Canon necrophilia

Yuletide Letter - Blueinkedfrost on AO3

Dear Yuletide Writer,

Thank you for writing for me! I hope you have a wonderful Yuletide. Our shared rare fandom is joy, optional details are optional, and please don't get eaten by bears.

Things I like to read include: adventure, ghost stories, humour, horror, slice-of-life, alternate universes, tragedy, suffering, irony, drama, mystery, complicated characters, complicated relationships, character development, underexplored parts of canon universes, plot twists, banter, capable/competent characters, female characters having adventures and being central to the story, femslash, gen, het, slash, rare characters in the spotlight, unusual stories, being surprised, and many other things that hopefully cover what you enjoy writing. I'd love to read a story you want to write.

If there're any questions about this letter, feel free to go through the Yuletide Mods, or simply write the story you want to write - I'd much rather read fic that went in a direction you liked writing than a story that stuck to a prompt that wasn't working for you.


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Canon necrophilia

Tales from Boccaccio’s Decameron (1353) (First Day, Novel III)

Once upon a time, there lived a banker called Melchisdech, who was hardworking, wise, and very wealthy. He lived under the rule of Saladin, and was frightened that the ruler would call on him and force him to lend his money at a rate that would ruin the banker.

One day, Melchisdech finally received the summons from Saladin to dine with him, and knew that he could not say no. As a devout Jewish man, he knew that Saladin could bring religious persecution upon his entire community if he dared refuse.

The fearsome Saladin was a fine conversationalist who ordered a wondrous feast for his guest. Yet, despite the silver finger-washing bowls and the golden plates, despite the roast falcon carved to look like lion, despite the fine wine from Babylon and the sparkling words that attended it, Melchisdech was not a happy man.

After the two men dipped their hands in water to prepare for the dessert course, Saladin finally baited his trap for Melchisdech.

"You have the repute of a wise man," Saladin said. "Can you answer me this riddle: of Christians, Saracens, and Jews, which religion is the truest?"

Melchisdech quailed. Any answer would get him into grave trouble. To praise his own religion above the other two would surely cause him and his people to be further persecuted. To praise Saracens above Christians or Christians above Saracens would invite yet more trouble and accusations of hypocrisy.

"My lord, that is a fine question," Melchisdech cautiously said. "I would answer it ... and to do so I tell a story.

"Once in this city there lived a virtuous and wealthy merchant. Among all the merchant's treasures, one was greater than all the others: a ring of extraordinary beauty and value, that would bring unceasing fortune and renown to any man who wore it, provided that he acted with honesty, kindness, and good sense. The merchant proved the truth of this ring's charm if any did, for he grew to a well ripened and honourable old age. The merchant had three sons, each noble, brave, and generous; each the apple of his eye. As he looked among his sons, he could not see which ought to inherit his greatest treasure.

"He would watch his oldest son show exquisite kindness and consideration to his mother and grandmother, and think that only a man so true was worthy of his fortune. Next he would see his middle son debate scholars twice and thrice his age with an incredible breadth and depth of learning, and decide that only a man so clever ought to own the ring. Then he would glimpse his youngest son riding in the foremost place on a hunting trip, and think that a man so fearless must be his heir.

"Furthering the merchant's dilemma, the very virtues of his three sons were merged and shared among them. The next day he might see his youngest show great generosity to a beggar, his middle son win victory in a footrace, his oldest perform a beautiful poem set to his own music. He wrote testaments of which son should have the ring and tore them up in an hour, changing and deciding over and over again. He knew even as he tore his latest testament that time ran short for him.

"Then privily the merchant visited a jeweller of great renown and ordered two copies of the ring to be made in secret, setting no limitations on the cost of the work. So finely did the jeweller carry out his work that the merchant himself could not tell which of the three rings was the original. He placed all three rings under his pillow and retired to his bed.

"Sending for his oldest son, the merchant cautioned him: 'My son, my time in this world draws to an end, and I am thankful that my children are a blessing and a gift from the Lord. When I am gone, I wish you and your brothers to stand together as one and each inherit a third of my fortune. So that no quarrel arises between you, tell your brothers that I ordered my ring to be placed in my tomb, but know that you are my true heir for all the noble virtues you have shown. Here, take my ring and keep it close to you.' The merchant gave his son one of the three rings.

"With much mourning, the oldest son farewelled his father and promised to continue his legacy of virtue and goodwill. Then he was sent out, and the second son sent in. The merchant gave a similar speech to his second son as the first, and likewise sent him away with a ring. It was then the third son's turn, and he too did not leave empty handed.

"Which of the merchant's sons was his true heir?" asked Melchisdech.

The cleverness of the fable was not lost upon Saladin. He honestly told the banker of his needs and his original intent to trap and exploit him. Melchisdech lent Saladin money at a fair rate, which was repaid in full, and following Saladin's military victories Melchisdech was rewarded with munificent gifts and a sincere friendship.
Canon necrophilia

Tales from Boccaccio’s Decameron (1353) (Second Day, Novel VII)

Historical Sexual Violence Warning: This story could have been written as a dark exploration of the psychological trauma of being enslaved by multiple bloodthirsty warlords, but is actually written more like a bodice ripper that provides the heroine with an excuse to have a lot of hot sex with lots of sexy pirates and warlords. I've chosen to follow the second interpretation.

Cautionary Note to Readers: If you kidnap a woman in real life, she will probably not want to have sex with you.

Once upon a time, there lived the Princess Alatiel of Babylon, who was beautiful, intelligent, resourceful, and engaged to marry the King of Algave, a man she had never met. Alatiel's father sent her to her bridal on board a ship. Sadly, the ship was overwhelmed by a storm. Alatiel lived through the tempest, and was found washed up on the beach by Pericone, a landed gentleman.

Not a word of language did Alatiel and Pericone have in common between them. But he was an extraordinarily handsome and pleasing man, as was Alatiel a lovely woman, and sign language was well enough for them. Warmed by hot wine after her ordeal, Alatiel treated Pericone as if he were one of her ladies' maids, undressing in front of him.

And then, through a mixture of liquid courage and body language, Alatiel enjoyed the first of many long nights of delight with Pericone. If I had sufficient words to describe their creativity, endurance, and acrobatic talent, dear reader, then I would be a famous dictionary publisher.

Pericone had a brother, Marato, who was younger than he and still more handsome. Marato looked upon Alatiel and found that she, too, was taken with him. Marato ordered a ship, gathered trusty companions, and one night abducted the lady to the ship. Sad at the loss of Pericone, Alatiel soon consoled herself with Marato's substitution.

Little did Marato know that two of his trusted sailors had also fallen under Alatiel's spell. In the night, he was thrown overboard by the twain. The two then fought each other to determine which should woo Alatiel, ending with one dead and the other wounded. To Alatiel's relief, the wounded man soon ordered the ship to be brought ashore and she tended to him in his convalescence.

The Prince of Morea, staying at the same inn as Alatiel and her lover, discovered that the lady was still more beautiful than rumour credited her. While he did not know Alatiel's true identity or speak her tongue, he recognised her royal bearing, and she too appreciated a man of similar rank to her. She left her previous lover and soon waxed in joy with the Prince, who treated her as a wife rather than a mistress.

The Duke of Athens, kinsman to the Prince, visited his cousin and teased him that his lady could not be so charming as claimed. The Prince brought them together, and when their eyes met another fatal attraction was born. The Duke killed the Prince, abducted Alatiel, and started a war. The Emperor of Constantinople sent his son Constantine to fight at the Duke's side, while the Prince's kinsmen arrayed themselves against Athens.

The Duke of Athens was married to a clever Duchess, who wished to avert war. She visited Alatiel and Constantine, brokered an alliance between them, and sent them away together to quell the rising tensions.

Alas for Constantine! While he and Alatiel dallied upon Chios, a well known pleasure island, enjoying themselves in every way, his enemy Osbech caught up to him. Osbech set the island on fire, killed Constantine, and took Alatiel with him. Osbech was a well-favoured and highly attractive young man, so Alatiel was soon consoled for Constantine's loss. In addition, one of Osbech's trusted attendants, Antioco, spoke Alatiel's language, so she no longer felt like a deaf-mute.

Osbech left Alatiel to go to war, and was mourned by her until Antioco succeeded him in the lady's bed. Although he was an older man, he was skilled and sensitive in many tongues. Osbech never returned from his warfare, and thus Antioco and Alatiel were obliged to flee to Rhodes. There Antioco caught a fatal illness, but ensured that Alatiel was well provided for after his death. She grieved for a few days then booked passage on a ship to return to Babylon and her father.

"I was shipwrecked and landed in an isolated convent of nuns on an island," Alatiel explained. "We did a lot of praying and nunlike devotions. I was all alone on the island of nuns, and never saw any men. It was very boring. I am glad to be back."

Alatiel's father sent her with all pomp and ceremony to the King of Algave, as she was originally betrothed. Either luckily or unluckily depending on one's point of view, this voyage saw no further shipwrecks or accidents. The King of Algave was a handsome, kind, and generous man who was not overly burdened with brains. Many of his courtiers were also very good looking. Queen Alatiel lived happily ever after.
Canon necrophilia

Tales from Boccaccio’s Decameron (1353) (First Day, Novel II)

Historical Anti-Semitism Warning: This story is progressive for 1353, but the ‘happy’ ending is problematic. I like the best friends and the cynicism in the story - what do you think?

Once upon a time, there was a Jewish merchant and a Christian merchant who were the best and dearest of friends. You would scarcely know which house and which family belonged to each man, so frequently did they seek each other’s company and their wives and children likewise.

However, the Christian merchant feared his best friend would be condemned to hell, so he tried to talk the Jewish merchant into converting. Since his friend mostly changed the subject when it came up, the Christian merchant was very surprised one day to hear that the Jewish merchant planned to take a trip to Rome. “I will see the seat of Christianity with my own eyes and find it out for myself before I make a decision,” his friend declared. “Then, after my full investigation, you must accept my choice and promise never to bring the subject up again.”

At that, the Christian merchant lost all hope that his friend would ever convert. Rome was full of corruption, he knew: fraud, greed, deception, orgies, illegitimate sons given high roles in the church, crime, and misery. He tried to talk his friend out of the long journey, but to no avail, and gave his promise that he should preach no more but simply enjoy their friendship.

The Christian merchant, missing his best friend dearly, was overjoyed when the news that the Jewish merchant would arrive home on the next ship reached him. He decided he would no longer care about their religious differences, but instead would throw his best friend the best welcome-home party anyone could imagine.

Many friends were invited along with all their families, the celebrations lasted for days, and the traveller told many exciting stories of his adventures in Rome and the morally depraved people he met there. Finally, at the end of the party, the best friends shook each other’s hand and said a good night.

“I have made my final decision,” said the Jewish merchant. The Christian merchant nodded, having expected that. “I will convert to Christianity.”

“But why!”

“I saw so much corruption and cruelty in Rome,” said the Jewish merchant. “Every churchman can be bribed for a set price. They hold decadent orgies in St. Peter’s Basilica every Tuesday. Creating fake saints’ relics is the most popular cottage industry in town. And despite all these obstacles, the Christian religion spreads throughout the world! So I decided there must be something in it after all.”
Canon necrophilia

Tales from Boccaccio’s Decameron (1353) (Fifth Day, Novel X)

Once upon a time, there was a lusty woman with red hair, who was married to a man who was one hundred percent gay.

Dissatisfied with her husband’s lack of interest, the wife soon found an attractive lover. Whenever her husband was away, she invited her lover to stay and help her work off her frustrations, and she became much happier in her marriage.

One day, she and her husband were invited to dine with a friend. The woman had already made arrangements with her lover, so she feigned a headache to stay at home, knowing that the friend and his wife would host a dinner such that her husband would be well out of the way for most of the night.

Alas for best laid plans! No sooner had the wife’s lover arrived and the two of them begun to set about their business, than did her husband return. Frightened, the wife told her lover to hide in the hen-coop.

“Prepare me a good dinner, wife; I have been cheated out of mine,” grumbled the husband. “No sooner did we sit down at table than we heard a sneeze. Madam spilt a pepperpot and sneezed on purpose, yet we knew the sneeze came not from the table - but from the cupboard! That wicked woman had concealed her lover there! Such a fuss ensued from her husband, and I never did get my supper.”

The wife, all too conscious of her own misconduct, set about to heartily agree with her husband. “Only a truly wicked, despicable, and depraved woman would do such a thing!” she told her husband. “An immoral woman like that cannot be trusted! That madam ought to be tied to the back of an ass and whipped through the town.”

But then a noise from her chicken coop caused her to rush to her window - and her husband too. Her lover had left his hand outside the chicken coop, only to be trampled upon by the ass in the yard. He cried out in pain. As much as the woman tried to assure her husband that the noise was nothing, he stalked out to the chicken coop and returned dragging his wife’s lover behind him.

“What were you saying about immoral women, darling?” her husband asked.

The lusty red-haired wife was not a cowardly woman. Moreover, she noticed something interesting in the way her husband looked at her handsome young lover, and the way that her lover looked back at him.

“I declare the two cases are entirely different,” said the lusty red-haired wife. “Women suffer from a lack of love-making. We cannot divert ourselves with business and hobbies as men do. All we are good for is to love while we are young, and build up a store of memories to savour when we are old. Madam your friend is not married to a gay man. Her husband would serve her any time she asked for it, so she had no right to look elsewhere. You, on the other hand, have always deprived me. I had every right to get the sustenance you refused to provide. Do you think that there is a way we could settle this peacably?”

And then, dear reader, the three of them lived happily ever after.
Canon necrophilia

Out, Brief Candle

I'm posting a fantasy adventure story.

Out, Brief Candle by Blueinkedfrost

Swords, sorcery, blood, and destiny. A bored young noblewoman is weary beyond words of her life of tedious parties and petty bullying. She thinks she's found a chance to rebel when she dances with a mysterious man in black at the Grand Dukes' ball. Little does she know she'll get far more than she bargained for, when she's drawn into the blood-soaked saga of the bastard children of the dead god of murder.

Tags: Adventure, Fantasy, Romance, Don't Have to Know Canon, Wrong Characters Get Married, Writing on Skin, Magical Tattoos

This is just about as close as I come to writing romance, which is to say 'Will They Or Won't They' is settled in chapter two, and then the murders begin.
Canon necrophilia

Baldur's Gate Gift Exchange - Signups Open!

This is the first time I'm attempting to be a moderator of a fandom exchange. It's only just started, but I hope it will be fun and that most people will enjoy the creating and gifting!

What is the Baldur’s Gate Gift Exchange?

Sign up to the Baldur’s Gate Gift Exchange to create a gift for another Baldur’s Gate fan and receive a gift in return. It’s not just for fanfic - you can offer or request fanfic, fanart, fan craft, or any other kind of fanworks.

Request and offer your Baldur’s Gate favourite characters. There will be more Baldur’s Gate fanworks for everyone to enjoy!

Boo says, “You must sign up, or taste hamster justice!”(*)

Here is the signup form! Sign up before signups close. Participants will have just over 2 months to work on their gift.

Signups close: 24 March
Assignments given: 25 March
Assignments due: 14 June

See the exchange link for more information about the dates and times!

(*) In this case, ‘taste hamster justice’ means ‘look up cute hamster pictures on the internet’.

If anyone knows anywhere else I could spam post this to Baldur's Gate fans, please let me know!
Canon necrophilia

Chandler and a Death Foretold - Complete Fanfic

I've finished posting a long fic, complete at 60,000 words. It's an alternate universe with superpowers, a fantasy kitchen sink, and a giant toad.

Chandler and a Death Foretold by Blueinkedfrost (AO3)

Heather McNamara gets possessed by ghosts in the cafeteria. Heather Duke reads tarot cards. Heather Chandler knows they're both faking it, until she gets a prophecy about her own death. To avoid her own murder at her best friend's hands, Chandler recruits a co-conspirator - the new kid in town, Jason Dean. Chandler/J.D., Veronica/Duke.


This is probably the only Heathers fanfic in existence where Chandler battles a giant toad in a game of insults. This is probably a good thing. (As I had to reassure my friend, it was strictly a PG-13 rated toad.)
Canon necrophilia

Yuletide 2018 Wrap-Up

Summerdayghost wrote this story for me for Heathers (1988):

resilience (accepting what you can't know) by summerdayghost
Bud after the death of his son.

Since Bud Dean is almost the only adult in the Heathers film who's shown to be good at something (although it's definitely not parenting), it's no wonder he makes a useful villain in fanfic. This interesting character study story gives a nuanced, flawed-but-not-evil view of him. And the hamster gets a happy ending!

(The other competent adult in the film is the English teacher, Mrs. Pope, who notices that Heather's suicide note correctly uses the word myriad, but I haven't read or written her as a villain in fanfic. Yet?)

I wrote three stories, two for Baldur's Gate and one for The Merry Widow operetta.

Celebration of a Book for Kaz (Baldur's Gate)
Fleeing, alone, isolated in a grim city, Imoen remembers the rituals she learnt from Winthrop.

Kaz gave a wonderful prompt for a story focused on Imoen. The Baldur’s Gate setting has lots of golems and yet doesn’t have any fantasy Judaism … so I tried to fix that in this story.

In Fair Nashkel Bath House for depresane (Baldur's Gate)
After the dirt and grime of bandits in the wilderness, Viconia and Dynaheir take some time off to relax and bond at a luxurious bath house. Friendship fic.

Viconia and Dynaheir have a friendly, mutually appreciative exchange in the Baldur's Gate I game, even though you'd expect a priestess of an evil goddess to not get on with an idealistic, upright young woman with strict ethical standards. But Dynaheir is also a reflective, thoughtful, and wise character, so I love the idea that the two work together and come to appreciate each other ... and maybe get a little character development too.

Three Times Countess Hanna Glawari Danilovitsch Saw the Vilja up the Mountain, and Lived to Tell the Tale for elstaplador (The Merry Widow)
Hanna met the Vilja three times. The spirit of the wilderness contests with Hanna for the life of a goat, a man, and something else.

I loved the chance to write some Ruritanian worldbuilding for this prompt and show a late nineteenth century heroine finding herself in the middle of a folklore legend, even while her country gradually becomes more modern. This story may be understandable even outside the fandom.

My friend Anna helped me with goat related information. You know you have a true friend if you can go to them with the question, "Help me, if one of your goats was replaced by a fairy shapechanged to look like a goat, what would you do", and she comes back with a comprehensive how-to guide. All remaining goat errors are my own. Goat related constructive criticism is appreciated.