#its simplified for sure but that's the dream

[hobgoblinsandpeachfuzz]

its important to me that you all know the vash x wolfwood x meryl ot3 that’s happening is the ideal ot3 dynamic for me that i haven’t seen perfected since star trek

all trigun ships are amazing and great, but wow it just makes me so happy to see

#silliness #trigun #idealistic sweetie x mean asshole x tiny grumpy one #its simplified for sure but that's the dream #kirk x spock x mccoy #julian x garak x ezri #it is the top tier dynamic #finn x poe x rey #it all fits #obviously again simplified its more complicated than that #but i love it

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #uefi #owner override #user override #jailbreaking #dmca 1201 #schneiers law #descartes #nub of certainty #self-destruct button #trusted computing #secure enclaves #drm #ngscb #next generation secure computing base #palladium #pixiefail #infosec

[shima-draws]

Tell us about the AU! I know you want to!!

WAUGHHH. AGHHH. OKAY. OKAY SO. I've been watching one of my favorite content creators play through the DLC. Early on in the playthrough he was tossing around theories and said "Maybe KIERAN is Ogerpon??" and that gave me a BRILLIANT THOUGHT.

Ogerpon Kieran AU.......

I've already thought of a very long and complex backstory for this LOL but to simplify it. Before the ogre and its human companion came to Kitakami, said companion was actually living a very happy life with his child. However, they were caught up in the midst of a great war that ended up taking the child's life. The man was so overcome with grief that it summoned a great being (I'm thinking Xerneas), who blessed his dead child with new life. And that child was reborn as Ogerpon!! So kinda like how children who get lost in the woods and die are reborn as Phantump.

Fast forward to many many years later. A long chain of events leads to Carmine's grandfather's...father (so, her great-grandpa?) meeting Ogerpon and vowing to make it a new mask, a mystical and powerful mask that could grant wishes. Sadly, Carmine's great-grandpa wasn't able to complete the mask before he died. This project was eventually picked up by Carmine's father (and I have a whole other thing about him but I'm not gonna get into it right now lol). Carmine's father forms a very close bond with Ogerpon as he continues to gather materials to finish the wish mask. He expresses his desire for Ogerpon to finally be able to walk among the villagers with its name cleared, and for Ogerpon to meet his only daughter. He leaves for a journey to find the last material for the mask...and never returns 😔

Carmine's grandfather has a whole complex about the wish mask, but after seeing both his father and his son dedicate so much time and care into completing it, he takes the last material, imbued with the hopes and dreams of his family, and finally finishes the mask. When he presents it to Ogerpon, Ogerpon dons the mask and its wish is granted...it becomes human :") So it becomes Kieran, basically!! Kieran's wish was to be able to say thank you to all of the generations of mask makers that had helped him, and. To be part of their family 🥺 What he doesn't know is that his wish to be human stems from the fact that he already was human, once. But he doesn't remember his life before he was reborn as a Pokemon.

So, Carmine's grandfather happily accepts Kieran and his desire, and takes him home to live with him and Carmine. Note that Kieran is probably around 5-6 at the time, so he's BABY. And Carmine is only about a year or two older. She isn't sure what to think about suddenly getting a new brother, but she's happy to have someone to boss around lmao.

And once a year, during the festival of masks, Kieran lets his facade fall and wanders around as Ogerpon again. Just to keep in touch with his roots haha

So obviously with Kieran being Ogerpon the events of the DLC will play out differently than canon. Kieran slyly compliments the ogre in front of the player and mentions that maybe it's just misunderstood. He's been trying for a while to change the villagers' minds about what happened to him and the Loyal Three all those years ago, but it hasn't been going...too well lol. So when the player shows up, and things start to shift, Kieran gets really excited bc he realizes he finally might be able to clear his name :")

Is this AU silly and dumb as hell? Yes. Does it not really make sense with canon and is full of plot holes? Yes. Am I brainrotting over it anyway? Also yes.

Take a little edit I did of Kieran's official art to fit what I had in mind for the AU ;) I wanted to draw it but I'm at work rn lmao RIP

ALSO LITTLE DOODLE OF THE BOY

ALSO bc of Ogerpon's original gender Kieran probably goes by he/they pronouns in the AU

#Listen I know this AU is stupid as hell but it means SO much to me #Shima answers questions #Pokemon #The Teal Mask #Pokemon Kieran #Pokemon Carmine #Ogerpon #Kieranpon AU #Shima's AUs #I'm brainrotting SO hard. HELP #Long post

[pichongames]

It's time for a new DEV UPDATE! [February 2024]

Let's talk about the upcoming Nintendo Switch port, localization, plushies, and new content coming soon?

It's time for a new development update, we've been working on a lot of stuff behind the scenes so let's talk about some of it, shall we?

The Bunny Graveyard is coming to Nintendo Switch!

If you didn't know already, The Bunny Graveyard is on its way to Nintendo Switch. But this port will not just be any normal port, the game will receive some enhancements and changes both visually and gameplay-wise. Including motion-controls, HD vibration and more!

But do not worry PC users, even though some gameplay features will be exclusive to Switch, any content updates, improvements and future chapters will be released at the same time on all platforms.

More languages!

The Bunny Graveyard: Chapter 1 is currently being translated to more languages, some of these are:

Brazilian Portuguese

French

Russian

Japanese

Simplified Chinese

Korean

...and more!

Boxers Plushie!

You probably heard of this already, but yes! Boxers got himself his very own plushie, which is still available at the time of this writing, however, this is a limited edition plushie so make sure to grab one before they're gone. As of right now, there's still 8 days left, so think about it! You guys absolutely CRUSHED that funding goal by the way, 450 sold so far!

We're definitely making another one... hehe.

This is also our first piece of merchandise and we're open to do more merch stuff in the future! But for now we'll only be choosing things that don't slow us down during development. So, if you got any requests for merch, let us know and we'll look into it!

NEW free content is coming this year...

We are working on a new secret project for the game, it will be released as a free content update at the same time as the Nintendo Switch release. It's a small thing that we wanted to make for a while now, but never got the chance to do due to time constraints. Think of it as the next "4-1-1992" for now.

We'll be releasing a separate trailer for this soon, so stay tuned!

So... how's Chapter 2?

Finally, let's have a quick talk about Chapter 2.

We are still not ready to fully reveal Chapter 2, buuuut we can tell you a little bit about it. It is the most ambitious project we have ever done, we expect it to be about the same length as Chapter 1, but despite the length, this chapter has proven to be quite a challenge to develop... but you know us, we love ourselves a challenge!

The story has been fully written, the gameplay has been finalized, but there's still quite a lot of programming to go, and don't get me started on all the music and animations left. Oh, did I also mention that this chapter will be releasing at the same time on Nintendo Switch and PC? And that it will also release in multiple languages? And that I'm still working on this game mostly by myself?

Yeah, things are not the same as they were back when I was making Chapter 1, The Bunny Graveyard is no longer just a silly lil' indie game, but that's exactly what makes it fun. I seriously can't wait to show you guys what we've been working on, this chapter is going to blow you away. Expect a trailer sometime this year.

You can add Chapter 2 to your Steam wishlist now!

Final Thoughts!

2024 is looking like an awesome year for this game, I'm hoping that this year we can get more people to know about this game. I'm extremely thankful for all of the support that we've been getting lately, it's crazy that I can now FINALLY focus on this game full-time, something that I've been trying to do for a long time now. I'm still processing the fact that this game is coming to the Switch, but it really is! Truly a dream come true. If you got any questions, ask in the comments and I'll try to answer as many as I can! And as always, thank you all!

#the bunny graveyard #pixel art #devlog #indie games #indiedev #game dev #bunny graveyard

[spacesquidlings]

Thorns

Description: Connecting with family can be wondrous, but it can also cause heartache and strife. And when she's caught in a fight, he saves her

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Aspen)

Warnings: Threats of physical violence

A/N: Although being with family over the holidays is supposed to be full of love and warmth, it very rarely is. I've been lucky the past number of years that my holidays have usually been fun and joyous, and I've looked forward to the parties and gatherings. As I've gotten older though, things have become more and more difficult, and this year especially has been much harder in a lot of ways (I won't bore you all with the details but it's been difficult to say the least). I've simplified this fic a bit so as not to bore anyone with the complexities of a very large extended family unit, and paired it down to feature mentions of a more condensed family. Please forgive me this indulgence, but writing this brought me some comfort and closure after a difficult situation on Christmas eve. I hope it can give someone else even a little bit of comfort and safety and the knowledge that you are loved, and that you are good as you are. Happy holidays you guys I am sending my love <3

****************************************************

Fights happened, that’s just the way families were. At least that’s what she’d been told.

She’d been told a lot of things. That she could be terribly angry, that she was always angry, that she often screamed, that she was always horribly loud, that she could be thorny and sharp. And although she never tried to be a creature of wrath and noise, it seemed that such a beast was forever lurking beneath her skin, waiting to unsheath its claws.

So too had she been told that she could be too much. That she needed to dampen her voice as one extinguished a flame, leaving only smoke to show it had been there at all.

And some of it was true, she was certain. In the back of her mind she knew she could be loud, that she could be a bit much. She would lose herself in her excitement, her passions. The flurry of emotions, as raging as a hurricane, would overtake her. Whether it be in joy or excitement or heartache or anger, she would lose herself, and sometimes it took a steadying hand to bring her back.

She did not have a steadying hand that night.

It had been years since she had seen her family, absconding from their home with the intent to make a life for herself in Baldur’s Gate before being stolen by the mind flayers. She had written letters to them since, but she had settled nicely into her life with Astarion, finding joy and contentment like nothing she had felt before. So it had been ages since she had seen them, so focused was she on the moments of excitement and the moments of repose with her lover.

But with the holidays coming up, she’d wanted to see them. She had wanted to see her family again. She was on good terms with nearly all of them, although there was a strange distance that had grown between herself and her father. Yet that surely would not matter, not when she wanted to see everyone, when she wanted to reconnect and laugh and be in their company once more.

Astarion had obliged, musing about how he’d like to meet the people she had grown up with, and perhaps take a peek at old paintings of her as a child, and look for old beloved toys and books to tease her about later.

So they had sent a letter to her mother, and they had packed their belongings, and they had headed out to the village she had grown up in.

It was not a backwater by any means, but when they first arrived she gazed upon the central market, the rows of quaint houses that skirted the village borders, and felt strange. It was all as familiar to her as a recurring dream, and unknown as an uncharted land unmarked on any map.

It had been her home, but it was not her home any longer. She was a piece of a puzzle that no longer fit, this small world shifting around her absence, filling in the gaps as surely as she had filled in the gaps that had been left in her.

She’d spent the day with Astarion, clutching his hand tightly, the ring that allowed him to walk in the daylight glittering like a star plucked from the night sky on his finger. They’d gone through all of her favourite shops, had paused in restaurants to enjoy some of the foods she hadn’t had in ages, before finally arriving at her parents’ home.

Her heart had fluttered like an injured bird, and she considered turning tail and running. But with Astarion’s hand in hers she felt brave, felt safe as she knocked on the door, as she was greeted by the delighted shouts of her mother, of her siblings, of her grandparents.

The reunion was not without its awkwardness, exacerbated by Astarion delighting in stories of when she’d been in a child, and finding old paintings that had gathered dust of her childhood self. He’d even managed to find his way to her old room, the one she had occupied barely a week before she had first met him.

Laughing, he had wiggled beloved stuffed dolls above her head, teasing her as he pretended to play, eliciting annoyed shouts at first, and then laughter as she’d tickled his sides until he’d conceded.

She’d been able to fall into a comfortable routine with her family, and with her lover at her side. The years of adventuring had not diminished her love for them, nor had it made theirs falter. She no longer fit within the village, but she was still welcomed, still accepted.

Their plan had been to stay for a few weeks, touring the village and some of the larger cities nearby, and catching up with family and old friends. Most days Aspen and Astarion would spend their mornings together, Astarion lying on her chest like a weighted blanket, murmuring that he was too comfortable to move even as the sun made its way across the sky. Then they would dress, invite one of her siblings or her mother along with them, and they would head out into the world.

In the evenings they would return, and he would roll up his sleeves and offer to help with the cooking and cleaning her mother often did. It added to the strange delightfulness of everything, Astarion offering to do something he had often whined about at length when their relationship was still new as spring blooms.

It felt almost blissful, a strange sort of dream she found herself walking in. A scrap of domesticity, a glimpse into what life with him would be like if they ever settled down. If they ever decided to put down roots.

But as much as those days warmed Aspen’s heart, they could not last. It was all too good to be true, the softest, most magical part of the dream right before she awoke. The calm before the rage of a storm.

She loved her family, so entirely she did not always have the words to explain it. But as much as she loved them, they frustrated her beyond belief, beyond words or understanding. The little words that cut like a knife into her heart, picking at her life, at her interests and hobbies, at her choices.

The only difference now was that she no longer wandered her family’s home and the village roads with open wounds, dripping blood into the snow-covered cobblestones. When they wounded her with sharpened words, Astarion was there to stitch her back together, to hold her until the tightness in her chest began to loosen, knots coming undone.

There was never any true malice behind their words and actions, but that did not mean that it hurt her any less.

She loved them, but they frustrated her. The more time she spent with them the more things weighed her down, the more things chipped away at her confidence, at the slivers of courage she had found travelling Faerûn, at her own heart. She could feel parts of herself fading away, withering like flowers in a storm, like dying leaves falling from ashen branches.

Aspen was reminded of how difficult family could be, and none were more difficult than the man who called himself her father.

Just as surely as she’d been told she could be too much, she’d been told she needed to be careful around this man. To dance delicately around things that triggered his rage, to tiptoe through a field of eggshells to ensure nothing cracked.

But Aspen was not a rogue, not like her beloved, able to slink silently through shadows, able to dance through fields of fire, able to whisper honeyed words that calmed most people before aggravation could explode.

How could she, when there was a monster beneath her skin? And though she’d thought it finally tamed, it returned in a fury easily, far too easily for her liking.

It was a night when Astarion was not with her, when they were a hairsbreadth from the holidays and she was helping to cook and bake. Grating cheese and chopping veggies, measuring out chocolate and stirring batter.

Astarion had slipped out earlier in search of something he would not divulge. He would only grin in mischief, tap her nose playfully, and promise he wouldn’t be out too late.

And without him nearby, she’d had nothing but her songs and stories to while away her time with. So she had volunteered to help cook and bake with her mother, taking part in what had been a little tradition between the two of them when she’d still lived with her family.

Things had gone well enough, and they’d successfully prepared many treats for the holidays and the revelry everyone would be taking part in.

It had come as a surprise when her father had entered, forcing his way into their comfortable space. He’d started doing something else entirely, plates and bowls clashing in a discordant clattering that had her ears ringing.

Although her ire had been stoked initially, she’d had no reason to pay it any heed. What he was doing was no crime, and her mother was forever asking her to strengthen the bonds between the two of them, to close the strange chasm separating them that neither was ever able to fully cross.

And it had been fine, at first. Casual conversation shared between the three of them, her younger siblings having retired to bed already, and Astarion still lost to the night and whatever wicked surprise he was searching for.

But then it had been not fine, and too late did Aspen realize the claws of the monster in her blood had come out.

Her voice raised, her heart thundering in her chest, a plea to be listened to, to be seen and understood as the adult she had become. That she was not a fool, that the aches in her heart for things he refused to believe were valid, were just, if only he would listen.

They’d had many shouting matches in the past, leaving open wounds that had pushed them further apart the older she grew. So when his voice rose she’d thought perhaps it would be the same as the others, words thrown like rocks back and forth until it fizzled out.

But she’d said that he’d been talking down to her, that he’d been talking to her like she were clueless, a child.

And that apparently, was too far.

The escalation was abrupt. Sudden movement, the man squaring his shoulders to seem larger as spit had flown from his mouth as his voice had risen further. His words had turned cruel, derogatory. How stupid she was, how childish, how she was no adult and spoke like a fool, and words so much crueler that had made her eyes burn.

He paced, shouting loud enough to rattle the ceiling. And she had raised her voice in kind, shrieking now, shrill and enraged at him, at herself for being hurt, for thinking they could mend the rift between them.

And then the threat, a threat heavy with certainty. That he would hit her for her impertinence if she did not stop.

Hit her as a parent hit a child, beat her as a parent who did not know how to navigate their emotions beat a child that misbehaved.

Red had filled her vision, her heart as good as stopped for she could no longer feel it. Her blood had boiled and she had flung her anger back at him, a furious reaction to such a threat.

Her mother had promised he would never hurt her, but her mother seemed oblivious to the times he had, when she’d been little. No more than a parent punishing a child, keeping a troublemaker in line. But she remembered the sharp pain, she remembered the stark cold of the tub, she remembered the acrid taste of soap and the way she had heaved as she’d been forced forward.

Not many times, but enough to burn themselves in her memory, enough that she shrunk whenever a man’s voice was raised. Enough that she shook despite her best efforts when senseless rage was directed at her.

Such a threat was not something she would abide. Not now, not anymore. She was no defenseless child, she had lived, she would not be threatened in a place she was meant to be safe.

She said as much, thinking she was safe.

But she was not. He moved swiftly, looming over her like a monster, so close his forehead pressed against hers. Spit flew into her face, her ears rang, as he screamed and screamed, deep rage like that of the flames of Avernus, directed at her, so close she could smell nothing but the rankness of his breath.

She screamed in return, demanding he move, to get away. But he did not, still pouring his fury against her.

In the back of her mind fear sprung forth, slick and oily as disease. Her body trembled, not that she noticed, and she knew, deep within herself, that he was nearing his limit. That he would hurt her if she did not keep pushing.

But how could she not? Until he used those damned ears to listen, to acknowledge she was not some thing he could use as he pleased.

She tensed in anticipation, knowing the blow would come sooner rather than later.

But what she did not expect was the new shout that erupted behind her father, a figure blocked from her view from the hulking mass of the man who had pressed his face into hers and would not move.

Astarion dug his fingers into the collar of the man’s shirt, yanking him back.

He stumbled, whirling on Astarion, hand raised.

And Astarion bared his teeth, a knife pointed at the man’s throat.

“Make one move and I slit your throat.”

A snort, over-confident and haughty. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Another flash of Astarion’s fangs, his eyes seeming to brighten to a bloody crimson. “I would hate to waste warm blood, but in this case I could make an exception.”

Wild eyes turned to her, fists clenching as hands fell to his sides. “What kind of monster have you brought into our home?”

“Eyes on me,” Astarion cooed, deadly soft. “Lower those hands and go somewhere to cool off and I won’t spill any blood.”

The man swore, shooting Aspen one more murderous look before stalking away, muscles tensed like he was still looking to fight.

Astarion sheathed his knife, a ferocious predator for only a moment longer before he turned to her. His eyes softened then, his lips murmuring soft words as he moved towards her, catching her shaking body before she could fall over.

“You’re alright, darling,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her brow. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Tears burned, but they did not fall. She was shivering like a dying tree in a windstorm, and she clutched at him, words choked by the sob that was lodged in her throat.

“Let’s find somewhere for you to sit down, shall we?” He guided her to the kitchen table, settled her into one of the chairs.

In the aftermath, as the fury leached from her skin, she felt cold. Cold as a winter’s night, cold as the darkest moments of a snow-storm, cold as the frozen lake at the border of the village, drowning in the darkened waters.

It was only then that her mother stepped forward, having seemed to have disappeared during the fight. She’d nearly forgotten she’d been there, helping her to bake before everything had unravelled.

“You know you’re both just so similar,” her mother said, letting out a breathy laugh. There was no humour in the sound, and her expression was pinched.

Astarion turned to peer at her mother over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged, wringing her hands. “They provoke each other so much. And you know you did start it, Aspen. You know that’s a trigger for him.”

Astarion leaned back as though he’d been slapped. He blinked, not seeming to understand what he’d just heard. “What do you mean?”

Her mother didn’t hear the edge to his tone, but Aspen did, just as she saw the twitch of his brow, the slight downturn of his lips.

“She should have just agreed to disagree, that’s all.” Another shrug. “What he did was unacceptable, and he shouldn’t have acted like that. But you know you can be just like that, too.”

At her mother’s words Aspen shuddered, for an entirely new reason this time.

She knew of the creature beneath her skin, knew she had to keep it in check, but never had she felt like such a monster as she did now. Her mother softly berating her for provoking the man supposed to be her father.

She could feel it in her veins, roiling like the rage of a storming sea. The monster in her blood, the one that used her skin.

Had she minded her tongue this would not have happened, had she minded her tongue they would still be joyfully cooking, and Astarion would not have had to reveal his vampirism to her parents.

As her mother came forward to comfort her as well tears began to spill, streaking down her cheeks in rivers of flame.

She hardly noticed through the silver blur the room around her drowned in from her tears, the way Astarion’s expression tightened. She didn’t even notice the way his hands tightened on her shoulders, giving her mother almost no room to kneel beside her.

She wanted to cry to her mother, to be comforted, to be told it was not her fault.

But it was her fault, wasn’t it? A horrible monster ruining the holidays, ruining their family gathering on the eve of their celebrations. Ruining things just as she always did, tearing apart the delicate happiness that had been in the air.

“Absolutely not.”

The sharpness in Astarion’s tone made Aspen look up, searching for his eyes in the haze of tears. She made to wipe her eyes, but he gently pushed her hands away, the pads of his thumbs soft as they gently brushed away her tears.

She sniffed, her throat raw as she spoke. “What are you talking about?”

“I will not stand for such slander,” he said, gentle, but firm. “I will not allow for you to be slandered after such a threat.”

Her mother shot Astarion an incredulous look. “That’s hardly fair, and I don’t appreciate you sticking your nose in our business. He’s her father, he would never hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Astarion sounded eerily calm, his brow arching in bemusement. “Because that looked quite aggressive. That looked like someone on the verge of hitting someone else.”

Her mother opened her mouth to retort, but Astarion stood suddenly, cutting her off.

“No, this is not acceptable.” He offered Aspen his hand, his expression softening for half a breath until he returned his gaze to her mother. “From what I saw he nearly hurt her. He threatened to hurt her. And while my beloved can handle much, being threatened by her own father is not something she should never tolerate.”

His gaze was sharp as he gave her mother a once over. “Nor should she tolerate such nonsense from her mother.”

“You weren’t here at the beginning of the argument, you didn’t hear-”

“No, you’re right.” He cut her off, no humour in his smirk. “But I know her well, so I can guess well enough what happened. And raising her voice and saying a thoughtless comment does not deserve such a response.” Then, quieter. “Nothing does.”

Wordlessly, Aspen took his hand. He drew her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We’re leaving, darling.”

Her legs shook, and she feared her knees would give out on her soon. “Where?”

“We’ll find an inn for the night,” he said, not sparing her mother a second glance. “Then we’ll head back to Baldur’s Gate at first light.”

Her mother got to her feet, regret in her eyes. “But the holidays start tomorrow, and we planned-”

Astarion’s response was a snarl. “You stood by and did nothing. You didn’t want to choose a side, but you did all the same.”

They packed quickly, Aspen in such a daze that Astarion packed her things for her, murmuring softly that she was okay, that she was safe, that he would make sure she was always safe.

It wasn’t until they had headed into the night, until they’d checked into the first inn they found, until Astarion guided her to the rickety bed and she fell back, that she truly began to sob.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, taking her into his arms. He tucked her head against his shoulder, not making a comment as she stained the fine fabric with snot and tears. “You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry!” She cried, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, hands finding his shirt, balling the fabric up in her fists. “I’m sorry! I ruin everything!”

“Nonsense,” he breathed, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You don’t ruin anything.”

“Yes I do!” Her voice was a shrill shriek, and she nearly doubled over from the force of the sudden sobs that ripped from her throat. “I ruin everything. I ruin every friendship, I ruin my family’s happiness, one day I’ll ruin this.”

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her sobs muffled, if only barely. “I’m a monster. I’m a horrid beast, always so angry and I can’t even stop it. I can’t stop myself!”

“Aspen.” The steadiness of his voice gave her pause. He kept his voice soft, but there was a firmness to it, like iron, that quieted her cries.

“Aspen, darling, look at me.”

She sniffed, shaking her head. “I look horrible.”

A soft chuckle, his fingers running through her hair. “I don’t think that’s even possible, my love. Even drenched in gore you are beautiful. A few tears and snot will hardly stifle your beauty.”

She pulled away then, fixing a glower to her face. “Are you sure about that?”

He smiled, cupping her cheeks with such gentleness that a soft gasp escaped her lips. Did she deserve tenderness? Did she deserve even a scrap of his affection when she was a beast? When she would hurt him as surely as she hurt her father, her family?

“You are radiant,” he said, no sign of teasing in his eyes. “Beautiful as always.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The screaming, the rage, being whisked away so late at night. “Astarion, you just watched me scream my lungs out at my father and then sob so hard I’m pretty sure I bruised my ribs.”

He tapped her cheek, his brow arching. “Don’t forget staining my shirt, too. This was silk, you know.”

“Oh Astarion, I’m so sorry.” The tears began all over again, spilling like she might drown in her misery. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Darling, darling,” he clicked his tongue softly, brushing her tears away as he stroked her cheeks. “You have not ruined anything, and you are no monster.”

“But I-”

“Hush.” He could have spoken sharply, but his tone was whisper soft. His brows drew together, his lips tilting down. “You are not to blame.”

How did she explain to him? How did she explain the monster in her body, the beast beneath her skin?

“You don’t understand.” Her voice wobbled, thick and rough from tears and screaming and the sobs still caught in her throat.

He was being so soft, so gentle in the face of the catastrophe made flesh that she was. “Then help me to understand, my love.”

Her bottom lip quivered and she drew in deep breaths, her nose clogged with snot. “I ruin everything, I make a mess of everything. I push him too far, trigger him and make him angry. I don’t even try to, I don’t look for a fight but everyone tells me I do. I’m told I’m too loud, I’m too angry, and I don’t even know I am until it’s too late. I’ve ruined my most precious relationships, I ruined the holiday by making my father mad.”

Astarion listened quietly, brushing away her tears as they fell, until they had all spilled, and there was nothing but dried salt on her cheeks.

When she was done pouring out her fears, her terror of what she could be, he nodded, silent still. She wished he would speak, was desperate for him to say something.

Maybe he would push her away, tell her that he had made a mistake, that she was not who he’d thought she was. Maybe he would tell her that she truly was a beast just as she thought.

But what he did surprised her more.

He drew her face close, brought his lips to the corner of hers.

“You are no monster,” he said, soft as a lullaby. “You can be loud, and you can be a bit overzealous.”

At that he smirked, tapping her cheek. “But a monster you are not. If you’re truly scared, then when we return home we can find someone to help, so that what you feel is truly tamed.”

She sniffed, pulling at his shirt. “But I ruin so many things! What happens when I ruin us?”

He rolled his eyes, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “My love, you have not ruined anything. You’ve told me of those friendships, and it sounds like those people were rotten from the start.”

“But what about-”

He brought a finger to her lips, silencing her.

“My love,” he murmured, exasperation in his sigh. “I’ve held my tongue far longer than I’ve cared to tonight. Let me speak.”

She nodded, wilting, and he withdrew his hand.

“You did not ruin the holidays for your family either,” he continued, cupping her face again. “Your father had no business reacting that way, no matter what. As much as I delight in a little violence, there is nothing that anyone could have said that would deserve such a response.”

She sniffled again, wiping at her nose as she felt snot dribble out. She looked disgusting, she was sure, and yet Astarion had insisted she was beautiful. How strange he could be.

“If anything was ruined, it was because of him,” he said, kissing her cheek again. “He should learn to control himself, and he was very lucky that I have so much self control.”

At that Aspen couldn’t help giggling, memories of all the times Astarion could not help himself brimming in her mind. But she held her tongue, not wanting to cut him off, not when he was being sweet as spun sugar.

“And you will not ruin us,” he said at last, firm, unwavering. “I want you, I want every part of you. Even your thorns.”

“Thorns?” She furrowed her brow. “Am I a flower to you?”

He grinned, twirling her hair around his finger. “The most beautiful and rarest of all flowers. But I don’t mind the thorns.” His smile grew, fangs catching the light as they came into view. “I’d let you prick me if it meant getting to stay with you.”

“I would never prick you,” she cried, horrified at the idea of hurting him. “I would never ever hurt you. At least not intentionally.”

His smile softened, and he brought his lips to her chest, above where her heart thrummed, finally beating a steady rhythm once more. “See? You have a sweet heart, you are no monster.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he interrupted. “I have met monsters, my love, and you are not one.”

He sighed, releasing the tendril of hair he’d been toying with. “And I plan to stay at your side for a long, long time. So long as you’ll have me.”

Her heart, a poor fractured thing, ached from his words. She felt like she were splintered glass, and she would shatter at any moment now. The only thing holding her together was Astarion’s hands, keeping her in the moment.

“I want you to stay with me,” she said, her voice soft as breath. “I want you to always stay with me.”

“Then I shall.”

Astarion’s arms slid around her waist, drawing her close. Aspen could think of nothing else to say, so instead she curled against his chest, feeling like she might fall apart at any moment now.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring softly into her hair. “You’re safe. I will keep you safe, my love.”

Although her trembling had stopped, it still took her a long while to truly settle. Her mind could not seem to rest, and it took Astarion singing her favourite songs off-key and reading from one of the books she’d packed for their trip for her mind to finally ease.

He was patient with her as she clung to him, murmuring soft praises, whispering that she was good, that he loved her. He sang and read to her, he stroked her hair, rubbed gentle circles into her back.

A stray sob would slip from between her lips every few moments, and she would absently wipe her nose on the back of her sleeve before nestling closer again. Astarion would press another kiss to her brow, her temple, his arms tightening around her, with every sob that escaped.

And slowly, so painfully slowly it might have taken her a century, she finally began to feel… She wasn’t sure entirely, but it was safer, comforted.

Not entirely better, but it was a start.

“I feel tired,” she murmured against his chest, her tears finally dried up, the last of her sobs lost to the night.

The shadows had grown so long, deepening until there was no light keeping them at bay but for the candles they had lit in their room.

“Why don’t we get you into a bath,” he suggested, tipping her head back until their eyes met. “You always like that.”

“I do…” She trailed off, even the miniscule effort needed to summon words to her lips exhausting her. “But it’s so late, and I feel so tired.”

“Leave it to me,” he murmured, smoothing back her hair.

Things were a blur after that, fatigue rushing through her all at once. Astarion carrying her to the bath, gently settling her into the steaming water like she were a delicate, precious thing. His fingers running through her hair, massaging soap and scented oils into her skin. His lips over her skin, scattering kisses in the wake of his hands as he rinsed the suds from her body.

When he was done he stepped free from the water first so he could help her out, holding her hands as she climbed over the high lip of the tub. He wrapped her in a soft towel, half-carrying her back into their room to help her dress and comb her hair.

Astarion’s lithe fingers twisted her hair into twin braids that fell down her back, much longer than she usually kept it. She made a comment to him that she would need to get it cut when they returned, and he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, promising he would make an appointment for her with their favourite hairdresser.

“And then perhaps we can spend the rest of the day out,” he suggested as he helped her into bed, going so far to fluff the pillows, spoiling her like she were a princess in a fairytale.

“We can pick out some new fabrics, perhaps commission some new clothes,” he continued, brow quirked as he grinned. “You can never have too many new gowns, especially now that we’ve started getting invited to parties. And-” He let the final word hang in the air, quivering like a music note held at the climax of a song.

“And?”

“And I love seeing you in pretty things.”

She held out her arms, wanting him to hold her even now. He’d had his hands on her for hours now, her fingers wrinkled from how long they’d spent in the bath. But it was not enough, and she wanted to be held still.

Astarion obliged, lying beside her and drawing her into his arms. She tucked her head beneath his chin, breathing in the smell of bergamot and rosemary, and the faint smell of her own favourite perfumes and soaps, lavender and rose and the touch of citrus.

“Could we go to the bookstore, too?” She asked, yawning as he trailed his fingers down the back of her neck.

“We can go wherever you would like,” he promised. “But first you must sleep, my love. We’ll make the trek back home tomorrow when you wake.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice, and she quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, safe in his arms.

The morning came far too soon, but Astarion let her sleep late, until the sunlight was a golden glow that seeped through the curtains of their room and breakfast had long since passed.

They didn’t take the time to bid anyone a proper farewell, instead heading for the winding road that would lead them home.

Aspen didn’t anticipate spending her favourite holiday travelling on the road, but she found she did not mind. Even when silence blanketed the both of them, she was comforted in his presence. Astarion could be melodramatic, petulant, and overly confident. But he also showed her gentleness, kindness, an affection that warmed her like the gentle flicker of candle flames.

He took care of her as surely as she took care of him, and as eagerly as she had accepted him for all his virtues and flaws, so he had with her. Perhaps more so, because she’d kept them quiet for as long as she could, and she was certain anyone else would have left her in the cold for such deception.

The winds picked up as they travelled, reaching frozen fingers into her hair, tearing at her cloak and skirts. She tugged her hood over her head, although it did little as the wind snatched her hood back, tearing it from her head.

Astarion snickered, sliding a hand to her cheek. “I have to admit I am glad that your face is not hidden by your hood.”

“Astarion, I’m cold,” she whined, not caring how her voice pitched high, joining the keening of the freezing winds.

A roll of his eyes, followed by a delicate kiss to her cheek. “Here, I have an idea of what can help.”

He draped the side of his cloak over her, his arm slipping around her waist.

“Won’t this make walking hard?” She asked, turning to him. He was close now, his breath ghosting against her cheek.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice a warm tenor that caressed her skin like a kiss. “I’ll take any excuse to be closer to you, darling.”

She sighed, but it wasn’t sad, or even bittersweet. It felt the precursor to a laugh, that promised delight would follow in its wake. “You’re so sweet, did you know that?”

“I did,” he said, doing a poor job of trying not to preen. “But it sounds best when it comes from your lips.”

Now she did laugh, and there really was a little happiness in it, soft as the laughter was, freshly fallen snow that filled the world with glitter. “I’ll have to say it more, then.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

Walking as they did, Astarion’s cloak wrapped around her, slowed them down considerably, but they still made good time, and as the sun sank beneath the horizon, setting the slate-grey of the sky ablaze in fiery red and burning oranges, they arrived back in Baldur’s Gate.

The feeling she felt as they hurried through the streets, fatigue heavy in their bones, was something entirely different from when they’d arrived in her childhood home.

There she had felt like a piece that no longer fit, accepted but not entirely right. She had ignored it, because that had been where she’d grown up. That had been her home, it was where her family lived still.

But stumbling through the streets, thinking of the warmth of her own home, the heat of a bath, the crackle of a fire stoked high, and all the snacks in the cupboards of their kitchen, she felt something click into place.

The bustle of this city, that bakery she loved to visit, the darkened storefront of their favourite tailor, the merry lights and open doors of the bookstore that sold warm drinks in the winter months. All the parts of the city she hadn’t yet seen, so occupied were they both with travelling, adventuring to different lands.

This felt right. Being here felt right. She didn’t feel like a misplaced puzzle piece, a lost toy that did not match with the rest of the set. She didn’t feel like a puzzle piece at all, something that had to match everything that surrounded it.

She felt whole, she felt like she belonged, felt like she was home.

The wind had not let up since earlier that day, heavy storm-clouds chasing in their wake. As they walked up the steps to their home, windows dark and curtains drawn, waiting for them to bring life back into the empty building, she felt something cold touch her cheek.

She looked up, beamed at the flurry of white swirling through the air, caught up in the ice of the wind.

“Astarion, look,” she murmured, pointing skyward. “It’s snowing.”

He paused, barely a foot from their door, to gaze up at the sky, a soft smile beginning to stretch across his face. “So it is.”

He gave her hand a tug, attention already sliding from the snow and back to the promise of warmth and comfort only a foot away. But Aspen found herself frozen in place, staring up at the snowflakes cascading to the ground. Like the sky itself had opened up in welcome of her returning, of her finding somewhere she was safe.

As Astarion tugged her harder she obliged, following him into the house, the door closing with a soft click behind them. It blocked the snow from sight, but still she could see it in her mind’s eye, swirling in an ivory ballet overhead, covering the world in a pallid pearlescence, wiping away the stain that had grown from the day behind them.

She shivered, snapping back to the present as Astarion’s cool fingers glided over her cheeks, his voice teasing as he commented on how flushed she looked.

They helped each other with their cloaks, tossed their packs to the side to be emptied once they were properly warmed. All the while Aspen’s eyes flitted over their home, the familiar shapes of the furniture, the familiar smell of the cleaners and soaps and candles they preferred, the familiar twists and turns of the halls and stairways.

Astarion’s arms slipped around her waist, his chin perching on her shoulder. “What are you thinking of, darling? You’ve hardly said more than a few words.”

She leaned into his embrace, covering her hands with his. “I’m just thinking that something felt strange when we’d gone to visit my family. And that something feels right now that we’re back.”

He peeled away from her, giving her an amused smile. “Of course something feels right, my love. We’re home.”

Home.

She’d known she was coming home as she’d stepped into the city once more, the word seemed to hold a different weight now.

Home, where she had chosen to lay down her heart, where she had chosen to share space with the person most precious to her. Where she was safe.

She smiled, turning around to draw him into an embrace, pressing her face into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of pine and cold winds, and the smell of his perfumes that he so loved.

“You’re right,” she said, her words partially muffled as she nestled closer. “It feels better because I’m home.”

Astarion snorted, but she could imagine the tender smile curling over his lips like a crescent moon shining silver in the sky. He ran a hand over her hair, fingers toying with the soft baby curls at the nape of her neck. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me, my love. I swear it.”

“I know.” Tears pricked at her eyes as she held him tighter.

“I will never hurt you, I will never raise a hand to you, or even threaten to do so.”

She clung to him, as surely as his perfumes clung to his skin, even a hint of their smell giving her comfort. “I know, Astarion. I’m not afraid of you.”

“I only want you to know,” he murmured, lowering his head until it rested against hers. “I want you to know that you’re safe. I’ll make sure you’re always safe.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to stop the flow of the tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes. “Astarion, you’re making me cry.”

He clicked his tongue, stroking the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, my dear.”

“Too late.”

A sigh, a kiss to the top of her head. “Then allow me to make it up to you, darling.”

She sank further into his embrace, listening to the slowed beat of his heart. Her love, her shining star.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

A moment of silence, the slow rhythm, of his heart seeming to stammer for a moment, beat a little faster. “And I love you.”

Aspen would have been content to stay there for the rest of the night, wrapped in his arms. But Astarion clearly had other plans, and after a few moments he pulled away, tapping her cheek playfully when she pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling. I want to clean up and change into something warmer.” He sighed, taking her hands and running his thumbs over the backs of them. “And I want you to change into something warmer too, before you turn entirely to ice.”

“If I turned to ice would you find a way to rescue me?” She gave him a sly smile, a glimmer of mischief in her heart.

“Without a doubt,” he said, eyes bright with devilry. “Although I might have to tell you that I told you so, since if you turned to ice it would be because you ignored my request to warm up.”

“Well then I’ll make sure to heed your advice,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to upset you.”

He patted her hand. “An excellent choice, my love.”

She squeezed his hand, unwilling yet to let go. “Would you help me? I still feel so tired, and I would like to stay close, if you’ll allow me.”

Sorrow flashed in his eyes, the mischief in his smile softening. “Of course, my love. You need only ask.”

“And then we can mull that wine we bought before we left.”

He chuckled, tugging her from the entry, deeper into the heart of their home. “We can. But you’ll have to keep your wits about you, my darling, because I still have that surprise I had prepared for you before that little scuffle.”

She frowned, only now remembering that he’d vanished in search of something he would not tell her about just before the fight had begun. “What is it?”

He shot her a roguish grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see, darling.”

He was teasing her, and while normally she would at least pretend to get upset, in this moment all she could do was smile and laugh. There was no tension in the air, no fear of shattering eggshells beneath her feet.

Astarion accepted her, all of her, and he would not rage against her for saying the wrong thing, for being too loud. He loved her as she was, thorns and all.

They spent the evening together, and she fell asleep tangled in his arms, warm and safe, not feeling quite as hollow as she had the night before.

Aspen had hoped she would bounce back after their return to Baldur’s Gate, but of course things were not perfect, and little more than a week later, a letter arrived addressed to her, scrawled in her mother’s neat hand.

‘You should apologize. I believe you both should apologize, you both-’

She did not get a chance to finish reading before Astarion plucked it from her hand, tossed it into the fire.

A voice in the back of her head told she should probably be annoyed, angry even, that he took the first piece of correspondence she’d received from her family since and fed it to the flames. But there was no rage left inside of her, and even if there was, it would not spark, would not catch on the kindling forever in her heart, waiting to turn to a blaze.

She was thankful to him, for not forcing her to read such a letter. That blamed her as equally as the man who had threatened her. Who teetered on the edge of inflicting violence on her for the sin of disobedience.

“That’s utter rubbish,” he muttered, drawing her into his arms. And for that she was so painfully grateful that she burst into tears all over again, another bout in endless weeks of tears.

“It’s alright, darling.” He had said the words so many times over the past few days, comforting her in the morning when she awoke, trembling from dreams of screaming, from the fractures in her heart, the knowledge that there was no real going back, no crossing the distance between her and that man.

“You are not to blame,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Your heart is good, darling, and it is not your job to please other people so they do not threaten you. Not even your own family.”

Aspen nodded silently, burying her face against his neck.

They could not hurt her here, they could not even slice her with their callous words. Here in her home, with her lover, she was safe.

“You’re sure?” She asked, sniffling. “You’re sure that I will not ruin us?”

He chuckled, warm and soft, nearly a sigh. “Do roses ruin a garden? Does a hawthorn tree ruin a forest?”

She peeked up from her hiding place, wrinkling her nose. “Pardon?”

“Roses have thorns, do they not?”

She nodded slowly. “They do.”

“But they’re everywhere, are they not? In gardens, in songs and poems, in bouquets given to lovers.” He tipped his head to the side, searching her face as he spoke.

Again she nodded, still unsure of what he was talking about. “I know that. They’re some of the most popular flowers.”

“Even though they have thorns?”

“I… Guess?” He was teasing her now, she was sure of it.

“And did you know,” he continued, toying with her hair. “That hawthorns, with their red fruits used in wines and jellies, and the pretty flowers that bloom on their branches, have thorns too?”

She shook her head, completely lost now. “I didn’t.”

He let go of her hair, settling his hands on her waist. “Well they do. And still they are not seen as something ruinous, but something people adore.”

When she didn’t respond, Astarion sighed, making a show of rolling his eyes. “My darling, you will not ruin us. I love you, I adore you. And I would choose you over all of the thornless, soft-hearted fools in the world.”

“I love you too,” she said, feeling small. “I love you, and I want you to stay with me.”

“And so I shall, darling,” he murmured, lowering his head, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I love you, thorns and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears burned at her eyes, a stray few slipping down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, smiling softly.

“You ought to become a poet,” she said, peeking up at him. “Especially after saying such pretty things.”

He snorted, pulling away to wave his hand languidly through the air. “What can I say? You bring out the romantic in me.”

“Thank you, my love,” she spoke earnestly, wanting him to know she was not joking around, that she meant it with her whole heart. “Thank you, for how kind you are to me.”

Astarion froze, the softest touch of pink blooming in his cheeks. What little blood stayed in his veins was rushing to his face, warming him, if only slightly.

“Yes, well…” He trailed off, stammering. “You make it so terribly easy. I hate the idea of your sweet heart being in pain.”

She smirked, teasing him now. “You know you’re pretty sweet, yourself.”

“Alright.” With a roll of his eyes he turned away. “Were we not planning to go out before we got that letter? We should hurry if we want to stop at the bookstore before heading to the performance.”

“Oh yes,” Aspen beamed, hurrying to his side, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before going in search of her cloak. “Right as always, my love. We must make haste.”

Laughter chased after her as she found where she’d last discarded her cloak, a deep deep the colour of a sunset, a perfect contrast to the powder pink of her gown and the coral-coloured ribbons that laced up the front of her bodice. She tossed it over her shoulders, clicking the clasps into place before heading to the entry, where Astarion waited for her, grinning brighter when he saw her.

“Beautiful as always,” he cooed, straightening the clasps of her cloak, disentangling the corners of her ribbons so the bows laid flat.

She beamed, pushing the letter from her mind, pushing the whole terrible event from her mind. What lurked in her skin was no monster, not a beast that destroyed everything that was dear. It was only her thorns, a part of her as surely as the blood in her veins.

Astarion had promised to help her soften them, so they did not draw blood when someone got too close. But there would likely always be a few that were a little sharp, despite her best efforts.

But he would love her anyways, acknowledging that they were a part of her, and he loved all of her, even the sharpest parts.

That knowledge settled in her heart, warmth kindling in her chest. Not the violent fire of rage, but the gentle warmth of love, of contentment, the kind of warmth that kept her safe.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, heading out into the snow-flecked world beyond their door. Into the city that she was not a missing puzzle piece in, with someone who loved her as she was, who was her home. And like the sun to a blooming flower, to a tree with flowers and fruits blossoming along its thorny branches, their love kept her warm the entire day.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #honey the sweeter the sun #hurt/comfort

[arcadekitten]

What game did you enjoy making the most and which game did you enjoy making the least?

It's hard to say! With every game I make I usually go in really liking it and having fun working on it, but then towards the end of production is when I start feeling that burnout period where I'm sick of looking at it haha.

Though I always have fond memories when I think about my time working on Blackout Hospital, and again now with MY WISHMAKER! I think making the Dream Boutique game was also fun because it was so different, but it started to get a bit frustrating when I wanted to have a specific number of clothes that could be mixed and matched without looking toooo generic.

Though when it comes to the game I enjoyed working on the least it miiiiight be Semiaquatic Circus. I talked about it a bit on its anniversary stream, but I do feel like some of my wording towards the situation might have been harsh or sounded unappreciative which is not what I want and I hope it doesn't come off that way!

Semiaquatic Circus was purposely designed to be an easier game for me to work on, but that doesn't mean it was easy! It required a lot of artwork and the time it took to sit down and write it all out. And while I enjoyed working on it and am happy with the final product and the variety it offered my catalogue (and also that it was a good project to work on while making bigger stuff)--I also was a bit sad working on it because it was definitely not one of my more popular games. It became hard to keep up motivation for it and especially during the end of its production I was experiencing intense burnout. I felt like i was pulling my hair out trying to get all the ending artwork ready (many pieces of which were either simplified/condensed if not cut all together) and then I would feel like all my stress wasn't worth it anyways because no one was interested in playing it.

But that's not totally true. It's one of my least popular games, sure. But the fans that it did have were over the moon appreciative of it and so I hope that I was able to deliver unto them a satisfying game and conclusion! And I in turn am so appreciative of them for playing and for letting me know the game meant something to someone out there! And at the end of the day that makes me happy and I have no regrets about making it ♡

#blackout hospital #my wishmaker #ak dream boutique #semiaquatic circus #ask

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 59: Tetsuzanko

Little Shen negotiating his demands with his teacher is just so wholesome and pure. Here's this kid who is wearing rags and robbing adults for money all while telling his sister that he's the strongest in the world, and he enters a tournament and gets beat, thus proving he's not the strongest, but it doesn't affect his self-confidence at all.

He's still so confident that he proposes conditions for allowing someone to teach him, and it's not that he's being egotistical or delusional, because he admits he got beat at the tournament.

His leverage in this negotiation is offering the opportunity to train the boy who will become the world's strongest. That's how sure he is that he'll achieve his dream!

Shen: "Do it for the exposure! It'll look great in your portfolio!"

It's still not clear what kind of person Shen's teacher is at this point. We know he's interested in strong students and that he's smiling at Shen, but he seems eager to push Shen to his limits.

FENG?! That Feng?! It all makes sense now!

Feng is waiting on his student to surpass him and needs him to get as strong as possible so that he can have a fitting opponent someday. You know, like a certain other "Best in the World" from another series:

Each of them promises to wait as long as it takes for their student to reach their level, too! Feng has an even more Mihawk-ish quote later in the story, one that almost matches word for word.

But unlike my beloved Mihawk, Feng specifically promised not to age, which is a bit of an odd thing to say unless it's related to his negation ability.

Back to the battle, Shen immediately uses Untruth as he and Feng charge at each other with the sun shining over both of them as in the panels from the previous chapter.

Oho.

Feng is surprised, but Untruth doesn't seem to throw him off his game too badly. Narration boxes explain how Shen's ability isn't foolproof. He has to keep in mind everything he knows about his opponent's skills, tendencies, mood, and the chances of his ability backfiring--all in real time during a fight. He basically has to think for two people during a battle.

That last panel is so pretty!

Shen realizes that this guy is going to be more trouble than he'd thought! He begins to put the puzzle together:

Andy and Fuuko hadn't had a chance to tell Shen about Life Is Strange and its anti-aging abilities because the battle started almost as soon as they arrived.

Feng's style name is written on his outfit. It has the Under symbol and then 八极 "baji" in simplified Mandarin.

Baji is short for Bajiquan, a Chinese martial arts style. Feng has his own variant style of baji, but we haven't yet learned its name. When Feng uses the Zhen Jiao step-in, Shen recognizes it as one of the fundamental moves of baji and it adds to his suspicions that this mystery opponent has the same fighting style as his old master.

It's a quick, explosive, close-quarters kind of combat that's honestly terrifying:

After escaping with the step-in, Feng soars high above and shields himself with one of the jiangshi. Shen remarks that using a "human" shield to block attacks is something his old master would do--we're slowly learning more and more that Feng might not have been a very caring teacher...

Feng, wearing a hooded robe the entire time and concealing his identity from almost everyone in the series: "Heh, I suppose it's no wonder you don't know who I am!" Yeah, no shit. That's how disguises work!

Shen proves once again that he has no sentimental reservations about punching the zombified corpse of his former rival, but Feng spins away from the punch and lines up for his next wicked sick move.

Bajiquan's most famous move is the tetsuzanko 鉄山靠, "iron mountain lean," a kind of shoulder check/throw/battering ram. Feng's version is called hakkaizanko 捌廻山靠 "eight cycle mountain strike/lean."

It's a well-known baji move with Feng's own spin on it. He hits Shen so hard that he has a flashback!

"Aren't schools supposed to be free of dummies" is hilarious, but in just a few pages, Shen says that he can't go to school because he's a dummy. Poor kid! He doesn't even think he belongs in school! He has a lot of confidence in his strength, but not in his smarts. It's especially sad because we know that Shen's actually not dumb at all! T.T

Was Feng really joking though? He's so hard to read!

The siblings go outside to train under the full moon. Mei learns the tetsuzanko and appears to master it in a short time-- but the sfx covers up her joyful moment in the last panel, and it continues across each panel of the flashback as Feng's true nature is revealed.

"Rather than having three disciples, what if I just have one extremely traumatized disciple?"

Feng was never interested in training Shen for Shen's sake. He wasn't trying to get all the glory for himself, either. I mean, he could've won that tournament hands-down if he wanted to, but he didn't even try (and we see here that he could easily beat the current champion). All that Feng wanted was to train someone who could get strong enough to give him a good fight, and he was willing to hurt that person as much as he could in order to make them into a meaner, stronger version of themselves.

The story cuts back to the present and we FINALLY see Feng's face! Noooooo, he's handsome! How can I hate him now?!?!

I don't think we've ever seen Shen look like this before. He has the same wild look in his eyes as he did when Feng first recruited him! Now Feng is hoping to use that wild side of Shen to create his ideal opponent. Is Shen just taking the bait?

Masterpost

#overreading undead unluck #undead unluck #undead unluck spoilers

[ask-the-royal-absol]

*Later on, Destino finally made their way to Reshi’s room in order to get themselves ready into their gear. The gown was neatly rolled up in the royal blue bag that rested on their back. The slipped it on, feeling a sense of comfort from it. The lining was incredibly soft and Destino took some joy from wearing it. As much as they didn’t have many luxuries down in the Underdark, they were thankful for what they could get. They began to do their lashes when the creature from before slithered out from the body pillow and hung onto their shoulder.*

Destino: Are you still deciding to use my belongings as a means of movement? I still haven’t authorised you to use it, you know.

???: We apologise but it is convenient for us to use. And we also appreciate the softness of it.

Destino: Well, that’s something we can both agree on. Anyway, talk. What are you and why have you chosen me? I really don’t need anymore drama coming from this evening.

???: We have been known by many names. The most common one mortals seem to like for us is the Endless Nightmare. For you see, our powers are that of helping others through their nightmares to allow for pleasant dreams. We have been known to inflict them too but we try not to do it as often.

Destino: I do that because it’s funny seeing them get annoyed. Best part is when they try to insult you back. I would never actually want to be a legend. It seems like too much effort if you ask me. Why would I want to waste my time with all of those responsibilities?

???: We are aware of the effort it takes being one who governs an aspect of life itself.

Destino: Of course. You still haven’t answered my other question. Why me? Why not any of the other guests here? You seemed to get along swimmingly with that other one. Perhaps go bother him some more.

???: We have been sent to keep an eye on you. You are…unstable at the current moment and so we must make sure you do not destabilise.

Destino: What the fuck does that mean?

???: We assume you are aware of the strange occurrence of being here. How have you gotten here when you were travelling with your friends before?

Destino: It’s crossed my mind.

???: It is because you are not supposed to be here. It is not an event that had been planned for in the grand timeline of this universe. Your coming here has lead to you becoming increasingly unstable and there is talk of you reverting back to your original state. As the almighty has said, we cannot have another failure.

Destino: Buddy, I have no idea what you’re talking about and it honestly sounds rather boring. Though, I don’t like the fact you’re calling me unstable. Come on, I’m not that bad.

???: Our apologies if it came off to be rude. We suppose we can simplify the explanation for you to better grasp its meaning. You are aware of the fact that you need to save the world, correct?

Destino: Urgh, don’t remind me. Another responsibility that has taken me away from relaxing on my throne.

???: Well, every second you are here is time lost. You should already be in Terrestria if you would have stayed on the correct path. However, with you hopping from event to event, it is making you have less time to stop the threat from above. Of course, not all of these instances are your fault. It seems the great legends, such as the void spirit, have plans and are using you for these events.

Destino: Oh great. Just what I wanted to hear. I’m a puppet to some greater beings. You’re just awful at making Pokémon feel better.

???: We can stop if you so desire.

Destino: Please do. I’m already tired of listening to your voice and I’m sure Reshi doesn’t want to wait any longer for me. I have no idea what she could possibly want. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she found out everything I had done and wanted to kick me out. Then again, that would be an achievement. Being kicked out of an event meant for legends. An impressive feat.

???: Oh! The truth bearer! I wish to meet with her!

Destino: Of course you do. Fine. You can continue to use my pillow. But if you do anything else to make my evening go to shit, I’m not going to let you use it for transport, got it?

???: We understand! We will not cause trouble. Will you cause trouble?

Destino: That’s kinda my thing, causing trouble. It’s actually my middle name.

???: It’s not.

*Destino finished getting themselves changed into their night gear, slipping on their pink, fluffy slippers as a final touch. Before Destino left to go and find Reshi, they placed a couple of the berries they obtained from the grafaiai earlier inside of one of the drawers as a fun little surprise for her. Maybe she’d find them early before they started to rot. Maybe not.*

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #pokeask #ask #darkrai #LoUsleepover #pokeask community #absol

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Seduce me through music

By now, you were used to performing in front of a crowd. It just seemed to be one of the things that was a natural part of your new life in hell. Although having Kalego accompany you on the piano sent shivers down your spine.

There was something about having a well-known and accomplished artist preforming along side you that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. One wrong note could upset the whole song. And yet, knowing that Kalego was in his element was comforting because he would somehow keep up with any changes.

You relaxed as he started playing swaying as the melody washed over you. In that moment, you forgot about the spotlight. The audience no longer existed. It was just you and the dark brooding demon playing the keys.

☆There's only so much that a heart can take~ be-fore it sta~rts to break~.☆ Your voice echoed across the room as you joined Kalego's latest masterpiece.

The haunting tune caressed your skin. A touch reserved for only a lover. You could feel the desire of the music as you continued.

☆Please don't make me love you. Please don't make me need you. I've no room in my life for something like this~☆

You pleaded with the demon who continued playing. His gaze traveled up to meet yours as his hands never stopped. You swallowed as you took a gasping breath. The desire overwhelmed you.

☆Please don't take my mornings, please don't steal my summers~ I know they will vanish the moment we kiss~☆

You traced your lips for a moment. Watching as Kalego's gaze seemed hyperfocused on you now. How intoxicating. Slowly, you made your way to him. Letting his music seduce you.

☆I grow weak when we ta~lk, I'm confused when we touch. I should just walk away, but that's asking too much~☆

You confessed as you gently ran your fingers through his hair as he started building up tempo. Walking around him, you settled yourself on top of the beloved instrument. Your body is facing the audience, but your gaze is still locked with him.

☆Please don't make me do this! Please don't make me want this! All my dreams were taken until I met you~☆

You begged again as you were flooded with more of his emotion spilling through the music. Your heart captivated in the verse. You never expected to feel like this ever.

You had had crushes before. Heck, you had even thought yourself to be in love a couple of times. But nothing was like this. Nothing was like the feeling of endless wanting and being wanted back so passionately.

It almost seemed wrong to be adored this much. Yet, this was hell. If you were desired on such a sinful level, then so be it. Your lover was a demon, after all.

☆You're the one I think of, soon as I awaken. Funny how the heart tells the mind what to do.☆ You ran your fingers carefully through your own hair before pulling your gaze away from him at last. Slowly, you stood atop the piano. Thankful for its sturdy legs.

☆I'm not sure I can go through all the joy and the pain~ Much better no~ot to let these dre~ams take fli~ght!☆

You leaped with that last note. Landing a few feet away as you walk towards your starting position. The spotlight following you and the lights dimming around Kalego.

☆Please don't make me love you. Please don't make me need you. Simplify my life, just by setting me free!~☆

Slowly, you sunk to your knees as your own spotlight started to dim. ☆Promise me you'll do this. On-ly you~ can do th-is. Please don't make me love you unless you lo-ve me~☆ The light dies, and the music fades.

Only leaving you and Kalego with a roaring audience before you with a standing ovation. You quietly gasped for air. Kalego walked quickly over to you and offered a hand. You smiled. Taking it.

What surprised you was he didn't pull you up. No, he knelt beside you and kissed your knuckles. You couldn't stop the blush from rising on your cheeks.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #naberius kalego #kalego sensei #kalego x reader #dracula the musical

[laurellerual]

Arya Lady of Harrenhal during the Long Night

At the bottom of my inbox there's an anonymous message from months ago that says “could you do Arya with Nymeria during the long night? Fighting together?”. I haven't replied yet and the reason is that when I think about this scene, the image of GOT 8x03 pops up in my mind. Will Arya fight through the Long Night, sword in hand? I'm not that sure.

Then the other day I came up with this idea that I proposed to you in a survey: “Winterfell falls, the northeners have to escape South, Harrenhal is the main citadel, Arya as lady of Harrenhal during the Long Night”. And I must say I'm surprised with the result. It won "I see where you are coming from, and I like it" with 33% of the votes.

But many, rightly so, have chosen "I'll wait for you to elaborate", so here we are.

A role

So Jon and Dany are the ones with the army and the dragons, Tyrion is the smart one with the experience and Bran is the one with the magical powers (sorry I'm simplifying, just to summarize). It's not hard to imagine that they'll find their place in the White Walkers storyline.

And Arya? Use the valyrian steel sword she doesn't have to slay the undead? Will Jon allow her to be on the front lines? Is Arya really stupid enough to think she can do it?

She will be at most 12/13 years old and the only sword lessons she has received are those of Syrio, she is not a great swordswoman, especially if she has to face adults on a battlefield. The things that the FMs are teaching her don't seem suitable for this kind of situations. I guess she could contribute by warging Nymeria and leading her pack, but if that is the case it wouldn't be necessary for her to be physically there.

Whatever this role is it must be relevant 'cause Martin counted her among the five key characters, one of the first to be created and then decided to waste a lot of ink by telling us about her.

Harrenhal

I start with the assumtion that the Battle for the Dawn will take place in the Riverlands, that it will not be possible to stop the White Walkers at Winterfell and consequently there will be an exodus of people from the North to the South. If you don't agree or you want an explanation about it, you can read my last post: Harrenhal during the Long Night.

And which of the main characters has a strong relationship with Harrenhal?

Thematic connections

The girl has a long and complex relationship with her mother's native land and a strong thematic connection with water that you surely have read about in other metas. Most of the major events in Arya's life take place here.

Not only the Red wedding, meeting Jaqen, the Weasel soup, the separation from Nymeria, but also Mycah's death in which she realizes for the first time that her father is not as powerful as she thinks, that the injustice of the world is deeper than she thought and that especially for the nobles the suffering of the smallfolk is totally irrelevant.

Harrenhal is the castle of which she becomes the ghost. And she really is the ghost of Harrenhal, standing in front of that Heart tree, probably like her late aunt years before, as she hears a voice from the trees reminding her of her real name.

Useful knowledge

Arya knows these lands directly, crosses them, lives them, knows their inhabitants, their opinions and sides in the war. It isn't a theoretical knowledge but a practical one. As Jon Snow recalls "The map is not the land, my father often said".

But it's even more intimate than that because Arya dreams of those lands every night, she sees them through Nymeria's eyes. The wolf is currently the only undisputed ruler in that lawless place. Do you remember the image of Harrenhal tormented by the tremendous howl of the wind and wolves outside the walls?

Arya also knows Harrenhal on all its levels. She physically scrubbed the floors of every floor of every tower and she scoured all the walls in search of an unguarded gate.

She has experienced the classes and roles that exist within the castle and its management. She had to deal with armigers, cooks and blacksmiths. She has worked her way up the chain of command from the humblest of servants to cupbearer and lord's messenger.

Skills and leadership

In the books we see her many times in positions where she is the person who has to make decisions, lead a group, organize little plans.

One of the main themes of her journey is justice, mercy, power and its abuse.

Then there are more or less direct parallels such as the one between Arya and Aegon the unlikely or the list of things that would make Aegon/young Griff a good ruler according to Varys.

Let's see some quotes in the books that tell us about these aspects of the character:

The one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household.

His father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know t

he men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger."

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms.

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his great sword. “If you would take a man 's life, you owe it to him go look him in the face and hear his last words di lui,” she 'd heard him tell Robb and Jon once.

Can I be lord of a holdfast?

And here I stop because there are many others. If you are interested in this, there are meta only on this topic around tumblr.

An interesting that that connects Ned's teachings and those of the FMs is the concept that power and service are closely related.

Now let's see what FM training consists of: the ability to blend in with people, listen, gather information, learn many languages. We can add her natural ability to make friends and allies of all kinds.

This seems like the perfect package to manage a castle full of frightened people from all over the world (there will be people arriving with Dany as well), from every social class, every side of the war, who have nothing in common but the hope to survive.

Disconnected thoughts and possible parallels

This would be a very poetic situation that completes the parallel with historical Nymeria by placing Arya at the head of a group of refugees fleeing their destroyed home. In addition to giving her the possibility and the power to carry out the reflection on justice in a place that has seen so much injustice.

It's also funny how Lady Whent is introduced with great expectation right into Arya's chapters, where she thinks she can ask for her help. Yet she will never meet the Lady of Harrenhal.

And isn't it funny how she decided to name her direwolf after "some old witch queen in the songs"?

From the Alys Rivers wiki page: In 132 AC during the regency of Aegon III, a number of broken men and predatory outlaws began to gather at Harrenhal under the rule of a sorcerous witch queen. Mmmh interesting… this sound familiar, the Brotherhood without banners?

There is also Sharra, another witch queen of the Riverlands from the Age of Heroes.

Conclusions

In this place where Shagwell the Fool sang about Weasel soup maybe in the future there will be songs about Arya and the ten thousand wolves.

Thanks for reading. Mine doesn't want to be a theory that speaks of the character's endgame, but of its role during the Long Night. Let me know if I've given you something to think about, if I've convinced you, if you have other ideas on what this role might be. Or if you want to write a fanfiction with this plot.

Edit: I just discovered an old thread with a similar topic. I haven't read it yet, but I'll leave it here for the record.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #arya stark #harrenhal #the long night #arya meta

[immogoat]

Just finished all my new sonas/ocs! Brief descriptions below:

DWARF GOAT - SEBASTIAN (my main sona)

american, butch and nonbinary, lesbian, he/she/it

- basically just me. has my top surgery and hysterectomy scars, my glasses and piercings, and my body type… might be exaggerating the hips a bit lol

PLUSH DEER - ??? (secondary sona)

american, nonspeaking, asexual, it/its

- not sure of this one’s name or lore yet… It has an owner hence the collar, and is the kind of plush you can heat up in the dryer to get warm ^^ I’m still looking for a name I like… if anyone knows a cute-sounding adjective or noun related to space/astronomy, warmth, or softness put it in the tags!

CYBORG RACCOON - MAC (oc)

spanish-speakinf

spanish-speaking, butch, she/her

- based partially on a dream i had recently where I woke up in a cramped futuristic space ship with like 3 other people navigating and driving it who said I was their anthropologist (Matrix-style, I had all my memories from my current life and none about being an anthropologist…) so that’s her backstory! Also based on me loving robots and cyborg characters.

LUNG DRAGON - 金鱼 (JĪNYÚ) (oc)

chinese-american, speaks Mandarin, genderfluid, bisexual, he/him

-I’m learning Mandarin simplified Chinese and want to have a character who speaks/writes it so I have an excuse to do more of that… this guy is inflatable, a pooltoy type, can’t decide what material exactly but he’s slightly translucent and durable. His name means “goldfish,” based on his color scheme! He’s a mage of sorts, can do spells and breathe fire and brew potions and whatnot.

#lung dragon #dragon #inflatable #goat #dwarf goat #raccoon #plush deer #cyborg #my art #fursona #furry art #oc

[pillowspace]

Hi! I hope you don't mind me dropping off a dream that I had last night. It had Moon in it, and his design in the dream kinda reminded me of your Celestial Sundown Moon (though not as grand).

*Ahem*

I'm not sure where I was, but I was walking with a guy in the hallway of some building that was oddly colored (I believe the main colors were oranges, reds, and purples). He began to warn me about some kind of entity (a spirit, I believe) that should be ignored. If its actions were acknowledged, it would become more hostile and cause worse and worse things to happen to the person. However, he said that this being could be befriended, which would make it no longer have ill-will towards the person it was following.

Not long after the warning was given, I could tell something appeared behind me and began to follow me. I was able to catch a glimpse of it (via dream perspective shift) and it turns out the being I was warned about was Moon. The way he was dressed was a bit fancy (I can't remember the outfit well, but I believe he had a hooded caplet on with gold trim, and the rest of his outfit also has some form of gold trim/detailing) and his face was also a bit more simplified.

Me and the guy continued to walk. I could tell Moon was trying to intimidate me as he followed (he spoke to me threateningly and I could hear him moving behind me), however I ignored him.

At some point in the dream I saw the guy and Moon outside talking normally. It seemed they were friends with each other (which would make the advice the guy gave me make sense).

At another point in the dream, I was alone with Moon following me once again. He was trying to get me to speak to him, telling me that it wouldn't count as me paying attention to him if I talked to him. I ended up doing so. Thankfully, he was telling the truth about that.

Ohhh that's so cool!!

I find it funny how our dreams (I'm referring to the dream from 2022 that Celestial Sundown came from) both have the theme of "Moon though not as grand," but in opposite directions. Yours seemed fancy, but Moon's ORIGINAL design from the dream I had? Completely shadowy clothes and dark hood, everything torn to shreds but still clinging on, etc. etc. I kept some basic shapes into the re-design, but in the end, the only thing I allowed to remain torn was the cloak. There was not a bit of gold on him

That's a very neat dream, I'm glad you got to talk to the creature <3

#ask #celestial sundown au

[posebean]

Another thing about antagonists in general is that they aren't always inherently bad! They're just in opposition of the protagonist! (Who isn't always good either!!) Enstars is rlly fun bcs it switches those roles around between characters and reducing a character to Just that story role is a rlly reductive way to look at the material

anon can i have your hand in marriage /j

this gets a little long... read more

YEAH! its all a matter of perspective; people tend to focus on only one perspective and forget that things aren't just as simple as this person evil this person good (in the case of enstars)

sorry everything is abt crazyb i only know bee stuff by heart 🥹butttt

honestly any story with crazy:B involved with other units (main story, night club, SS Sudden death) shows this. theyre the unit that goes against the system, that breaks the seemingly perfect but actually fucked up system. they do things wild and their own way, and are portrayed initially negatively (we are given other persoectives to see this through! like every other unit, 2wink, knights etc. so it makes sense that people initially go. yeah. these people are bad. )

but then we get it from their perspective. we learn that theres reason behind this madness, behind all the wild and antagonistic acts that they do. we learn that they're so, so human. they have their own problems, have ideals that they're getting realized in their way, not going with the flow. nothing is black and white, sure, sometimes they may do some things that people don't agree with, but ultimately there's always reason behind that;

sorry to make this about him but i've gotta. all the posts that limit rinne to just a gambling addict alcoholic with no respect for anything that would be awful just to be awful make me want to hit stuff with a rock. i think theres this one convo in main story that basically explains it so well, that one where niki and mayoi are talking. the one where niki says yeah? rinne-kun is awful and stuff at times but he's human, just like me and you. that line hit me so hard you dont understand

im like. convinced people that label rinne as only evil and scum like. difnt read mainstory 5 at all. a huge part of that mainstory was showing things from crazy:b's perspective, showing that rinne was a planner, that he planned for everything and now was shouldering all of it, ALL OF THE BLAME, saying that his unitmates had no part of it and was literally willing to LEAVE, leave behind his dream, leave behind everything so that his unitmates and hiiro and everyone else could live happily. IF YOU CAN READ THROUGH ALL OF THAT, READ THROUGH WINNER AND HAPPY END AND SEE LITERALLY HOW BROKEN RINNE IS ABOUT LEAVING BUT HES STILL DOING IT ANYWAYS BECAUSE HE LOVES EVERYONE!! BUT YOU STILL HAVE THE GALL TO SIMPLIFY HIM TO HAHA GAMBLER ALCOHOLIC MAN WHO WOULD STEAL MY WALLET AND BURN MY HOUSE DOWN i will hit you with a rock 💥🥰

it is okay to not like a character!!! it is not okay to limit them simply to aspects you find on a shallow level. better to not think about that character than at all. i am taking rinne amagi swaddling him in warm blankets and giving him hot cocoa i will defend his characterization with my god damn LIFE

sorry anon u didnt ask for this but yeah basically its all a matter of perspective and prople need to learn to respect that all of the characters at the end of the day are human and have their own nuances. be like me. dont have strong negative feelings except sopping wet /pos

#anon #enstars #bean talk

[opalchoi]

Loosely Continued from Original Post by @chikoyama

Opal exited a building & locked up, she sighed as she felt dread knowing that upon her return, all the many outstanding tasks would still be there.

She turned to face the street & leaned back on the door. Her face gradually returned to its naturally smiley complexion.

"This can work, it has to"

She observed as people wandered home from their places of work, taking in the gentle spring breeze. A blossom tree was opposite the store, part of the empty unit's appeal. That and the reasonable rent for what appeared to be a safe neighbourhood with a gentle flow of foot traffic & a few nearby bus stops. It was a project for sure but Opal initially looked forward to the renovation.

In her hand was The Flip Flop from that chaotic convenience store debacle. Her lips relaxed into a smile as looked back at that time with great fondness. It was one of the moments that cemented her friendship with Chiyori. Unbeknownst to Chiyori, Opal kept the singular Flip. It was tucked away in a treasured memory box until recently.

With the Flip in one hand and a large hammer in the other, Opal turned to face the exterior of the building & reached up high holding a nail to the footwear.

She begin to hammer the yellow Flip in position above the doorway adjacent to a sign that read "Flip-Hop Cafe" with a simplified artwork logo of a pancake stack next to a steaming cup, presumably filled with delicious coffee.

The "Hop" was both a play on the American chain iHop and a nod to Chiyori's fondness for bunnies. Opal was unapologetically sentimental, an endearing quality that charmed anyone graced with her presence.

Opal's dream of owning her own cafe was well in motion. Unfortunately the repairs required for the kitchen were more extensive than anticipated, but she remained optimistic. A lot of the furniture she had thrifted from tired antique stores or found at the side of the road & took great care in sanding & restoring the wooden furniture back to life.

Having saved up for years & took on extra part time jobs to save up for the deposit. Opal felt exhausted, nervous but excited.

All those years of working a minimum wage job as a Barista. She took as an opportunity for training to be able to run her own cafe.

With a week until the grand opening, "Opal Choi, cafe owner" she muttered to herself. She began strolling home beaming, her face shining brightly in the evening sunshine.

#opalchoi #chikoyama #opalchi #Opal Choi Cafe Owner #Feel so proud of her #Flip-Hop is lame but im lame so fight me #Flip-Hop #enfp #oc

[rey-jake-therapist]

Sandoctober 2023

Day 18: Change

Title: Dream a little dream of us

Characters: Nuala the Fairy, Johanna Constantine and Hob Gadling

One-shot fic inspired with the prompt proposed by @orionsangel86 🖤

Tagging @nualaofthefaerie because I spent an awful time fearing I didn't write her in character and would love to hear your opinion. I chose Haley Bennett to represent Nuala because you said she gave you Nuala vibes :) Also there are some things I wrote that I would have surely omitted to mention if you hadn't written about it before... The Ice Maiden mention is one of them 🖤

And @writing-for-life because you seemed interested 🖤

Disclaimer: this fic and its summary contain major spoilers from the comics!

It all started with an idea: Johanna, Hob and Nuala walk into a bar after Morpheus' death...

For the needs of the story and to simplify things, Johanna replaces Thessaly so she did pretty much the same thing as Thessaly in TKO, but for a much better reason. I'm NOT trying to make up excuses for the witch through Johanna, they're too distinct characters. Johanna's not selfish, she's also not a TERF, in my headcanon she actually dated Wanda at some point and mourned her as much as Barbie did. SHE'S NOTHING LIKE THESSALY, PERIOD.

Morpheus dated both Johanna and Hob at different times :)

SUMMARY In the wake of Morpheus’ death, Johanna Constantine, Hob Gadling meet in a dream at the Green Dragon Tavern, where Nuala the Fairy works. They discuss the influence that Morpheus had on their lives and the love they had for him, as well as their remorses. Despite being unable to change himself, he changed them, mostly for the best. Written as a contribution to Sandtober2023. RATING: general audiences PAIRINGS: references to past Morphanna, Dreamling, Sandflower and beginning of... Nualanna? (Johanna/Nuala) TW: several mentions of a major character's death (Morpheus) STATUS: complete LINK AO3

Johanna Constantine was the first to arrive. She had no clue why she'd ended up in New York, being a Londoner, with no recollection of being summoned for a demon situation overseas. However, the moment she walked into the Green Dragon Pub, she sensed she wouldn't be alone for long. Much to her surprise, the pub was deserted, save for her and the bartender, a lovely brown-haired woman cheerily humming as she polished a glass behind the tall wooden bar.

Approaching the bar with a friendly greeting, Johanna couldn't help but notice the glass the bartender was drying was so spotless literal sparkles emanated from the glass, like something out of a cartoon. In any other place, she might have been taken aback, but she simply assumed the bartender had a knack for cleaning and ordered a bourbon. To her amazement, a bottle seemed to materialize in the bartender's hand, and she couldn't help but smile.

Just then, the creaky door swung open, revealing a man who appeared just as perplexed as Johanna had been when she first entered the Green Dragon Pub. A faint grin played on the bartender's lips as she poured Johanna's bourbon and mumbled, "Ah, I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up."

"I didn't expect to be awaited, but I can't say I'm surprised," the man, who Johanna found rather handsome despite not being her usual type, casually joined her at the bar, gesturing to her glass. "I'll take the same, if you please."

The bartender smirked this time and snapped her fingers to give the man's glass a magical fill of the amber liquid. He raised an eyebrow but made no comment.

Johanna suddenly noticed the girl's pointed ears and exclaimed, "Wow! You're an Elf, aren't you? I always dreamt I'd meet one, never thought I would!"

"I am indeed an Elf," the charming bartender confirmed with a slight smile, "We've actually met before; you even gave me this," she continued, displaying the crystal pendant hanging from her neck. "But it's no surprise you don't recognize me now. We're in a shared dream, and Hob never met me even though we shared another dream recently. People here often call me Nuala the Fairy, but please, just call me Nuala," she added, extending her hand.

"Nuala, Nuala... that name does sound familiar," Johanna replied. "I'm Johanna Constantine, a demon hunter, but you can call me Jo. You already know that, I assume." Johanna shook Nuala's hand, finding it as soft and warm as Nuala's smile. She couldn't help but notice once again how strikingly beautiful her dream friend was. It struck her with a pang of longing that Nuala reminded her of Rachel, the woman who had lost her sanity and life because of her.

The man shook both women's hands and introduced himself with a strong British accent. "Nice to meet you both. I'm Hob Gadling, I mean Rob! Wait… Just call me Hob. What can I say about myself? I'm nothing special."

"You may be human, but you're also immortal! I'd say that makes you pretty special," Nuala wisely pointed out.

Hob began to ask how Nuala knew about his immortality but stopped mid-sentence when he saw Nuala's lips curl into a mischievous smirk. He and Johanna exchanged knowing glances, realizing that questioning Nuala was futile.

Johanna took another generous sip of bourbon and grumbled, "A Faery Elf, an immortal, two Brits in an empty pub in Boston... Of course, it couldn't be real. Oh well, it's still better than my usual nightmares, I suppose."

"Dreams are quite real," Nuala gently corrected. "Just because we're not in the Waking World doesn't mean the moments we live here aren't real. But I sense you already understand that."

"Yeah, and no offense, but you sound a bit too much like a guy I used to know. Correction: an anthropomorphic personification of a man I used to know. Whatever. He's gone. I sort of... killed him," Johanna mumbled.

"I know you believe you did, but rest assured that you didn't kill him any more than I did," Nuala responded, her smile fading as sadness overtook her. Hob, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, appeared almost on the verge of tears as he added,

"Or more than I did."

Bewildered, Johanna looked at her two companions. "So, this is about him, huh? We're all here because of Morpheus! At first, I thought I was the one dreaming of you two, but it seems we're all sharing the same dream at the same time, aren't we? But why?" She asked Nuala abruptly. The faerie simply shrugged.

"Not long after he passed away, I had a dream where I saw him. Morpheus," Hob chimed in. "You know, it took this guy more than six hundred years to finally give me one of his names. I heard he had plenty. Anyway, I thought it was just a dream, but now I'm beginning to think he's the one who's playing tricks on me and on you. For some reason, he wants us to meet."

"He's dead," Johanna stated coldly. "I remember. I was at his funeral, met his exes, and we talked about him. It's all very bizarre." She took another sip of her bourbon, which was quickly mirrored by Hob.

"The three of us were indeed at his funeral; we just didn't have the chance to meet until now, which is rather curious, come to think of it. But Dream is an Endless, he can't truly die. Morpheus may be gone, but he was just one facet of Dream... Lady Johanna," Nuala explained, a hint of sadness in her smile. The way Nuala addressed her triggered a sudden realization in Johanna.

"God, I recognize you, Nuala! Of course! You lived in the castle, and you even cleaned my room. I remember giving you my pendant because you were so kind to me. I'm delighted to see you again!" Johanna exclaimed.

"I'm glad you girls are reunited, but it still doesn't answer why I'm in this dream. I don't know either of you. What's the purpose of all this?" Hob inquired, growing a bit impatient.

"Should there always be an explanation for our dreams? I thought it was quite the opposite," Nuala wisely observed. "I don't think we're here for a specific reason, except perhaps to remember Morpheus one last time," she suggested.

"What a condescending prick he was," Johanna groaned before downing the rest of her drink in one go. She stared at the wall behind Nuala, her brown eyes brimming with profound sadness.

Nuala couldn't help but giggle. After leaving Faerie with nowhere to go, she had wandered for weeks until her lonely footsteps led her to the Mundane world of humans. It took time to adjust to a world devoid of magic, but she grew fond of its strange inhabitants and, in the case of humans like Johanna, their brutal honesty.

"It's not wrong," Hob admitted with an amused tone. "He was cold, distant, and often rude, but I still enjoyed his occasional visits. Before he passed, we saw each other more frequently, and we even... shared a moment after he found me at the White Horse."

"You can say you fucked him, Hob. Nobody's going to judge you," Johanna quipped.

"At least one of us might be jealous," Nuala whispered with a faded smile.

"Yeah, I get that," Hob chuckled. "For a while, I thought maybe we were meant to be more than friends. I seriously considered it. But he was so reclusive! I found out he had a son at his funeral, for God's sake. In the end, it didn't work out for me. Long story short, we didn't want the same things. It's a shame, because he was the only one with whom I could share six hundred years of personal history, and I still miss him for that. All the people I loved… They all died without knowing who I really was. My girlfriend, Gwen... She's fantastic, fabulous even. I don't know how I still find it in me to fall in love with people who I know will die eventually," he chuckled briefly, then his face become serious as he whispered, "Maybe I should tell her. Tell her everything. She won't believe me, nobody ever does, and she'll hate me after she knows what I did for sure, but she deserves to know the truth, I know. Morpheus was the only one who knew, and now he's gone as well. Maybe I should tell her..."

Johanna, who had been listening attentively, nodded and shared, "After Morpheus got his sand back, I didn't think I'd ever see him again." As she spoke, vivid memories of a rainy London night flashed before her eyes – the intensity of his blue stare, his otherworldly beauty, and the unsettling feeling that he could see right through her soul. She realized, though it was unclear how, that Nuala and Hob perceived those memories with the same clarity. A bit flustered, she continued, "I hate to admit it, but my attraction to him was immediate and all-encompassing, and I knew he felt the same. He told me I would stop having nightmares, and he kept his promise. When he visited me one night, I thought he wanted another service and told him, 'Screw you! Leave me alone, let me sleep!' But he came back the following night, saying he just wanted to talk." She sighed and continued, "'Turned out we had a lot more in common than I thought. He knew that, it’s why he came to me. He was used to giving orders, but he knew that wouldn't fly with me. His natural authority was quite arousing, but I wasn't afraid of him, and I spoke my mind. He liked that about me. We were both stubborn and passionate, and the moment he touched me, I felt he would fucking ruin my life and I would do the same to his, but that didn't stop us."

Nuala confessed, "I never got to know him as intimately as you did, and I wish I had. Hearing your story, I think I understand a dream I had shortly after he passed away better. I had just left Faery with nothing but my regrets and no idea of what to do next. I felt incredibly lonely. Morpheus appeared to me and said that in different circumstances, we might have been very happy together, but he had nothing left to offer me, and one day, I would be thankful he never considered me in that way. I woke up thinking it was just a dream and that I was fooling myself, but now I realize it might not have been just a dream. It was really him, right?" She looked inquisitively at her new friends, hoping they might have an answer, but they were all equally uncertain.

"Maybe it was him... maybe it was a dream sent to us by the new Dream, who knows. He appeared one last time in my dreams and said he didn't hold a grudge for what I did, but there's no way it was real," Johanna responded with a hint of bitterness. "You know what Joan Crawford said about love? 'Love is a fire. But whether it's going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell.' And she sure knew what she was talking about! I still don't think it was really love that I felt for Morpheus. For a moment, it seemed logical for us to be together, but that's because we both messed up everything good in our lives and disappointed everyone who cared for us. Of course, it wasn't that clear in my head at the time. I was so confused about everything then.

"I remember, when I was in Rachel's apartment the last time I saw her, I hallucinated her... She was alive, just as beautiful and vibrant as she was in my memories, and she had been told that I was a selfish, ruthless coward who ruined everything I touched. It was painful to hear, but it was also the truth, you know? It was my hallucination, but it was caused by his stupid sand. Now that I'm here, I can't shake the feeling that this whole conversation was as much about him as it was about me. Does that make any sense?" Johanna questioned.

"Yes, it does," Nuala and Hob replied simultaneously.

"Morpheus didn't think he was worthy of love because he failed his son," Nuala murmured, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions. "Deep down, I believe he never forgave himself for abandoning Orpheus when he needed him most. Then he had to end Orpheus's life with his own hands. How do you ever recover from that?"

Johanna nodded, her voice carrying a heavy burden of guilt. "I've never forgiven myself for losing Astra, even if it's not something I would admit outside of a dream. Astra wasn't my daughter, but I was like a mother to her. She trusted me to protect her, and she died, and it was all my fault. I didn't pull the trigger, but it felt as if I had. It still does... Morpheus merely made the nightmares go away. For a while, I had this small glimmer of hope that maybe we could heal together, but it was barely a band aid. After a while, when I looked at him, it was like staring into a mirror, and I didn't like what I saw. He probably felt the same! That's why I waited for hours for him to come, eyes wide open, but he was too busy working or so he said... My exes would say he made me taste my own medicine," she let out a wry chuckle and confessed, "they wouldn't be wrong."

"I didn't know the entire story of Morpheus and Orpheus when I was brought into the Dreaming by my brother - who hadn't bothered to warn me I was Titania's gift and might never return to Faery," Nuala began. "I had no opinion on the King of Dreams because I didn't know him at all. There were whispers that he had an affair with Titania eons ago and that he was very cold and distant in his speech. But I had no interest in gossip back then; I simply lived my life... I was known as the Ice Maiden. I was considered one of the most beautiful fairies at the Seelie court, can you believe that?"

"I absolutely can! The more I look at you, the more I regret that we're in a dream. If it were real life, I'd be asking for your number because you are incredibly beautiful," Johanna admitted, taking a deep breath, her gaze dropping down to Nuala's lips. The fae blushed and giggled, her charm only growing stronger in Johanna's eyes.

"Beauty in Faery is so crucial that for a long time, I was convinced that when Morpheus removed my glamor, he had made me ugly. It took me a while to realize what a tremendous favor he had actually done for me. I was finally allowed to reveal my true self completely. It's not that I wasn't truly the Ice Maiden; I will always be the Ice Maiden. But in Faery, that's the only role I could play. No one cared to know the real me, Nuala. I understand why you say that Morpheus wasn't always a good person, and I'm not saying these words aren't true, but it's not how I want to remember him. He was always considerate with me, never asking anything of me, even though he had every right to, given that I was gifted to him. Before I left his realm, he granted me a boon and told me I could use it to summon him whenever I wished. He kept his word, even though it put him and the Dreaming in great danger. I wanted to help him, but…”

Nuala paused to wipe away a few tears from her eyes and continued, 

"I don't think anyone could have helped him at that point. I confronted him, told him he wanted to be punished for what he did to his son, and he didn't even attempt to deny it."

Hob muttered, "I can't believe I'll never see him again. He was the only constant in my life, you know? I could be honest with him about what I was and the life I led. He saw me at my worst and still," Hob paused, chuckled, and went on, "put up with me! Knowing him... it changed me, and not just because he and his sister, Death, made me an immortal. He opened my eyes to some of my wrongdoings. I know I owe him years of terrible nightmares, but I'm grateful he did that because, in doing so, he made me a better person, I hope! Not that there's anything I could do to cleanse my conscience and receive absolution for all the suffering I caused out of greed. But at least I stopped seeing people solely for what they could do for me."

Hob's eyes welled up with tears, and he couldn't hold them back any longer. "He helped me see through my bullshit, but when it was time to help him, I failed him. He visited me shortly after Audrey's death, probably because he needed a friend to talk to. But what did I do? I made it all about me, about my grief! I asked him to... something impossible, I was delusional! When I realized he was in profound pain too, it was too late. At first, I thought maybe I had hurt him by talking about a woman I loved, but when I attended his funeral, I understood. It was so much deeper than that! Maybe I could have helped him find another way out, maybe I could have prevented his death! But I made it all about myself because I'm a selfish jerk... always have been..." Unable to finish his sentence, Hob broke down in tears.

"When I heard he was in trouble, I used the boon he had given me to call him. I foolishly thought I could help, but what could a little elf like me have done? He told me it wasn't a good time, but I insisted, so he left the Dreaming to visit me. Later on, I hated myself for being so selfish then. I wanted him to run away with me. I even asked him to love me in return as a boon!" Nuala swallowed hard and shook her head. "If I hadn't called him, maybe he would have had more time to resolve things with The Kindly Ones without having to die to protect his realm... Lucienne kept telling me it wasn't my fault, and I know she's right, but deep inside, there's always this voice whispering, 'it's your fault, Nuala, your fault...'." She, too, began to cry and covered her face with her hands.

"Oh shut up, you two... None of you are to blame. If anyone must shoulder the blame, it's me! Don't you understand? I'm the one The Kindly Ones called upon to protect Lyta from Morpheus. They told me she was in danger because she had requested them to kill him. They said he had taken her son away from her, and that her son was dead because of him. This poor woman was desperate and had nearly lost her mind. I couldn't let him harm her! I know what it's like to lose a child you care about, and I was angry at Morpheus because he knew it too, yet had done all these things to her! I had the power to protect her, to place her in a magic circle so he couldn't touch her, and so I did it," Johanna confessed. 

Her hands gripping the wooden bar, she continued, tears still held back, 

"I can't deny I was still bitter about the way our affair had ended, and I wanted to hurt him. When he came for Lyta, I said a ton of hurtful things that I now regret. I refused to give the woman to him, so he left after an empty conversation. Apparently, he had been informed that this meeting would take place, likely by his brother Destiny. I had no idea things were that dire. I swear to God that if I had known he had no other way to get out of this mess, I wouldn't have helped Lyta, or I would have tried to make a different deal with The Kindly Ones, I don't know!" As she spoke, Johanna's emotions finally overwhelmed her, and her tears flowed freely.

Nuala stepped out from behind the bar and embraced Johanna, both women still sobbing uncontrollably. Hob joined them, wrapping his arms around them. In a tender embrace, they let it all out. No more words were spoken, just the three of them, crying together. If it had been the Waking World, and if someone had entered the Green Dragon Pub at that moment, they would have assumed a catastrophe had occurred. But it was a dream, a very realistic one, and it was a relief to finally mourn the man they had all loved in their own unique ways and to release all the repressed emotions. They were three different people dreaming at the same time, yet their minds and hearts were connected as they shared the same dream. The pain was real, but it felt good to share it with people who felt the same loss. Morpheus had changed them all. When they’d awoke, they would have to navigate through their lives, finding their way through the darkness that shadowed their paths. Maybe they would try to find each other in the Waking World. But for now, and until the dream ended, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

There was nothing any of them could have done to prevent Morpheus's death, and they all knew it. Morpheus had embraced his sister Death when she had come to take him. He had sought a way out, but he didn't believe he could change. He wanted his realm and his subjects to remain safe, but they wouldn't be as long as he was alive because he saw no redemption for himself, or so he believed.

At his funeral, they had witnessed his lifeless body transform into a shining star. Maybe he will shine above us for the rest of time, guiding our steps. Or maybe he will finally get to become… Something else. 

I know you have a little life in you yet I know you have a lot of strength left I know you have a little life in you yet I know you have a lot of strength left I should be crying but I just can't let it show I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking Of all the things I should've said That I never said All the things we should've done Though we never did All the things I should've given But I didn't Oh, darling, make it go Make it go away Give me these moments back Give them back to me Give me that little kiss Give me your hand I know you have a little life in you yet I know you have a lot of strength left I know you have a little life in you yet I know you have a lot of strength left I should be crying but I just can't let it show I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking Of all the things we should've said That we never said All the things we should've done Though we never did All the things that you needed from me All the things that you wanted for me All the things that I should've given But I didn't Oh, darling, make it go away Just make it go away now Kate Bush - This Woman's Work

#sandtober2023 #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman spoilers #fanfiction #sandman the wake #nuala of the faerie #nuala sandman #johanna constantine #hob gadling #dreamling #morphanna #constantdream #sandflower #nuala x johanna constantine #I'm scared to click on the publish button now #Youtube

[mariki33]

PART 2

The Nordmark pod interview translated SWE-ENG

I have left out Per Nordmarks moments of reminiscence..

Please excuse things lost in translation and lack of knowledge in the English language 🙈

I also want to say that translation from spoken words to written can be quite challenging at times..

Enjoy fellow Ghostie's 👻🖤🇸🇪

T: -For my part it's very important. It was this, that was so fucking hard on that tour, i didn't get to have my days off. Days off,, you don't need them because you don't want to play, but to break the repetetiveness. On the level we are, in my regim and the way i want to do it i really feel we should do that. Mainly because we aren't 19 anymore. We are, we must keep up, we have to stay in shape to make it work. So when on the road there isn't much party and no more than to see to you're in shape and been sleeping enough. Stuff like that. A really good way to get out of shape is to get wasted drinking. It really makes you feel like shit.. It's fucking awesome a couple of days and the it's -Oh Fuck! But instead it can be really good to, it's gold when you have TWO days off, Then we always do it like this, the few times we have two days off. It doesn't happen often but when it does we always have a tour crew party. The first day so everyone get a day off after. It's very important.

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T :No people tend to think it's like travelling. Like a vacation. And it isn't', It really isn't, and i believe, when you're not in a touring band or a professional like that. I think you have a vision that being a professional musician and touring a lot ,is like, creative,, -And it isn't. It's kind of repetitive. There are creative periods..-And of course you can have creative moments when ever. And I, I come up with ideas all the time, building for the next step or figure out something new. But the "work" in itself is repetetive.

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N: Its not like, write a bunch of new songs on tour.

T: I can't do it like an obligation.

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T: I think one may do yourself a disservice.. Have you ever brought a book to read on tour and ended up not reading it? It's classical and i've done it so many times, and eventually figured out, -I won't do that. I pack lighter and simplify things. And in that same fashion i plan my days now. It's based on me,, all the time, is here to work. The, my days off now.. One thing i do, and i like really much, when i have free time, and come to cities i've been to for several times, and especially when you have mate there, then the best thing is to visit them in their home. Or, just hanging out with someone "sightseeing" with someone who knows the town. Or, have a friend flown in and make a "tourist thing" together, a side step.

Because then you'll Moon walk in the the next day and -Fuck Yeah! Let's do this!!

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One thing! I give can you a tip. Now, someone who do professional soccer or Soccer in general. Correct me if i'm wrong. But, one thing i always do, especially if i feel a bit down in the dumps for some reason. It's like, in the dressing room i put You Tube on. And put on a video with something you're sure of made you want do to what you do. You know..Like: " Let's spend the night together".. Queen live, you know, Wembley -85/-86. Like that! Something that makes you OUUHAHH !!! Then i remember my dream and how far i am. And i've thought of this when it comes to soccer or hockey, or whatever. Like -"Do you ever play a compilation of"… Well, kids of today what do they like, closest to it gotta be "Zlatan".. Because, our generation it would be "Maradona" or.. "Don't you play a compilation of his greatest goals"? -No, never.. -"Why not!! It's ga ga ga, It's that, that is the dream. Damit! Like "Iniesta" scoring the last goal, last second, and wins the whole thing. That's the whole idea with this. I believe! ( "who never played soccer").. Or Freddie Mercury Wembley -85 or -86 It's the whole idea with why i want do this. So you have to remind yourself of the of the dream.. -Then i'm back on track.

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N: Did you ever doubt if you ended up in the right place?

T: Eh, ahh,, In connection to being part of "Crash Diet" (or the Crash Diet that we were part of, that was something different than it became later) my world opened up. I grew up with, with very melodic music like . Ehh, i went, it was a mix and came from a mixed, but everything have always came out of rock. But A lot of Pop radio and all that it was in the eighties, and like, the legacy of the seventies eem, Then it was my brothers music. He listened to everything from Hard Rock, Ee. to punk and synth, and a lot of stuff. And then there was my moms sixties influence. So when i had been digging around in death metal and black metal in almost ten years,, -Yes when i was 22 i'd been doing death metal since i was 12. So for ten years nurturing a dream. If I'll be completely honest with my dream for Repugnant it was to,, It was "old school death", but i thought i somewhere, it would be possible to make it a "thing" or something. I thought, if [Tobias mentions a couple of band names, can't hear what i says] can do it. Or Pestilence or the fuck, others. I thougt we'd be signed with Road Runner going on tour supporting Slayer. Like, i wanted to become a real band. There were so many bands before us that had made it.. And i couldn't understand why we were ..But we was so extremely out of date, we didn't work in the era we where in, in the end of the nineties. So, in the beginning of the twenties, i was about 20 then, it started to show up a lot of "rock stuff" Both in Sweden, it was sort of rock, its hard, to without sounding harsh but i don't mean anything by it, but like action rock, easy rock and all that. In 2000-02 And there was the strikes and Frans Ferdinand and all that happened. So i went like, -The fuck, wait! Like i also want to play melodic music too. Because i have it im me. Eh mm.. And it was like tricky in the beginning. I met David Hellman, or Dave Leppard. Ehm..and he also wanted to play rock eeh.. and then it showed he wanted to do sleezy rock, While i was more like…My sleeze taste, i definitely don't mind the seventies glam rock, and i like Guns 'n' roses, but, but Aeeh, and Skidrow will do, But then There are a lot of stuff definitely! don't like. And he really wanted to go all in on Poison, Some of Stryper and a lot of other stuff and shit that i absolutely didn't like. So i felt in someway that i can't do this. This is not. And on top of that, it was his band and i .. Nope, fuck it!.And then i strarted a pretty long experimental phase of not really finding my way home..

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N: Asking about Onkel Konkel..

T : No, it was only three gigs

N: How did that happen?

T: Thomas the drummer from Repugnant, and at the time also Crash Diet and Subvision. Thomas was one of my best buddies and we played in several bands together. I remember it something like this -Thomas, you right me if i'm wrong. Because i might be. But i recall it something like this. Bengtsson, all ours Bengtsson from Cafe 44, came up to him like -"Du you want to play in Onkel Konkel". And he told me this story. And i , what the hell .. I also want in. So, well, Thomas told them i said that -"So you can come to the next rehearsal" And they probably just done one before. And then Bengtsson had put together a band for Håkan. Who then would act in these three gigs that were booked

N: And that was the only gigs..?

T: Yes, the only gig before that was in Hultsfred -93

N: Was there a gig before "Sondtrack of our lives".. bc one of the gigs were on " Nalen"

T: Yes, its very possible Soundtrack played the day before or after..

N: I've heard somewere you're in to horror movies. Old horror movies.?

T: Yes, Yeah

N:,Have you been inspired by film music aswell?

T: Very much, absolutely. And, well i don't know how to elaborate that, umm, To me, besides me liking, i'm interested in cinematic in general. But i got stuck early, for different reasons, for different horror movies. Once again I'll have to explain it by me having a pretty liberal upbringing. A very liberal home where there weren't any actual rules, more like guide lines. But you know it was the eighties,, And it worked with just a note from my mom to show at the video store. And then i could rent anything i wanted.

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T: I'm VERY afraid of the dark. Regretfully i am, and i was so early on.

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T: But if one should try looking at it with a " the glass is half full"l perspective. It's probably all about having a vivid imagination. And the critical thought in it all would be one watching to much and that it started it all, but I'm not sure .. There were a heck of a lot of delusions long before horror movies was a thing. Like, read "All the creatures of the woods" That people have made up totally uninfluenced by horror movies. So i believe one have a relatively elastic mind. And just aswell as one can come up with a funny joke or something, one also have the possibility to go down the dark corridor, make it something creepy.

Even if realistically i understand it probably isn't something out there, in the woods…

….to be continued

#ghost #the band ghost #tobias forge #rock #interview #impera album