#Unless she is/becomes a warlock at some point of course

[janamensch]

Tired boy Xantheus :(

#high rollers #rollonsunday #Altheya #altheyatde #gruffudd of tremorrew #Xantheus Auregan #I love all of these characters so much already ;-; #And I have no idea so far who will end up being my favourite! In Aerois that was clear from the very first episode #But these characters are literally all so good!! #Ophelia‘s chances for favourite character are the lowest so far because edgy characters aren’t my favourite #Unless she is/becomes a warlock at some point of course #That‘d probably get her in the top three at least #But other than her everyone else is completely even on the favourite character scale

[momonica05]

Jack Jack - my tav for the "jack of all trades" achievement!

My urge to info dump about an oc won so now please, meet my son: Jack Jack (I don't know how to make a good blog post on tumblr, so I apologize if the images are a little too big)

JJ wasn't born a tiefling. He actually came from a family of humans, but he has no recollection of it outside of his father and grandparents, whom he hates with all his heart

At the age of 6, his father disobeyed his patron (for a good reason, but he doesn't know that, hehe). But instead of punishing his father directly, JJ was the target. He was turned into a Mephistopheles tiefling that day, and his family was horrified. He remembers the look of pure hatred and fear from his grandparents, shouting at him, saying he was now a devil. He doesn't remember his father's face, but he remembers his fingers, pointing at the door, and his husky voice "get out"

Since then, he had to live at the city of Baldur's Gate all by himself. He had some friends, partners, and even a mentor (which the dream visitor had taken form of)... but he never got back what he lost that day: love and identity

He spent a good portion of his life, mainly his adolescence, trying to "fit in". He even cut his horns off, which he regretted later down the road as he's now more confident in who he is. Beeing cursed by a devil at the age of 6, as one might imagine, was no easy feat. And aside from gaining an appearance that everyone deemed as "hellspawn", he also gained powers. Powers in which he can not control very well, but powers nonetheless (sorcerer wild magic)

After a whole life of stealing, performing, trying out magic and needing to run because uh oh you accidentally sumoned a troll in a bar! He... well, his life continued shit, but he never gave up. He had some not so trustworthy friends, but hey, as long as they're not a devil or a warlock, he's a very social guy!

Before he was captured by the mindflayers, he was actually planning on traveling around! He wanted to get all his skills worked on. Maybe study a bit more of his magic, as a wizard.... maybe becoming a bard with his musical talent... hell, maybe he'd finally accept his calling for the rogue life! The opportunities were endless!

That is until, of course, he got a tadpole in his mind... but eh, he was planning on traveling one day anyways, so why not use this as an excuse? (definitely not frightened at all haha what do you mean?)

So far, he's really enjoying his adventure! Here's what he thinks about each companion:

Lae'zel: heh, she wants to kill me! (nervously sweating and trying to do what she says because he's terrified, but also really likes her interrogation methods!)

Shadowheart: she's hiding something. She ain't fooling me...

Astarion: he's also hiding something, never EVER trust the snobs from the upper city.... unless, of course, you want their money/sleep with them. (thinks Astarion is a less hot version of him, with how similar they act. Except JJ actually has a soft spot for children and little rascals, so he'll always help them. He's more chaotic good)

Gale: i really liked him and wanted him to teach me how to do magic safely, but never mind! He just ate my magic spear, which doesn't seem very safe...

Wyll: he makes me angry with how he challenges my morals, okay? you shouldn't be nice! You're a warlock! (has a mental breakdown watching Wyll get transformed like he did and wonders if his father was a good man like Wyll all along)

Karlach: I was deadset on killing her... turns out she's not a devil! just a person like me! i really like her (wants to kill Zariel and enter rage like Karlach one day)

BONUS:

He knew damn well what he was getting into but opened the door anyways and said he was gonna write a smut about it (he's batshit insane)

Anyways... I guess that's it. That's all I have for now, I haven't progressed much into the game... sorry if his information is a little scattered around, I don't have it organized and probably didn't mention somethings (he chose his name, for example)

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #my tav #tav bg3 #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #tav #oc tav #Jack Jack #tiefling #tiefling tav #tiefling bg3 #urchin background #I just wrote all of this in one go and post it #so yeah apologies for any confusion #shoutout to the one person who was interested on seeing him! #you rule! #in short he's a menace #a lil chaotic good #as he still thinks that people shouldn't go through what he did and wants to do good #but will kill someone he thinks is not cool #chaotic good

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

thinking about the hc where warlock wasnt the first time aziraphale and crowley godfathered someone. they also did;

cain and abel

jesus christ

and i. well. considering their fates i can see why godfathering wasnt the first thing that came to mind. like imagine them watching the first humans have their children and since the Rules havent been established fully, they dont even bother to conceal their blessings and miracles. it turns into this whole thing, but eventually eve is like "we want you to help us raise them because you're so Kind" and while crowley (crawly at the time) grumbles about it, he agrees. and they teach the brothers, raise them well, one brother for angel and one for demon (you can decide who's who) but their efforts are not enough to stpp them from being human, nor to change god's whims, even if the children seem more inclined to listen to crawly in comparison to aziraphale. sometimes, his counterpart refuses to entain the angel's boring preaches, while crawly never had any trouble with retaining the appeal. and it being so early, aziraphale worries. not enough to raise the alarms, but just kind of sigh and keep trying. he has Faith, after all.

and even after god starts taking less grain, they still attempt to keep the peace even as their wards become adults, have their lives and their emotions, but their teaching means nothing. cain and abel, over the years, developed the quality all siblings possess; not knowing when they went too far, and not knowing when the pain becomes real.

abel still dies. it's bloody. they watch.

and jesus. its like all the kingdoms of the world but from the get go. also like raising warlock, except crowley's (she's really thinking about changing to that name, testing it out sometimes) trying to genuinely turn him to evil when he's six while aziraphale's trying to nuture his good nature. crowley's teachings, like aziraphale's all that time ago, seem to bounce off the child like rain. she keeps trying, though, just to file the paperwork. besides, jesus is actually oddly funny. he likes wood carving, and skipping stones on the pond because it reminds him of another time. crowley usually encourages jesus to throw rocks at the nearby ducks, just to cash in some evil points, but jesus simply looks, and that is more than enough of a no. aziraphale likes this kid. he could get used to having him as a friend.

and even after jesus grows older, teetering towards the dreaded age of 33, crowley and aziraphale cling to it. they know what his fate is to be, and they cant help but try and prolong it. jesus knows, of course--and lays it down gently. he's ready. that's what they all say, before the first bolt is nailed to the cross.

jesus dies. it's bloody. they watch.

and then there's warlock. soon to be anti-christ. well, they have some notes from the last couple times; get close. very close, close enough to physically yank him by the head to the right direction if they have to. dont say you're an angel, dont say you're a demon, or he'll be inclined to one or the another. be firm, disguise command as guidance, because here, there is no room for error. unlike the last few times, here they must mold the anti-christ. not softly push, mold. that was their mistake, and with so much at stake, nothing can be put to chance--it doesn't stop them from getting attached, yes, they still skip stones and plant daises, but only for the job. its not that they can befriend the hellspawn. he's unbefriendable! and yet! even at nine he still likes bedtime stories and travel sweets and moterbikes and math, it's all become a little too similar. regardless, they keep pushing on. he's becoming normal.

maybe this child will be the lucky one, they think to themselves more often than they can admit to the other. unless they fail. maybe warlock will die, be bloody, and they'll have to watch.

maybe. maybe not. they just can't let it happen, this time.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #warlock #maniac writing #stars in a jar au #sorry im fragile for good omens children it wont happrn again (it probably will) #releasing this into the world without rereading. ahshdh

[thevagueambition]

i wish we had a better sense of Wyll having done bad shit because Mizora forced or tricked him to. His early story when you recruit Karlach is fascinating! I love that moment of "I thought I was the hero chasing the villain, but she's no villain (and I no hero)" but then his storyline doesn't stick with that in any substantial way

Instead it becomes about his father, which suffers from a similar problem of Wyll being too noble -- not in the sense that he needs to be some edgy boy or w/e, but in the sense that he's not allowed the sort of range that makes a kind, heroic character really stand out. The relevant dynamic in terms of his father is that Wyll isn't allowed to have any substantial negative feelings about that whole situation. He's not allowed to be angry about the unfairness of his situation/his dad's assumptions. He just nobly bears it

And then with his pact, unless I'm forgetting something, we don't ever hear of Wyll's warlock pact having forced him to do something that violates his morals. There's the stuff with Karlach of course, but in most cases that stops short of him actually going through with anything bad. You don't need a persuasition roll, he's not actually close to killing her if you don't charge into that

Frankly when you talk to him after meeting Raphael and he goes on about how devils will not just take anything, but everything, I'm left with the feeling of... what has his pact actually cost him at this point?* Which, I'm sure there's stuff I'm forgetting, but that shouldn't be the sort of minor stuff one easily forgets, it should be pretty central to a warlock character who's storyline to a large extent centers around a desire to get out of his warlock pact

anyway, to me the way Wyll is written is deeply frustrating because there are several things that would immediately make him a much more interesting character to me, a lot of which comes down to a seeming lack of willingness to let him have actual character flaws or even just like letting him be at least somewhat angry at his dad instead of being a saint about it

*His relationship with his father isn't a direct cost of his pact. His father could have reacted a lot less negatively if he'd been a different sort of person or if Wyll had had the chance to explain the circumstances better

#siggi plays bg3

[warlock-enthusiast]

I posted 2,027 times in 2022

265 posts created (13%)

1,762 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@heywizards

@serenbach86

@curiousstrawberry

@drhu0806

@magnetklaue

I tagged 1,879 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#critical role - 261 posts

#elden ring - 240 posts

#art - 130 posts

#yes - 125 posts

#personal - 123 posts

#dragon age - 115 posts

#cats - 90 posts

#mass effect - 64 posts

#spoilers - 56 posts

#long post - 52 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#also talked to him about why silencing the one female character? and he answered that she will not be mute in the end

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I commissioned the absolutely talented @echollama to draw my Tiefling girl Dahlia and she turned out so stunning <3

Some background on her:

Formerly called Love she was raised as a pleasure servant and didn't go outside much. She was content with life for a good few years, made some friends, lived in relative comfort. Love was sold after a few years and before she reached the coast of her new home, her ship was swallowed by the ocean. Before dying, a devil named Razal rescued her and made her his Warlock, promises of power and magic and freedom included. She is now adventuring through Tal'Dorei with a Triton bard at her side and trying to fit in and learn the customs outside of her own experience.

She's bubbly and friendly and a bit naive, because this whole doing what you want thing is new to her.

69 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#4

Strahd impressions from today. Player got me a little Strahd

71 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

#3

Unless of course, thou shouldst take the crown?

Fandom: Elden Ring (there will be some story spoilers)

Characters: Blaidd x female Tarnished

Rating: Explicit (it is shameless smut)

The Tarnished and Blaidd meet in Caelid.

AO3 link

Part one

-------

You’ve taken refuge in an old hut. Hidden beneath cliffs and the endless red wastes of Caelid, you’re sighing a breath of relief. The path to Redmane castle is dangerous and filled with nightmares, which will haunt your dreams. You’ve seen people claimed by the scarlet rot, slowly losing their mind and life, and all you can offer is a quick end to their suffering.

And yet, there is Milicent and you're hopefully able to save her. A small act of kindness in all of this.

You’ve washed off the dirt and grime of your path and close your eyes for a brief moment.

Finally some rest. Your shoulders are stiff and your feet hurt and every piece of your equipment carries traces of the rot. It has not been your best day.

Soft, golden hues of reclaimed grace shine through a window that has been barred with planks. It’s a point of safety and your wounds are closed and your immortal soul stronger after a day of fighting.

And you’re not alone, which is so out of the ordinary that your stomach is in knots.

He’s too broad for the chair and hunched awkwardly on the creaking wood. His hulking sword leans against the wall and his cloak covers most of a once comfortable bed. It’s strange to see him without his armor and just in some linen shirt, almost casual and relaxed.

Blaidd watches your movements and the air between you is thick and filled with unspoken things. You rub your neck and try to understand what is going on between you. You haven’t seen each other since Siofra with your paths leading you into different parts of the land.

You’ve become much stronger, but not when he is near you and you can’t control the thoughts running through your mind. All of them seem so depraved.

You look for anything to talk about, anything to quieten your mind. “How long until we reach the castle.”

“Hard to tell. I’m sure the Festival won’t start without us though. We’re the main attraction.” There is a dry humor in his voice, which helps to quench some of your own doubts about the goal of your journey and all the unknowns. But you hope that one day it might be easier to read the expressions on his face and the subtle nuances in his tone.

“I still fear what is expected of us.”

“Using teeth and claws to win against a demi-god that has gone mad with the rot?”

You rub the bridge of your nose. “Hmmm, nothing out of the ordinary then? I vividly remember Godrick and Rennala and that hasn’t been much fun.”

Blaidd shrugs. “Not for us, yes. But who else is trying to put the Lands Between back together again? We have to start somewhere.”

To be fair, some weeks you are not sure what and why you are fighting for. They have banished your kind so long ago and you need to carve out for a place for yourself again. You follow your own train of thoughts as you feel the mood shift slightly. It’s in the way he watches your every movement, how his eyes never leave your body, and how he tries to find a comfortable position in the chair.

This time, there is no immediate danger. You’re clean and well rested and hunger stirs in your body. Maybe it’s longing for a quick escape of your dreary day and of the death that awaits you every waking hour. The need to feel more, someone warm and as eager as yourself. Your last encounter only left you with longing and a desire that shines too bright in your own darkness.

You slip out of your clothing, feeling a draft coming from the thin walls. Blaidd’s eyes match your hunger, but there is a feral note in his gaze. For a brief moment you wonder how it’d be to give in to this and ask him to not control himself. All he’s ever been is friendly, open, loyal to a fault. The thought of him letting his beast take over and just use you for his pleasure is frightening and exciting at the same time.

Maybe he guesses your thoughts or catches a hint of it, because it seems to get warmer in this little hut.

“Tarnished…” A low growl erupts from his throat and you notice the outline of his cock pressing against his breeches.

It’s an invitation.

You touch him once, twice, through the fabric and he closes his eyes and arches his neck. But you’re not patient enough to play a game of teasing and flirting and open his breeches. Blaidd helps with pulling them down his knees and his cock is freed.

See the full post

94 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

#2

Around 4 am husband woke up, produced small annoyed noises and then proceeded to roll into my arms, because he wanted to be held ... now my arms are dead, but it was so adorable.

109 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I woke up and looked at this

1,444 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - “Rapunzel Knows Best!” ( A first half of S3 Recap)

So I decided to place the recap after Be Very Afraid for several reasons. For starters it’s where the season three hiatus took place. It’s also framed like a cliffhanger episode the same as The Great Tree and Queen for a Day; so while Cassandra’s Revenge is technically the midseason finale, Be Very Afraid functionally servers this narrative purpose better. Finally I want to keep the Cassandra heavy stuff contained in it’s own recap later same as I did for Varian’s arc in season one. 

Also keep in mind, everything I discussed in previous recaps still apply here. Nothings changed and you could argue that the issues I bring up now could have also apply to past seasons; they just happen to be at their worst here. 

Here are the past recaps 

To Filler or Not to Filler

Hey, What Ever Happened to That Varitas, Guy?

What Is the Point?

‘Whatta Twist’

And here are the episodes that’s covered in this recap

Rapunzel’s Return Part 1

Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Return of the King 

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

No Time Like the Past

Beginnings 

The King and Queen of Hearts

Day of the Animals 

Be Very Afraid 

Poorly Defined Conflicts 

I’m not just talking about Cassandra’s lack of goals here either, though that is a part of it. I mean in several episodes the central conflict isn’t laid out clearly enough before being resolved.  We flip from one set up to the next without ever resolving the first; like in Rapunzel’s Return when Cass and Varian fight for screen time or whenever Rapunzel is suppose to learn one lesson only for someone else to learn a completely different lesson in every other episode. And to this day I don’t know what Rapunzel and Feldspar’s subplot in Lost Treasure was suppose to be about. 

There’s also of course the ill-defined overall conflict; which at this point has become convoluted and nonsensical to the extreme, and will only grow more aggravatingly stupid as the season progresses. The main villains lack clear goals, their motivations don’t align with previously stated facts, and the actual interesting conflict involving the threat of the rocks and their destruction of people’s lives and homes is just shoved under the rug and forgotten about.  

There is no story without conflict. Having the conflict be all over the place is not only confusing but makes it harder for the audience to invest in what’s going on. 

Failed Narrative Promises 

Tying in with the above statement regarding conflicts, we have failed narrative promises. Rapunzel is repeatedly told to that she needs to learn something in several episodes only for her not to learn it at all. She either learns some unrelated ‘lesson’ that wasn’t established, (like in Rapunzel’s Return with her pervious goal about ‘opening up to others’ being switched out for a generic ‘responsibility’ lesson that at the last minute, where she doesn’t even do anything responsible,) or she winds up ‘teaching’ the opposite lesson to a different character thereby rewarding her for her bad behavior.   

And that’s just within the induvial episodes themselves; there’s also broken narrative promises through out the overall story arc; like...

no justice/redemption for Lady Caine, 

no acknowledgment that the Saporians are the victims of colonization

no conclusion regarding Corona’s murky past

no satisfying ending to Varian’s plot that sees everyone in involve grow

a poor copout of an explanation for Cassandra’s face/heel turn

The Dark Prince reveal going nowhere 

The Brotherhood being put on a bus 

King Frederic, or any royal, not being held accountable for their past actions 

Lance’s new found responsibilities just being thrown away for the tenth time 

The Disciples plot being being dropped 

next to nothing in season two winds up being relevant 

And Rapunzel, the protagonist of a coming of age story, fails to learn anything at all 

I could probably go on but you get the gist. Tangled is incredibly frustrating show to watch because doesn’t deliver what it promises. You’re not being clever by ‘subverting audiences expectations’ unless you can justify your narrative decisions with previous set up. Tangled is too lazy to build proper set ups so it’s ‘twists’ leave you wanting to punch things rather then impressing you. 

Character Assassinations 

Every single character in Tangled the Series gets thrown under a bus, driven off a cliff, and then allowed to drown in the ocean of their completely unaware self-congratulatory smugness.  

Rapunzel is turned into a bully

Cassandra is given the idiot ball to hold permanently 

The King and Queen are lobotomized

Quinin gets replaced by a robot  

The rest of the Brotherhood are pale shadows of what they could have been 

Edmund is transformed from tragic complex figure into a dumb jerkoff who abuses his kid for a laugh 

Zhan Tiri, once an ancient demon warlock, is reduced to a floating impotent ghost girl 

The Saporians become poor hipster parodies

Cap is put on a bus

Any villain who isn’t Cass is gets ignored

Lance is infantilized to the point of absurdity

Eugene becomes a doormat 

and poor Varian is forced to become a complacent victim to his abusers as oppose to being allowed to keeping his dignity 

I think the only person who escapes this mass murder of characterization is freaking Calliope, and she’s hasn’t even appeared yet! (Well okay her and Trevor, maybe) 

This all ties back into the poorly defined conflict and failed narrative promises. Rather than let the characters drive the story, they’ve become puppets to the plot, and plot is really stupid and forced, and circles back in on itself and is full of contradictions. 

Manipulating the Audience’s Empathy to Do the Work for the Writers  

The reason why the creators believe they can get away with such poor characterization and lazy writing is because they expect the audience to do all the heavy lifting for them.  

Cass isn’t given an on screen reason for what she does because they’re hoping her fans will just automatically excuse her because they like her/relate to her and not, you know, get mad at the writers for dumbing her down. And after all who doesn’t love the creator’s pet? Meanies! That’s who! 

No one calls out Rapunzel’s bullshit on screen, because if everyone likes her, then you, viewing audience, should too. Because if you have any sort of independent critical thinking abilities and a sense of right and wrong then clearly you’re ‘just a hater’. 

Everyone should just shut up and be satisfied that Varian is even on screen now and be grateful for the scraps that they get cause he’s not the real point of the show and according to Chris ‘Varian fans aren’t real fans’. Even though they make up most of his viewing audience. 

I could go on, but it’s just variations of the above. The writing in this series is very fond of gaslighting the audience and trying to trick them into justifying the absolute worst behaviors while desperately hoping they doesn’t noticed the continued downgrading and dismissal of characters they do like or once liked.  

And the sad thing is, it’s worked. There are people to this day that still try to justify this show’s shitty morals and bend over backwards to excuse the likes of Rapunzel, Frederic, Cassandra, and Edmund.  Worst, there are loud sections of the fandom, (usually on twitter) who think bullying is okay and follow in Chris and his characters footsteps. Most of them young impressionable girls who are now ripe for TREFS to indoctrinate because they use the same bullying tactics and excuses for authoritarianism. 

Media does effect reality, but not in the way purists and antis would have you believe. No one is going to become a violent manic from playing a video game nor a sex offender because they read a smut fic. But they very much will conform to toxic beliefs if it’s repeated enough at them by authorities they ‘trust’; like say the world wide leading company known for family entertainment and children’s media, and the ‘friends’ they find within the fandom for said company... 

I’m not saying you can’t enjoy Tangled the series or that you’re some how wrong for liking it’s characters, nor do you have to engage with every or any criticism thrown it’s way. But yes you need to think about the media you consume on some level and valid criticism is very much important to the fandom experience for precisely the above reasons. 

Conclusion    

This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what’s wrong with this show, but it is most of its biggest problems laid bare. Anything that haven’t covered here or in the past recaps will be explored in the final recap. Cause this is it folks; the last leg of the journey for this retrospective. When come back, hopefully next week, we’ll tackle Pascal’s Dragon.  

#tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta

[kryptsune]

World Building Wednesday!~ Wiccafell

🌼 Due to demand here is Wiccafell! This out of all the AU is the smallest as it is exclusively a RISK (Red x Frisk) central AU. Please keep that in mind. Any questions? Feel free to ask away C: 

Wiccafell AU

Classification: RISK   Nicknames:  Red- Litch

Main Plot Synop: Frisk is a witch that lives in the woods away from humans. Monsters exist in this world but they were nearly hunted to extinction. Poor little Red is chased into the woods from a mob of humans that are looking to either kill him or make him into a sideshow. The little guy trips and just as they are around to grab him a giant beast leaps from the shadows and scares them away. It turns out this is Frisk who is able to shape-shift. It is one of her main magical abilities. She scoops him up and takes him home and takes care of him. A few years later and he works as her little helper and apprentice learning all the good magic can do and that light magic is about give and take. She also warns him about dark magic and how it twists and corrupts.

What magic can do: 

Light- Light magic revolves around the natural order and uses the earth and nature to perform things like healing. These kinds of magic users are mild mannered and gentle to those they interact with because their souls are filled with light. A pure light witch is a rarity as they can harness more power than that of a practicing light witch.

Dark- Dark magic is the kind of magic that breaks the natural order like necromancy for example. Anything that toys with fate. Dark magic also twists and alters the physical appearance. The users gain more demonic traits such as slitted pupils, sharp teeth, claws, tails, wings, and the like. It is different for each warlock/witch. These warlocks or witches have the ability to use elemental magics as well though they are in a corrupted form.

Fire - Shadow flames that consume for long periods of time and difficult to put out. They are destructive at their core.  Air - Poison magic is either liquid or miasmic. It can kill thousands if desired spreading like an airborne plague. It is uncommon even for dark casters to deal in this magic since it could potentially also backfire on themselves.   Earth- Death magic that can be attributed to necromancy. This also includes curses as well. Anything that can tamper with the soul or body.   Water- Blood magic is a form of physical manipulation. A highly skilled warlock can turn a body into a puppet just by taking control of the blood within the body. It is a terrifying ordeal as the victim is powerless and subject to the casters every will while still remaining conscious.  Soul- On of the most taboo of the magic. It is manipulation of one's very being. It is what can be used for bend the mind of one to the caster. Soul chains bind the victim leaving them with free will unless the caster desires a different outcome. It is like making the victim into a kind of puppet. They cannot resist and are bound to the spell for all eternity until the darkness corrupts their own soul or death.  Shadow- A mix of the two both light and dark. This is a middle ground in which dark magic has been performed for noble causes or in desperation. It is the same if a dark caster preforms light magic. It is rare that shadow uses exist just due to the strong traits of both light and dark. Light magic with burn a dark magic user and vice versa. Those physical burns cannot be healed and an easy identifier. They are weaker than the other two having no allegiances to either a light deity or a dark one. 

Frisk is a kind and gentle soul she tries to negotiate peace with the humans so that she and her little apprentice can be left alone. After a while, Red begins to develop feelings for his witch caregiver and doesn’t want to see her hurt anymore. He wants to be a big scary monster so he can frighten away anyone that wishes her harm. There is only one problem. He is not all that scary. She tells him that the only way to become scary and menacing is through the use of dark magic because it not only twists your soul but also your physical appearance. She goes out to gather ingredients and does not come back which obviously worries Red. 

He finds her being burned alive by the townspeople that she was trying to sell her wares too. Nothing magical more medicinal but they didn’t care. As the flames die down he is left holding her charred body in tears (yes I know it’s sad). He vows that they will pay for what they have done and boooy do they. The only way to bring her back, and he knows this, is if he uses dark magic in the form of resurrection/necromancy. The whole idea of what is dead should stay dead applies here. 

He doesn’t care at this point so he reads from the book and as her body starts to come back with the warmth of life he starts to change physically. He basically goes berserk and burns the entire town to the ground. Now he is a scary monster… and a killer ... and a warlock of darkness and evil. *whoops* 

Frisk awakens only to see what he has done and it breaks her heart. She can barely even recognize him anymore, even if he is still sweet and kind to her. He tries his darndest to get her to love him again too. The evil now whispering in his skull tries to get him to force his hand to get what he wants but he pushes it away. He is just constantly struggling with it especially when it tries to coerce him into taking the pure soul of light which surprise is Frisk's soul. They are basically opposing forces now but in the end, they still end up together she just has to keep his horrible thoughts at bay. 

Alternate Outcome:

Being bound by a soul chain Frisk’s pure light soul is constantly under strain. Red of course does not know how much as his ability to separate his own desires from what is right is skewed. He vows that no one will ever hurt her ever again but due to his nature he goes about it all wrong. Frisk’s gentle nature helps the corruption stay at bay for a while as he rarely forces her to do anything against her own will, however, that does not last. The more pure the soul the quicker the corruption so the two cancel each other out. Eventually it sets into her soul twisting it just like him and when he finally realizes it is too late. That is where the sketch above depicts. Frisk goes dark side staying with her warlock and they cause havoc for the rest of the human villages. 

Here are some design sketches that I have wanted to share of the characters. 

#undertale #sans #sans x frisk #frans #Red x Frisk #RISK ship #wiccafell #underfell #undertale au #underfell au #kits multiverse #friskys multiverse #concepts #my au #wicca #drabble #Litch #Witch Frisk #world building #WBW #Worldbuilding Wednesday AU edition #Au is exclusively ship based

[brazenautomaton]

Given that you are literally the perfect candidate for this, I request your assistance. In light of recent animu viewings, and upon stumbling across the TVTropes page for Princess the Hopeful, I was inspired to run a few sessions for my boys. However, digging back through your blog, I found a post indicating you had some fairly negative feelings on the system. As I trust your judgment, I would like your input on How To Make Princess Work, whether these suggestions are thematic and/or mechanical.

well I can't be as helpful as you would think because after a certain point the instinctive shame was too much and I can't even bear to read the current version of it so I don't know what to say "don't do this" other than "don't do anything that was Earthscorpion's idea". I asked someone to read it and summarize for me but then they just didn't do that.

and some of it was mechanical stuff you can't change, and probably the most important one was the post about nightmares as the primary environment, which I can't find now because of course I can't and now I am thinking maaaaaybe I never actually detailed it outside of PM?

the primary environment and source of low-level threat is a Nightmare, which is a little sub-reality bubble created by one person's fear and misery, operating under dream logic, where spirit creatures that are manifestations of that person's fears and flaws dwell, and the person is both the prisoner and monarch, exalted and tormented. the nightmare creatures go out into the world and hurt people and try to bring them back in, so that's the first source of monsters of the week. to put a stop to them you need to find the source, the Nightmare itself, and free whoever is trapped inside. the Nightmare reflects their fear and trauma and etc and you need to at least somewhat understand it to free the person, because you need to convince them they can and should leave. also because the nightmare creatures aren't self-aware it's a situation where starting a fight doesn't mean the end of social interaction; some challenges have to be talked through and some have to be fought and maybe you're doing both at once because the talky creatures don't notice or care you're fighting the gibbering monster creatures and you need to get past both to get to the core

yes, there's a lot of Madoka in that, but when Princess was first conceived Madoka didn't exist so it gets to catch up

higher level antagonists use and exploit these Nightmares. Princesses of Tears drive people to this point on purpose because like Kyubey harvests magical girl despair, the energy released by awakening a Nightmare is what keeps the lights on in Alhambra for a little while longer. evil warlocks use them as a source of disposable minions.

things are bad, it is a World of Darkness, because everything is tainted by Darkness. the taint of the Darkness is not Blizzard fel corruption or sinister black mind control oil -- the taint of the Darkness is fear. people do bad things because they are afraid. if an antagonist isn't cackling and unapologetically evil and clearly Okay To Kill, their actions are motivated at some basic level by fear. set them up so they can be redeemed and helped because a Princess is about fighting fear and balming misery. but also that redeeming them will take away most of their evil powers so that the group doesn't just accumulate a larger and larger posse of warlocks to stomp everything.

Dark Magical Girls should always be able to be redeemed. Ignore whatever stupid fucking subsystem EarthScorpion put into Princesses of Storms that kills them if they turn good, whether it's still the stupid organ implants or he changed it to something else. Basically anything that is a unique subsystem just for them was probably EarthScorpion's idea, he was obsessed with them for some reason

give players lots of opportunities to interact with higher-level antagonists before they are in a situation where one of them has to die, so they can get to know the antagonist better.

never imperil a character's civilian-life relationships unless they have fucked up super hard or you have given them ample, ample chances to prevent it from becoming a problem -- you cannot make it so the best idea is to cut yourself off from your friends so they won't be in danger, that's what lonely and isolated and terrified Dark Magical Girls do

the Queens are maternal figures who cannot give advice relevant to the situation on the ground (can't solve problems for you) but help you work them out yourself (they would love to do more but the dream-state they are in makes it hard to operate on anything but dream-logic)

Princesses are not evil, Queens are not evil, there is no "oh no you're so morally grey maybe you're the bad guys" because that is covered by every other WoD game. the darkness level of the game is keyed off of "how much does it matter that you're truly and righteously good guys? will that help you change things?"

this does not preclude them from getting into conflict with other forces who believe themselves to be or truly are motivated by goodness, but play up how that's a tragic thing that people who want to help the world have to fight

I also had a thing where Princesses basically gambled Belief the way Hunters gambled Willpower, to represent getting extremely emotionally invested in what you were doing and the possibility of being spiritually crushed if you try your hardest and fail. this was a way to get fucking super amped up EX modes on your Charms but not knowing how their system works I can't say how to adapt it

one other mechanical thing I wanted was "a Princess is basically invincible if she's devoting all her juice to keep herself safe, but has very little capacity to actually do anything else; the more effective you want to be at actively doing things to the world, the more you have to put yourself out there and risk being harmed" but again don't know how to integrate that into whatever mechanics they have

if I think of anything else I will let you know

#princess the hopeful

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Daenerys Stormborn, Part 1: From Pentos, to Vaes Dothrak, from Qarth, to Slaver's Bay

I've decided since this tiny post; I'll write about Dany. But there's so much I can talk about that I will most likely write between other essays (unless I feel otherwise). Daenerys Targaryen is my favourite character in ASOIAF. She's an incredibly complex character, and one whose fate interests me quite a lot. Of all the endings in the show, Dany's made me the saddest and angriest. Not only did they rush and make her turn a "twist" that happened on a dime, but it fed into the Mad Queen theories that I really despised.

Can't a powerful women with dragons not go mad with power and become prone to hysteria? Also, can said woman not be murdered by her lover/nephew as a way to give said lover more pain instead of having any meaningful end to her arc? And can said woman not have been "an insane tyrant the whole time"? I may one day vent on season 8, but I won't. Instead, I want to attempt to make sense of the ending we saw in the show, and how it applies to the books. Bit by bit, I will build up to Dany's ultimate role in the series. But first, we need to set the groundwork for it.

(CW: Rape)

The Last Dragon

The first we see of Daenerys, she is a very shy girl who was under the thumb of her physically and psychologically abusive brother Viserys. With no agency, she was married off as essentially a marital slave to be raped by Khal Drogo. However, after some meaningful dragon dreams, Dany began to try and take advantage of her surroundings to give herself power. Of course, Viserys didn't like this very much. Dany was everything Viserys wasn't.

Whereas Viserys was incredibly narcissistic and had no real feelings for anyone other than himself, Daenerys shows empathy to those lower than her. While Viserys was prone to violent outbursts of intense rage and did not think things through very well, Dany is more measured, perceptive, and intelligent (not to say she's infallible, nobody in this world is infallible). As Daenerys became more and more loved by Drogo and the Dothraki, Viserys found himself jealous that she was better received than him, the lawful heir to the Targaryen dynasty.

This culminated in Viserys threatening to cut Rhaego out from her, and Drogo pouring molten gold onto his face to kill him. Good riddance, fuck Viserys. Anyways, she then tries to convince Drogo to cross the narrow sea to invade Westeros, but he stubbornly refuses until an assassin hired by Robert attempts to poison her and is caught, at which point he vows to do so. In her first real experience with war, when the khalasar sacks a Lhazareen village, Dany is disturbed to see all the innocent men being massacred and the women being gang raped, so she decides to take the women under her protection, which earns her resentment from some of Drogo's bloodriders.

I don't think Dany was quite aware of what war and conquest would look like until the village, and she was horrified by what she saw. During the sack, Drogo was wounded slaying Khal Ogo, and with Dany's urging, one of the women she took under her protection, Mirri Maz Duur, agreed to heal his wound. Of course, being a maegi, she is hated and not trusted by the Dothraki. Regardless, Mirri heals Drogo's wounds and they continue on until Drogo collapses from a fever, having removed the poultice of his wound.

From there, Dany's hold on the khalasar is weakening. Her power is really tied to Drogo's, as Dothraki society is extremely misogynistic and views women as lesser beings. Desperate to save him, she turns to Mirri for any magic she could use to heal him. This decision is what finally breaks the khalasar, several of the bloodriders try to kill her, and in that time, another one of the women Dany rescued, Eroeh, was gang raped and murdered by Jhaqo and Pono. The result is Daenerys being left with what can't be more than 100 people out of the original 100,000 or so people in the khalasar.

However, Dany suffers another crushing loss; her child Rhaego. While Mirri says that death may pay for life, and she sacrifices Drogo's horse, the real price was Dany's unborn child. She did so because Rhaego was to be the stallion who mounts the world, a prophesied leader of all Dothraki who would become a great conqueror. In addition, Drogo is "healed", but permanently left in a catatonic state. When Dany asks Mirri when he will be back to normal, Mirri says;

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," said Mirri Maz Duur. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."

Dany seems to take this to mean "never", and is heartbroken, so she mercy kills him by smothering him with a pillow.

Throughout the first book, Dany has a series of dreams and visions involving dragons, the most telling of which was her "wake the dragon" fever dream she had during Mirri's ritual. As a result, and to get vengeance for her husband and child, Dany decides to tie Mirri on a stake to Drogo's funeral pyre, as well as placing the dragon eggs with Drogo. Then, when it is lit, and Mirri burns alive, Dany walks into the flames. Everyone thinks she is mad, that she is out of her mind, but Dany seems to think this is all part of her destiny.

And sure enough, when the fire burns out, she is unburnt (save for her hair), and she has three newly hatched dragons. The "wake the dragon" dream also features, near the end, her opening the red door of the house she stayed in as a young child in Braavos, and finding herself under the visor of Rhaegar's helmet, as Jorah repeats "the last dragon". Dany's journey in the first book is about taking control of herself and her family's legacy.

Early on, she realizes that Viserys will never conquer the Seven Kingdoms, and although Viserys originally had Dany marry Drogo to get an army of his own, the khalasar eventually became Dany's army. And when Viserys died, Dany decided it was her responsibility to do what he could not; take back the Iron Throne for her family. And then, at her absolute lowest, when she has lost practically the entire khalasar, her husband, her child, she gains three dragons.

Viserys believed that his name made him a Targaryen, that being King meant he was a true Targaryen. His anger was a tool to assert his dominance as a Targaryen, to get others to bend to his will. He has immense pride for his family, which turned into unchecked narcissism. But for all his talk, Viserys was no true Targaryen, and no true dragon. Dany even thinks this just after he dies.

He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

Dany has brought dragons back to the world, a symbol of the power Targaryens had, back to life. She was not killed by the fire of Drogo's pyre (of course, she isn't fireproof, this was a one time weird occurrence). She is a true dragon, a true Targaryen, who is truly following in the footsteps of her family.

The Lost Dragon

During the Drogo pyre fire (hah), a red comet appeared in the sky. Believing that she has a bigger purpose, and that the comet was sent for her, she and her khalasar follow it, into the Red Waste. Despite thinking this is a sign for her future, she is mostly lost and unsure what to do. With enemies all around, the Red Waste is the only way to go. They find the abandoned city of what she calls Vaes Tolorro, and she sends out her bloodriders to look for what is around.

Eventually, Jhogo returns with three representatives of Qarth; Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Pyat Pree, and Quaithe. They bring her back to Qarth, where she is showered with gifts and given part of Xaro's own palace to stay at. She begs an audience with the Pureborn, the descendants of the kings and queens of Qarth, but they reject her plea for aid in conquering Westeros. Xaro meanwhile suggests marriage, but only as a means to steal her dragons for himself. Quaithe gives very cryptic and vague as hell prophecies to Dany.

With no one left to turn to for aid, Dany decides to seek answers from the warlocks at the House of the Undying, drinking shade of the evening and having numerous visions. When she finally finds the Undying, they seem to be trying to steal her life force, only for Drogon to set them alight. After that, with no way to leave Qarth and refusal to be sent off with any ships, Dany is stuck, and is the subject of an assassination attempt by the Sorrowful Men, sent by Pyat Pree, only for it to be thwarted thanks to Barristan.

On surface level, Dany's ACOK arc is less eventful and straightforward than AGOT; she remains in roughly a single location the entire time, with only two major events occurring (the Undying visions & the attempted assassination). However, after such a journey in AGOT, it makes sense for her story to slow down a bit before speeding back up in ASOS. After finally embracing the responsibility of carrying the Targaryen legacy her brother failed to live to, Dany now has to deal with the fact of how important she is and what her next moves are.

Despite Qarth being so beautiful and splendid, with seemingly everyone ready to provide aid for her quest to conquer Westeros, it is all an illusion. They see someone who is now one of the most powerful people in the world, someone they can use to manipulate for their own ends and gain power for themselves. Quaithe tells Dany as much:

Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning. "Beware," the woman in the red lacquer mask said. "Of whom?" "Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power."

Dany thinks to herself that there must've been a reason the comet led her to Qarth, as part of her belief that she is heavily tied to destiny.

"The comet led me to Qarth for a reason. I had hoped to find my army here, but it seems that will not be. What else remains, I ask myself?"

So what was the reason she was in Qarth? In my opinion, it was partly to teach her a lesson in not trusting people, but mostly knowledge. The House of the Undying is a massive moment in the series, as it lays out many future events of the series before us (and her!) that are very cryptic and hard to uncover. I will one day examine the full scope of the visions of the Undying, but I want to focus on the narrative reason for this.

Daenerys has a strong sense of destiny. The hatching of the dragons, the red comet, the visions, they all have to mean something, lead toward this grand destiny of hers. I think that a lot (but not all) of the visions Dany experiences are relevant to her future, and lay out a lot of what she will experience/do in the last two books. The prophecies she learns (especially concerning being the "slayer of lies", "three treasons", "three fires", and "three mounts") stay with her into ADWD, where Quaithe once again appears and asks she remember the Undying.

Prophecies are also very common in Greek tragedies, and also appears in Macbeth, a tragedy written by Shakespeare, wherein Macbeth seeks out the knowledge of the witches again out of fear that he will lose his position as king. Daenerys is aware that there will be three treasons committed against her, as well as three fires she will light, and three mounts she will ride, and that there are three heads of the dragon. She constantly considers in ADWD whether these prophecies are coming true, that she finds confusing and suspicious, frustrated even.

In short, the Undying is not just a window into the future, but more of an exploration of the effect prophecy has on a young person like Daenerys who so strongly believes in destiny. She also learns in a vision of Rhaegar about something called "the song of ice and fire", which seems to be extremely significant, and that she will be at the centre of the climactic events of the series.

In the end, it is not herself or the Qartheen who get her out of Qarth, but a disguised Barristan Selmy, sent with three ships by Illyrio to bring her back to Pentos. Dissatisfied with her time in Qarth, she decides to return to Pentos with Barristan... but Pentos is not where she ends up, not even close.

The New Dragon

After leaving Qarth and the return west, Jorah, mistrustful of Illyrio, instead convinces Dany to turn the ships to Astapor and buy Unsullied slave soldiers to help in her conquest of Westeros. Stopping by Astapor, she finds a hellish place, red bricks, tortured slaves, and narcissistic slave masters who have no regard or empathy for anyone other than themselves. Disgusted by what she has seen, Dany formulates a plan entirely in her own head; she decides to buy all the Unsullied by giving Drogon over to Kraznys.

Only she didn't. She only did that to gain control of the Unsullied, before burning the masters and freeing all the slaves. As she tells Xaro later in ADWD, despite being surrounded by slaves with the Dothraki and in Qarth, she did not see how horrible it could be until she got to Astapor and saw how the slaves were tortured. She had the power to try to end it, and decided to take it upon her hands. So instead of heading to Westeros, she decides to liberate Yunkai and Meereen as well.

It's easy to be frustrated at Dany's Essos arc, especially since it doesn't really interact with the Westerosi plot where the majority of the action is taking place, but I think it's important that Dany repeatedly is given an option to go to Westeros, but instead stays in Essos. Progressions in real life are rarely linear, and I applaud GRRM for being able to have clear character arcs while not having the progression be entirely linear and staying true to life.

After Astapor, Yunkai fears what will happen to them as she approaches and hires two sellsword companies for aid. Instead, Dany purposefully lies to the Yunkish envoy and the sellswords, and gives the later wine to get drunk on (and an offer to join her) while she attacks at night. Daario, a lieutenant of the Stormcrows, is won over by Daenerys, kills his fellow captains, and defects to her side. Yunkai is defeated, and the slaves are let go. However, unlike Astapor, Dany does not put an end to the Wise Masters. For this, she is hailed by the freedmen as "mhysa!" or "mother". The Second Sons also join Daenerys after the battle.

Then they move on to Meereen, who has decided to crucify a little slave girl for each mile as a marker from Yunkai to Meereen. When she arrives, the Meereenese champion is easily defeated, and Mero, the former captain of the Second Sons, attempts to kill Dany in her camp, but is promptly killed by Arstan Whitebeard, who is then revealed to be Barristan, who reveals Jorah has been spying on Daenerys for King Robert.

Daenerys takes Meereen and crucifies the 162 Great Masters as retribution for the 162 slave girls crucified. When Barristan explains why he did not tell her who he was, she accepts and forgives him, but she finds she cannot forgive Jorah and banishes him. And of course, instead of leaving for Westeros, she decides to stay in Meereen, after learning that Astapor has been left in the hands of a butcher king named Cleon, overthrowing a council she had instilled when she left, and proposing war against Yunkai, which she just liberated.

Worried about what the effects would be if she simply left Meereen for Westeros, she decides to stay in Meereen and rule as its queen. I decided to call this section "the new dragon" because of Daenerys dismantling an institution her own ancestors helped found. The Ghiscari of Old Ghis had slavery of their own, which they ended up teaching to their new conquerors, the Valyrians. Then, after the Doom, slavery continued again, only this time it was now being practiced by the Free Cities, who are in constant trading with the masters of Slaver's Bay.

As she notes, they keep to the Ghiscari gods, and their symbol is of the harpy, a symbol of Old Ghis, but they no longer speak Ghiscari, instead speaking High Valyrian. Slavery was something the dragonlords of Old Valyria engaged in routinely, and that legacy is still all over Essos. In a way, she is undoing the sins of her ancestors past, and trying to make the world a better place and fighting injustice by using her dragons.

In contrast to ACOK, where she seems as yet undecided on what exactly her destiny is, she seems to be taking control of it in ASOS, becoming Mhysa, the Breaker of Chains, a saviour to those who have been enslaved. It is at this point that she starts to gain a serious following, one that I only assume will continue to grow in Essos. Because of her actions in fighting against slavery, she not only becomes a real saviour to the freedmen, but she also becomes a messianic figure to the followers of R'hllor, as a reincarnation of Azor Ahai.

This is where Dany goes from being simply the last Targaryen, the last dragon, and into a legendary, almost mythic, god-like figure. In my future essays, I will expand upon this aspect of her, since it is going to be really important moving forward, but the start of that is here in ASOS. And thus, this will be where I am concluding part 1. AGOT had Daenerys starting low, but eventually learning to rise up and realize she has to be the one to carry on the Targaryen legacy, after knowing Viserys would never live up to it.

ACOK had Dany questioning her destiny, as well as figuring out what her next step is after the miraculous birth of her dragons. And ASOS concludes her act 1 arc, by having her take control of her destiny and becoming a truly legendary figure who is changing the world. In part 2, I will be discussing in depth the thematic and personal struggles Daenerys faces as she is ruling Meereen in ADWD, and what those struggles and their resolution means for her future.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #house targaryen #asoiaf character arcs #essos #mother of dragons

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 1

I’m not quite sure how to begin.

I’m not typically one for journaling but it would appear to be part of the gig, as it were. I found this book—the one I’m writing in, heavy and musty and leather-bound—sitting on the table when I arrived, open to a blank page. There are at least a thousand pages filled before it, and no matter how many blank pages I flip past this one I can’t reach the back cover without closing the book entirely.

Mòrag told me things that present themselves for investigation here tend to be worth exploring, and if my gut tells me what’s right not to stray from its guidance. But I’m getting ahead of myself—you don’t even know who I am.

My name is Fionn Gill, and I’m a witch. I know, I know, but I don’t get into all that “warlock” “wizard” shit. It’s just a way to separate and belittle the same practice based solely on the gender of the practitioner, in my opinion. My specialty lies in potion-making, though I’m not very experienced. I’ve really only just finished my training—I’m from Huntsmanland and they’re not nearly as magically-inclined there as they are in High Rannoc. This is the first part of the country I’ve visited other than my tutor’s homestead and I must say, it hasn’t made the most stellar impression.

My tutor Edith received a letter stating that services would be required in the town of Greenmoor, and since the letter didn’t specify her services, she sent me to take care of it. I don’t know if she expected it to be an indefinite position, but here we are.

I didn’t bring a lot with me—just enough for the journey. It was about all I could carry walking. I arrived in Greenmoor with just about the clothes on my back, hoping they had an apothecary of their own so I could get this over with.

I’ve never really been one for small towns, and nor do they have much love for me. I’ve always thought I was meant for adventure—movement, action, peril, all of it. Small town life just feels so… stagnant. Nothing changes, no one grows or changes or has anything interesting to talk about. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Not to mention the natural suspicion of outsiders. I could see it on Mòrag McKinney’s face, even as she greeted me at the edge of town in her official capacity as mayor. Her hair was done up in a huge bun of thick braids on top of her head—a hairstyle with a formality at odds with her armored clothing.

She seemed surprised when I told her I was the witch. That’s not uncommon—like most intellectual and healing work, witchcraft is traditionally the domain of women. Even in the relatively forward-thinking country of High Rannoc, I tend to get some variation on ‘oh, how progressive!’ when I tell people my vocation. Often if you get a man doing witchcraft, his neighbors will whisper certain things about him. My neighbors back home were whispering those things about me anyway, so that wasn’t much of a hurdle to me.

Mòrag (she insisted I call her by her first name once we’d been properly introduced) gave me a brief tour of Greenmoor. It is, to put it lightly, tiny. I’d estimate a population around fifty. Near everyone has a job that serves an internal function to the community, with maybe the exception of the innkeeper. There are blacksmiths, miners, a carpenter, a tanner… she didn’t indicate any artists or poets or anything of that sort to me, which was disheartening. Even when I thought I would only be here briefly, I was hoping to enjoy the finer things the locals had to offer. The closest this town comes is a library, but I sorely doubt they have any kind of collection of works by local authors.

Mòrag pointed out all the magical resources in town, and some of them impressed me—the lunar tower and ritual circle in particular looked useful. She did not show me any apothecary, and following her aforementioned advice, I took that to mean there wasn’t one. Can’t wait to go out and experience the joys of foraging in the wilderness myself.

Once we’d gone through the entire village, she showed me to the cottage where I’ll be staying. It’s a little ways away from the town proper, down a walking path through some trees. It’s little more than a one-room thing, with only the washroom closed off from the rest of the space. The walls and door are made of dark wood, and the outside still has bark attached in many places. The roof is sloped and overgrown with moss and ivy. Inside the main room there is a bed, a large set of shelves which ought to have reagents and potion-making materials on them but are mostly bare, and a table on which this book sits. The washroom has a tub and a latrine—no plumbing to be found. Out back sits the remains of a garden, only one plot of which looks salvageable. A ways back into the trees there’s a creek. Most of the rest of the clearing is in the early stages of becoming overgrown, with trees and bushes and flowers starting to stretch themselves out and remembering how to be wild.

Mòrag told me the witch who was here before me was a bit of a recluse. No one in town knew very much about her, and she seemed to prefer it that way. They came to her for her healing potions and never made it past small talk and kept inviting her to parties and festivals even though she never attended. And then one day nearly everyone in town woke up with a gift from her—the farmers received her animals, the barkeep her ferments, the innkeeper and bakers her crops. As the townspeople tallied their gifts they realized it amounted to nearly everything she owned. They went together to her cottage to ask her why she’d given it all away, and found her cottage—this cottage—empty. The ensuing search turned up no body, no note, not a shred of evidence to speak of. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. As the townsfolk talked and wondered what had happened, they quickly realized no one knew her well enough to provide any real insight. They couldn’t even come to a consensus on what her name was.

They had quickly moved on to discussing the more pressing issue: the town was lacking a healer. The general store owner had worked with my tutor Edith in years prior (Edith loved to tell stories of the time she spent pursuing the culinary arts). Thus, the letter and thus, my presence.

Mòrag told me she hoped I might be more engaged in the community than my predecessor. I decided to refrain from telling her not to get her hopes up, and instead expressed my confusion: I’d thought this was a single gig, that I was to heal someone of their illness and then leave.

She disabused me of that notion with rather more intensity than I think was warranted.

She told me that unless my predecessor reappeared, I was all they had. She said Edith had spoken highly of my abilities in her return letter (I doubted that—Edith never spoke highly of anyone). She told me I would receive a base pay of 20 silver per cure to start, and that if I did the townsfolk well and they grew to like me, they’d most certainly be willing to pay more. She told me that the folks of Greenmoor were good people, even if they were a bit disaster-prone and some of them could make good use of a little more common sense.

And, well, how do you say no to that?

When I asked where I would be getting my materials, she told me the areas surrounding Greenmoor were rich in natural resources. So it will be as I feared. I’m glad I brought my off-road boots.

Mòrag left me to get settled in and I immediately took stock. There are no reagents on the shelves (of course not! Why would there be?), but I did find a cauldron, mortar and pestle, and a copper alembic (which is used for distilling)—so at least once I have the reagents I’ll be able to do some basic cooking with them. I also found a small leather-bound book with vague descriptions of some of the areas surrounding the village. I should be able to cross-reference it with my notes on the environments where useful reagents can be found to make searching for materials a bit less painful.

I pulled a matted tangle of weeds out of the garden plot, but it looks like whatever was planted underneath already shriveled away to nothing. Well, at least the land’s clear now.

One thing that I knew I’d need if I was going to be able to handle this was a familiar. I’ve never been one for conjuration but in this case it’s an unfortunate necessity. I was supposed to be getting one within the next few weeks at Edith’s anyway, and I already knew the process. You’re supposed to have a more experienced witch observe your first time, but that’s just academic formality—there’s nothing actually dangerous about the process.

I found what looks to be a quarter cran basket (was my predecessor into fishing…?) under the bed, and set out around the property collecting small rocks and flowers and toadstools that had the right kinds of vibration. They were for use in the ritual, but also collecting them was a good start to cleaning the property up. Because if I’m going to be living here, it cannot stay looking like this.

I took the basket into the woods near the creek and laid its contents out in a circle as wide as I was tall. Before I placed each one down, I held it for a moment and asked it to help me with my task. Then, I sat in the center of my circle and closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Clearing my head has never been my strong suit, but I’m usually able to fudge the process enough to do what needs doing. This time took a bit longer than usual but eventually I managed. I felt my energy (spirit, consciousness, whatever) radiating out from me, pink and orange and bright and loud, first to the edges of the circle and then beyond. All of it asked a single question and listened for the answer.

The response came from much closer than anticipated, when I felt something small hop onto my knee.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a frog staring back at me, blinking lazily and making small, guttural noises. Her back was green and rough and slimy. One of her eyes was milky, pointing vaguely off to the left, while the other gazed straight at me. The tips of her toes (three on each foot) edged closer to brown than the rest of her body.

Having clearly presented herself, she now asked if my gut said we would be good partners.

I’ve named her Ailean.

And now here I am, writing all of this down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this every day. Whoever reads this may have to settle for a few times a week. With that said, I do think I’d like to go back and read what my predecessor wrote. Maybe it’ll give a clue as to where she’s gone, and help me escape this position sooner. She seems to have been quite the prolific writer—getting through her logs could take months, especially if the townsfolk keep me particularly busy with their various woes. I’ll have to start reading sooner rather than later.

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on my door. It hasn’t even been a full day and I might already have my first customer. I’ll finish this later.

⇦●〇●⇨

#writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #original writing #fantasy #apothecaria #entry #amwriting #creative writing #fiction #rpg #roleplaying game #high rannoc #writeblr community #writers #writblr

[thatcrazychalupa]

Chapter 1

Fjord had many surnames: Stone, Tusktooth, Swiftblade, Sea demon, and a few more colorful unflattering ones. He was born in the Dwendalian Empire, his first memories being a slightly run down but functional orphanage. Life was hard there, but not unduly cruel. However, he was not allowed to stay long as the Empire began a crusade against any they deemed heathenistic enough not to be welcome in their Empire.

Being half orc in blood, and showing that side visibly in his appearance, Fjord was forced to flee the orphanage and the empire when he was ten years of age. He found refuge on the seas, the captain of the ship "Hellwinds" allowing him to join the crew. For the next ten years he had been a sailor. During that time, the crusade in the Empire ended but the prejudice did not. Fjord soon found his allegiance siding with the Xhorasian Dynasty, especially when the prejudice turned to war with his new found home.

Long, bitter, harsh years followed; the war dealt heavy blows on both sides of the conflict with neither looking to become a victory anytime soon. Fjord led a group of warriors in the last two years that had made a name for themselves both in the Dynasty and the Empire. Somehow they picked up the name Mighty Nine from some one with a strange accent, and it had simply stuck. They were a mixed number of people from both sides of the conflict, all banding together with the common goal of ending the bloodshed.

Fjord, the half-orc warlock, had been elected as leader (generally just in public as the group was close enough to call each other family) and was viewed as Xhorasian in origin. He was still dealing with problems regarding his patron, yet the war had proven distraction enough in recent times. Mollymauk and Yasha were also viewed as Xhorasian in origin. Mollymauk was a Tiefling, vibrantly purple and ostentatious in dress, and a Bloodhunter by trade. Yasha was a fallen Aisimar barbarian, her size, milky skin and black hair enough cause for most any of the Empire to dismiss her.

Caduceus and Jester were considered neutral in the conflict, both from regions uninvolved in the fighting. As a Firbolg, Caduceus was better accepted on the Empire side despite his white pallor and bright pink hair. Meanwhile, Jester as a short blue Tiefling was better accepted by the Dynasty. As the clerics of the group, that had made it easier for them to gain trust of the others when they had initially joined.

Nott was a goblin, hated by both sides but her skills as a Rogue made navigating that minefield of danger possible.

Lastly, their one member from the Empire, Beauregard. A human expositor from the Cobalt Soul, the monk had been an invaluable asset during the last few weeks preceding the peace talks. While the Cobalt Soul was part of the empire and supported it, they had their own agenda that, thankfully, involved an end to the bloodshed.

The group now resided in a keep that was situated close to the main pass that connected the Dynasty and the Empire. As a mix of both sides, they were the front line for assuring peace and keeping any thoughts of invasion far from becoming reality.

Apparently, however, King Dwendal thought their numbers skewed too far in favor of the Dynasty. Thus, the group had gathered in what had been a war room but was now called a conference room instead.Fjord laid the message out on the tabletop, tapping it once as he announced the contents without preamble. It was the easiest way to get the rather chaotic group’s attention. "As a sign of their commitment to the peace, the Empire is giving us one of their Archmages."

There was a sharp outcry of 'what' and 'why' and Fjord held up a hand to still any arguments as he continued. "Her majesty did mention this as a possibility." He reminded them, speaking of the Bright Queen. "Most of us are from the Dynasty, it’s not so strange they want another representative of the Empire."

"But an archmage? Fjord, you have to admit, that is a little suspicious." Nott argued.

"Our group isn’t just a figurehead." Caduceus reminded the goblin. "We guard the pass and the villages around it. We show that both sides can fight together, not just against each other. It makes sense someone with battle capabilities would join our number."

"Better someone who can fight than some political liability we have to look after at all times." Fjord agreed, attention turning to Beau as the monk shook her head and leaned forward to speak.

"Unless things have changed dramatically in the last year since I've been away, mages aren’t well respected in the Empire and they don’t have much political power. There are a couple at the top, in charge of the assembly, that do. But the rest..." Beauregard shrugged.

"That could have easily changed. The last few months of fighting involved a lot of mages on their side." Molly reminded them. "Some of them leading the charge."

"Because they were running out of soldiers, same as us." Nott interjected.

"Exactly." Beau took up again, giving a brief nod of agreement. "Otherwise I doubt King Dwendal would have let them lead in the last few battles like they did."

"Okay, we don’t have to worry about this mage being sent for political reasons then." Fjord commented, trying to corral the discussion to stay on topic. "Much as I would love to trust it's for the continued peace and nothing more, there’s still the possibility he's a spy, here as a strategic way for the Empire to get some advantage before restarting the war."

Their group had worked hard to help bring about this ceasefire, Fjord did not want their hard work undone by one bloodthirsty Empire Archmage.

"You always say the best way to get to know someone is in battle, why don’t we do that?" Jester asked, breaking Fjord from his thoughts.

"That might not be the best idea." Caduceus negated. "The peace is too new and fragile. Even practice combat might be taken the wrong way."

"And accidents do happen. I don’t trust them not to make that claim if someone were hurt or killed during the spar." Nott agreed, also concerned with the possibility of war reigniting. Lack of political power or not, the Empire mages were fierce and ruthless in battle, as Nott has witnessed firsthand more than once.

"There’s been rumours of a pack of dire wolves over near the Gandre Forest. Killing sheep, pets, small children. Anything of a size that gets close." Molly offered. "I'm sure we'll get a request soon, that could be our test run?"

Fjord's gaze drifted over to Nott. The best thing about their group was that, while he was technically the leader, they were all close enough that they all viewed each other as equals. Each person had their own strengths and weakness, and they respected each other for that.

The goblin nodded. "I'll verify if it's true and get a location. Or find something else if it is not."

"Thank you." Fjord said, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Fjord, don't worry." Yasha spoke up, leaning forward with a concerned expression. "If this mage causes any problems, we can just kill him"

Fjord huffed a short laugh. Yasha's brand of humor (and he hoped it was a joke, though many times only Molly was ever truly sure when she was joking) was always unexpected. "Let's try and avoid that, but thanks."

"I'm sure killing is unnecessary." Molly offered, the Tiefling’s fangs showing through his wide grin. "I'm sure Beauregard would be more than willing to straighten this mage out on who gives the orders here."

Surprisingly to both Fjord and Molly, Beau neither agreed nor laughed, just frowned deeper with an irate grunt.

Fjord sat up again, remembering that the Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly, where the entirety of the Empire mages were trained, were not on good terms. "Beau, you gonna be okay with this?"

Beau met his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Personally, I haven’t had much interaction with the Assembly. Bunch of stuck up pricks run the place. So long as we aren’t saddled with one of those assholes, I'll manage. If the point is starting the war again, makes sense they'd pick a freaking mage..." she growled.

Fjord wasn’t entirely convinced of her anger. There was a hint of doubt, a held back judgement for whoever the newest member of the group might be. Fjord took that as a good sign that, hopefully, this wouldn't be too much like throwing gunpowder on a blaze.

He took in a breath as he laid out the final tidbit of information. "They'll be here in one week. Master Trent Ikithon is escorting the Archmage here. The letter doesn't give a name but does mention he had seen battle during the fighting."

"It’s this other guy, not Trent, that's staying, right?" Beau asked.

Fjord nodded confirmation and Beauregard leaned back in her chair with a muttered 'good'. The monk didn’t look too interested in sharing if she had any concerns, so Fjord let her be. There were enough preparations to make without antagonizing the monk.

~~~

Caleb Widogast was not what one would call an imposing figure.

His hair was a dirty red, disheveled most of the time even when he made an attempt at making some order out of its chaos. Perhaps the chaos was within his own mind, thus the reason for his continued failure in such regard. His clothing was deceptively ornate, though if one were a purveyor of such it could easily be recognized as subpar material.

The Cerberus Assembly had wanted to display their wealth and power, yet fine linens were not wasted on war dogs such himself. Mages were to be of use, not to decorate the court. It made little sense to robe the mage in lavish clothing when he was simply to be of use in combat. Of course, some had argued that a gift must be properly adorned, and as such a middle ground had been reached.

Whether this truly had been the events that led to his current delivery to the Mighty Nine, Caleb did not know. He was not privy to the discussion and subsequent decision, nor was he informed of the following discussion of logistics. He could only surmise what had occurred given his current circumstance.

Three days he had been traveling with his Master, Trent Ikithon, with still two more days left in the journey.

He did wonder about those he was being delivered to. He did have some inkling of who they were, the Mighty Nine were famous within the empire. Caleb was unsure if their name was meant to be the common nine or the Zemnian word, something he pondered during the journey, given the number of individuals in the group was only currently seven. Even should they feel the need to include his name among their number, it would not add up.

Whether they would view him as worth such, he was unsure.Most of them were from Xhorhas, so Caleb had little idea what to expect of them. He had no frame of reference for how the Dynasty viewed mages, nor where he would fall on the social ladder. His excursions into Xhorhas had been for battle purposes only and he'd had no permission to explore the culture. The Nine had, apparently, accepted the offer of himself, though Caleb knew this was no accurate measure of their intent.

Whatever his standing with them, he did not presume it would be very high, especially given the human monk, expositor Beauregard, that was a part of the group. To say the Cobalt Soul did not like the Cerberus Assembly, nor the mages it produced, was an understatement. While Caleb had only experienced this prejudice through cold looks and avoidance, he often heard of less subtle actions from Master Ikithon. He had begun to have doubts as to the validity of all of the information Trent imparted to him, yet had no other frame of reference to the truth.

From the information that had come his way regarding Beauregard, the woman was a formidable force. Opinionated and headstrong some had described her. Caleb had little doubt her views would not be hidden, and had likely been spread to the others. He hoped that would not be the case. It was... difficult living and obeying Master Ikithon who's actions and instructions were (so the man oft claimed) for Caleb's own good. He did not look forward to trying to please those who held his very existence against him.

Conjecture did little good and often led his mind down a dark path he would rather not follow. He was to follow the orders of his 'new masters' as Master Ikithon had so in-delicately put it. Trent had not been pleased to have his prized pupil taken from him, though he had been quick to devise a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Above obeying the group, Caleb had a separate set of instructions from his Master. Trent was not a man to lay out all his plans, so currently Caleb knew only that he was to gain the trust of these people, prove his loyalty however possible, and wait.

Easy enough, as he would have done so in any case. Obedience and loyalty were key to survival. Should the group be displeased with him, he would be returned to the Empire, to Trent, and his failure would not go unpunished. The thought made his heartbeat quicken in his chest, Caleb sneaking a quick glance at his master, paranoid that Trent would somehow see the weakness inside of him.

The other man, however, remained seating with his gaze cast outside of the carriage. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and Caleb knew he was not idle during this long trip to the keep. Whatever his Master planned; Caleb was sure to learn his part in it in due time.

Caleb turned his gaze out the small window as well, letting his eyes roam over the open terrain as they moved steadily closer to where he would be staying for the indefinite future.

#critical role #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #angst fanfic #completed #mollymauk x caleb

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond : CSSNS 2020

It’s finally here! Yaaaay! Here’s my @cssns​ for 2020, Majestically Too Far Beyond, title based on the Poem written by Komal Kapoor. You can read my explanation of how this mess all got started Here. Art is by @kmomof4​ and I threw in some too for fun. 

Summary :  Emma Swan has never been that type of girl, you know, the one that cries and sinks into a pint of ice cream after a break-up. She's never ever cared about anyone other than completely out of survival, but then came Neal, and then came the final big break up with someone maybe she sort of kind of loved. So now she is one of those girls who are homeless, living with her adopted brother and his wife at their farm in a long abandoned Victorian keeper's home, desperately trying to save to get her own place while working her difficult government job and as a merc witch on the side.  When a desperate Witch calls on her to do a spell, it's all bad news - but then said Witch revealed a mountain of gold coins, and whimpered that Emma is her only hope. How can she not be a bad ass magic savior for this poor soul? All seems to be well, until the consequences are suddenly very real.  Killian may be a Demon, a fallen Angel that now delights in the practice of revenge, but first and foremost he's a gentleman. Sort of.  Especially when his ruddy Angel brother is focused on bureaucracy and keeping mankind out of chaos, while Killian barely keeps his denizens as safe as he can in a world that wants Demons dead. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. When Killian goes above to plead for more safety laws in the metropolis of Hyperion Hills, the city that lies over a major portal to hell, he does not expect to meet a council that the elemental five sit on. He especially doesn't expect that the council would ever take him seriously in his campaign for demon safety. Regina, Snow, Ariel, Elsa, and Belle seem dead set on making it their pet project - each for their own very different reasons. Especially when they bring up hiring a tempestuous security consultant, Emma Swan. When they adjourn, he can say that he is optimistically apprehensive. An optimistic Demon never leads to good things, unless by good things you mean throwing back rum while chasing a pretty woman for plundering. He's unsure of what to expect when challenged to do shot for shot by a mysterious blonde Witch, who didn't care who (or what) he is, but he does like a challenge. Too much in fact, the challenge raising the stakes, because from there on it becomes a blur, and yeah, he's bloody well in it now. The idea of a contract sounds fantastic when they stumbled into the strange tower, half naked and wanting. It's the ritual she does instead that he should have been paying attention to. So, maybe now he's missing a hand, and has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, his and someone else's, a mirror's accursed magic the only thing to tell him what took place: he's a prisoner until someone lets him free… And a woman that he’s positive did not exist in his life yesterday, who just happens to not only be a Witch but a complete stranger, is pregnant with his child. 

Rated E, but really falls in at more of a M. Fluffy angst with some adult themes and hinted undertones.  READ ON AO3 HERE.

Chapter 1 - Long ago, eclipses were feared as well:

To say that the Jones 'Brothers' had been fighting since time began, was not an understatement, but also not exactly truthful. They had actually been fighting before recorded time, and before there was even a concept of the perception of anything besides the aether or eternity.

That's why he'd fallen, actually. Loss was a powerful motivation, enough even to question the utmost Authority - and the Authority despised questioning. Fighting was in the nature of the divine Celestials, as it seemed, and in Her infinite curiosity that She defined as 'Wisdom', God had let Lucifer burn too brightly. Their war was a lover's jealous quarrel turned violent. 

Although Liam was created moments before Killian, they were brothers (as it were) even amongst a host of angels, and they were close regardless of their stubborn spats. They fought over the world and its workings, Liam given a flaming sword while Killian was given books. They fought over knowledge of the divine arts, arguing whether humans were worthy of the Arcane. They fought over Killian's love of a mortal woman, and his questioning of commandments. 

They fought over Killian standing behind Lucifer, and Liam fought Killian right before he fell. In some ways, it was Liam's own hand that pushed Killian, but in his last angelic act, Killian forgave his brother. 

While Earthborne and some remnant Angels believed Demons were not capable of love, they were of course wrong. Demons loved, lost, and forgave just as any others. Even after the schism, even after years of passive aggressive pettiness between both sides, Demons were still seen as wayward, dark, demented creatures. Angels had done little to fight this stereotype, instead reveling in their continued status as goodwill ambassadors. 

Even their name amongst mortals was a cosmic joke, the Creator and her lover-made-antagonist too long gone to bother with proper names. They were Angels or Demons to some cultures as humans grew on God's abandoned project, while others called them by their new names. 

The Angel Diana was called a Goddess alongside Hecate, Freya, Gabriel, Uriel, and many others. The Demons Zeus, Odin, Loki, Hades, and Poseidon happily took on roles that suited their carnal needs. Angels mixed with mortals along with Demons, God's secret seeds of elemental magics taking life along beside them as Druids, Fae, and Elementals.  Some of the Celestials even birthed life as their lost parents had, Demons begetting Demons, Angels begetting Angels, and everything or anything in between. 

Humans gained magical prowess as the world changed, Witches, Druids, Warlocks, Mortismals, and Mesmerels becoming the norm for human bloodlines. 

Still, Demons were given less, all because God had cursed them irrevocably before disappearing with Lucifer into the abyss. They were cellularly different now than any of the Angels they had once been, a yoke around their neck that they could be forced to obey. Like Angels, they could be worshipped, called, trapped, or contracted even as their powers and bodies twisted into the curse stained strangeness God graced them with. They were looked on with disgust, pity, horror, and anger for it despite their best attempts.

Which was why his sodding Ponce of a brother working as an Angel ambassador for a Prince of Hell was so important - and so bloody frustrating. 

It wasn't as if being a Prince of Hell wasn't stressful enough - his people always under siege or afraid of some Witch summoning them to place a brand, then using them as a charcuterie board - no. It was that his brother was a baked potato when it came to convincing the public they were not what millennia of ingrained hatred had established Demons as. 

Bosch had died before Killian could uppercut him, regardless of his depiction of Liam as a trumpeting ferret bird or the even less flattering version of Killian. Dante had been another great PR stunt his brother had botched miserably. The Rings of Hell weren't even used, Lucifer gone before he could put God's plans for punishment into place. Now as a museum and reenactment park, it was a popular attraction that helped generate funds for the denizens that lived in the spacial plane that surrounded it, but Dante's review had been swayed by Liam taking him into The Kingdom right after. How could Hell ever live up to the paradise God herself had planned for humans? Only Cedar Point, Busch Gardens, Disney, or Universal Studios could come close as far as themed parks. It was a complete disaster. 

This newest idea of Killian sitting on the board of Hyperion Heights to work with the world's premier intersectional coven, 'StoryBrooke', was another terrible idea in the making, and Killian had no qualms letting his brother know it.

"This is absolutely ridiculous Liam," Killian gritted out, itching under the glamor that made him look mortal. Being confined in a skin suit had his molecules vibrating so loudly he could hear his canines, starlight and cosmic fire sending pinpricks of goose flesh down the dark hairs of his arms and legs. Wearing this was torture enough without Liam staring at him in disdain, his own heavenly image unblemished. Even his halo was a polished gold around his fat head. "While I am a dashing rapscallion in my original skin, don't you think it's bad form for them to see me like this instead of how I actually look? Isn't the point of this to show that even if we're not as pretty as your lot, we're still beings that deserve respect?"

Liam grunted, rolling his eyes. Blue fire from explosions of stars and galaxies lit in mirrors of Killian's own, but framed by rosy cheeks and tawny curls instead of moving shadow, a ghoulish pallor, and dark hair the color of ink or raven's feather. The Angelic glamor contained the haze of darkness that moved like smoke around him, the length of his fingers and claws, and made his flesh look pale but not tinted the color of the universe's light. It did not hide his horns (remnants of shattered halo) or his twitching tail if someone chose to leave eyes on him too long, but that was another Demonic burden to bear. 

"First impressions, little brother. Even the most progressive Witch is still a Witch. I'd rather them see you like this instead of wondering if you truly need all your giblets."

Killian swallowed hard, nodding once before grumbling, "Younger brother. Younger."

"Go over your notes again. You'll need to be your nauseatingly charming self for this, especially if they bring the males in their midst," Liam asked of him, and Killian looked out the dark windows of the car as his tail moved in agitation. 

"Regina. Head of the Coven, Witch and Mortismal that inherited her throne from her mother. Began the integration method and broke away from the Misthaven Coven to create the StoryBrooke one," Killian intoned. 

"Right. She's a tough nut too, and her ghosts do the most of her dirty work. She's not someone to cross unless you want your chairs stacked to the ceiling every morning by some bloody poltergeist." 

"Aw, well, I'm unfortunately haunted by you already, I doubt a poltergeist could do more damage." Killian slanted a look at his brother, who gave an annoyed huff as his pure white feathers ruffled. Killian was thankful in part that he did not have wings at all times, even if the trade off was painful. "While Regina is the head of the Coven, the head of the Council is Elsa Frost of the Frost twins. She's a direct descendant of the Giant Ice Sorceresses with powerful magic, but her passion is creating legislation for Hyperion Heights. Her sister Anna is the family's public relations face, and runs their fashion empire, Arendelle Designs with her Druid husband."

"Good. Good, tell me about Ariel Poisson."

"Siren and Mermaid, with four years on the council. Made history as the first water Elemental to sit on the council, beating the long seated Witch, Ursula, by a large margin. Opponents argue that her father's position as King of the seas and his dominion over fair weather and fishing made voters nervous to not cast ballots for her. Her campaign slogan was 'Part of your World', which could be beneficial to my campaign." 

"Right. Snow Blanchard?" 

"Would-be heir to the Misthaven Coven who ended its elitist reign by breaking tradition and leaving, sending them into chaos." Killian smirked. "She sounds like someone who I could get along with."

"She gets along with everyone except her family, which is more than normal it would seem," Liam replied back, and Killian snorted out a chuckle. 

"Druid, Elf, and Green Witch. Runs a high profile herbal apothecary chain Enchanted Forest Supplies, focused on holistic medicinals, herbs, and spices. Nolan Farms is a subsidiary that sells produce to the Heights, which is her husband's 'pet' project."

"Watch yourself, brother," Liam warned. "While you might get away with that if it's just the Witches, if David and Ruby sit in today you'll find that will not stand."

"Ah, yes. Ruby Reddings and David 'Charming' Nolan. You only circled that they are Werewolves in red ink everywhere you could. David is Snow's husband, and her lead farm hand. Ruby is Snow's cousin who introduced the two. Ruby is currently in a high profile relationship with your colleague, Inspector Wolfe, and they both are very active in pack politics. Many are betting they will create their own pack if the current Alphas do not abandon some of the more ancient doctrines. Nothing new there."

"Don't forget Livre and Fa."

"Belle Livre, Witch turned Vampire, runs a community literacy foundation and bookstore chain. Known ally to Demon rights. Soft spoken but brutally intelligent. Introduced a synthetic blood that allows for daytime living via plant cells collaborating with Enchanted Forest, which made history 6 years ago," Killian listed. "Mulan Fa, Vampire. Cultural Development head of the Heights, and curator of The Hyperion Heights Museum of Art, History, Science, and Culture. Teaches part time at Hyperion Heights University as an adjunct professor. Fa is married to a Fae Elf, Merida Ursa."

"Good. That's as far as we know besides the whole Swan fiasco, which is not to be brought up."

"What Swan fiasco?" 

"Oh, little brother. If you had done your research outside of the profiles I gave you, you would know all about the criminal history of the black and heartless sheep within the Misthaven and StoryBrooke covens. It's better off that you don't know."

"Er. Well. Alright. I didn't look into them because I don't bloody well care about their lots as long as we get protection. There was another slaying this weekend. A Lower Demon."

"I'm aware. Did you know her?" 

"Not really, but that's not enough either. I owe my people more. The other Lords of Hell are fine telling Demons to stay below and never use their name, which is fine for the new blood. It's the old, the weak, and the abused that are at risk."

"Careful, Killian. Your lust for vengeance will never be welcomed by mortals."

"I'm well aware Liam. They like my kind for an entirely different kind of lust."

"Could you please not." Liam sighed, sitting back against the seat. After a moment, his brother spoke quietly. "There was another attack as well, this time in broad daylight in Camelot Town. The Anti-Integration Movement has claimed responsibility."

"Of bloody course they have!" Killian hissed, clenching his fists. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "Brilliant. Just absolutely marvelous -" 

"They were going to run a story in the Times. I managed to block it for now, but we need a sympathetic writer on the inside, or we risk them running another story with their bias."

"I have a guy. I'll reach out, he's an old school Warlock who I've worked with in the past on push back. What's their excuse this time?" 

"They said that the Succubus was, quote, 'asking for it by the way she was dressed'."

Nausea rose in Killian's throat, and he swallowed it down with bitter practice. "I wasn't aware that how someone dressed meant their lives were not only void, but taking pieces of them was fine as well."

"We know they're being funded well, and we will get arrests as soon as possible. This won't be forever, Killian."

"That's easy for you to promise when this has been my - our forever." Killian bit out, glaring at his feet.

The car came to a stop, the driver opening the door to let them out. Killian moved briskly up the steps of the council building, as Liam followed behind. They moved through the lobby with an easy flash of Liam's ID that Killian scoffed at, moving into the elevator. 

"After that display, I'm going drinking after this," Killian gritted through his teeth. 

Liam blinked, straightening his tie in the door's polished reflection. "What display? They were nice."

"Exactly. If I came here alone, I would have been in that security line for an hour." 

Liam rolled his eyes, taking down his halo to polish the golden ring. "You absolutely exaggerate how you're treated. Not everyone is out to get you, especially when you look like this. Give others a break."

"I'll give myself a break after this with as much rum as I can safely consume, instead."

The doors pinged open to reveal a small atrium, dark wood flooring in stark contrast to the birch tree covered walls. A secretary stood behind a rounded desk against the far wall, motioning for them to sit. 

"They'll be with you in a moment," she offered, glancing at them with a thin smile. Killian could practically taste her distrust as he scratched behind his ear. Liam swatted at him lightly in a bid to get him to stop, both of them tense when the doors finally opened to reveal a petite woman dressed in a powder blue skirt and blazer. 

"Come in gentleman. The council will see you now." She smiled icily. His brother stood, his feathers slightly puffed in an indication of his own nervousness. 

Killian followed a second later, walking with them as they made forced, but pleasant conversation all the way into the boardroom. 

Women sat at a long table that curved slightly, facing their own small table similar to a courtroom. He was reminded of the tribunals in the old days when law had begun, but the courtiers were far different than the strange group of women scrutinizing them. 

To his surprise, the majority of them seemed actually curious instead of repulsed or bored. 

"The council recognizes Liam Jones and Killian… Jones. These are your chosen surnames, correct? And you identify as… brothers?" 

"Yes," Liam stated firmly with a curt nod. Killian watched from his peripheral as his shoulder muscles twitched, his wings held stiffly upright to keep them from the floor. 

Killian nodded, careful to keep his tail curled around his legs. The skin suit itched as it clung to him, not abated by his attempt to sit more casually. 

"Interesting," remarked the dark haired witch at the far right. A nameplate sat in front of her, marking her as Regina. He wondered idly if her stare was due to the blood on his hands only an eternal existence could bring. 

"You are here to ask for help in creating safety measures and a potential council commitment to Demon rights, correct?" Ariel, a fiery haired lass with a heart face, asked. 

"Our major point of concern is the influx of hate groups that seem to fall in line with smuggling operations and planned violence," Killian said slowly. Attention snapped to him, and he brought up the slide presentation he had prepared. "We have had some luck stopping shipments and arresting bit players, but we can't find the heads of these operations."

"You can't find them, or you are barred from digging deeper?" Mulan asked, and he chuckled darkly. 

"The latter, I'm afraid. We have consistently come to the same dead end again and again. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you ladies how difficult a foe powerful covens behind corporate entities are." He let a grimace creep onto his face, and saw the majority of the women nod in acknowledgement. 

"This could make many enemies for us, if approached in the wrong way." Belle stated quietly. "Specifically with our good friends in the Storybrooke Coven."

Snow nodded, exchanging a bitter look with her. "We may need a professional from our coven, but she's unable to get clearance without special notation."

"Oh? Who is this?" Liam asked. 

Elsa and the rest of the coven smiled in varying degrees of fondness. "The best in the business, and in my Coven. If you need to find someone, Emma Swan can always find them, and she's good at criminal magical activities. She knows the system, knows how and where to hide, and where to seek."

They'd found what the coven wanted, and their stake in the venture. Killian caught Liam's face falling, his eyes narrowing into slits. 

"You can't be serious. Involving Swan in this after -" 

"That was all a misunderstanding, and was blown completely out of proportion. We have long held up our end of the blame and accountability, while Misthaven has shirked theirs in the name of slandering her." Elsa steepled her fingers. "If you desire the best, which I assume is why you are here, you need to rehab not only Demons’ image, but hers as well. She should be sitting here with us."

Liam tried in vain to tip the scale back in their favor, his face going red. "We'll consider this as part of our negotiations."

"Negotiations? Liam, you are a detective. You should have deduced by now that you have no leverage. You have only decisions to make." Regina closed her planner, regarding them with her dark gaze. "So, make them quickly, before our patience wanes."

Killian bit back a laugh at Liam’s sudden blustered stuttering. These witches were good, and as the meeting ran on for hours he realized just how much liquor he would need to recover. 

 "Well that went well." 

Liam’s sour expression and slumped shoulders were just visible in his peripheral, even as his feathers were still quite literally ruffled. He huffed out a noise of disapproval, too vexed to even reply back. 

"Aye to that, brother." Licking his lips, they stepped into the cool dusk air. "I'm going for that drink, are you…?" Killian glanced at Liam, who shook his head with annoyance. 

"Seriously? You really -" 

"Really shouldn't what Liam?" Killian smiled, venom leaking into his tone. "Go get drunk in a town that would rather pretend I don't exist or sell me in a fine powder to the nearest bidder? I think I'll be okay, although the concern is duly noted."

He turned on his heel, his glamor falling away in a puff of smoke. The air hit his itchy, overheated skin, his tail whipping around in sharp, agitated flicks. 

"Take care of yourself, little brother! No need to be a self destructive bastard. We lost a battle, not the war!" Liam called after him, stepping into his sleek car. Killian snorted. 

Hailing a cab with some difficulty, the driver asked where he was headed with the same slight resignation he was used to for his kind. 

"A bar, Demon friendly please. Some place without swill."

The driver nodded, dropping him at a dimly lit corner of the city. A red neon sign spread crimson light along the sidewalk, soft light also spilling out the doors accompanied by loud guitar. Looking up, the looping, swirled lettering made him smirk. 'The Jealous Flask' was as good a place as any in his neck of the underworld woods. 

The inside was smoky, deep red damask wallpaper paired with dark, pitch stained wood panels, booths, and bartop. The liquor selection was displayed neatly, unlike the few early patrons sitting scattered around. The jukebox played warbly rock music, some punchy chords and an easy to memorize refrain. 

'one two three four, can I have a little more, five six seven eight nine ten, I love you' 

The bar stools were empty, and Killian slung himself onto one, the bartender nodding his head by way of a greeting. 

"Rum, neat," Killian stated, pointing to his preferred vice. The bartender did not stop polishing the glass in his hand, but the bottle floated down gently, pouring itself into a tumbler before the glass set itself down in front of Killian. "Thanks, mate."

The bartender nodded again, continuing his work with the aid of his magic. People began to trickle in as the time ticked forward, a witch or two eyeing him suspiciously, vampires playing pool in the front, a group of young werewolves forcing change into the jukebox to get edgier music playing through the speaker system. The Clash crooned out words against the Fae Queen ruling over greater Eld, the pack jumping around excitedly and thrashing their heads back and forth. By this time Killian had moved to the far curve of the bar, his glass refilled to the point of the bottle sitting next to him like a patient date. There were still no other Demons in his presence. It shouldn't have surprised him, shouldn't have even made him angry with the amount of violence they were privy to, but he burned away the emotions with the alcohol flowing down his throat. 

A soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned with a growl. It died in his throat when large eyes met his, blonde curls falling in front of her eyes in loose tendrils. 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she stammered, biting her lip. Pointing to a drink that was clearly not his, umbrella and all, she continued. "I was trying to reach my drink. It’s gotten crowded and I thought, I mean, I am sorry I wasn't trying to -" 

"Aye." He nodded, throwing back his drink. "S'alright lass. I'm sorry, I s'pose I'm just a bit out of place here."

She smiled, blushing. "Yeah, I uh, I get that. I haven't seen you around before."

"First time here. I was in the neighborhood for business." He poured himself more, and to his surprise she pushed and elbowed her way to sit next to him. 

"Business?" Her eyes were curious while her fingers toyed with the umbrella in her drink. "Should I be concerned?" 

It was clearly teasing, and Killian felt himself loosening up around her. She seemed to read him well, or at least the alcohol was working. "Not any of the good kind, I'm afraid." He grinned with a wink. 

"Ah, so we're just ships passing in the night?" She leaned in and he could smell the floral and herbal scent of her, her eyelashes batting coquettishly as she sipped her drink in his space. 

"Passing closely, I hope," he murmured. His heart raced; it had been ages since any mortal had shown interest in him that was mutual. 

His head spun as she met him drink for drink, hand unsubtly creeping higher up his hip. 

"Would you be opposed to… Maybe, I don't know… getting out of here?" 

"Are you saying you would fancy a nightcap, lass?" She smiled from under her lashes while biting her lip, and his heated blood grew hotter. 

"Perhaps." She stood with grace as she extended a hand to him. "My place is a quick and easy teleportation spell away from here, and my bed doesn't require any sort of magic outside of what I can do with my tongue." 

Killian hesitated, her golden hair in the glow of the lights making her seem to shimmer. "I don't even know your name -" 

"Eloise. It's Eloise." She pulled him up, letting him stumble into her body. Her lips met his, and soon he was pulling her closer as their mouths slanted across one another's in hunger. She bit his lip and he felt the tightness that had bloomed in his belly spread fire down his spine. 

"Lead the way, love," he whispered huskily, grinding into her. 

She smiled broadly, the world shifting until he was in her dimly lit home. A lone window twinkled starlight, moon huge outside as it hung in the sky. Her tongue slid past his lips, the bitter herbal taste overwhelming while the world shifted again, this time pulling him apart. 

 In a perfect world, Emma Swan would not be doing anything remotely close to what she was currently debating doing. It truly wasn't her fault; it fell on Neal and his stupid family if anyone was to blame, and his stupid coven with their stupid leader. She should have known back then it had been a set up, should have known that Neal was a fucking liar. How many times did the same drawn out plot have to play out? Apparently, too many, considering she had still warmed his bed until a week ago. 

This time it was final. Emma wouldn't accept him back when Neal slithered out from under the rock he had his affair in. She wouldn't be charmed by his smooth talking silver tongue, and if he so much as breathed near her, she would take another five years for breaking his smarmy Fae nose. Final. It had to be final. 

But finality meant certain conditions had to be met, especially if she was to ward him away. For one, the beautiful loft that belonged to Neal in the Heights downtown could definitely not be her base of operations any more. Neither could the various in between places she found where Emma could grieve until he took her back, damaged goods and all. No more hotel rooms, no more abandoned apartments, no more warehouses, vacation rentals, or quiet empty offices. She had to get her own place, and it had to be able to handle her particularly finicky magic. Neal's place wasn't great for her particular practice, but the view had been killer enough to ignore it. Neal's fortune had meant she didn't need to work, and with her record (or, as his coven would sneer, 'notoriety') that was just as well. 

Working added a wrinkle to her life; she would have to find somewhere that allowed her enough space for her magic to keep her employed. That would require a hefty chunk of gold - if she was lucky. The prices in the downtown area were steep, only high profile Witches, Warlocks, Fae, and Celestials could afford accommodation that close to the capitol buildings and Ley Lines. Initially when Emma had glanced through the apartment listings on the bulletin board, she had almost had a panic attack at the amount of gold they demanded. 

Her brother David, blessings be, had been her knight in shining armor. There was a large Victorian home that lay in shambles at the edge of their farm lands, its beautiful scalloped details in need of paint, and the gutters growing weeds as thick as her forearm. But, it was within her budget if she could get the down payment placed before the scheduled demolition. She put what she had down to stall as much as she could, but it was not enough in the least. 

One big job was all she needed. One big job that she could cash out on. A dip of her toes back into the waters of peddling illegal magic, just quickly in and out without a splash. 

She didn't need any more jail time, that was for certain. 

Putting out the word she was available in the whisper market was always dangerous, but listening in was free and without a snag if you were smart. 

Emma heard tell of a desperate woman willing to give a truckload full of gold to the right Witch who could perform delicate, esoteric, deeply Arcane and forbidden magics. Luckily for both of them, that's what Emma excelled at. 

She had always been good at her craft, and her magical workings were beyond powerful. She could do things that other practitioners only dared to dream of, if they could even conceive it. It was why Neal had kept her around, and why his coven's dislike would melt away if she said she would consider joining. 

(If she did that around Yulesmas for better gifts, was it really so bad?) 

The request itself was intriguing, the woman herself a Witch that could not do the spell alone. She wanted an equivalent exchange of unbreakable magical bonds, which while tricky, was not forbidden in most circumstances. The offer was too good to pass up on, but Emma didn't like leaving things to complete chance. 

Cue her sister-in-law, Snow. If anyone could throw runes, read the winds, divine from the mundane, and not keep any of it a fucking secret, it was Snow. 

Emma knocked on their cheery red door in the early morning, which must have been a surprise to Snow considering she was half dressed in business wear. She pulled up her stockings in a one footed hop, motioning for Emma to come in as she balanced the phone receiver against her neck. The coiled cord spun around her, and she groaned loudly. 

"Yes, Regina, I know. I'll be there, I'm literally - it's 2 hours away. I will be there in thirty minutes at latest, but - Well, yes, Emma just walked in." Snow gestured at a chair, and Emma sat, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, I know it's early for her. I know. Uh huh. Yes. We will definitely put her on the table; it's absurd not to, considering - yes, I would love to talk to you about this in person as I've said - alright. Yes. Okay then, buh-bye." 

Sighing, Snow twirled, untwisting herself from the phone cord. She smoothed down her pencil skirt and blouse before looking straight at Emma with a curious stare. Her mouth twitched with annoyance as she spoke. 

"Now. To what do I owe the pleasure? I have a meeting with Celestials shortly, so." She waved a hand indicating the clock in the background. Turning to the counter, she opened up a cookie jar and removed a rolled cannabis cigarette, putting it between her lips and lighting it. 

Emma swallowed, watching the petite woman slide the purple lighter back in its space on their counter. "I just need you to divine something for me. A situation, with a woman who wants me to… to uh, do something."

Snow rolled her eyes, narrowing them to glare at Emma. "We are bringing you up as collateral in our meeting today, trying to get you a seat where you belong - on the council," Snow hissed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath. 

"Please?" Emma asked innocently, batting her eyelashes for good measure. 

Snow sighed. "Alright. Picture the situation and the woman."

Emma focused on the description, the spellwork requested, the woman's pleas. She could feel Snow's magic engulf her, and the fuzziness that came with it as she wove threads out into the natural universe, time and space sending her back answers. 

A moment passed, and the feeling abruptly stopped as Snow shook her head. 

"This doesn't feel right," Snow said, taking a drag of her blunt. She exhaled, the thick smoke swirling into the shape of birds that dove through the air. Emma coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. "That woman… I don't know. She feels off."

Emma frowned, petulant that the answer was negative. "She's a Witch, and in trouble." 

"Have you rolled your runes?" Snow began to pull on her loafers, gathering her things. 

Emma chewed her lip. She had divined, or tried to, but had not found a concrete result. "Yeah, and they said it's… Questionable, but the end result leaves all parties happy. Tarot said basically the same thing."

Snow let out a little twittering laugh, pulling her purse up on her shoulder. "And how does Neal feel about it?"

"Neal doesn't need to feel any way about it. I… We… I broke it off." Emma looked at her shoes, then idly inspected the counters formica. "Forever this time." 

"Oh. Is that why you're here so early?" Snow's eyes went wide, a hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Emma, honey. I'm so sorry, I've just been under so much stress with Regina and this council. Wait, where are you staying? Oh no - are you homeless!? You mean it, you're never going back to that creep?"

"Never," Emma said firmly, even as her voice caught. "I'll find a place though, Snow. Don't worry." 

"So you are homeless, oh Emma, if I wasn't late - no. No. You know, I'll call Regina and cancel it, you need me more than -" 

"No, well, I mean -" Emma shook her head. "No. I'll stay here tonight if I have to, but you need to get to your meeting. I don't need Regina's wrath on top of everything else."

"You know you can stay here with us as long as you need, oh, Emma, I wish you had told me -" 

"I don't want to stay here. I can't work here, and I love you guys but you both are gross with your lovey dovey hippie -" 

"I get it, I get it." Snow grimaced. 

"So yeah, I need the money. I can't stay here, I need my own place… I put a tiny deposit on that Victorian down the road, but I need the full down payment to keep it." Emma shrugged. 

"The house at the --- Emma, that place is a breeze away from being condemned!" 

"No it's not," Emma groaned, rubbing her temple. "It's got good bones, and character. It just needs some… help."

"Well. I mean…" Snow hesitated, heading towards the door, as Emma followed. "Alright then. I'm just warning you, I get a terrible vibe from that woman and I could cancel this today, we could work out a plan. We have the money from the harvest. You could work for us or with David and help us with the roll outs in exchange for a loan. I'm organized, but the help would be appreciated if you're living so close… especially since I'm making sure that house is safely remodeled for you. I don't want you to end up with the roof falling on you or some gas line exploding." 

"You worry way too much, Snow."

"I hear the future through nature, and it's generally terrifying. Nature is terrifying. Excuse me for being cautious, and wanting to help you out."

Emma laughed as they walked out the door together, Snow rummaging in her bag for lipstick which she quickly applied. "Yeah well, you're also smoking weed so potent it could put an elephant to sleep. I don't want a loan from you."

"I'm not an elephant, Em. I'm an Elf. It'll take more than this to knock me on my ass." She smiled, extending a hand to squeeze Emma's shoulder. "Be careful, okay? No repeats."

"That wasn't -" Emma protested, but Snow cut her off with a sharp look. "Yeah, alright. 

"Good. I'll see you tonight, you're coming for dinner. No buts." Snow grinned, before disappearing with a puff of periwinkle smoke. 

Emma groaned, kicking dirt as she stalked away towards her new potential home. 

 In the final days before moving from the small basement apartment Emma rented, the dingy, unused, bare studio finally found some decoration in chalk outlines, herbs, and a large bubbling cauldron. It hadn't ever been a home or remotely close to one when Neal presented a better option, the bed untouched and unmade. It reminded Emma more of her prison cell than anything else, which offered a strange duality of comfort mixed with dread. It was fitting that she would meet to do this ritual here. 

Gothel arrived promptly for their 10 am arranged meeting in a well worn taupe cloak. She looked as desperate as the correspondences between them indicated, but Emma resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. They shared a nod in the form of hellos, then Emma pointed to the cauldron.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Emma asked, and Gothel drew back her cloak to reveal her tired and gaunt looking face. 

"Yes. Let's. Your payment, with more upon completion." Gothel dropped a large purse on the counter, Emma immediately grabbing it and checking the contents. It was real, her heart soaring as she shoved it in her bag. 

"So, you are to give me a token of your will, usually blood, an animal you raised, or something that's valuable to you . Something you care about, that you are tied to that a severing will make you -"

"I give you the life of my first child," Gothel interrupted. 

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh." Biting her lip, she brushed back her braid. "That's… That's super Illegal. I…" 

"You wanted something heavy, you got it. There's a reason why I came to you; you have a reputation for doing things quietly. The reason you chose me is because you need the coin. Now, my terms. I know you provide healing. I want to keep myself young and strong - youthful immortality. Grant me this." The grin on her face unsettled Emma, Snow's warning in her mind. Nevertheless, the satchel of gold meant a secured home.

"Um. Alright. Are you sure, the life of your firstborn? That's a ways off, and the strength won't happen until -" 

"Do it. Do it now, I know the spell will be enacted when payment is due. I'm well studied - Breaking a bond with a child, specifically your first, will grant me the power I need. I know that I can't do this spell myself either, so here I am."

Emma gulped. "Okay. Let me get the texts."

Emma returned with her copper cauldron, pile of books, and spell components. Gothel's grin grew wider, her eyes gleaming at the sight of the tongues, eyes, crushed butterflies, and other more macabre ingredients the spell required. 

Feeling a low tug in her gut that something was wrong, Emma backed away from the altar. The other Witch seemed to shimmer, slightly in alarm, a glamor of some sort possibly covering her skin. Feeling even more unsettled, Emma shook her head. 

"I can't do this, listen -" 

"Please. Please you must, I need this to escape a curse. It's blood magic, almost unbreakable and impossible to escape on my own. Please." Emma heard no lies in her speech. "I admit that I have not been entirely truthful. While I was able to send you the gold easily, I am trapped, held against my will. I can only project myself to you. I was afraid to tell you, because I am desperate to rid myself of this curse." When no lies continued to register, Emma felt a deep sense of pity for the other witch. A blood magic binding was no joke; someone truly must have hated the poor woman. 

"Fine," Emma said, throwing her hands up. Gothel perked up slightly, hope in her eyes. Throwing the ingredients in the cauldron, a shimmering mist roiled over the edge as she spoke ancient words and stirred in the shape of long unused runes. Adding bones that melted in soapy bubbles and stirring with a long Pegasus feather that gradually turned to ash, she looked up at Gothel, who was wringing her hands anxiously.

"Your tokens?" Emma asked. 

Gothel waved a hand over the stained cloth; several of the woman's teeth, a long braid of her hair, and a large chunk of skin fell into the cauldron. The cauldron's contents began to boil, smoke curling in darkened serpentine tangles. 

Emma began the words, Latin, Arameric, the old tongue of the Pagans, Celtic, remnants of Gaul, flowing them together until speaking plainly to her own magic. 

"Blood of one that is two, child, mother, 

Blood of my own, tear them asunder, 

Thicker than wine, thicker than water, 

Ties that bind, bound to another, 

The womb that grows life, 

Kin cared for in kind, 

A payment for power, 

Remake the ties, lift, and unbind."

Scraping her hand against a dagger, Emma let her blood drop slowly into the brew, the words flowing out in the crimson rivulets. As she pulled away the wound closed from her own healing energy. 

"Cradle of moon within flesh, 

Remake that which is to be made, 

Your reflection removed, 

Mine in its stead.

Your burden is mine, 

Carried and held as your first, 

Blood of the two, child, mother, 

As they are born, you are cursed."

She looked at Gothel, who was still wringing her hands, long nails cutting into her palms. This magic was hopefully worth the price the woman had so freely paid. Breaking an infant and mother's bond to give to another was a great sacrifice, the magic comparable to true love, if not greater. The power the Witch would receive would hopefully free her from the curse, but also give her the strength she desired.

"It's done. You must cast your brand over the cauldron, and when you, you know," Emma turned around, holding herself tightly. Caught up in the thought of what she, Emma Swan, would even do with a child, she was unaware of the other Witch behind her scrambling to the cauldron or her deep disregard for anything she was saying. "Get pregnant, let me know. I'll handle that - Wait, what are you -" 

Gothel chuckled lowly, her brand in its arcane circle around the cauldron, neon lines of electricity like power that sparked and crackled. Emma felt her hair stand on end, small pebbles lifting off the stone floor as the cauldron shook. Smoke rose in heavy plumes, purple and a noxious mauve that made the air feel sticky, her lungs not able to fill all the way. Gothel's chuckle had turned into a wild cackle, her braided and matted hair like vines or a visage of Medusa. 

Gothel's voice was crazed, shrill as she pointed a gnarled finger at Emma. "This is it. This is it! I've done it, I'm free! Oh, you silly, stupid girl. Now nothing will ever stop me again!" 

Her laugh grew into a shriek of triumph as magic swirled around them, Emma watching as the woman in front of her disappeared. Gaping at what happened, Emma checked herself for any signs of curses or hexes, unsure of what had just taken place. 

To her surprise, no sign of magic lay on her that she could see. She wasn't cursed, the room wasn't jinxed, and the second payment… Emma quickly checked her purse, finding the large satchel of gold easily. The second sat where Gothel had discarded it without looking twice, and she picked it up hesitantly. It was heavy in her hands as she checked it again and again, realizing that for once in her life, everything was going right. 

 Three hours later, she owned the Victorian home down the road from her brother's farm, the first home she had ever truly called hers. 

 Living near her brother's home had its perks, and disadvantages, as Snow had hinted. For one, Snow was cooking for her every day, and Emma was positive she was going to gain several dress sizes if she didn't stop gorging on various pasta dishes while pouring her magic into restoring the wooden floor. 

A major downside was having her brother constantly fixing her house without her being aware. She'd been woken by him cleaning the gutters, fixing her porch, and of all things, roofing. It had only been a few days, but between his insistence on the outside being presentable and her own work inside, the house was coming along faster than she ever dreamed. It was frightening, and David kept her on edge with his very obvious attempts at snooping around. 

"So, you're done with Neal for good," he said, startling her as she sat out on a newly hung porch swing. She wrinkled her nose at him in protest, and he grinned. "And… You're making doors again."

She froze, panic gripping her. 

"It's alright, I'm not mad. I'm just - just be careful. I trust you, but I know that before -" 

"I made a mistake. I know it, you know it, the Coven knows it, and so does everyone else in the Heights that saw me fall from grace." Emma curled her arms around her knees, bitterly forcing out words. "I won't make the same mistake again. I am on the straight and narrow; these doors are for commuting and hunting skips only." 

David laughed, poking her in the side. "Back to hunting skips, huh? Damn. Don't you ever settle down and enjoy the simple life?" 

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "What the hell is the simple life? Nothing is simple."

"Well, yeah, but… I mean the simple life." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking at her with a gentleness that she instantly felt uneasy with. "House, a pet maybe, hobbies, a partner, kids -" 

"If you are trying to set me up again -" 

"Not me," David raised his hands defensively. "No, I was just -" 

"I don't deserve that life," Emma stated, shrugging. The sun was sinking lower, crickets singing in the cool air. "That life isn't for me. That life is for people like you and Snow, people that are worth something."

"Oh, Emma. You know that's not -" 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Emma snapped, standing with a start. David looked at her with a hurt expression, and she felt pure rage. "Goodnight."

She stepped back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her. 

"Emma, come on," David called from the porch, but Emma wasn't listening to him as she fought the immediate urge to be ill. The sudden nausea ripped through her, and despite her attempts, vomit burst from her throat. 

She panted, holding on to the wall with one hand. The other hand gripped her side, fierce cramping making her double over in a scream of agony. She lurched forward, unable to breathe as pressure rose in her stomach. To her terror, her skin grew taut and she seemed to bloat, the pain of it ripping through her. 

David splintered the door, his arms around her as she lost consciousness. 

She woke in an ambulance, David holding her hand like he'd done when they were children. He was always the best big brother she could have asked for, always protective of her, and always pushing her to be better. He had convinced her to trust Ruth, convinced her to take a chance with the older woman who was willing to adopt both of them, and they had found another home together. When she was scared or sick, he was right there to hold her hand. Even now as pain ripped through her, he was there. She tried to understand, but her body burned until the flame became too much to bear. 

She woke again to the beeping of machines and David's yelling, her body aching but no longer in the same searing pain. Lifting herself up to try and hear what David was saying, she struggled to make out more than just fragments. 

"I'm not leaving, that's my sister ---- How did -- she wasn't, she --- I don't know, she never said anything ----- A WHAT? No! I'm --- not leaving!" 

Emma's stomach lurched, and she shifted to get out of bed. The sheets slid from her middle, and she gasped. Her middle was rounded, as if she was pregnant. But that was impossible, that was absolutely and completely impossible. 

A knock sounded, a petite woman entering. 

"I'm Doctor Mullins, Emma. I know that this may take some time to fully process, but… you're pregnant."

Emma hissed out a breath into a hysterical laugh. "What? No. No. This is not how babies work, or pregnancy, or even - I haven't even had sex since - "

"I know, and I understand that you must be frightened." The doctor attempted to console her, but Emma could not stop her rising panic. She touched the rounded skin of her stomach, the firm smoothness lined with stretch marks. Letting out a low wail, the doctor tried to speak over her still. "It's some ancient and dark magic, but it's very real. We have an inspector on the way to take your statement, and we performed a few tests -" 

"No. No, this is a bad dream, this isn't real, this isn't happening to me!" Emma closed her eyes, trying to focus. 

" - most concerning of which is the results on paternity, which indicate that the father has non-human presenting DNA. Normally that's not terribly unusual, but this is clearly not a planned pregnancy considering your… your conception being, well, this, and the genomic markers show that the parentage is half Celestial. I need to ask, have you had any relationships with an Angel?"

Emma shook her head, trying to understand what the doctor was asking. 

"Alright, what about anyone with proximity to dark, Arcane, or Demonic magics? Anyone who associates with Demons? Do you associate with them?" The doctor eyed her curiously, and Emma shook her head again. 

"I don't know any Demons, Angels, or Celestials." Emma bit her lip, frustrated at the question. Rolling it between her teeth, she murmured a thought out loud. "I did recently perform a ritual that was older. It didn't call for this though, I don't know anything about this…" 

"Well, it doesn't just happen." Emma looked at the doctor with enough venom in her stare to curdle milk. The doctor laughed nervously. "I mean, it did but -" 

"This cannot be happening," Emma moaned, throwing her head back against the hospital bed's pillow. "This has to be a bad dream."

"I'm afraid it is all very real. Considering the circumstances, an inspector of magical law will be assigned to question you regarding the situation. Because of the issues of legality, you may not leave or have visitors until then." The doctor stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "Baby looks healthy despite wanting to grow at an accelerated rate, and we have slowed that as much as we can. Welcome to motherhood Miss Swan, and, er… Congratulations." Giving a last placid smile, she left the room, leaving Emma alone. 

Emma sat stunned, unable to do anything but focus on her steady breathing. 

(Fuck)

The single word came to mind again and again, escaping from her lips as her breath finally began to turn into sobs. 

"Fuck."

#Courtorderedcake #August #August 24th 2020 #cssns #cssns 2020 #My writing #writing #creative writing #Demon #Angel #Witch #Captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan fanart #CS AU #CS AU FF #captain swan supernatural summer #Demon!Killian #Witch!Emma #killian jones #emma swan #MTFB #Majestically Too Far Beyond #DWBBY #CS pregnancy #24th #2020

[gibbering-miasma]

I think I know how Warcraft’s casters work

It started with a simple question.  Why can mages summon water elementals?  It’s a simple question that resulted in me noticing other elements of overlap among the Warcraft casters.  Not only can mages summon elementals, but fire mages and destruction warlocks can appear to be the same class at a first look. (Especially if the person doing the looking isn’t very experienced, we all know you, yes you, can easily tell the difference.  The point is that two classes that seem to predominantly use fire magic are very similar.)  eventually it got to the point where my initial question changed from “why can one class do this thing while another class can’t?” tonly to change again to

 “What really is the difference between the casters of Warcraft?”

I want to be transparent here, I have not read Chronicle yet.  I have the books (thanks again for that, you know who you are) but I wanted to get this theory properly formed first so i don’t spoil my biases.  That leads me to another thing, this is just the theory of a guy who’s spent most of his life on this game who’s noticed a few odd dots and decided to connect them to see what picture they make.  Blizzard can disprove this at any time with a word, because in the end, they’re the creators, and I’m just a fan.  One last thing, I’m certain that there are some examples or details that i’ll get wrong (not playing the most recent expansions will tend to leave a sample size less than optimal) so if there’s an error that I’ve made, call me out on it.  This may be a fan theory, but I want it to make sense.

To answer my previous question (what really makes the difference between Warcraft casters for those of you in the back), I think the primary difference is philosophy, not the type of magic that each class uses.  What I mean by this is the general worldview, character traits, and relationship with magic that each class has.  Obviously there are going to be outliers, mortals tend to mess with the systems like that, but this should be a good place to begin our analysis. When analyzing the casters, we see four main philosophies develop.  I’d argue that those four are the philosophies of the Druid, Mage, Warlock and Shaman.  I’ll include the other classes that I believe to best line up with those philosophies.  I’ll focus on the primary casters of those philosophies, though I’ll use a few examples from the other classes that are philosophically adjacent. 

And just so we’re all on the same page here, I’m assuming that magic is inherently sentient, and the overall type of magic used has no effect on your class.  With all that out of the way, let’s begin.

Druid/Priest/Paladin- Philosophy of Faith.

The druid is the only class that willingly enters a state of unconsciousness and allows their magic to work through them, causing metamorphosis in the process.  The primary tenets of the druidic philosophy are Faith and Dedication.  The druid venerates the Wild much in the same way that a priest or paladin venerates the Light.  What all of this means is that the druid views themselves as inferior to the Wild (or whatever source of magic you prefer).  Power is attained not through study or ambition, but by submission and faith, resulting in power being granted as a boon.  But it’s not all fluffy cats and boomkins for the druid, their submission and faith means that they are not necessarily in control.  We clearly see this to be the case with the druids of the pack (and the same case can be made for the druids of the flame, but I’m unsure on whether ragnaros forced the flame druids to do his bidding or if they were just crazy like that). Spouting character traits with no examples won’t do us any good, so let’s rectify that by taking a look at Tyrande Whisperwind, a great example of the philosophy of faith.  Yes, Tyrande is a priest, not a druid, but remember that the important thing about the classes is their philosophy, not the type of magic that they use.  As a priest, Tyrande answers to the will of Elune, and will prioritize the will of the White Lady over anything else (consider the quote “Only the goddess may forbid me anything” from warcraft 3).  Not only that, but Tyrande also becomes the vessel for a portion of Elune’s power during the Horde’s invasion, showing similarity to the powers that druids receive and use from their Wild Gods.  The similarity between druids and priests could be a reason why those two classes are the major casters in Night elf society following the War of the Ancients.  And before you start denying my claim that priests and druids are basically the same, let me ask you this:  If Elune wanted Tyrande to willingly enter an unconscious state in order to become a more capable vessel of Her power, would Tyrande do it?  I say that she would, because putting aside your own desires, fears and reservations in order to serve your higher power is the definition of dedication, it is the definition of faith, and it is exactly what makes a druid what they are.

Shaman- Philosophy of Synergy

The shaman’s relationship with their magic is exactly that, a relationship.  I get the suspicion that I may have lost a few of you there so I’ll explain.  The druid fully submits in order to gain power, whereas classes like the warlock will just take as they see fit.  The shaman exists between those two extremes, they work alongside the elements and it is through that cooperation that they grow their abilities.  Of course, the shaman also experiences their own fair share of magical difficulties.  They are still drawing their power from sentient beings that may not always want to comply with the shaman’s wishes.  This leaves the shaman with a difficult situation, especially if their magic rebels during a time where the shaman doesn’t have the means to deal with any of that nonsense.  The shaman must cooperate with their magic unless they fall to dark shamanism and force their magic to submit, which is the exact domain of the Warlock.

Warlock/Warrior- Philosophy of Dominion

The warlock does not ask for power, nor does it work alongside their demons for mutual benefit (I mean really, do you think that your minions are there by choice?).  I alluded to the warlock’s modus operandi earlier, and now I get to delve deeper.  The warlock takes power as they see fit, often draining it straight from their enemies.  The warlock will then add that magic into their own reserves, bending the magic to their will and growing in power.  A warlock’s magic can be said to be a part of them in a more literal manner than any of the other four casters.  This habit of taking power from others is actually quite common in the Warcraft universe, (look at all the Blood elves for instance) but i’ll highlight the 3 biggest examples of the warlock philosophy.  Ragnaros the firelord, Garrosh Hellscream and Illidan Stormrage all are well known for having a desire for more power, while also having the ambition and skill to go out and get that power for themselves without having to plead to some other entity for assistance.  Ragnaros consumed prince Thunderan, Garrosh merged with the heart of Y'Shaarj, and Illidan consumed the Skull of Gul’dan, and all three established control over their new power, and not the other way around.  Just as a shaman who forces the elements to work for them isn’t much of a shaman, a warlock who is controlled by their power isn't much of a warlock.   

Mage/Hunter/Rogue/Monk- Philosophy of Discipline

The other casters all have very distinct relationships with their magic.  Warlocks must be constantly in control, druids are always trying to appease, and shamans just want everyone to calm down and talk about their feelings.  And then we have the mage, who doesn’t have much of a relationship at all.  To the mage, magic is a tool, one that should be respected, but a tool nonetheless.  Khadgar used the skull of Gul’dan to close the Dark Portal with no negative side effects.  Whereas Illidan barely has his hands on the thing for a minute before he’s undergoing radical transformations and sprouting new appendages.  When trying to name this section, I had initially selected Mastery as a good means of describing the Mage’s philosophy.  Mastery had made sense to me, the mage is the master of their magic, they display control and authority over their power in a way that is distinct from the warlock, and their utilitarian view towards magic separates them from shamans or druids.  So why the change?  Why does Discipline describe the mage better than Mastery?  Because in a world where dragons rearrange continents, the dead walk, and where tyrants exist around every corner, the mortals of Azeroth need someone to keep a clear head when the demons are dead and their power is being divided among the victors.  The mage is the embodiment of mortal authority in relation to magic, they lock questionable powers away so that those who would misuse that power could do no harm to innocents.  The mage is a Guardian, the kind of person who has no interest in being warped into some sort of magical pawn to a higher power.  They put their trust in their skill with their power, not the overall amount of power that they can wield like how a warlock would.

The Hero Classes

If you’ve been keeping track, you may notice that I haven't included two classes, those being the hero classes.  The reason I haven’t included them yet is because of the fundamental difference between them and the other classes.  A number of people have wondered what exactly makes a hero class, and while I don’t claim to know the exact truth, I think I have an additional pearl to add.  Hero classes are a state of being, whereas the base classes are more like a career.  If you want to understand a hero class, you have to understand what they are, not who they are.  Furthermore, I believe that both the Death Knight and Demon Hunter are adjacent philosophically to two of the other philosophies previously mentioned.  This doesn’t mean that Death Knights are automatically really, really edgy druids, just that they’re an offshoot.

Death Knight-Philosophy of Tyranny

Offshoot of the philosophy of Faith

What, did you think I was kidding about DKs being druids?  Lets step back and ask the fundamental question: what are Death Knights?  Simply put, DKs are dark magic inhabiting and controlling a mortal vessel.  Yes, that does sound like something a warlock would do, but remember that it’s magic controlling a mortal, much like what we see with Druids.  Plus, saying Death Knights are related to Druids has more panache, so i’m going with that one.  To the DK, power is their birthright, and they will take and abuse and consume as they see fit.  Nothing is sacred from their will, not the blood in your veins, nor the flesh on your back, nor the final, cold breath you give before you’re raised as an undead servant.  The DK does not necessarily take to grow their power, they take to fulfill their desires-which is usually to kill a lot of people.

Demon Hunter- Philosophy of Unity

Offshoot of the philosophy of Synergy

Once again, what are DHs?  While DKs are magic possessing and dominating a vessel, the DH is more than that.  They are a combination of mortal soul and demon.  The DH is the product of a perfect union between two distinct soulstuffs.  Now here’s the important thing, I’m trying to distinguish between the Illidari, and the Demon Hunters themselves, which can be hard when you remember that pretty much every Demon Hunter is Illidari.  The reason this separation is so important is that the Illidari with their whole “fight fire with fire, we shall take the demons' own magic and use it against them as our own” is a very warlock-ish thing to do.  But I’ll maintain that the DHs identity points towards being more closely adjacent to the philosophy of Synergy than Dominion.

 So why can mages summon water elementals?  Because mages have power, just like anybody else.  And power itself doesn’t have much significance, what matters is how you use it.  

This has been a somewhat deep dive into the philosophy of Warcraftian magic, with the end goal of gaining a deeper understanding of the various classes, and the characters within the Warcraft universe. 

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#wow

[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

👀👀👀👀 prompts?? Fjorduceus in 26! please. them boys. let them be in love

(perhaps a little more subtle than you wanted but i haven’t written these two at all, so this was super fun!)

26. “It was you the whole time.”

//

The Clays are a family of makers.

In the subtlest of ways, but it’s still true. Everything is true once you unravel it; that’s what Caduceus has found in his time alone. He was raised slowly, to appreciate everything you have for as long as you have it. Sometimes things come back, but there is something to be learned from the loss if they don’t. He watches his family come and go, always composed and patient. They never know what they’ll encounter or when they’ll be back, but even that is knowledge on its own.

He stays to protect the woods, as is his duty. There are creatures to be tended to here, souls that don’t deserve to be forgotten. He preserves them in their gravestones, in his teas. Every cup he brews is another path—one already walked by the people he’s honoring, and one that he can choose to travel, if he wants.

He doesn’t want, for a long while.

The years pass as they always have, with his family and without. Caduceus learns the most about himself on his loneliest days, when he misses the nearness of loved ones—pranking Calliope, the softness of his mother’s arms, Clarabelle’s bright laughter. The sting fades over time, bubbling slowly to stillness like when you remove a kettle from heat. Perhaps he’s growing in his independence; perhaps he’s tucking them away until he forgets that they’re hidden. Everything will be resolved when it needs to be.

It seems like a sign, when five fractured people stumble into his forest. Caduceus can see their cracks as if they were intentional, as if someone had built into these travelers ways to break them. He smiles as he brews more tea—this is what Caduceus has lived for. He is very good at un-breaking.

Traveling with the Mighty Nein is an easy decision to make, another path to travel. If he didn’t walk it, no one would, and so he joins them on their quest. One of their quests. A few quests, many quests—maybe his quest. There are dormant wheels in his brain, rusted and overgrown with moss, that are slowly remembering how to turn. Some mornings, he has to shake himself free from the tangles and vines.

(The Mighty Nein are traveling as a group, pointing toward a common direction down a road they walk together. Caduceus has his feet in more paths than any of them. One for each member of his family, individually and as a unit; one for his newfound collection of friends; one for himself.

One for the wizard, who is learning that forgiveness doesn’t discriminate. For the goblin, who is learning to pick her vices wisely. For the trickster, who may wear herself thin quicker than she realizes; the fallen angel, whose friends are slowly helping her walk with a lighter step; and the monk, who never shares the weight of the arrows in her back.

One for the warlock of the sea, who must be remade in fire.)

He watches Fjord from the moment they meet, when he pulls the half-orc up from the dungeon floor. Fjord looks like the sort of person who has always been lost, or perhaps offered too many directions to follow without ever landing on one. He is hiding more than his friends realize, but Caduceus isn’t one to spill secrets, certainly not someone else’s. He simply watches, noticing and absorbing as much as he can. Every one of these people have enough secrets to fill a garden, but Fjord bleeds them like pollen. 

It’s a little unsettling and surprising, how much Caduceus comes to care for Fjord. He’ll never admit it unless asked, and even then not directly. Direct answers don’t always yield the proper knowledge; it’s why Caduceus finds comfort every time he communes with the Wildmother. She gives him guidance and leaves it up to him to take the steps. 

Each day, Caduceus’s affection becomes a little more directed, less of a fog and more of a trail. He hopes the Menagerie will have pockets to hide him.

When they unfurl Fjord from his seaweed wraps, Caduceus understands. 

Fjord was branded Stone but that isn’t his name; it doesn’t belong to him. Stones are hard and unyielding—even the smallest can rebuff most of what’s thrown at it. But Fjord is none of those things; he is learning how to melt, how to make himself without a mold. Caduceus is a caretaker, a groundskeeper for a forest yearning for rebirth. He understands cultivation—a planned process, one that must be carefully overseen. There are no accidents when it comes to growth.

He puts the pieces together as they take watch together one night, huddled around a dying fire. Fjord is alert as ever, his eyes scanning the night, never lingering too long in any one area. The color of his skin in the moonlight reminds Caduceus of the Blooming Grove and what it used to be, what he hopes it will one day be again. He feels a pang of affection in his chest.

“I can feel you staring,” Fjord mutters, still looking straight ahead.

“Sorry,” Caduceus drawls. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Seeds.”

“Ah.” Fjord nods. “The usual, then.”

“Not exactly. But I think I—I think I understand, now.”

“Understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. It was you the whole time.”

“Of course,” Fjord says, distracted. “Wait. Sorry, what? Me? What about me?”

A laugh rumbles through Caduceus’s body. 

“I get it, now.” He smiles, slow and calm, waiting as it stretches the length of his face. “You’re my garden.”

#critical role #fjorclay #teahaw #fjord #caduceus clay #tumblr fic #long post #cr: regular nein #when in doubt write a bunch of flowery plant metaphors and let everyone else decide what they mean #i haven't really decided what i think about these two and their relationship #but i DO know that teahaw is the greatest ship name i've ever heard #thanks for the prompt! #anonymous #carments

[ourownsideimagines]

They Say You Can’t Go Home Again, but I Found Home in You (Crowley x Fem!Angel-ish!Reader)

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale, Fem!Angel-ishReader, Madam Tracy, Shadwell, Gate Soldier

Requested: Yes 

Requested by: @adela-topaz-caelon

Point of View: Third Person Reader

Summary: (Name) is an Angel who, while not fallen, was booted from Heaven. She and Crowley have been dancing around their feelings for each other, and Aziraphale decided that the start of the apocalypse is a good time to finally point it out.

Warnings: I may have cursed? Otherwise, just the usual minimal editing.

Words: 1669

A/N: This is done in one large part, then a small little drabble kind of thing. 

—-

By standard terms, (name) was not an Angel. Not anymore, at least. She had not fallen after the “Great War”, but quickly found that she did not belong - if threats from Michael and Gabriel weren’t enough to get the point across, being thrown out by Sandalphon and Uriel definitely was. 

(Name) had fallen, just not in the most traditional way.

A fallen angel, though, was a fallen angel in Heaven’s opinion. She would no longer be allowed into Paradise, not that she much minded. She had her Heavenly-issued body and the ability to create miracles. What more could she need?

After a few hundred or so years she came to one conclusion. Friends, she decided. She needed friends.

So she sought out the only being she thought might be even the slightest bit kind to her - the Principality and (former) Angel of the Eastern Gate, Aziraphale. He’d been living on Earth for years, and sure, maybe he knew about her ‘fall’, but there was a part of her deep down that prayed to whoever might be listening that he wouldn’t care.

It was just after the flood, and Noah sailing his arc that (name) went looking for him.

And hundreds of years later, the two were closer than close could be. And, of course, being friends with Aziraphale ultimately meant becoming friends with a certain yellow-eyed demon. (Name) was surprised to say the least when she’d first learned of the friendship, though seeing as Aziraphale was affiliating with her she couldn’t for the life of her think why he wouldn’t befriend an actual demon.

At first, she and Crowley got along as well as two fallen angels could (though he sometimes refused to refer to her as such, since she was simply booted while he had to burn the whole way down). They clashed on various occasions, snarky remarks were swapped, and looks were taken in secret.

(Name) would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to Crowley. There was just something about his cocky personality that drew her in. And those eyes. Those eyes could kill her and she would thank them.

Of course, (name) would never admit this out loud. There was no way she’d ever admit to actually liking Crowley - at least, not yet.

As the impending end of the earth advanced, she found herself sticking around the angel and the demon more often. She’d accompanied them to care for Warlock, posing as the new house cleaner. She kept an eye on both Aziraphale and Crowley, acting as a buffer for anything too brash. She would comfort Warlock when the two became too much for him, telling him they were just ‘old, silly fools’, then offering to sneak him into the kitchen to steal some cookies. (Name) didn’t have a side, as far as she was concerned (unless, of course, she was counting the side she, Crowley, and Aziraphale had unofficially made). She saw no wrong in contradicting either of their doings.

Crowley, or Astaroth, as she’d been going by had been rather upset about this. She didn’t want the plan to be messed up, but after that time she’d caught (name) reading to Warlock in the middle of the afternoon until he began to nap she said nothing more on the situation.

(Name) had liked Crowley’s longer hair. She was disappointed when he decided that, when he was no longer Nanny Astaroth, that he would cut it short. More masculine. Not that he looked bad - no, far from it. She just wondered, silently to herself, how nice it would have been to be able to braid it.

Perhaps, if they truly stopped armegeddon, he would grow it back out and allow her to-

No, no. She shouldn’t be thinking about that. There were much more pressing issues, such as trying to figure out her way over the hellfire that had taken over the M25. (name) had gotten a call not ten minutes ago from Crowley, telling her to get to Tadfield’s air base. 

Had (name) been told from the beginning that this is where she would end up, she would have laughed and asked ‘in how many years?’ before going off to perform another miracle (almost 6000 years, would have been the answer, not that she would have expected one).

The rain was beginning to come down hard, and in the distance she could hear police sirens. She needed to get over the fire wall, and she needed to do it now. If her watch was right, she didn’t have nearly as much time as she hoped she would.

Knowing she had only one choice, since she would not survive driving through it, (name) focused on one thing and one thing only - her wings.

It had been centuries since she’d stretched them out, and the sound of her jacket ripping made her wince. She could miracle it back together later, but the sound was unpleasant all the same. When they’d finally finished breaking free, she stretched them out. She used the smallest amount of her powers to keep them dry, and after taking in a deep breath, she launched into the air like someone who was riding a bike for the first time in years - shakily done, but done nonetheless.

The flight to Tadfield was the most liberated (name) had felt in a while. Far below here, people buzzed in panic, and she eventually caught sight of a speeding car she would have once recognized as Crowley’s vintage Bentley. She heart dropped as she watched flames lick the carriage, and melt away the tires. She was certain he would make it to Tadfield, but at such a cost it hurt even her.

On the short list of things that Crowley loved, (name) knew the first to be his car (she secretly hoped that she was second). As she approached the airbase, she began feeling winded.

She really hadn’t done this in a long time.

(Name) touched down a short five minute walk from the airbase. She didn’t want to risk the chance that someone would see her and try to shoot her down. From down the road, she saw three figures. One was an older man, a large obtuse gun strapped to his back, another a soldier holding his gun close, and the last a woman dressed in very colorful attire. Even from afar, she knew the woman - even if she didn’t recognize the face.

“Aziraphale?” She called, and all three people turned. The soldier raised his weapon, but (name) went straight to Aziraphale.

“Ah, (name),” She smiled gently. They embraced, but (name) quickly pulled away.

“Who’s this?” She asked, gently flattening Aziraphale’s sleeves.

“Oh, right. This lovely woman is Madam Tracy. Madam Tracy, this is my good friends (name).” There was no pause between Aziraphale’s words and the woman's. “Oh, a pleasure.”

“Very much so,” (name) agreed. She got the sudden feeling that the others were staring at her, but she ignored it. “What happened to your body, Aziraphale?”

“Ah, yes, about that. Got discorporated. How did you know to come here?”

“Crowley called-” (name) paused when the familiar tune of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, and the smell of burning metal and rubber breached her senses. She turned quickly, watching as the flaming Bentley swerved around the turn and came to a stop at a safe enough distance.

The door open, and Crowley slipped out, a book in one hand as he used his foot to kick the door closed.

“Wouldn’t get that kind of performance from a modern car!” He said, albeit not with much heart. He didn’t even look at the Bentley before making his way over to them. (Name) lurched forward towards him, and he stepped back in surprise. She gently grasped his arms, looking at his soot covered face.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” She said. Crowley’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but he was looking behind her.

“Uh, you, um,” He was stumbling over his words.

“What?”

“Your wings,” He said, and (name) felt her blood go cold.

She had forgotten about her wings. She backed away, suddenly embarrassed, and willed them away.

“Next time you decide to drive your car through a fire, at least let me know beforehand.” She muttered. “I saw you about a mile back and got worried.”

“You were worried about me?” He smirked. She rolled her eyes. “I’m honored, really.”

“Shut up.” She said.

“Crowley, (name), I do believe the flirting can be saved for later.” Aziraphale interrupted you. “As cute as watching you two had been for the last handful of centuries, I really do think getting inside is out main objective, yes?” (Name) felt her cheeks flush red.

“We’re not- she’s not-” Crowley stopped suddenly. “You’re not… You’re not flirting are you?”

“Are you serious? At a time like this?” (Name) motioned to the armed guard.

“I was just curious.” He mumbled. (Name) sighed, but grabbed Crowley’s hand.

“We’ll talk about it later, Crowley. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

---(a little added bonus because didn’t exactly wanna write the whole airport scene)---

“Would anyone here care to explain to me what exactly is going on?” Adam Young’s father asked. Crowley turned to (name), whom had clung to him amidst the stopping of time and Satan rising. She  was winded, to say the least, and she was prepared to sleep for years, even if she didn’t truly need to.

“I should ask you the same.” Crowley mumbled. (Name)’s eyes snapped up to him. “What is going on… here… between us?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Aziraphale interrupted the two of you. “You to have been in love with each other for years, honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

“Aziraphale,” You hissed.

“I’m just so tired of seeing you two dancing around each other. It’s ridiculous.”

“Aziraphale-” Crowley’s words were cut off suddenly when (name) grasped his scarf, tugging him to her. He stared at her, eyes wide open. (Name), not exactly caring whether or not anyone was watching gave him a gentle smile.

“C’mon you old serpent. Tell me where you think we are.”

#good omens #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #crowley x fem!reader #Crowley x fem!Angel-ish!Reader #crowley x reader good omens #crowley x fem!reader good omens #crowley x fem!Angel-ish!Reader good omens #crowley #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley #x reader #x fem!reader #x fem!angel-ish!reader #reader insert #good omens reader insert #my writing #reese writes #the ineffable queue

[k-liight]

it's been a hell of a long time since I did OC stuff, but here at last is my full cast for Warlock Enterprise! and by full cast, I mean all the characters that are at least somewhat important to the story. lmao there'll be other characters that are just kinda there for maybe like two seconds, and I may add more characters to the actual plot in the future lol. but this is everybody for now! I'm gonna ramble about them all like I usually do with my OCs so if you're interested keep reading dflfjbhgfdkgjs (also note that I made some major design changes to most of these characters LMAO)

Richard Duchaes is the confident dad who comes from a long line of demon hunters going way back into the early medieval times-- pretty much as far back as warlocks even existed in this universe! he can be quite goofy at times, but don't mess with him or his family unless you wanna see him go into angery papa bear attack mode. he's a very powerful warlock and wants his son Mason to even more powerful one day. he's very outgoing and supportive and likes to incorporate witty banter into his battles. Denise Duchaes is the sweet yet badass angel mom who can also be very goofy despite her magnificence. even around other transcendents, she'll keep in her human form, because her true angel form can be quite overwhelming. she's 90% pure light and can bend light rays at her will-- a master illusionist. when alone with her family, she'll carry herself in a dimmer form of her true self so as to not blind them-- that form is translucent and makes her look like wispy smoke. she's very protective of her children, but also likes to embarrass them both, as moms do, haha. Mason Duchaes is of course our hero, a young warlock who dreams of following in his fathers footsteps, but he's rather shy and a little bit behind in magical development. he has a degree of social anxiety making it hard for him to get comfortable around people, but he's very devoted to his family and very protective of his little sister Kalisha. he's down-to-earth and no-nonsense, but he knows how to have fun and it's very easy to make him laugh. he might get insecure of himself at times, but he's very determined to achieve his goals no matter how long it takes. he's more of a left-brain thinker, very logical in what he does and is able to make calculated decisions quickly. Kalisha Duchaes is Mason's adoptive younger sister who's extremely excitable and energetic to the point where she innocently thinks being in danger is fun. she's kind of a mystery baby, her transcendency is unclear and her parents have no idea where she came from. she was found in the woods at a mere three years old and the only thing she remembered was her own first name, and when Richard and Denise couldn't find her birth family, they took her into theirs. now, Kalisha is happy with her family and is eager to join them in the long line of demon hunters. she's quite pugnacious and enjoys fighting demons. she's a tough little rascal that gets right back up when she's knocked down. Amy Stilton is Mason's best friend and magic partner who's also here for a good time and has the unique ability to telepathically communicate with animals. Mason's parents discover that Amy is half-transcendent and half-banal, which is a big no-no in transcendent code of conduct. she also has no idea who her own father is, leading them to believe that her father is/was a transcendent who broke the rules. similar to Kalisha, her transcendency is unclear, so after Mason partners with her and dubs her an "honorary warlock", Richard and Denise set out to solve her origin mystery. she has ADHD and is thus a very creative right-brain thinker to balance Mason's logical demeanor. she's very energetic and emotional, and while she gets easily scared fighting demons, she can channel that fear into good fighting tactics. Sasha Stilton is Amy's aloof and standoff-ish mother who only shows her emotions when she wants to. she's rather trashy and sleazy, but she's also very mysterious in her ways. she smokes a lot a wears too much jewelry and makeup, but she's sympathetic as a minimum-wage worker and single mom. she seems cold at times, but she has instilled a great sense of responsibility in Amy. Maureen Burgstaller is Amy's best friend alongside Mason and also doubles as her school tutor. she's very smart and academic, but she's also sporty and loves working out in her free time. she's a star student and a loyal friend who has known Amy since they were knee-high to a grasshopper and helps her work with her ADHD. she's great with kids and wants to be a teacher one day. Edward Copperton is a wise and friendly old chap who's still very strong for his age and owns the local transcendent tavern, The Waning Gibbous, as well as the head of the area's Warlock Enterprise (which is where the name of the story comes from hollaaaaaa). he exudes kind grandfather vibes and shares mutual respect with Richard and his family. he's very fond of Mason and Kalisha and becomes a sort of mentor to them both. he's been worn down from years, no, decades, of fighting physical and emotional battles, but he is able to take something good from all of his experiences. he's rather prophetic due to his age, but never overbearing. Lucy is a bubbly and cheerful witch who loves good times and all things cute. she's extremely friendly and devotes herself and her magic to helping others. she herself is very cutesy and takes pride in being girly and powerful both. her magic is strong, but her passion is even stronger, and she can cast complicated spells with ease. Lora is Lucy's dark, evil twin sister who is much more stoic and unfeeling than her other half. she frequently teams with demons to get what she wants, but she doesn't strike a fair bargain and is very selfish even to them. despite her cruel nature, Lucy holds no hard feelings towards her. Quentin is an evil warlock and Richard's arch-nemesis since high school. he's very cocky and outgoing, and almost campy in his speech, but paring that with the many lives he's taken makes him all the more twisted. he's over-confident and has a dark sense of humor. he's very violent, but doesn't like getting his hands too dirty, though he just loves pissing Richard off. Kyle is a lowly demon and Quentin's acolyte/scapegoat. he's practically a slave to the evil warlock and is far too weak to rebel against him. he's extremely shy and unsure for a demon, and doesn't even like too much violence. he has a Stockholm syndrome towards Quentin because he believes he's the only one who sees the demon's potential. Grent is a smaller but much stronger demon who frequently annoys the other villains, intentional or not. he's incredibly obnoxious and doesn't seem to know when to shut up, which frequently gets him in trouble (not that he'll ever learn his lesson). while he is powerful, he tends to overshot himself, especially if it's to impress a clearly uninterested woman. he's obsessed with jazz music and thinks he's hot shit, but he's really not. Lady Ultimatum is a rouge vampire who feeds off others' fear. she has built her entire identity to being as terrifying as possible, and loves scaring people into eventually letting her get her way. she's a gambler, but she doesn't play fair at all. if she tries to strike an unfair "bargain" with you, you can turn her down, but over time, you'll be tormented in your nightmares by all your worst fears and eventually become so paranoid that you give in and accept her offer just to make it all stop. she's highly feared and loves every drop of it. Felix is a Norwegian hudrekall who works as a bartender/waiter at the Waning Gibbous tavern. he's very soft-spoken, but is also quite a flirt, and always pays a compliment where he can even when he's not flirting. nearly everyone is attracted to him and he knows it, but he doesn't let it get to his head and is very humble about it. he's sweet and soft, but he definitely has a mischievous side as well. Ildiko is a female warlock of Hungarian descent and Lucy's girlfriend. she's much more intimidating and less bubbly than her beloved, but she's very much a gentlewoman. she's been through a hell of a lot and has the battle scars to show it, plus the horrific marks of a severe burn to her lower face and upper torso which she covers. she's tough as nails and doesn't fuck around, making her well-respected in the Enterprise. and last but not least, Uriah is a new character added to the line-up; he's fun-loving twenty-something warlock who uses his magic in very creative ways. he has a natural ear for music, and likes to use soundwaves from his mixtapes to his advantage. sometimes he can be a bit naive, but he's still a valuable member of the Enterprise. he quickly befriends Mason and becomes like the brother he never had. damn, it took me like two hours just to type up this description XD but I think that's it for now! hopefully I can get back into the swing of OC stuff, especially for this story flbfjgkljds

#my art #my characters #fantasy #warlock #angel #witch #demon #vampire #character lineup #concept art #huldrekall #Warlock Enterprise #Richard Duchaes #Denise Duchaes #Mason Duchaes #Kalisha Duchaes #Amy Stilton #Sasha Stilton #Maureen Burgstaller #Edward Copperton #Lucy #Lora #Quentin #Kyle