to brush up on it, but that is among the many, MANY things I do not have actual time and/or brainpower for.

#anonymous #ask

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glorfindel-of-imladris · 9 days

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Glorfindel Week, Day 4: Romance, Celebration, Hobbies

My thanks to the @glorfindelweek prompts for motivating me to write down this ridiculous fic idea where post-Last Alliance, two old Elves celebrate the new age by catching up on popular pastimes by the now very young population of Middle-earth. Bonus seeing Erestor returning as the rom-com king! I don't know what it is, but most fics I have in his POV just usually end up being... well, like this. 😂

"Say, Glorfindel. You're an attractive man…"

Glorfindel looks up from the other side of the table. This time of day, the light coming into the sunroom is pleasantly bright, bouncing against the waves of the captain’s golden hair. It is still rather infamous even this late in the—Third Age now, isn't it? Erestor finds the change still takes some getting used to.

“Uhm,” comes Glorfindel's response, which earns him a muffled snort.

Erestor’s hand comes down from where it had covered his laugh. “Perhaps I should explain.”

Glorfindel smiles, but it looks equal parts confused and wary as he says, “Please.”

It has been some time since the war. Not too long that they have forgotten, nor enough for Erestor to not think about the beloved king they lost when he looks out to the direction of Lindon and the Sea. It has been long enough, however, for things to be running again, for the center to shift from Lindon to Imladris, where Elrond dwells. Life has picked up so that things are running smoothly again, the markets bustling with activity and the Hall of Fire full on most evenings.

"I feel my age,” Erestor confides, leaning against the high back of his chair. "So many sailed after the war. For the first time in a long time, most people around me are so much younger—sometimes, more than two ages younger. Is that not difficult to wrap your head around?"

Glorfindel tips his head thoughtfully to the side. "That is true, now that you mention it,” he says. He, too, has put his quill down from the report he is working on, and leans back to look at Erestor. “Although I did not expect such things to bother you."

Erestor waves a dismissive hand. "Of course I think about it every once in a while. Hard not to, isn't it, when you look around the place? So much has changed, despite that it's the same walls we built all those years ago.”

It's uncanny how vivid the memories still are to Erestor: Eregion falling, and then the need for Imladris, an outpost-turned-haven just at the edge of Eriador. Around this time Glorfindel had come to aid them, bringing with him good will from the Valar themselves. It all seems fantastic on hindsight, especially when they have the Secondborn around to hear the stories, children who count themselves lucky just living through such events in their fleeting, precious lifetimes.

“Do you know what I think?” says Erestor, turning once again to Glorfindel, who to his credit is still seems to be listening patiently to Erestor.

“I’m sure you will tell me,” comes the captain’s reply.

Erestor ignores his cheek. Instead, he leans over and declares: “I think we should do what the young ones do—Elves, but also the Secondborn, as they have more of that fire in them, I find, even late in life.”

“By what the young ones do," Glorfindel slowly says, "you mean…?”

“What it is they do to seek enjoyment in life,” says Erestor. “Just in general.”

The captain hums. “And I am in this picture—why? I am still waiting for clarification on that one, Counsellor.”

Erestor is reminded of his opening statement from earlier, the very thing that confused but also successfully gained Glorfindel's attention. “Ah. Right. What I meant was, you're somebody people find conventionally attractive—”

Again, that uneasy tilt of the head, but Erestor just waves Glorfindel off before he can deny it.

“—so naturally, you are more in the know what it is that people do nowadays. I see they approach you easily, invite you even, I would assume, and of course you have your men, who are also well liked. So you are ‘in’ already, you understand?”

Glorfindel squints. “Debatable, but let's say for now I do. Go on.”

“The young ones have fun, right?”

“As young ones do, I suppose, yes.”

“I’m just saying, we should be ‘in on that’, too."

Glorfindel finally pulls back and laughs. “By Elbereth, you should hear yourself,” he says, though not unpleasantly for he never is, his tone amused even as he shakes his head. “Let me get this straight: you are going through some… existential crisis—”

“I wouldn't call it a crisis—”

“So you seek to explore new experiences by checking what people are doing to… enjoy life. Yes?”

“I suppose so, yes. No use reinventing the wheel, as they say. I have an initial list already, in fact, of what we can do. Further reconnaissance will be necessary but that is easier done on the ground.”

“I cannot believe I am hearing these words knowing their context.” Glorfindel leans back against his chair, more leisurely now than earlier. Work is long forgotten, but then that they can pick up again later on if Erestor has anything to say about it.

“For the first stop,” Erestor says, holding up a finger while he still has Glorfindel's attention, “there is a new sweets shoppe that just opened down by the south end of the market. Near the baker’s, do you know it?”

“Aye, I have heard about it. Popular place.”

Erestor nods. "So what do you say?" he asks. "Will you go out with me?”

For a moment, Glorfindel just stares at Erestor. “I beg your pardon?”

"To the new place." This time, it is Erestor who does a curious tilt of his head. “Do you not like sweets, Glorfindel?”

“They're fine, but—do you mean for us to go together?”

Erestor frowns at the question. “I suppose we could go separately, but then the point of me telling you all of this is for commiseration, so—”

Glorfindel clears his throat and holds up a hand. “Ah. I understand what you mean now.”

“Plus, what better way to celebrate our newly negotiated Haradrim trading route than to enjoy the bounty? Sugar prices have gone down drastically.”

“Indeed, it has.” Glorfindel shakes his head again, smile just this side of exasperated, but Erestor has long decided in his long years in politics that exasperation is fine, provided the other party is not in disagreement. “Fine then,” says Glorfindel, which Erestor certainly counts as victory. “I'll go with you.”

#meanwhile if it's glorfindel pov the fics usually end up being a drama #uncanny #wip #fic wip #glorfindel #erestor #glorestor #glorfindel week #glorfindelweek

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alwaysxyou · 1 year

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I think what's extra frustrating about this whole situation is just the not knowing when or why of it. Like I know it can't go on forever but there have been so many times where it seems like we're getting somewhere (bye bye Elevator) and then bam something else hits us. I just hate it for louis

i said i wasnt going to respond to this right now but im fired up now and i am going to answer it. none of this is about coming out none of this is about larry none of it is about being gay even! it's does louis know he deserves better.

you don't want to draw attention to your actual relationship - why do you need to even speak about it? answer questions with that you'd like to keep your private life private and that's the end of it. "oh you used to be so open? yeah i was a lot younger and now ive grown up a bit and realized i want to keep it private" any one who pushes it is labeled as an asshole interviewer. publicist listening in to every single non-live on air interview and jumping in to skip questions if necessary. only do live interviews with anchors and hosts you trust and have agreed to keep it professional beforehand. get the best media training in the business and have every possible answer locked into your brain.

you don't want people to think you're gay - why not? nothing wrong with being gay. but in any case, see answer above about not wanting to talk about your personal life and then turn the answer back to the fans "im not/i don't like to talk about my personal life but what matters to me is the fans and im so honored to have fans from that community." next question

"well he needs the publicity" well he's not getting any now. the only publicity from that stunt walk was talking about how young she was, or how quickly he moved on from e. how about louis at a charity event? the gossip sites post pictures of louis with f or stories he tells but want to know what else they would post in the same way? pictures of louis with a dog. or a lizard. or a hamburger. or shirtless!

also! where is the doc promo! or tour promo! where is the exclusive with first look photos and interview with day of tickets coming out? where are the ticket specials in the cities where tour needs to be sold more (buy a tour ticket get a free movie ticket)? where are the merch bundles (buy a shirt get a movie ticket voucher)? or just merch in general? where are the radio spots and the billboards and the bus stop ads and the commercials and the social media? radio interviews in tour cities? they wouldn't do a press junket yet but! and if no one brought those up why isn't louis or his manager saying something and asking for those plans and those rollouts? and if they aren't getting those or know what to ask for why aren't they hiring people to figure out what's not working and make it happen?

you don't have to come out, you don't have to reveal your relationship, you don't have to even elude to anything. but you do deserve better treatment, better promo, a better image. privacy, kindness, fans, general population respect. what might have been the way people did it in 2013 isn't the same as 2023. but all of louis' rollouts are stuck there. once upon a time for an artist, the worst thing you could be was gay. and even if that's not the case anymore, if that's still where your head is okay. you don't have to come out. but you don't deserve to be doing this shit or putting yourself through this either.

he got out of sony, he got out of modest. he claims to be the boss so goddamn put your foot down and take a fucking stand. if there's lasting contracts or whatever get the best lawyer out there and fucking take back what you deserve. and don't fucking settle for anything less. someone on your team has an idea you don't like? too bad for them, you pay them, you make the ultimate decision. and if they don't let you or try to fuck you over, you hire someone else. and do that again and again until you get what you want. life is too freaking fucking short to not be putting yourself into the best possible situations wherever you can. louis deserves that.

#stunts tw #asks #anon #also obviously we don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes #which I’ll always disclaimer as #just! this is how it’s appearing and I wonder if they know that

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aprillikesthings · 8 months

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I run into people--online, IRL--all the time who seem to think I'm this exotic brave creature for traveling alone and going places alone.

And, to be fair, there are places/events I do not enjoy alone!! Movies at the theater by myself aren't as fun. I've gone to a couple of concerts/shows alone and while in many cases it's better than not going, it's not as fun as going with friends. (Except for classical music concerts. I don't know why.)

And, also, I am an extrovert; and for me part of the fun of traveling alone is meeting and chatting with new people, even if just small talk.

(Lol that has come up more than once on forums/groups/etc for people who do solo travel--the actual introverts who don't want to talk to people and that's why they travel alone, getting grumpy that most of us are social and like meeting people!)

And obviously: it's fun to go places with friends or my partner. Showing my fave places and events to Daci will never get old and I still have a long list to get through! Like Astoria and Seattle!

But! I love going places by myself.

And I keep realizing: I've always done this?

I was the oldest kid and only girl among my siblings. I also often had few friends. So I went places alone or I was stuck in the house. So sometimes I just wandered around, to the extent I was allowed to do so, lost in my own thoughts, playing pretend in my head.

In Iceland as a kid (living on the American military base) I would walk around just because. I would go to the USO and drink Lipton tea and read a book because...why not? In Virginia Beach I'd walk to the store and flip through all the magazines and buy a Snapple (it was the early 90's lol) and walk home. I'd bicycle around aimlessly (not that I was allowed outside our subdivision). I would've gone to the beach or the mall alone if I'd been allowed!

My parents were considered overprotective, and I still got to do all those things. Wild to think about, now.

Moving to the Portland area, that first summer after high school I'd take the bus to Barnes and Noble and buy a frappe at Starbucks (they were NEW at the time lolll) and browse the books for hours alone, bouncing off the walls with caffeine and sugar. That fall I got my license and realized I could drive downtown (or drive to a light rail stop and take that) and nobody could stop me. I would poke through vintage clothing stores and Powell's books and nobody would hurry me along or complain that they wanted to go somewhere else. It was bliss!

And I think it was like, ten years ago or so, when I found out a fairly common source of like, anxiety? fear? -was eating at a restaurant alone. And I still cannot wrap my mind around the idea. Like....why. What are you afraid will happen? Nobody is paying attention to you. Nobody cares. Like. What?! Just bring a book.

But I've had so many people tell me I'm brave for going places alone and I just don't feel brave at all? To me being brave means being a little scared and doing it anyway, and while I'm always nervous when traveling about SOME things (taking public transit in a new place, especially when you don't speak the language; is intimidating at first), the general concept of going to a place alone is just exciting to me.

I don't have to worry about anyone's needs but my own. I can eat whenever/wherever I want, do whatever I want, go wherever I want. It's so, so freeing.

#my life #my posts #travel #solo travel

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e-vay · 9 months

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Evay QA Bulk Post 1

I’m working through my inbox but don’t want to drown y’all’s feed in my asks so I’m grouping as many together as I can. Q&A below:

MISC SONIC ASKS

Thank you so very much! I was trying to really combine both Amy and Sonic’s aesthetics. Amy is classy and design oriented so I wanted to keep that feel, but I wanted to show how their home would evolve once she and Sonic start living together. Sonic’s never canonically had a house, but he travels so much that I headcanon that he’s constantly collecting trinkets and souvenirs from all the places he’s visited. So I wanted to give them a very “worldly” design style. If you’re familiar with Uncharted 4, I picture Sonic and Amy’s house being very much like Nate and Elena’s beach house.

I love interior design and architecture but I’m not great at drawing it (yet). Once I improve I want to do a full layout of their house for my stories (and the future Shadora Fortress).

I really enjoyed the movies and I’m excited for the third! I hope they give Shadow a voice that’s deep and delicious and doesn’t sound like a sniveling villain. I don’t like it when they cast him with a very generic evil voice, I prefer it when he’s got depth. Honestly I’d be happy if they stuck with Ian Hanlin, he’s perfect to me.

For the record, I absolutely love that game. Some of my favorite memories involve me and my best friend playing it. He ABSOLUTELY is an avid gun collector. I love seeing the memes of Shadow just rambling off about gun details. BUT HE KEEPS THAT CRAP LOCKED UP IN A SAFE AND UNLOADED AT ALL TIMES!!!!

At least for my stories he isn’t one to actually threaten to harm anybody for wanting to date his kids. He dealt with that enough trying to be with Aurora. But you can bet he won’t think anybody’s worthy to date his kids lol

First of all, I am ALWAYS down for Sonic singing his feelings. Like that is my #1 favorite thing in every story. Whenever he breaks out the guitar/lute I’m like “HELL YEAH LET’S DO THIS”

Secondly, that SONG omg!!! I’d never heard it before but wow 😭 I couldn’t love it more. I completely agree and thank you so much for sharing with me!

That is so funny that you say that. It was not my intention to make human Sonic look like RCS but honestly he is my favorite Sonic at this point so maybe it came out subliminally! Also I think Roger is just so damn handsome so I will take that as a compliment lol!

SHIPPING ASKS

I do ship them but I don’t know about them having kids. I don’t really know those characters well enough to write family members for them and I wouldn’t want to do it wrong. Thank you!

I’m fine with any of your ships as long as it’s not with relatives. And as long as you keep my characters “in character” then that’s fine.

Interesting! 🤔 I haven’t heard that pairing before but hey I’m certainly not going to tell you that you can’t ship them together.

I loved Amy the minute I saw her so just from a superficial level I was like “These two are too cute together!” But I really fell in love with them when their story evolved and we got to see their dynamism in the games outside of just a cute little pink sprite in Sonic CD. And Sonic X really sealed the deal haha So many romantic moments between them in that show, God bless.

Sonic and Amy were just making out, not anything more. Orbot and Cubot aren’t accustomed to seeing that so that’s why they reacted that way.

I don’t have any plans on that at the moment. I like that universe and I especially loved how Sonic acted around her in it, but idk if I’ll make a comic about it. But I can never say never!

PERSONAL ASKS

I’m sorry to have worried you, but honestly I was okay while I was away. I went through a lot of major life events and I had lost my drawing mojo and was fighting to get it back. But now it’s back with a vengeance!

I plan on doing both. I know several amazing parents who do a wonderful job raising their kids and still follow their passion.

Thank you so much! I’m self-taught, but I’ve researched a lot of tutorials and references to help me improve over my life. The number one thing people need to study if they want to do comics or animations or anything is ANATOMY! You don’t have to take an anatomy class (I didn’t), but look up references and tutorials to learn how the spine works, how the muscles work, proportions, etc. Even if your characters don’t fall into the typical human form, you still need to understand skeletal structure and muscles.

I’m not an avid listener but I do like some if her songs :)

I’m in the process of assembling that. There’s a lot so it’s taking time lol

WILL YOU CONTINUE HHNF?

Yes I’m going to continue HHNF

AURORA ASKS

Thank you! Yes that’s pretty accurate. Their family is all about honesty and telling the truth, but younger Aurora doesn’t like to share all the details with Sonic because he’s so reactive with her and will quickly try to fix whatever the problem is and Aurora wants to learn to fix it herself. Amy is more willing to just listen to Aurora and offer advice if Aurora asks for it. Amy WANTS to beat up whoever is upsetting her daughter but she also knows the importance of learning how to fight for yourself so she wants Aurora to feel empowered to do that.

Thank you! I hope you’re having a great day too! I think Amy is better at TALKING through feelings and Sonic’s better at the overall cheering up way of handling things. So as long as there’s nothing terribly awful bothering Aurora and she’s just feeling a little down, he’ll find ways to make her laugh. Sometimes that means walking in unexpectedly in a costume to shock her or dragging her out of the room to have a musical jam session together.

Sonic’s also known to give people flowers when they’re sad in canon (he does this regularly in the games and in Sonic X), so he’ll bring her bright, colorful flowers to make her smile.

In my AU, Eggman has already kind of peaked by the time of Boom!Baby. He’s softened a lot and isn’t interested so much in world domination as he just wants attention lol. Having Sage and becoming a father further helped me justify that with my AU.

He's also particularly sentimental towards Aurora since he helped deliver her, so he doesn’t really fight the team anymore. He is more like a constant pain in their sides mucking things up.

Sonic team is busy fighting other, newer foes in my AU.

Their biggest challenge is going to be the Time Travel comic that I haven’t completed yet. It’s hardest because not only will lives be put on the line, but it also touches on trust and when to let go. I’m sorry I can’t give you a more detailed answer yet but I don’t want to spoil the plot! And thank you so much!

MISC ASKS RELATED TO MY AU

Yes I just need to draw them. There are so many dang Sonic characters hahaha

It’s VERY important to Aurora for her parents to give their blessing, so Shadow will honor that and ask them for it. I already know how and when he’s going to do it, but I can’t spoil it for you yet! 😉

They’ve had three litters. I headcanon that back in the day hedgehogs used to have litters (2 or more kids) all the time but that became less and less common in modern day. But I also headcanon that as the Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow was engineered to be able to… multiply effectively. So even though they’ve only been pregnant 3 times, they keep having triplets or twins.

I do consider the First Kiss comic canon to my AU. But it happened a while before My Gal, maybe like a year or so before. Give them time to stew on that kiss hehehe

They just wanted to make a life change. The stars just happened to align at the same time haha

All the kids’ names are supposed to be based on their personalities or powers. Most Sonic characters are named that way, so I don’t know if it’s canon for Mobian parents to sense what their kid’s powers will be or not. Aurora has dreams that sometimes give her premonitions so she had inklings to what their kids might be like so she and Shadow could brainstorm ideas based on that. Also a lot of their names are outer-space-related or at least outer-space-adjacent and that was because Shadow’s a space man lol So he had influence in that.

Sonic wants all his descendants named Sonic II so he’s no help lol.

Thanks, I’m happy you like it!

There are 3 litters. The first litter has the triplets Piper, Zane and Nova. The second litter was born almost a year and a half later and has the twins Aster and Blitz. The third litter was immediately after and that has the triplets Cinder, Diamond and Boon. All this information is listed in their character reference post.

In the beginning the family mostly just stuck to ordering online and getting home deliveries lol. But if they do have to do a grocery store run it’s a full family event. The kids all ride on Shadow (see this post). Their house has two fridges to accommodate for all the mouths to feed!

Their life certainly isn’t boring anymore 😂 It’s exhausting but they’re happy (also there are 8 kids haha!)

Thank you so much, it’s good to be back!

Aurora definitely would have asked him about this, but at least in my stories Sonic became an orphan at a young age and I don’t have him with any siblings.

I’ve had another person ask me who I picture Sonic’s parents as and I do plan on drawing a reference of them, but they’ll be unique to my stories. They won’t be from any other Sonic media.

I don’t draw Aleena, Manic and Sonia because of a couple reasons. I never watched Sonic Underground so I don’t have the allegiance/nostalgia that a lot of people have to that show. Also for my own preference, I don’t like the idea of Sonic being born to royalty. It doesn’t suit him, in my opinion. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect people who have that as a part of their canon and it doesn’t mean I have any bad feelings towards the Underground characters. I just don’t draw them. I grew up on the games and later Sonic X and Sonic Boom so my stories revolve around what I know.

It’s funny that you mention that ship because I only just learned about it from Starrjoy’s P!AU comic. Again I didn’t watch Sonic Underground so I don’t know who Bernadette is, but sure I’m down for Sonic having two moms. Families come in all shapes and sizes, so as long as they’re a loving parent or parents then I support it.

They love all their grandkids and they love spending time with them, but I think in their older age Sonic and Amy go off on more adventures again. They never stopped adventuring, but they settled down a bit while raising Aurora. Now they’re relishing a second wind and they’re frequently going on worldly explorations.

But they always make sure to attend any events the kids are involved with and are always home on Sundays for family dinner. Sunday night is dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s! <— I have them always having dinner at their house on Sundays even before Aurora and Shadow have kids

To be honest, I never felt like they needed more. I had a comic where they discussed it hypothetically, but they’re content with just having the one kid. (Don’t worry, just because they’re not having kids does NOT mean they aren’t… active 😈 They’re very VERY much so!). I am okay with fan stories where people give Aurora siblings and there’s a fic I’m reading right now that involves Sonic and Amy having a whoopsie baby way late in life and adult Aurora is having to deal with that and I love it lol. But just for my own writing, it’s a single-child household.

#ask me #evayQA #sonic trash #my au #headcanons #my headcanons #long post #Masterpost #masterask #bulk qa #masterqa

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valentinaancunin · 2 months

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So hey I finally finished that story, I hope people enjoy it. Be mindful that I am NOT a writer but I'm proud of this story. THIS CONTENT IS MATURE, CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, DEATH, CHILD LOSS, AND GORE

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Background information on the future reading material

Hello! This is going to be some background on why I’m writing this, what inspired me, and how this is going to be portrayed. For starters, this is going to be a sort of fan fiction/character origin story prior to the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, a game inspired by D&D with roleplaying aspects and turn-based fighting. The character I am writing about is Theresa “Onyx'' Blackhand. Onyx hails from the colder northern region, Icewind Dale. She lived in a small rural area called Aneira with her adoptive brother, Tanith, and her mother, Eulalie. The year is 1490, two years before the events of Baulder’s Gate 3, and it is set in the height of winter, a rather awful blizzard is running its course through the town and our adventurer is going to see the apex of nature's wrath. This story is going to be told in the eyes of our main character, of course.

Some background on me, the writer (who isn’t the best at writing). My name is Ava but I go by Valentina online and I am an artist and dungeon master! D&D has inspired a lot of what I do and the media/games I play, and in general, has changed my life for the betterment of my creativity. The Baldur’s Gate community has given me so many amazing artists, writers, and players to be inspired by, not to mention the writers and actors who are in the game itself. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the inspiration of others, friends, and partners who encouraged me to pursue my passions of the fantasy and D&D worlds I’ve created. This is a test and dedication to the many more worlds, characters, and friends I’ll make along the way through shared interests. I thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read my rambling and indulge in one of my favorite characters I have come up with, background, gameplay, and story wise.

Winter, 1490; A Warm Welcome

Howling, freezing wind cuts through me like a blade, cutting right through the layers of wool and hide I wear out in this tundra. My face is burning, hair covered in a thick coating of ice, sticking to my scalp and face like tree sap.

“Is this the clearing Tanith was talking about? This is awfully deep in these woods…” I said to myself, wondering how he could navigate through this storm. This winter has been worse than in seventy years, he shouldn’t be outside now anyways. Mother is getting worried sick about him. This is the third time this week I’ve had to dig him out of trouble, little wriggly worm he is. “Tanith? Tanith! Where are you? It’s too late to be outside, the storm gets worse at night!” I yelled out into the clearing, but my words were quickly snuffed out by the wind once again. Just as I was about to give up and find help, torch light shines through the clearing, Tanith standing there with that slimy grin on his face.

“I knew you would find me! Now c’mon, there’s something I want to show you!” he shouts as he darts off into the tundra again. I chase after him despite my skeleton shaking in this cold. Why is winter so brutal this year? Mother and Tanith have been acting strangely as of late. My heart is racing, where is he leading me? We finally stop running as we reach the top of a cliff, surprisingly high above the city below. The lights are mesmerizing, staring down into the flurry of snow and ice almost seems magical beneath the tons of houses and factories brimming with life.

“You know, I’m glad you dragged me out here. This is a wonderful sight to see” saying as I grab him into a side hug, holding him tightly for warmth and security.

“You really need to stop going out at odd hours of the night, Mother is getting worried sick about your habits as of late”

“I know she is but I’m restless! Being inside all day is no fun, and I can’t see friends through all of this snow! I can’t wait for winter to end” Tanith says in an unhappy huff, burying his face into my coat. There’s a certain unease in the air tonight when the wind stops blowing, it slowly wraps my heart in black tendrils and brings sweat to my brow.

“I know, I can’t either. Say, how about we go back home now? There’s still some sweet rolls left over.”

“There are? You didn’t eat them all?”

“Not yet!” I say, darting off in the direction we came, Tanith close behind. He passes me in just a few strides, the speedy bastard. He has always been fast, no matter if he’s carrying heavy wood or our mountain of a dog. We finally reach the back door of our cabin and burst in, letting out a sigh of relief as we feel the warmth of the fire seeping throughout the house. Mother is sitting by the fire, we startled her by bursting into the door unannounced.

“There you two are, I was getting worried sick! You look positively dreadful Theresa, sit by the fire.” Mother says, wrapping a wool shawl over my shoulders and gesturing towards the large wooden chair. Tanith joins me shortly, bringing a tray of sweet rolls with him. His eyes are glistening but something is missing, his usual spark of joy is no longer there. There’s something he isn’t telling me.

A dreadful proposal

We all retired for the night but I can’t sleep, my head is spinning and my heart is racing. Were the sweet rolls bad? Was I out in the cold too long? I can’t be sure, but time is at a standstill and I am tossing like mad. Minutes felt like hours but before I knew it, our front door swung open. Mother and Tanith weren’t awake, so it must have been the wind. I got up in a dizzying state and stumbled out of my room to close the door when I saw this man standing in the door frame, almost filling it out, the light from the fire making his features positively grim. His stature was sunken although he was built to the nines, his face looked like a husk of a man, his arms, big and dead, like a once mighty oak tree taken by rot and decay. Is this man undead?

He stood in pure silence as he took a step into my home, halfway to me already with his long stride, and stopped mere inches from me. I can see the whites of his eyes, or what would be white if they weren’t bloodshot and glassy. Finally seeing his face in the light, he was covered in blood. I tried to gain my composure quickly and grab something, anything, to hit him with, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and knocked me out cold. The next few hours I would fade in and out of consciousness, seeing snow pass underneath me, then cobble, finally back to snow. I have no idea where I’m going. I’m worried about my family. What has he done to them? Are they even alive? My head is pulsing with pain and heat, a roaring heat as if I were in the depths of Avernus. We were going uphill on rocky terrain, the dense wood of a carriage underneath me hits my bones with each bump like stone.

After almost a day had passed, I awoke in a chair, bound at my wrists and my ankles tied to each leg. Why am I receiving this punishment? Did I see something I wasn’t supposed to see looking over that cliff? I let the memory flood my mind and I couldn’t see anything but snow blowing across my vision and the twinkling of the lanterns below. Looking around the room, it’s more like a cell. A singular bed roll laid in a dark corner, a wash basin, and an old door, about to fall off its hinges if it took a single blow. The air is rather humid, thick with the smell of iron and wet stone. I look at my restraints and they seem simple to break out of, too simple, in fact. Just as I try to move towards a wall, someone walks into the cell. It’s the same man as before, but now I can see his face. Dirty brown hair, gray eyes that hold no glint of light in them, and a rather large nose, badly patched up after a break. His face screams a hard, tortured life.

Before I know it, he strides over and unties my restraints, grabs my arm tightly, and makes me stand. I tried to land a blow with my other arm, but he grabbed my fist in an instant.

“Who are you?! What have you done with my family?” I shouted, looking over this shell of a man. His body ached and creaked like an old house, and I can see the outline of his muscle and bone on every part of exposed skin.

“Mustn't talk, the Lord is waiting” he said with a deep voice, almost vibrating the air around him. There was something otherworldly about him. Is this the work of a necromancer? “He needs to see you. Your family is waiting.” he leans in, and whispers ever so softly “I don’t want to have to hurt you again, the Lord is making me hunt others for his game of cat and mouse.” His eyes finally have life to them, wet pearls of sadness and regret. His breath smelled of rot, his hair was as stiff as straw. How many others did he bring to this “Lord” he spoke of? What is going to happen to me?

With my arm still held by this undead husk, we walked a short distance to an audience hall. Decorated lavishly with gold and marble, red carpets, dark wooden chairs and tables, and statues of hardly clothed men and women, all eyeing a chair in the center of the room. I see them, my family, finally after what felt like an eternity. The stranger lets my arm free and I rush over to where they stand, clinging onto both my brother and mother so tight.

“Tanith… Aneira, I never thought I would see you again, where are we?” I glance above Mother’s head and see the snow building up through an unreasonably large window. The day is bright, almost blinding against the snow. I’m in familiar territory, thankfully.

“Theresa I hadn’t a clue where you were! I awoke to such an awful sound when those men came in and grabbed Tanith and I. My heart felt like it was leaping out of my chest. At least we have you now, my love.” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Just as this sweet moment couldn’t get any better, the double doors at the end of the audience room open, creaking and moaning with every movement.

“Ahh, these are our most esteemed guests then, hm? I was expecting more… hardened looking people for being a family of lumberjacks, afterall. My name is Lord Ransley, it is a pleasure to meet you." The man spoke, confident, dominant, and radiant. He was eyeing me curiously, looking for something within my appearance that I hadn’t a clue what he wanted to see. He carried a tome on his hip, lined in gold and the cover had a yawning mouth with a purple gem shoved into the center. This has to be the necromancer of the house, and apparently the Lord as well. Looking around again, the unseen halves of the statues were all bone and muscle remnants, real muscle and bone. The room stunk of decay and humid bodies. “You are rather extraordinary, you know? A half-elf with such muscle definition, tall stature, and eyes that hold the world within them…” Ransley says again, walking around me like a curious dog, grazing his hand over my biceps and back. I shift away from his touch, feeling a rush of cold go down my spine. He grabs a lock of my hair and shudders, as if he’s enjoying himself, pleasuring himself to my physique.

“What exactly are you looking for in me, your lordship,” I said harshly “and why knock out and kidnap my family, bring them to an unknown house, and gawk at them? Is this for your own sick pleasure?” I spat, locking eyes with this short statured freak.

“Ohh, feisty are we? Fret not, my large friend, I will answer your questions after you answer one of mine. Then you and your family will be able to go back home and live your lives as they were.”

He paces around me, studying my figure until he gets right in front of me and asks “Your father had something of mine that he stole, and gave it to you. That large steel amulet you wear, it belongs to me. I know what power it contains, and I know that you can’t live without it. How does having cold lungs feel, little love? If you give me back that necklace, I may just help you with your affliction, but if not… Well, your family is not going anywhere.” Little Love. The nickname dad gave to me. Hearing the words was like a sharp puncture in my diaphragm.

How does he know about my lungs? I’ve had this affliction ever since I was young, I caught a cold and since then I have had an icy cold breath that can freeze anything it touches. This amulet is the one thing that keeps me able to keep breathing without freezing the world around me. I can’t risk letting this go, even if it is Ransley’s. I have to figure out a way out of this house with my family. Ransley slips a hand to my neck and pulls the necklace out from under my collar, eyeing it lovingly. His breath is hot on my skin as he puts his lips to my ear and whispers “We can accomplish so much together, little love.”

“You want me to give up the thing that makes me able to breathe normally? Do you want your house to be in icy ruin?” I say, my anger rising with each touch and word he says.

“No, my dear, it would be a shame to see my lovely home go down. Are you really not going to give me back my possessions?” he says, taking a stride towards my family “Pity… I thought you would be smarter than this.” He walks up to Tanith, who is as white as snow, and puts a hand under his chin, studying his features.

“If you have a quarrel with me, then keep me here. My family doesn’t need to be a part of this. They never were in the first place.”

Aneira and Tanith are humans, they have lived only a fraction of the life I have lived. They deserve to live their lives to the fullest, I fear that Ransley is planning something drastic.

“Fine, if you will not give me that amulet, I will take it off of your corpse. You will make a fine addition to the many beautiful faces I have in my war room” he says, as he turns away to grab a sword displayed on a plaque behind a large chair. He touches the blade, running his fingers along the edge in ecstacy, as if he’s going to enjoy hurting me. Looking around the room, there are two guards. Easy targets, they aren’t as strong as me and they can barely hold the hammers they’re equipped with I think to myself. How are Aneira and Tanith going to escape? The double doors Ransley had previously pranced through is the only way out. I give each of them a shove. “Aneira, Tanith, run!!” I shout at them, darting for the hammer a guard is equipped with, knocking him on the floor with one shoulder charge. He falls to the floor, the flesh under his armor breaks off in chunks and his bones shatter once they hit the ground. More undead. Turning to face Ransley, he is running towards me, sword pointed towards me. I thrust my hammer and knock his sword off its course, and take a swing at him. I hear bones crack, it hits, by the Gods it hits.

After he gets his footing again, he steadies his gaze towards me, preparing for a swing. I brace and block his first blow, his arm going limp at his side. From his other sleeve, he pulls out a dagger and slices across my shoulder, a deep cut that would take a while to heal. I wince out in pain and his eyes light up like a fire. What a sick, twisted freak. With a one armed swing, I knock the dagger out of his hand and strike another blow quickly with my hammer. Something is welling up in my chest. It’s warm and radiant, I feel strength ebbing out of me.

“Listen to me, Lord, I have no clue why my father stole this amulet from you, but you aren’t getting it back. You threatened my family and my life, you have no right to hurt my family. I will end you swiftly and painfully, for you have no say in my fate!” I say, and as the words roll off my tongue, the hammer I wield is basked in a radiant light. Power. I feel power flowing through me, a divine power. Who granted me this power matters not, at this moment I have my opponent under my grip. Ransley’s arm is limp at his side, he still wields his sword in the other. He lunges at me, swinging his sword from above, I block with the handle of my hammer. Even with one arm, he is still rather strong. Taking a good look at his physique, he himself is partially undead, he has great strength but each blow he takes, he weakens. I fling him off with a side swipe and take a swing at his back, hitting his tailbone and knocking him on the floor. With one hand, I sit him forward and drop my hammer. Taking swings at him, my fists get coated in crimson. His breathing is shallow and slow, I drop him back on the floor with a loud thud and pick up the hammer. My breaths are short and icy, the coldness in my lungs is unbearable. Looking down at Ransley, I broke his nose and jaw pretty good. He won’t be standing up any time soon. His breathing is gargled and mashed, his windpipe must be broken. I need to let him suffer a slow death, choking on his blood and bile until his last breath exits his lips.

After leaving the audience hall and taking a look around, I find Lord Ransley’s room. In my search, I found his personal journal which reads “Barnes stole the Amulet of Curse Binding from me and gave it to his sick, weak daughter. Pathetic. If she is too weak to shake an illness, she is too weak to live. I will find him one way or another, our deal isn’t finished.” Deal? What deal had my father made? Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t suspect that Ransley will recover from a crushed windpipe. Flipping through the journal, another entry catches my attention. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand, my bones are brittle and weak. My flesh is starting to fall off of me. Myrkul needs to hear his servant, to provide his blessing unto me.”I shudder at the thought of being an undead, having no control of the decay of your physical form while you remain conscious sounds like the ninth circle of Avernus. As I put the journal in my pack, that blinding light illuminates my vision again. A woman in white robes, with even whiter hair, stands before me.

“Child of light, I am the spirit Evangeline. You show great power in judgment and vengeance. I have imbued you with the divine power I once had. I propose an oath to you, an Oath of Vengeance, avenge those who have fallen to dark powers and dark people, cast out evil from this world in my name and spirit, oh divine vessel. Your hammer is your oath, and your divine being is my spirit. This is my word.”

She disappeared as soon as the last word was uttered from her mouth. Was this my purpose now? To purge the blights of evil from this world? I bolted out of the room and my head started spinning. I was too enthralled in a fight and forgot where my family had gone. Rushing through the seemingly endless halls of this house, I found more guards and the mysterious man who kidnapped us all waiting for me at the exit, my family lying on the floor. They peered up at me with glossy eyes, pleading for me to go and leave them to the guards. The mystery man tilted his head up and gave me a nod and after, he whips a sword out of his coat and stabs the guard on his left until he collapses to the ground. I take a stride and aim at the next guard rushing towards me, striking true to his jaw. It snaps in an awful, bone chilling sound and he kneels, screaming in blood coated words. With one hand, I take Tanith and the man takes Aneira.

We rush through the doors and the wind chill strikes all of us, a familiar and welcome feeling to that of the house of Ransley. Outside was still bone chilling, but it wasn’t the uneasy feeling inside that overly decorated audience hall.

“Onyx, what happened? Why does he want your amulet? What deal was that man talking about?” Tanith said, giving me a scared look. Something about his gaze is telling, like he knows what’s about to happen.

“I don’t know, but you remember why I wear it, right?”

“Yes, it keeps the cold away from you” he said, his face easing into a soft smile, but his eyes lack any reflection. What in the hells had they done to him in the time I wasn’t there to protect him? To protect Aneira?

I take a look at Aneira and she is as white as a sheet, her eyes fixated on me. I can’t see her breath in the air, is she breathing? I let go of Tanith and grabbed her, shaking her. “Aneira? Aneira! Listen to me! Are you alright, can you hear me?”I screamed, shaking her shoulders. Her eyes are still fixated where I was standing, she’s as cold as a corpse. I look at the undead man, and he looks just the same. Snapping back at Tanith, he is starting to freeze. “Tanith! Please, no! What is happening to everyone?!” I scream, looking back at the door to see a blood stained and cripled Ransley, holding a staff covered in arctic shards. Rage is overflowing again, seeing my family frozen to the ground, my second chance at raising a child has flown out the window. I won’t let him get away with killing what I love.

“You see, Onyx, this is what happens when you don’t give me what I’m rightfully owed!” he screams, waving the staff in a circular motion with his one good arm, bringing in more snow and cold. He is surrounded in an undead green light, the work of the God of Death. I should have broken both arms. I dart out of the blast radius before he unleashes a winter like I’ve never seen. One look back where my family stood and they were gone, frozen to the land they stood on. Aneira, Tanith, and this man who helped me without even knowing who I was. Gone. A rage like no other fills my senses as I take a look at the scrawny man in the doorway, ready to cast another spell. Hammer in hand, I run over screaming and jump, hammer overhead and ready to strike down on his head. As the hit lands, divine light shines and I see the whites of his eyes gleam one last time before his skull is split in two, mashed beyond recognition. I keep whaling on him, beating his skull in until it’s a mashed pile of bone, flesh, and blood.

I fall to the ground, crying so hard that I can’t see. My tears cling to my face as they freeze in this awful weather. How did this all happen so fast? How can I go home now, with so many memories of raising Tanith and aiding Aneira through her remaining years? The remaining hope I had for a family is now gone, frozen, and it hurts like no other pain I’ve felt before. I stare at Ransley’s corpse, wondering how he found me in the first place. The staff he wields even in death, it’s cold to the touch but brimming with the Weave. It’s a very powerful item, and I’m taking it as a reminder. A heirloom of a necromancer, the undead prick who stole my life in one day.

I’m coming home

I stayed at the Ransley estate for two days after the incident, seeking and searching for who he was and why he wanted this Amulet. I found out that Evangeline was his wife, who he murdered for his own sick and twisted pleasure. He logged his thoughts after he pleasured himself to her corpse, but he never turned her into one of his thralls. She was only, what seemed to be, in her early twenties from the pictures I found that weren’t torn to shreds. In the basement of this house was where she was kept, and still remains. Her hair as white as snow and she was dressed in white robes, as I saw her in my divine vision. The ground outside is too hard to dig for a grave, so I fashioned a small circle out of wood and carved a prayer into it. Wrapping her in a burlap cloth and laying her on her back, I placed the prayer on her and took a moment of silence. I did this for those outside as well, since I can’t give them a proper burial yet. These last two days have been rather gruesome and depressing, but I need to press on. I need to go home and set out on the quest Evangeline gave me to purge the world of evil.

I take what rations of food I can find, some clothing and furs as well, and set off back to the cabin. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too far away from this estate. I didn’t even need to make camp and I made it back by dusk. The door was still swung open from when the undead man opened it last, the common area full of snow. My mind still wanders, what was it that Tanith was hiding? Throughout the whole ordeal, he was a husk of his normal, happy self. I may never know now, now that Ransley and his guards took away that young boy who I almost considered my son. My son? He might as well have been, I was there from the moment he emerged into this world from his late mother, who I never learned of other than when she was in labor with him. Aneira, the lady of this cabin, a seamstress who took care of me when I had no place to go after father died, is a frozen corpse. She took me in and treated me like one of her own, even though her own had already gone and made lives for themselves. Oh gods, if I ever run into them, how can I tell them of her fate?

I shut the door, its hinges almost froze over in my absence. Heading to the upper portion of the cabin, I feel that grip in my chest that I felt before. This isn’t some bad dream where I’ll wake up and they will be downstairs, making a fire and telling stories. I peer into my old room, everything is just as I left it. The furs along my bed still shifted off, the small shelf filled with books and trinkets I collected out in the dense forest. I grab a few sentimental belongings, books, and more furs and stuff them into my pack. Was this the only reason I had come here? I walked my way over to Tanith’s room, his room is in pristine condition. He had always been very neat, so it’s no surprise to me. His clothes are in a neat pile on a dresser, so small. He was barely twelve years old. I searched his room, trying to keep things as they were when he left them. I found a note stashed away in a book on dreams and premonitions. When had he gotten this? He usually only read memoirs on nature and animals, he wasn’t spiritual. Well, at least I thought so. I unfold the note and it’s addressed to me. Me? How? I begin reading his sloppy handwriting, and I get my answer. He knew how he was going to end, Aneira, too. He knew I would have been given the gifts of a Paladin from Evangeline. He wrote an excerpt on how this amulet protects me from cold spells, curses of the winter, and the inability to slip on icy surfaces. “I don’t understand how, but the amulet that you wear is filled with magic from a lady with white hair who keeps me safe at night. She isn’t a goddess or a human, something in between? I think so. Well, Barnes had stolen the amulet from someone named Ransley when he found the lady with white hair stowed away in the basement. The amulet has some of her power stored in it and whoever wears it will have their sickness or weaknesses taken away. There was someone who took care of her, a tall man named Marcus. She doesn’t talk about him much, but he has gray eyes. If you’re worried about me, I’ll be with Evangeline, so I’ll still be around! I love you, Mom”

Mom. He called me mom. Fighting tears isn’t possible anymore, they stream down my face as I clutch the note in my hand. This amulet has been imbued with the power of a demigod, Evangeline. She was a demigod? Ransley had kidnapped her and made her his wife. The undead man finally has a name, Marcus. I wish I had known this sooner, or else I would have carved that into his prayer. Tanith had been visited by Evangeline many nights before we had been taken away, he told her about the events that unfolded two days ago, and that he wasn’t going to make it. No wonder he hadn’t been himself, he knew his time had come. Marcus had been a caretaker to Evangeline, and that’s why she was locked away until she perished. He had also stood up to Ransley and failed, he got turned into his own personal thrall. Ransley’s staff has the power to dominate minds in a simple flick of the wrist. I wish I had known sooner, I wish I had known what Tanith was told. I could have turned the tides in our favor, maybe even saved everyone and just killed Ransley. He was never deserving of the title of Lord anyhow, he had servants through mind control and a very strong essence of undead power through Myrkul.

I fold the letter closed and clutch it to my chest, trying to stifle back more tears. Things could have been different if I had been awake earlier, if I had heard Aneira and Tanith walk downstairs to investigate the noises of Marcus breaking in. All of his life, I told him I was his sister. I never wanted to form an attachment like I did to my child, although she never lived long enough to see the light of day. It seems that him and I both grew that attachment towards each other, but reading “mom” at the end of that letter let's me know that I did my best for him. What’s done is done now, I can no longer regret the past. I set down the book, and turn away from his room. Walking outside again after grabbing materials and rations, I take one last look at the cabin door, pressing my hand onto the jagged wood. As my fingertips leave the wood, I turn and make my way to Baldur’s Gate city. Neverwinter is closer, but there’s more promise for me in the great gate. This is it, this is my destiny. This is the thing I had been longing for my whole life. A purpose with true direction, no longer am I just riding the waves of fate.

Five months later

I’ve made it to Rivington, a small area just outside of the Lower City. I finally made it out of the cold and harsh winter I used to live in. The warmth of this area is unfamiliar, the many layers I wear are beginning to be too warm. I have to figure out a place to stay.

After venturing a bit outside of Rivington, I found an abandoned shed. I set my pack down and make preparations for the night, which rolls in quickly. There’s a ladder propped up on the side of the shed and I climb up it. The stars shine bright tonight. Taking a look around, I spot the area of the cursed Shadow Lands, which fell to be that way over one hundred years ago. It gives me chills to even think of what lies in the depths of those lands. Turning away, I lay down on the roof of the shed and drift off to sleep. The city is just ahead, all I have to do is make my way there before I have no strength to do so. I can start anew, a new life and a new purpose. May my dreams take me to where I belong.

Dawn is slow to come, the sunrise coats the land in a lush light. The green of the grass, the smell of fresh bread and fried fish is in the air already. I make my way to the pass into the Lower City and get a pass through the Flaming Fist guards, giant mechanical beings called Steel Watchers patrol the gate and surrounding streets. Everywhere is very heavily guarded, something I’m really not used to seeing. The loudness of people talking, merchants shouting, and businesses bustling with music and conversation alike was almost too overwhelming. Shifting through crowds and guards, I make my way into Wyrm’s Crossing’s tower. A man named Lord Enver Gortash resides in the upper levels apparently. The word “Lord” still doesn’t sit right with me.

After many hours of talking and bartering with guards, I gained a pass into the Lower City where I am appointed as a body to the courthouse judges during trials. Court hearings vary in length, but by night I try to catch criminals and assassins who stalk the streets, waiting for someone unarmed to strike at. I interrogated one of the assassins I captured and found out he was an assassin of Bhaal before I sent him into a coma and threw him into the sewer. There’s a Bhaal cult around here? If so, I will do my best to inform the Flaming Fists and the city watch alike. Over the next few months, I was a personal bodyguard to the courthouse during the day, gaining my own personal set of armor and a hammer with the symbol I chose for Evangeline, whose presence I can still feel around me like a warm hug. I am adorned with silver and black plate armor, paired with chainmail underneath. During my time in the Lower City, my heartache to be in nature grew. I missed the vast lushness of trees, seeing a pair of white foxes chase each other in the snow and pounce at one another. Finding a remote spot in the forest in spring time and taking a short swim in a lake nearby the cabin, the warm breeze flowing through my hair. The city lacked any sort of bucolic surroundings, maybe a bush here and there. It felt like a cage, but with open air and no bars. After some time, I was able to afford my own place. A small apartment near the courthouse, where I raised plants and kept small creatures who would wander into my home. I may just like this life I have, even if I don’t have what I once cherished. Something inside of me is saying that this is only the beginning of a long journey ahead.

A year from now

Things were as good as ever, a decent week at court thankfully and I found a new cat to take care of, who I named Apricot since she was the same color as one. I was cooking her a fish when I heard citizens screaming, and the thunderous roar of something in the sky. I rushed out of my balcony door to see a giant ship with tentacles and a shell hovering over the city. What in the gods name is this? I thought to myself. I put Apricot in a safe space under my bed and threw on my armor. I gave her some pets goodbye and ran out of my apartment. I was directing citizens to a safe house when another one of those living ships appeared right above the street I was standing on. The tentacles rained down and anyone who had been touched by them evaporated into them. I had to get more out of here, I had to save more citizens from an untimely death.

Just as the thought flew into my mind, I felt the slimy touch of the tentacle across my mouth. I blinked and I was on the ship. I had to be. So were so many Baldur’s Gate citizens. A strange looking woman with green skin was trying to break out of her binds when a large tentacled freak held up its hand and put her to sleep. Mind flayers. By the Gods, a mind flayer ship? I had only heard of them in books and tall tales, I had no idea they were actually real. The mind flayer levitated towards me and held out his hand, I had gone unconscious. In my dreams, I saw my old fireplace, crackling and filling the living room with warmth. Tanith and Aneira, sitting in their chairs, beckoning me to sit by the fire. I couldn’t move, I had no control over my body. As the sweet moment filled my senses, it quickly faded away. The room imploded and snow and ice shards swirled around the two people I adored. I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my aching lungs, only more ice and snow. I snapped my head upward to see Ransley’s face looming over me, his smug smile decaying like the rest of his features. His eyes pierced right through me, as if he was trying to intimidate my soul.

As soon as I was put to sleep, I was awake. Days had passed. No, weeks? I couldn’t tell. My stomach ached, I needed to eat, I was in a cold sweat. I looked around with what little room I had, the strange woman was still asleep in her pod across from me. The same mind flayer from before was looming over a large, fleshy basin full of an acidic smelling liquid. He pulled a worm-like thing from the basin and levitated over to the strange woman, holding his hand out so she would stare directly at the worm. It latched onto her face and snuck right into her eyeball. Oh Gods, is he going to put one in me next? Just as the thought occurs, he is back to fishing out another worm. Or maybe they were tadpoles? He picks out another one and locks eyes with me, its eyes orange and radiating malice. As he is floating towards me, I try to turn my head away, only to have it snap into place with the flick of its wrist. The tadpole screeched with a psionic power that hurt the innermost parts of my mind, and secured itself into my orbital socket. I slip into unconsciousness again. My new life, taken from me once again. Who was going to take care of Apricot? Who is going to keep the streets safe at night? I need to figure out how to get off this ship and go back to Baldur’s Gate.

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