#☆ ⠀ ⠀creature of the night ⠀ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ ⠀ dash games.

[vampyir]

the mistake god made when he made you

tagged by: stolen from @drkroots taggging: @haervest , @wiredsmile

[theblacksheepcz]

BILLIE BUST UP‼️

Did the evil color wheel

[witchymadness]

☆-《The Stakes pt. 2》-☆

[A/N: Part 2 to this fic, no proofreading, we die like dumbasses. Might do a part 3 :DDD. Also, Lilia is speaking Sicilian while (Y/N) speaks Italian.

TW: angst, character death, mentions of assault.

P.S. you get this pic of Patti for compensation.]

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered open, arms wrapped around Lilia's waist. The latter was muttering something in Sicilian. "No, nun li pigghiari-- (No, don't take her--)"

"Amore, stai bene? (Love, are you okay?)" (Y/N) whispered, rubbing Lilia's arm.

Whimpers escaped Lilia's mouth as she began to toss and turn, taking (Y/N) aback. (Y/N) felt something enveloping her, an almost fuzzy feeling that left the hairs on her arms standing.

All of the sudden, the window of their shared quarters burst open, a gust of wind blowing through the air. (Y/N) thinks that maybe her mind was playing tricks on her but the resonance through the atmosphere seemed as if it was... "Amber?"

"NINE OF SWORDS!"

And then all of the sudden, everything stopped.

"Lilia! What happened, amore?"

"What... What did happen?" She held her head and an eye closed, pain shooting through Lilia's skull. Leaning against (Y/N), she tried to catch her breathing, matching her rapidly-paced huffs to the sound of her lovers own steady ones.

(Y/N) both curious and afraid, slowly shook her head. "Nevermind me, darling. It was probably just a nightmare."

Lilia nodded as (Y/N) pulled their windows shut once more.

"Come, my love. Let us sleep."

As Lilia's eyes started to flutter asleep, and a chaste kiss was given to the Countess, (Y/N) sat there awake.

She knew about Lilia's magic, the very essence of it, even if it remained unspoken between them. The horrors of Lilia's youth locked the truth of her being into a mere memory. It is, after all, what drew (Y/N) close to Lilia, the breadth of her magic surging through the air from the very moment they've locked eyes.

And (Y/N) had far too long feared that her nature, the horrifying hunger that (Y/N) battled with would push her love away. But she knew Lilia was bright, and she knew that there was more to her lover.

They both kept their identities at arms length at the fear of losing themselves and the other. They were two peas in a pod, creatures of the night; living life unlike those around them. They greet death like an old friend as she rains down upon the men around them.

Bathed in moonlight, they did so in the nights that they were together. The Divine Mother bore witness to their dances under her favor, and but the stars serving as their audience.

(Y/N)'s skin crawled at the idea that the lady of life was upon her doorstep once more. And if it was so, Lilia was too adamant, too stubborn to let her in.

Vampires, unlike witches, toe the line of life and death. They were a conundrum in Life's grandiose game, their lifeline like a wine flowing from water. One could say that Death despised them. A corpse they would not be able to take with them.

These thoughts lulled the woman to sleep, holding the witch with her wild curls close to her.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"(Y/N), my love. It is time for breakfast." Lilia whispered, lips resting on (Y/N)'s forehead.

"Just a moment more, darling." (Y/N) hummed, the thoughts of last night dissolving into nothingness.

"The Sun."

"Oh, yes, darling. The sun is indeed... Beautiful. But I'll be terribly busy with the preparations for the ball today."

(Y/N) forced her eyes open with a yawn, checking to see if her little white lie had slipped through Lilia's watchful eyes. But the girl only stared at her, confused.

"I... I suppose so, amore." Lilia let out a small, nervous chuckle. "Right, shall we dine then?"

(Y/N) nodded, fear creeping up upon her. And beside her, Lilia stared blankly at their headboard, wondering what prompted (Y/N)'s sudden answer. Could it be that she... No, she willed her powers away. How could it?

"Andiamo, amore mio?"

"Noi, amuri meu."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Marchese Girardus de Medici," Greeted a dashing young man, his hair a dirty ash blonde thay would've struck any maiden through the heart. Alas, he was another of Lilia's suitors she'd have to entertain through the night. "Piacere di conoscerti, mia signora. (Pleasure to meet you, my lady.)"

Girardus took Lilia's hand, kissing the back of it while keeping his eyes trained on the woman. Only a polite smile was returned to him, however, as her eyes flashed across the ballroom to a woman lurking in the shadows.

"Il piacere è tutto mio. (The pleasure is mine.)" She half-heartedly responded.

Smirking, the lad guided Lilia to the middle of the ballroom. "You look beautiful tonight, m'lady."

"Thank you, Marchese." Lilia responded with grace, all the while gliding effortlessly through the floor.

Her smile dropped as she looked over to the corner where her beloved had once stood, only to find it empty. "Marchese Girardus, if you would excu--"

The marquis cut her off, pulling her frame towards him feverishly, as if Lilia was a bunny to escape his cold, wolf-like grip. Lilia squeaked at the sudden movement, panic setting in as she couldn't sense (Y/N) anywhere.

"But Lady Lilia, the night is still young, 'no? Allow me to get to know my wife a tad longer."

The woman squeezed her eyes shut, disdain coating her tongue.

"(Y/N), no!"

"I must insist, dear Marchese. I really do need to find Lady (L/N)--"

Girardus chuckled, his breath tickling Lilia's ear. "Oh, her? Slippery little minx, your friend, huh? So unlucky, we would have wed if it weren't for her parents' sudden death. But alas, karma comes to those deserving."

Deep breaths. Lilia took deep breaths, letting what Girardus wa saying about her beloved and her family slip past her ears. Desperate to find the Countess, she turned to her refuge.

She divined, calling out to the Divine Mother herself. Her veins burned with amber, the power enveloping her. Through Girardus' incessant pestering, only visions of what was to come broke through.

Lilia could only see, a sharp blade, piercing her chest. Her own wails, begging the perpetrator to stop. It was all that Lilia could. She knew what was to happen. She told (Y/N). But it changed nothing.

"Good thing, I'm glad that I would not have a family of freaks to carry with me. Rumours had spread amongst our kingdom, and to those around that they were monsters; killed by their own subjects after they had fed on them."

"She tasted delicious, though. I would've given it to her, you know." Girardus' hand went lower. "Little whore had it coming, but she just had to scream and ruin our moment."

"You wouldn't do that, would you, m'lady?" This time, his hand had landed smack dab on Lilia's ass.

Just then, the voice she had been dying to hear, slipping through the noisy ballroom. "Let go of her, Girardus."

"I was just getting to know Lady Lilia. Do not tell me that you are jealous, (Y/N)?" Girardus bellowed, garnering the attention of crowds.

(Y/N) snatched Lilia's arm, pulling her close. She had no intentions of duking it out with the man and instead laid her gaze upon Lilia. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Unhand the lady this instance!"

Lunging forward, he grasped his sword, unsheathing it from his side and pointing it at (Y/N). She had managed to dodge it, pushing Lilia to the side.

Gasps fill the air as (Y/N) had suddenly disappeared, instead a small bat had taken form.

"You foul creature," screamed Girardus. "Come down here this instance."

Lilia sat on the floor, frozen. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, confusion yet relief flooded her. Just then, a vision, her vision of (Y/N), took over her. Finally, a full picture had laid itself out in front of Lilia. The hand holding the knife belonged to... Her father.

"(Y/N), no!"

Against all logic, (Y/N) threw herself down beside Lilia, transfiguring into her own body once more. "My love, I'm here."

"Do not harm the lady, loathsome beast. And I might just grant you a merciful death."

"(Y/N), no. Get out of here, please, amore. He's going to--"

Time slowed as (Y/N) looked at Girardus approaching, while Lilia looked behind her as her father, determined, marched forward with a dagger in hand.

She had to change fate.

A loud scream echoed through the ballroom.

A faint ray of yellow sent the king flying, landing on the table containing the feast laid out for the joyous night.

But alas, fate cannot be changed.

Girardus' sword pierced through (Y/N). He let out a victorious laugh. "The monster has been killed!"

Cheers filled the ballroom, celebrating the fall of the horrendous beast, Countess (Y/N) de Medici.

"And now," he huffed. "A witch amongst us. Princess Lilia de Calderu, surrender or you will be next."

She looked at (Y/N)'s almost lifeless body, a tear escaping her cheek. She pressed a kiss to her forehead for the last time before letting out a blood-curdling scream. It sent beams of gold throughout the ballroom, allowing Lilia to jump off a broken window from the impact of her magic.

She was falling.

Using what was left of her energy, she pushed herself up, flying. Only the bright full moon guiding her path.

[lionheartedmusings]

bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope — there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

[bitchesuntitled]

Goober

Summary: On a stormy night, a dog makes a dash for the garage. Frankie is insistent, like all dad's, they are not keeping that damn dog.

Warnings: Cussing, fluff, puppy madness, Nora seems to need her own warning in this fic cause she is sassy!

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday!!! Another installment of the Parents to Lovers AU! Thank you so much @noxturnalpascal for betaing for me ❤️❤️ @jay-zzle, my side kick for all these stories, my personal moodboard maker, one of my best friends that I would have never even met without Pedro Pascal existing, once again thank you for making the moodboard AND the other thing(wait til y'all get to the end)

Masterlist||AO3||Parents to Lovers

divider provided by @saradika-graphics

The thunder was getting closer and closer. You can smell the incoming rain on the air as you close the kitchen window.

“Girls!” You shout, approaching the living room doorway “Did you remember to bring your bikes in the garage?”

“I did!” Missy says quickly, returning to the game on her tablet.

“Uhh…” Nora hesitates, fingers fidgeting against her own tablet, “I forgot.”

“Nora! How many times have we talked about this?”

“Sorry,” she shrugs, “I just forgot.”

You groan, putting your shoes on and making your way to the garage. Frankie won��t be home for another hour or else you’d send him outside to get the bike. Opening the garage door you see the rain already starting to come down in sheets. Thankfully, Nora’s bike isn’t that far from the open door, but running towards it you see something dash past you into the garage.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing the bike and wheeling it into the garage, “Now I get to deal with whatever creature decided to run into here for shelter from the storm. Thanks Nora, you’re the best!”

A clap of thunder sounds just then, causing you to jump, and you hear a whimper at the edge of the room. You reach for the switch on the wall and when the overhead lights come on you see a dog huddled in the corner.

“Hey little baby,” you say sweetly, crouching down and stretching out your hand, “It’s just a little thunder, nothing to be scared about.”

The dog slowly begins to move closer to your outstretched hand. You notice the floppy ears, short legs and long body. Another clap of thunder and the thing darts over, shaking and whimpering.

“Hi there,” you coo, “Let's get you some place warm and dry, huh? That sound good?”

The dog’s tail starts to wag a little as you continue talking to it, grabbing a towel as you begin to attempt to dry the dog off.

“Are we a boy or a girl?” You ask, lifting a leg to check, “Congrats! It’s a girl!” You say to no one but yourself.

The dog begins licking your face as you wipe her paws more to get the mud off.

“Aww, you’re just a sweet girl, aren’t you?” You coo, as the dog continues to lick your face, “Yes, yes you are! Okay, I think we’re good to go inside now.”

You gently scoop the dog up in the towel and carry her inside, bringing her into the living room.

“Is that what I think it is?!” Nora shrieks, smacking Missy’s arm to get her attention from her tablet.

“Hey, calm down, she doesn’t like loud noises,” you explain, “This little girl ran into the garage because of the storm.”

“She’s so cute!” Missy excitedly whispers, “Does she have a name?”

“Well I don’t see a collar so I don’t know,” you say, placing the dog in the middle of the living room.

The dog’s tail begins to wag harder when the girls slowly slide off the couch to approach her, and you notice her peeing on the carpet. 

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly going to the laundry room for a towel, laying it on the carpet to soak up the mess. She’s much more enthusiastic seeing the girls than she was seeing you. You sit on the couch watching the girls interact with the puppy.

“Hi,” Missy whispers, reaching her hand out for the dog to sniff, “You’re very pretty.”

“Yes,” Nora agrees, stretching her arm out, “Pretty and smooshy!”

The dog eats up the attention stretching out on the floor to show her chest and belly. Missy and Nora begin petting her, taking turns rubbing her tummy and scratching behind her ears.

“Momma, what kind of dog is she?” Nora asks, looking at you.

“It looks like she’s what’s called a basset hound,” you grin. You’d always wanted one growing up and thought that whoever owned this girl was the luckiest person in the world. You needed to call Frankie before he got home, that way he could maybe stop somewhere to get a collar, leash, and dog food. You pull your phone from your pocket, tapping on his contact info.

“Hey babe,” he sighed, “Think we’re almost done here and then I’ll be home.”

“So,” you say, getting up and walking to the kitchen so the girls wouldn’t hear, “I need you to do something for me before you come home.”

“What kind of ice cream do you want now?” He laughs.

“It’s not a craving this time,” you whisper into the phone, hand rubbing across your barely there bump, that news you hadn’t shared yet with the girls, “Not a bad idea though, Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel.”

“Sure thing,” he says, “I’ll be sure to ge—“

“No babe,” you interrupt, “Seriously that’s not what I was calling about. I need you to get some puppy food, a leash, and a collar.”

“Do what now?”

“Puppy food, a leash and a collar,” you repeat, “and the Ben and Jerry’s! I’ll text you what I said, love you, bye!” You say quickly before hanging up and texting him the list. Your phone pings a second later.

Frankie: What the fuck?!

—

“Babe,” Frankie shouts, entering the kitchen, “I got the st—“

The dog ran into the kitchen, looking up at Frankie, giving a single bark.

“Well, hello,” he says, dropping the small bag of dog food on the table, hesitantly the dog inches closer to Frankie, tail tucked between her legs, sniffing his boot.

“Dad, look!” Missy says, pointing at the dog.

“I see,” Frankie says, eyebrows raised.

“Can we keep her?!” Nora asks, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Absolutely not!” Frankie says, putting his hands on his hips, “She looks pretty young, probably has a family around here somewhere.”

“Obviously they don’t care about her though,” Nora argues, “They left her out in a storm!”

“Yeah,” Missy agrees, nodding her head, “That’s just mean to do to a baby dog!”

“Now, now girls,” you say, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, “Sometimes dogs get loose when they’re scared and just run off.”

“We’ll make some flyers and post them around the neighborhood,” Frankie says, “Until we can find the owners we’ll make sure the little thing’s fed and taken care of.”

“She’s not just a thing, Frankie,” Nora grumbles, stomping past you to the living room, the dog and Missy following right behind her.

Frankie takes in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. You walk towards him, grabbing him around his waist and pulling him close, breathing him in.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper into his neck, placing a small kiss there.

“Why’s she gotta be so damn stubborn like her momma?” Frankie hums, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Everyone says she looks like her dad so guess that means she has to have my attitude,” you say, shrugging your shoulders with a laugh.

—

“Are you sure we can’t just keep her?” Missy asks while you’re stapling one of the flyers to a pole.

It’s been a couple days since the dog arrived. You’d gotten the flyers made and now you were all walking around the area with the dog and posting them up in numerous places. You’d already hit every business downtown that you could. Now it was time to hit the neighborhoods around you.

“I’m sure,” Frankie said in a stern tone, “We are not keeping her.”

“But I already picked out a name,” Nora pipes up, flicking the leash lightly in her hands like a whip, “Goober!”

“Nora don’t do that with the leash,” you say, “You could hurt her.”

“Don’t name her!” Frankie groans, “She’s not our dog!”

“Why Goober?” Missy laughs, as you all continue to walk.

“Well,” Nora says, looking down at the dog who cocks her head to the side like she was waiting for the answer as well, “Just look at her! Mom always says I’m a goober when I do something funny and she just looks funny!”

“I like it,” Missy says with a small smile.

“No,” Frankie said, “Her name is not Goober.”

The dog barks, ears perked up, wagging her tail, and looking directly at Frankie.

“Oh,” you laugh, “Babe, I think she just told you you’re wrong and that her name is, in fact, Goober.”

“Stop it,” he says, pointing at you before hanging up another one of the flyers.

—

“Would it be such a bad idea to keep her?” You ask while filling the dog’s food and water dish. The dog is patiently waiting for you to place them on the floor for her.

“Yes it would.”

“Frankie,” you groan, hand on your stomach, and bending down to set them on the floor, “She’s so cute though!”

“Doesn’t matter how cute she is,” Frankie shakes his head, “We shouldn’t keep her.”

“Babe,” you say flatly, “It’s been a week and a half and we haven’t heard a single thing from anyone!”

“Good morning, Mom!” Nora beams, coming into the kitchen, “And good morning Princess Goober!”

“Morning,” Missy grumbles, “Goober!” She says perking up a little and petting the dog on the head.

“Stop calling her that!” Frankie says sternly, “She’s not our dog. End of discussion.”

“Oh,” Nora says, glaring at him, “Morning Frank.”

“Are you guys ready for school?” He asks, ignoring Nora’s glare.

“Yeah,” Missy yawns. Nora just grumbles still glaring at him.

“Alrighty then,” you hum, “Come here. Hugs!”

Both girls embrace you one either side, giving them both a tight squeeze before letting them go.

“Have a good day and Nora,” you smile, “Please behave.”

She rolls her eyes, following Missy into the garage with a huff. Frankie shakes his head, walking towards you, wrapping his arms around you.

“That girl’s gonna give me more gray hairs than the baby,” Frankie mutters into your temple.

“That makes the both of us,” you laugh, giving him a chaste kiss before he’s off to take the girls to school and go to work.

—

“Goober!” The girls shriek, bursting into the house through the garage. Goober’s tail starts wagging like crazy and she pees all over the floor.

“Goober Goo!” You groan, “Not again!”

Goober just looks at you, panting, tongue hanging out to the side.

“Can we take her to the backyard?” Missy asks, putting her backpack on the hook.

“Sure,” Frankie grunts, bending down to clean up the pee. Goober pokes her head under his armpit, while he wipes the pee up and begins licking his face, “Okay, okay. Yes, I see you.”

“Think she likes the way your beard tastes, Dad,” Missy giggles.

“Must be leftovers in there,” he grumbles, rubbing Goober’s ears.

“Oh! Watch this!” Nora exclaims, “Come here Goober! Come here!”

Goober pushes past Frankie’s arm, walking in her pee to get to Nora.

“Damn dog,” Frankie mumbles, motioning for you to hand him the Clorox wipes.

Goober plops down in front of Nora. She grabs one of Goober’s ears and begins to scratch the inside of it, causing Goober’s back leg to violently shake. 

“What is she doing?!” Missy asks, starting to giggle.

“You found her puppy spot!” You exclaim with a laugh.

Frankie looks up to see what you are all laughing at, watching the saggy dog’s body jiggle and starts laughing.

“What the hell?” Frankie laughs, shaking his head, “Think she is a Goober afterall. Go on, take her outside now, I’m sure she’s got more pee in her. Don’t want her pissin’ in the house more than she already has.”

The girls take her outside, taking turns throwing the floppy stuffed animal they gave her that she had ripped the stuffing out of.

“Babe,” You smile watching the girls play with Goober outside, “I think we have a dog now.”

“I think you’re right,” Frankie groans, standing up, throwing away the Clorox wipes and throwing the towel into the hamper in the laundry room.

“We can’t get rid of her,” you pout, “The girls love her too much. Frankie, I love her too much and no one’s claimed her!”

Frankie finishes washing his hands at the sink, turning around, crossing his arms with a big sigh.

“Fine,” he sighs, “We’ll keep the damn dog.”

—

“What ya making, babe?” Frankie asks, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, “Smells really fucking good.”

“Spaghetti,” you grumble, “Only thing the girls seem to want to eat right now.”

Nora rushes into the kitchen, observing the fridge, rearranging some of the pictures on it.

“What are ya doin’ kid?” Frankie asks, looking behind his shoulder.

“Moving some stuff around,” she says snarkily, “This coupon is expired. Can I throw it away?”

“Yes,” you and Frankie say at the same time.

“Cool,” she says, throwing it away and running out of the kitchen.

You continue stirring the sauce, trying not to let the smell get to you.

“Need me to take over?” Frankie asks, kissing your temple.

“Oh my god,” you huff, “Please.”

Frankie laughs softly, kissing the spot on your neck that meets your shoulder. Then moves you to the side when Nora and Missy come rushing back in. Goober following closely behind them.

“I think we should put it here,” Nora says, pointing to the empty spot she made.

“What if though,” Missy says, rearranging different pictures, creating a new empty space, “We put it here?”

“Hmm, yeah, I like that better,” Nora agrees.

Missy grabs one of the magnets off the fridge, placing a new picture on the fridge, right alongside the picture of the four of you together, underneath the picture of Missy and Nora, and above the picture of Frankie with the guys.

“There!” Nora beams, “Goober is on the fridge, that means she’s family!”

“No take backs!” Missy says, pointing at Frankie.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi!

A no pressure ask game to make the tags less depressing lol.

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Hey Jem! What a great idea! I'm working on four projects so different right now, it's almost laughable. But this is from my favorite one No pressure tagging you back! and @thatmexisaurusrex @firstelevens @funsized-loser @downwarddnaspiral @siancore

The Wilsons didn’t have animals, no matter how much Sam and Sarah begged for a horse, or at least a dog. Still, there was plenty of noise across the property each night, between the birds and the frogs and the crickets and the deer and coyotes that went loping by all the time. Sam had fallen asleep to the cacophony of animal sounds every night of his life. So he wasn’t sure why some rustling somewhere in the sideyard woke him up that night. Or why he got out of bed quietly, careful not to step on the creaky boards that would echo in his parents’ room down below, and crept over to the window to investigate.

The moon was full that night–which is where that part of his Titi’s story had come from, he was sure–so the sideyard was fully illuminated. There was the trampoline they’d gotten for Christmas two years ago and the hole to the center of the earth they were digging. All of the tonka trucks abandoned in it reflected the moonlight. The tattered patio umbrella, which was just staked into the grass, swayed gently in the wind.

And before all of that, a pumpkin with a body staggered around.

Sam gasped and tumbled away from the window, hitting every creaky board on the way back to his bed. He pulled his blanket over his head, but couldn’t quite bring himself to cover his eyes. His room was on the second floor, so he couldn’t see the yard from the far other side of the room, but what if something happened and his eyes were covered? That wouldn’t be good.

He strained to listen for any noise from the creature outside, and also his parents downstairs. He’d expected a shouted, “Go back to sleep!” but hadn’t gotten even that.

After a few seconds, he got out of bed again, dragging his quilt with him, and returned to the window. Outside, the pumpkin creature seemed to have found its footing and was looking around. It stopped to pick up one of the toy trucks–the one that had a real conveyor belt for moving buckets along–and Sam, without thinking, smacked his hand against the pane of his window to stop it.

The creature looked up at the window and Sam went sprawling away again.

This time, he recovered much faster. He didn’t believe in ghost stories. But he very badly wanted to be part of an adventure story. So he slunk downstairs. The process was arduously slow. He kept stopping to make sure his parents weren’t awake. And the clicking noise in the living room almost sent him upstairs again before he realized someone had just left the ceiling fan on. The front door was too noisy to open, but the backdoor would make him cross his parents’ bedroom. Their door was usually pulled to, but it would be just his luck that his daddy was up getting some water.

Sam hesitated at the bottom of the stairs before he made a dash for the backdoor. From there, it was smooth sailing. He kept to the side of the house until he could round the corner into the sideyard. The pumpkin creature was still staring at his window. It was a tall, thin thing with gangly proportions that were only a little more unsettling than most of Sam’s classmates.

Sam inched towards it. He was holding his breath. One arm was tense, ready to smack a hand over his eye, as if that would stop a monster from attacking him. The quilt was wrapped tightly around him still, picking up leaves and sticks and dirt.

October night breezes ruffled the leaves and Sam’s arm lifted with it. His fingers touched the dark blue material of the creature’s sleeve from an arm’s length away.

The creature turned to look at him with hollow, carved out eyes and that unmoving slanted mouth. And down the side of its head, those dark spots that Sam had intentionally chosen.

Sam yelped.

The creature yelped.

They both went sprawling onto their butts in the grass.

The creature scrambled back on its hands and heels.

Sam shot to his feet and immediately tripped over the quilt and fell again.

“Don’t!” the pumpkin said and threw its thin arms over its carved face.

Don’t? Sam wondered. Don’t what? He was supposed to be saying that. He hiked the blanket up properly before he got to his feet again and then bounced back several times to put some distance between them. Their feet had almost been touching.

“What are you?” Sam demanded, sounding braver than he felt. He clutched at his blanket tightly to keep his hands from shaking.

“I’m– I’m–” The creature got to its feet and then reached for its pumpkin head. “I’m not–” it started to say. Then it lifted the pumpkin up and put it on the ground by its feet. 

Sam squawked again and covered his eyes with the blanket.

When he peeked out, there was a boy in front of him. Still tall and thin and gangly, still wearing a costume like an old picture, but a boy with dark hair, bright moonlit eyes, and a line of large freckles down the side of his face, right where the pumpkin’s spots had been.

“I’m not scary,” he said lamely. “You made me. You brought me to life.”

Sam uncovered his eyes. Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble. “You need to go away again! I didn’t think it was real!”

The boy’s mouth–slanted like Sam had carved it–screwed even more to the side in a frown. “I can’t go away. I’m awake until All Hallows Eve.”

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

For the mermaid ask can you do 1+6+8 you write really cool stuff 💕

Hi Ha-Ha Whump! Thanks so much for the kind words! Sure I can write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go! P.S. I know mermay is long over but hey, it's still summer over here! And mermaids are relevant all year long in my opinion! Thanks for your patience while I got around to this!

From this ask game

The waves lapped at the shoreline like a mother pulling a blanket up to her child’s chin. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky with a pink and orange hue. Bits of wood and metal littered the beach, coated in salt and sand.

Caretaker picked their way through the wreckage, looking for any survivors. They had the lighthouse beacon on all night, but some poor ship had managed to get dashed on the rocks all the same. Upon seeing the ripped, black flag with the skull and crossbones amongst the driftwood, Caretaker realized that this might not have been a bad thing.

A splash made Caretaker whip their head around. Something was writhing in the sunken ship’s net. A pirate? A pirate’s prisoner? Regardless, they were a survivor, and Caretaker hoped to keep it that way. They rushed over to the spot, untangling the person trapped inside. They were so entangled that only their upper half was remotely visible.

They looked up at Caretaker with fearful eyes. Their long hair clung to their face and torso, dirtied with sand. Red welts littered their pale body. A pirate’s prisoner then.

“It’s alright,” Caretaker said, “you’re lucky to be alive. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

The person didn’t speak, just gave a tiny nod. Caretaker started working on their lower half, and gasped when the net fell away to reveal a shimmering fish’s tail.

So more than a pirate’s prisoner- a pirate’s trophy, a pirate’s pet; a captured mer. Now that Caretaker took a closer look, those freckles on the person’s face looked more like little blue scales. Those scars on their neck? Gills. And hidden behind their curtain of hair were webbed ears.

“Are you going to hurt me?” The mer asked as if they knew the answer already.

“Wha- no, of course not,” Caretaker said, eliciting a look of surprise from the mer, “I said I was going to take care of you.”

Now that the creature was free, Caretaker could get a better look at their lower half. Their tail was littered with cuts and was missing scales in various patches. There was no way they’d be able to swim with it. It was decided then.

“My name is Caretaker,” they started slowly, “I’m going to pick you up now if that’s okay.”

“P-please don’t,” the mer said, shrinking back.

“But you’ll die if I leave you out here on your own,” Caretaker reasoned, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I just want to help.”

The mer thought it over for a long moment. They looked up at Caretaker and nodded. Caretaker smiled in a way they hoped was calming. They scooped the mer up in a bridal carry.

“..umpee,” the mer mumbled.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Whumpee,” the mer repeated, a little more audibly, “my name is Whumpee.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Whumpee,” Caretaker said, “I’m gonna get you all fixed up, okay?”

Caretaker began the walk from the beach to their lighthouse near the cliffs. They had no idea how to take care of a mer, but darn it, they were going to try.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags:

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice: Don Quixote

today on Grailfinders we’re making Charle- wait, no, not him yet. today we’re making Don Quixote, the man de la mancha! he’s a Swords Bard to get a little too into tales of chivalry and make fantasies into reality, as well as a Watchers Paladin to bring reality crashing back down, but not before proving himself as a hero. maybe.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Ancestry & Background

we’ll get to Dulcinea/sancho panza/Rocinante later, but don quixote is definitely a Human. that gives him +1 Strength and Charisma, as well as proficiency in Acrobatics because you definitely fall off your horse plenty and don’t die, as well as the Charger feat. now when you dash, you can use your bonus action to attack or shove a creature, and as a bonus, if you move more than 10’ in a straight line beforehand, you either deal extra damage, or push them even further. it’s not a “good” feat, but it fits with the don’s battle style of charging in without much of a plan.

of course, quixote’s a noble so he gets proficiency in History and Persuasion as well. he’s a little too proficient in history for his own good, and people usually at least play along with whatever nonsense he’s gotten himself into.

Ability Scores

number one is Charisma. it’s how he casts spells, and presumably how his love for stories about knights is warping reality. second is Constitution, because it doesn’t measure how much health you have, but how many hits you can take and keep going. and god knows Quixote doesn’t know when to give up. third is Strength, while that probably should be lower, we need it for multiclassing and I’m not enough of a sadist to do that to you. your Dexterity is just okay. he’s a bit clumsy but its usually played for slapstick comedy. that means your Intelligence is middling- he’s well read, but only in fiction books- and we’re dumping Wisdom. if that’s a surprise to you I really don’t know what to say.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: since quixote was a nerd and then he tried to be a night, we’ll be getting all his bard levels first, then go to paladin afterwards. that’s probably not the best way to do it in-game, but I’m a sucker for symbolism.

still, as a bard you start off with proficiency in Dexterity and Charisma saves, as well as three skills of your choice- Athletics to charge without getting wind(mill)ed, Animal Handling to ride a horse moderately well, and Deception to fool a country into thinking you’re a king. good luck with that btw, I haven’t gotten that far in traum yet.

you also gain Bardic Inspiration- as a bonus action you can give an ally an extra d6 to add to an attack, check, or save they make in the next minute.

also, you can cast Spells using your Charisma! cantrips like Blade Ward to not die til you have armor on, or Mage Hand for a lightweight Dulcinea; or even spells like Command to be a little kingly on occasion, Feather Fall for your flying girlfriend/horse to break your fall, Unseen Servant for a heavy duty Dulcinea, or Heroism to inspire yourself and others into a battle they probably shouldn’t be fighting.

it’s worth pointing out that bards don’t get proficiency with lances, but you can either call his weapon a spear or let him be not proficient with it. it’s pretty in-character tbh.

2. Bard 2: at level two you become a Jack of All Trades, giving you half proficiency in every ability you’re not explicitly proficient in. I think this is the first time I’d call this feature out of character, but we need it to get anything else out of the class. you can also perform a Song of Rest during short rests for an extra d6 of healing but that’s so negligible it’s barely worth mentioning.

the big bonus this level is your Magical Inspiration- now your inspiration dice can be added to healing or damaging spells to help them fantasy up the place. you can also cast Longstrider this level, quickening your step so you can move ten feet faster for an hour. it’s not huge, but it’s concentration-free!

3. Bard 3: at level three you graduate from the College of Swords, giving you proficiency with medium armor so you can finally get that breastplate out of your closet and go adventuring! you also get the Dueling fighting style, adding 2 points of damage to every attack you make with only one weapon in hand.

you also learn how to make Blade Flourishes by spending your inspiration dice. now your attack actions always increase your walking speed by 10 feet, and upon hitting something you can add an inspiration die to the damage and get one of three benefits. a Defensive Flourish adds the same roll to your AC for a round, a Slashing Flourish deals that damage to every creature you choose next to you, and a Mobile Flourish pushes the target, and then you can react to have Dulcinea drag you back into melee range.

you can also cast second level spells this level, like Enhance Ability, which gives you advantage on one kind of ability check. you can literally gaslight yourself into being stronger now! speaking of checks, your Expertise doubles your proficiency bonus in Persuasion and History checks.

4. Bard 4: at fourth level you can use your first Ability Score Improvement on something useful… or dump it into Charisma for stronger spells. spells like Minor Illusion to make little fantasies for free, or Kinetic Jaunt to ricochet around the battlefield even more! for up to a minute afterwards, your speed is increased by 10’, you don’t have to worry about attacks of opportunity, and you can move through creatures without slowing down! a knight always has to be on the front lines, after all. probably.

5. Bard 5: fifth level bards get some big ol’ boons, like a bigger Bardic Inspiration die, as well as becoming a Font of Inspiration, so you can recharge them on short rests instead of long ones. also you can start learning third level spells like Dispel Magic! it feels rough to end the fantasy before it begins, but it’s hard to get this spell later. it will instantly break any magic of third level or lower, and there’s a charisma check to break higher level spells. given how busted your ability checks can be, I doubt you’ll have a problem dealing with that.

6. Bard 6: at sixth level, bards can use a Countercharm to prevent their allies from being charmed or frightened for a round. it’s not great, you use your action on it, it doesn’t last long, and it only gives advantage on saves. still in-character though. even better, you get an Extra Attack each action, so now you can attack twice instead of once.

also you can cast Motivational Speech this level! it’s a more offensively-focused Heroism, which fits your skillset better.

7. Bard 7: seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Confusion. let’s be honest, you were confusing people way before this, now it’s just official.

8. Bard 8: at eighth level you can max out your Charisma using your next ASI, and Dulcinea can also help free you from any predicaments you get caught in by giving you Freedom of Movement. while moving freely, difficult terrain and magic cannot slow you down or make you paralyzed or restrained, and nonmagical restraints can be escaped from with just five feet of movement. you even get to move at full speed underwater! I think the only water don quixote falls in in the books is a well, so this is probably canon.

9. Bard 9: ninth level bards get fifth level spells, and we can finally make your ascension-hopping make more sense thanks to the Seeming spell. for eight hours, you and anyone within 30’ of you will look different (if they don’t want to they can try a charisma save but good luck), allowing you to change their physical appearance as well as any clothes or equipment they’ve got. now you can turn beat up old relics into proper knighting around armor!

10. Bard 10: at tenth level, you get another round of Expertise to double down on your Deception game and your Acrobatics. you also learn a new cantrip, True Strike! it’s bad, but your strength score is still a 14 at level ten, so you’ll need all the help to hit you can get. also you can cast Legend Lore too, to learn (or make up) fantastical stories about whatever piece of garbage you find on your adventures.

the fun doesn’t stop there though! your Bardic Inspiration die grows to a d10, and you learn Magical Secrets, letting you pick up spells from other classes! now you can finally Summon Celestial to bring Dulcinea to life, or use Nystul’s Magic Aura to make your armor seem even more special than it already is. the latter spell lets you make nonmagical items magical or vice-versa, at least as far as magical detection is concerned. you can even make living things show up as other kinds of creatures, but that’s outside quixote’s scope.

11. Paladin 1: you’ve got all your delusions of grandeur, so now let’s get questing! at level one, you get proficiency with all martial weapons, so that means you can finally use a lance all proper-like. also you think you have a Divine Sense to root out otherworldly foes as an action 6 times a day. you’ll figure out what kind of enemy you’re facing, but not their exact identity. unless you make one up for them, of course.

also you can Lay on Hands, drawing from a pool of HP to give to yourself or your lady Dulcinea as an action. you can spend five points to curse diseases or poisonings, and they recharge on long rests.

12. Paladin 2: second level paladins get their own kind of Spellcasting, which also uses your charisma. unlike bards, paladins can swap their spells each day, so you can get a bit more loosey goosey here. that being said, I suggest checking out the Compelled Duel spell to force your dreaded nemeses to draw steel, Ceremony to give them a chance to repent like the noble knight you are, and Shield of Faith to actually make your shield a bit better for short periods of time.

you could also use those spell slots to make some Divine Smites, spending magic to deal extra damage with your lance. you’ve even got fifth level spell slots already, so you’re actually ahead of the curve compared to pure paladins. (right, almost forgot to mention, check your PHB to see what spell slots you have at any given point from here on out, multiclassing makes it weird.)

moving away from spells for a second, you get another Fighting Style, and the Protection style is perfect for a gallant knight protecting his lady love. when a creature next to you is being attacked, you can react to put your shield between them and their attacker, forcing disadvantage on the roll.

13. Paladin 3: at third level, you join the Watchers, and elite group of paladins dedicated to defeating evil from other worlds… which, if you’re being very generous, is what don quixote’s already been doing! (hey, his imagination isn’t the material plane.) when you join up, you can Channel Divinity once per short rest, letting you invoke the Watcher’s Will to give five creatures advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves for a minute, or you can Abjure the Extraplanar to send aberrations, celestials, elementals, fey, and fiends packing if they fail their wisdom save. alternatively, you can Harness Divine Power, spending your CD usage to regain a spell slot.

you also get free spells that are always prepared for you, Alarm and Detect Magic. quixote seems naturally jumpy, and you can’t end fantasy if you don’t know it’s there, probably.

you’re also in Divine Health, letting you ignore any diseases you get. sunstroke isn’t a disease though, you might want to get that checked out.

14. Paladin 4: at fourth level you get another ASI, and we could improve your strength so you can hit things better… orrr we can get Mage Slayer! now casting spells next to you provokes an attack of opportunity, and you get better at ending fantasy without even using a spell slot because everyone you hit has disadvantage on their concentration saves! you also get advantage on your saves against melee range spells.

15. Paladin 5: fifth level paladins get second level spells, a nice consolation prize since their extra attack doesn’t work with your bardic one. your freebies include Moonbeam, which will destroy any shapeshifters it hits, and See Invisibility. neither wolfman nor the invisible man could exist in 15th century Spain, I’m sad to say.

you can also Find Steed if you need Roccinante without all the others attached, or turn your lance into a Magic Weapon so you can actually hit people with it.

16. Paladin 6: at sixth level you get an Aura of Protection, giving everyone within 10’ of you a whopping +5 bonus to every save they make. some people thing spellcasting is a good choice of profession, so I guess it’s time you destroy their fantasy.

17. Paladin 7: seventh level watchers have an Aura of the Sentinel, giving you and everyone within ten feet of you a +6 to their initiative rolls. when you’re literally tilting at windmills, you’re always ready for a fight.

18. Paladin 8: okay fiiiine, I guess you can improve your Strength to something “not bad”, if you really want. now you might be able to actually hit the windmills when you fight them.

19. Paladin 9: ninth level paladins get third level spells, finally giving you Counterspell to stop fantasies in progress, and Nondetection to turn into a regular old man, no matter how many magical items you’ve picked up over this adventure.

we’ll also grab one last anti-fantasy spell with Remove Curse so now there’s practically no magic you can’t suppress, as well as Blinding Smite and Spirit Shroud for a more powerful girlfriend/squire/horse.

20. Paladin 10: with our final level, you exude an Aura of Courage, making you and friendly creatures nearby immune to being frightened. some say it’s because the image of a gallant knight riding to battle can stir the heart of the most craven of men, others say it’s because you suck all the gravitas out of a situation, but either way you won’t be fleeing any time soon.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

bards are especially good at destroying magic, meaning this build can give even Medea and Sima Yi a run for their money in the anti-magic field. with maxed out charisma, an additional half-proficiency, and advantage from enhance ability, you have an effective +13 on your spellbreaking checks! that’s a 75% chance of breaking through ninth level magic, no matter what spell slots you use.

you’re also great at getting around. no, not like that, I mean you’re a speedy little bugger and you’re hard to pin down, letting you make sure you’re always in the least convenient spot for your enemies.

also you’ve got maxed out charisma and expertise in two different charisma skills, so you can dominate any conversation. whether that’s actually a good thing for your party or not is up to you.       

Cons:

I know I said charger is a bad feat, but it is impressive how poorly it slots into this build. you’ve already got spells that can improve your mobility, so it probably doesn’t help too much there, and not only does it stop you from using your inspiration or divine smites by eating your bonus action, but it prevents you from using your flourishes by keeping you away from the attack action to boot! in a similar vein, mage killer is nice, but if you’re using a lance you’d want to keep people at a ten foot range, not a five foot one, which negates most of the feat.

don’t spend ten levels straight in bard. just don’t. having divine smites or an aura of protection would have been super helpful earlier than we got them, and also we can’t actually use a lance as a spellcasting focus until we’re proficient with them- which currently doesn’t happen until level 11. that’s a long time to wait for a basic part of your build to work right.

the don doesn’t really have any clear direction about what they’re supposed to be doing at any point in time. you could go on defense with powerful anti-magic, or offense with divine smites, but both eat into the same resource and require your full attention to work well. and you might have high charisma, but you have terrible insight, so you’re likely to fall for the first liar you come across- making you the party’s face would be a recipe for disaster. thankfully your deception’s high enough that you can pretend those flaws don’t exist, and everyone will believe you.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Sadistic Hero vs Terrified Robbers

Warnings: sadistic hero playing cat and mouse with robbers, toying with victims, intentional injury (dealt to criminals), humiliation

This event takes place many years after Shadow's alliance with Thomas, when they have finally started getting along better and working together to stop criminals on the streets. Random side-story unrelated to and not included in my main trilogy.

"They're heading Northbound on foot, looks like they're making a dash for that old storage warehouse on 54th. If you cut through Maple street you can cut them off before they get there." Thomas was typing madly at his desk, fingers becoming a blur as he searched maps for the best routes and tracked the two target's locations, while monitoring Shadow's alignment against their coordinates, to tell her the fastest route.

"They just took a right turn on 55th down the alley! Now's your chance to get them!" He practically shouted into the comms, feeling a rush of excitement run up his spine. This was more entertaining than video games, the news, or anything else he could have imagined. He'd always wondered what it would be like to work behind the scenes and man the comms for a vigilante just like they always did in the movies... but he never thought he'd actually get to do that.

And yet here he was, doing illegal vigilante stuff... with a Falkry, of all things. It certainly made things more interesting to have a legendary creature on your side to help stop crime. Almost half of the criminals fainted on sight in shock after seeing Shadow in the flesh. And Thomas couldn't blame them; she was terrifying.

Today's catch would be two armed thieves that had just finished robbing a small family-owned business, and were on the run. They were obviously inexperienced, as they had robbed the store at knifepoint instead of gunpoint, and had chosen to flee on foot instead of in a car, two critical oversights that they were probably already regretting deeply.

It was solidly night, and Shadow blended well amidst the darkness in her black leather suit. Her ghostly white wings were the only thing that could give her away.

"Ah, I've got eyes on." Shadow's voice came crackling through Thomas's computer.

"Go get 'em Shadow!" Lucas was standing behind Thomas watching scenes unfold from the sideline, and mostly enjoyed the excited energy that filled the air whenever Shadow was on a mission.

"I'm going, okay?! I don't need a cheerleader," she snapped back. She glided near-soundlessly down around the back of a building at one end of the alley the criminals would soon be coming through, and positioned herself right behind the corner.

Game time, she thought, preparing herself for action. She didn't have to wait long before the sound of fast footsteps and hard breathing reached her sensitive ears.

"Do you think they're following us!?" A labored voice panted.

"No, I think we lost 'em," a second answered.

Heh heh. Idiots. They have no idea what they're in for, Shadow thought smugly. Their night’s about to get a whole lot crazier. She waited until the two men had almost reached the end of the alley before she stepped around the corner to face them. Both of them came to comically screeching halts, wearing identical expressions of astonishment and shock at the sight of the Falkry.

"Good evening, humans. Have any plans for tonight, besides robbing more stores?" Shadow purred smoothly, smirking.

"What is--" the first man started, then cut himself off. He was wearing a black backpack that Shadow assumed held the treasure they had stolen. The man quickly regained his composure and dropped the backpack on the ground, pulling out two sizable knives and brandishing them threateningly in warning at her, even though his hands were trembling. His partner did the same.

"I-I don't know what kind of monster you are, but if you try anything, I promise you'll regret it!" The first man said. Shadow found it amusing how hard he was trying to appear confident and capable, but she could hear the nervous edge to his voice, along with his racing heartbeat, which gave him away.

"How about this: I'll give you some free wisdom and lessons of life that might help you in the future before I take you both down. That is, if you even have a future after going to prison." She chuckled coldly, and started counting on her fingers. "Firstly, don't make promises you can't keep. Secondly, don't make threats unless you are able to make good on them. Thirdly, don't threaten the dangerous predator who can kill you in a heartbeat. And fourthly, don't bring a knife to a ninja fight. Oh, and almost forgot the last one: Never antagonize me. It always ends very badly. For you. Any questions?"

The second man unexpectedly rushed at her with a shout and his knife raised high; perhaps a side effect of his small brain and sheer stupidity, combined with the effect of the adrenaline flooding his veins, Shadow figured.

What an idiot... She sighed and shook her head in amusement before gracefully dodging to the side and casually tripping him with a foot as he barreled past, sending him sprawling on the hard asphalt.

The first man was apparently equally stupid, as he tried to use his partner's move as a distraction, so that he could attack Shadow from behind. Both of them must have obviously failed school to have such a low IQ.

I don't understand their specific kind of stupid, but I do admire their total commitment to it, Shadow thought, ducking the first man's attack while the second scrambled back to his feet.

Two on one. I like those odds.

"I think you missed the life lesson about 'not' antagonizing me," she chuckled. She was toying with them like a cat playing lazily with a mouse. It wasn't often that she came across criminals willing to take a stab at defeating her. Most of them either fainted on sight, or flight instinct kicked in and they ran away. But in the rare case like this one where her enemy decided to fight back, she saw it as a perfect opportunity to test out her own skills as a warrior. It was good practice, to keep her skills sharp.

Shadow's hands instinctively twitched toward the two daggers nestled in their sheaths at her hip, but she decided against it.

I'm not trying to kill them. I just need to incapacitate them. Which shouldn't be hard, considering that these humans have ant-sized brains. It'll make this fight more interesting if they have weapons and I don't anyway.

The two thieves ran at her from opposite sides, and Shadow snapped her wings out, striking both of them hard in the face, enough to leave a nasty bruise and send them staggering backward in a daze.

"Had enough yet?" Shadow taunted mockingly. The second man was definitely out of the fight, leaning against the alley wall and wiping blood from his nose, which was either fractured or broken from the force of the blow Shadow's wing had delivered.

The second man, on the other hand, decided to make one last half-hearted attack, stumbling clumsily toward her and waving his only remaining knife weakly in the air.

Oops... I think I hit that one a little too hard. Shadow was pretty sure she'd given him a concussion, judging from how he was having a hard time walking in a straight line and was looking a bit disoriented. She sometimes 'accidently' forgot that she had the strength of a Falkry, whereas these were just humans. Regular ol' humans.

Shadow sighed boredly, effortlessly catching the man's wrist in her hand as he took a swipe at her. She squeezed hard; not hard enough to do any serious damage, but just enough to make it hurt, so that he dropped the knife uselessly to the ground.

"I think I've had enough of this now," she muttered under her breath. Then she grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the alley wall, lifting him up so his feet dangled off the ground. The man's eyes widened in terror at how the tables had flipped, and the fear was plain on his face.

Shadow grinned darkly, tilting her head from side to side, pretending to contemplate choices. "Hmm... to kill, or not to kill. That is the question." She barely managed to bite back her laughter as she watched the man's face instantly pale.

I'm having way too much fun with this.

She would have enjoyed toying with him a little longer, but she was beginning to worry that he might have a literal heart attack because of how fast his heart was beating. So instead she knocked him out with a sharp jab to the head, before carefully lowering him to the ground. Then she turned her attention to the other thief, who was trying to stumble away. With a single beat of her wings, she closed the distance between them and delivered a solid blow to the back of his head. With both criminals unconscious, she walked unhurried over to the backpack and unzipped it to find several stacks of cash.

"Not a bad haul," she said to herself. Getting an idea, she used her unnatural strength to rip the straps off the backpack, and used them to tie both of the thieves' hands together. Then she used a couple more straps and tied one of the mens' feet to his partner in crime, then stepped back to check her work.

This will be rather interesting when they wake up, she thought in amusement. They wouldn't be able to run away since they were tied to each other, and she could only imagine how hilarious it would be to see them sprawling all over the place in an attempt to escape before the police arrived to arrest them.

I call it... 'art!' She chuckled to herself. She could already hear sirens coming in the distance, and so she melted back into the darkness of the night and disappeared without a trace. She imagined the police would be fairly confused to find the two thieves already taken out, and tethered to each other in such a strange way.

I basically did their job for them.

Masterlist #1 - all my main whump stories

Masterlist #2 - all stories specifically involving Shadow and Thomas

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[ficzhub]

A Legacy: A Snowbaird fan fiction.

Chapter 1

Relief doesn't begin to describe what he felt when he realized he was in fact, not a ephebophile. Simply a man still in love with his lost girl. It wasn't easy to find her, the wilds are difficult to navigate even with the most advanced technology available. But persistence is key, he never gave the search a day's rest. The moment he came into enough power to delegate the necessary steps that would go into finding her, he did. My, is he glad he did. He found so much more than he could've imagined. He almost regretted having to eventually pluck her from her prairie. Here she was, perfect little wildflower. Dark curls braided out of her sable face, small sylvester flowers rained on in a crown forshadowing the metaphorical crown she'd soon wear as his darling girl in the capital where they belong.

Despite the constant frigid temperatures of the wilds beyond the desolation of 13, the sun still shone bright in the early spring. Excellent light but did little to warm anything. Still, watching the bright sun shining off her rich hair and pebbled, freckled skin sheened slightly in sweat from her labor brought him a calm he hadn't experienced anything even close to since he'd been in her presence. He could watch for hours as she went through her morning routine in the tiny cabin she shared. Getting water to boil for their mushroom tea, gathering honey to sweeten it. Wondering if she had to risk getting her nearly onyx eyes or dainty hands stung to obtain it. Eating a few bites of whatever game the traders exchanged with her. The bulk of it being fish, sometimes uncommon sea creatures like octopus or such but as good for sustenance as he could wish for them, explaining the surprising but delightful realization that Lucy Gray looks better fed here than she'd ever looked back in 12.

The changes of her body, though mostly welcome, did confound him briefly. The previous night she'd disrobed before sleeping and he saw the widened flare of her hips, the greater swell of her breasts and darkening of her nipples, the beastly diagonal claw-like marks on her flat but loose abdomen and pert backside. It all made sense when he caught sight of him, Silas Ochre. A boy of eleven, and already much taller and more muscular than he himself had been at that age. Vindicating his theory that if Coriolanus been properly fed, he'd be a much more physically imposing figure. The boy opened the door with his free hand, his left occupied holding basket containing a variety of plants the camera can't completely capture from this angle.

It was agony finding her and knowing it would take a few days before the undetectable cameras would be remotely set up to use. All his men had told him after finding her was that she was living in a cabin with a boy and a woman around her age. He'd figured she'd run into a mother with her son and came together with them but the mother in question had been her all along, and what a mother she's turned out to be. Silas Ochre is an incredibly intelligent, resourceful, capable and beautiful child. His hair is a golden shade of brown with curls that shine blindingly in the sun, clearly his hair had had to have been lighter ages ago, much blonder like himself. His skin is much like that of his mother, the color of strong black tea with a dash of milk and his eyes a dazzling shade of blue, like everything else, darker than that of his father. It's as if the deeper pigment from his mother protected him in a manor his father's lightness couldn't.

Silas Ochre hunts like he was born to it. No cruelty is ever caused with his knife, only quick, merciful deaths the creatures never see coming, so unlike the offspring Coriolanus has produced with Livia who'd relish in the gore. The boy named Calix in his home borderline disgusts him. His petulance grates at his already strained nerves, his entitlement irritating him to the point of near violence. Livia's family would withdraw any support they provide if he ever did anything to properly discipline his miscreant son. The boy is turning nine and still throws tantrums like when he toddled. If his father's legacy is left to him, he'll destroy everything he ached building in a matter of a few short years, squander it like a common fool. At first glance, there's resemblance between he and his son. But Coriolanus knows, Calix's palor is that of his mother's. His shade of blond, the blue of his eyes, the shapes of his nose and mouth, all Livia's.

The likeness between Silas Ochre and his father is more subtle but obvious if one knows what their looking for. The forms of his young son's still developing muscles so like his own, visible after his peacekeeper's duties and thankfully not lost since. The proportions of his body, long arms and legs good for reaching high and running far. His lips are shaped like that of his mother's sweet mouth, but fuller like his own. The slightly downward slant of his eyes is like his father's despite the darker shade of blue inside them, the flare of his nostrils at the end of his long nose completely unlike the button nose his Lucy Gray dawns. The broadness of his shoulders to the tapering of his waist, his hairline, the shape of his strong hands. All obvious indicators of who impregnated his mother.

Coriolanus blazes to see Lucy Gray as she was when she was pregnant with him. Face rounded, arms, legs and tight bottom cushioned for her and his son's comfort. Hips broadening more as each day passes, breasts growing to become fit to feed their child producing a milk he can only imagine was a luscious nectar. Finally, belly growing bloated with their perfect progeny. The need to keep her full of his babies is one of his main purpose for wanting to keep her close to him, here in the capital despite their idyllic lives in the forest. Silas Ochre was a good example of how flawless their children would be.

Livia is pregnant again with another boy and as much as he knows he's supposed to, he doesn't love the children he has with her. The feelings of obligation and basic familial commitment pale in comparison to the fatherly love and adoration he already feels for the nearly teenaged boy, who likely has no idea who he is and who Coriolanus has never even laid eyes on in the flesh. He knows more clearly than he knows he loved his mother and Tigris, that he'd do anything to protect this child. The ferocity, the potency of his emotions overwhelmed and displeased him. So much like when he fell in love with his Lucy Gray, he knows this boy, like his mother, could get anything they want out of him. He'd relinquish it with a smile on his face as long as it made them happy. That vulnerability frightens him more than any threat any of his enemies have ever made.

The rabbits, squirrels and other animals his more competent son obtains are used in their entirety. He guts and skins them so his still sensitive mother never needs to see such ugliness. He simply presents her with the pelts for her to use as needed and gives the innards to the woman they live with for her to do what she must with them. Lucy Gray treats the fresh skins and furs in their tiny fireplace, cleans them in the river nearby and hoards them until she has enough to make a full article of clothing with them. He's spent days watching them, learning their habits and observing their behaviors. The traders come by twice a week, she'll trade fresh garlic mustard or wild ginger for whatever she and her friend "Holly May" had asked for during their previous visit. Dairy products such as butter or cheeses, salt, even sea shells on occasion are taken in exchange of safe plants to consume and fresh land game and even baby soft fur overcoats to brave the harsh conditions farther north.

Holly May was clearly responsible for teaching his son how to sustain himself. Lucy Gray might've taught him how to tie intricate knots, gather fresh fruits and render oils from any plants they might find but Holly May taught him how to be an efficient killer. A skill not to be overlooked or undertrained in when in these circumstances. The traps they use are expansive and detailed, anything that wanders in will be done away with in a matter of seconds with almost no time to realize they're dying. She taught him how to gut and skin the animals quickly and cleanly, not letting the food become contaminated by any filth by letting the pelt cover everything until every organ is removed and placed in Holly May's hands to be cleaned in boiled, cooled water and coated in salt and spices to preserve for harsher times.

The traders this time traded a small spile for two dark brown coats. Coriolanus couldn't understand why Lucy Gray would make what seems like such a poor exchange, she handed the tool to Holly May and she hammered it into a tree. The cold wood didn't let her penetrate without a fight, bouncing off the metal a few times before finally piercing through to the tenderer wood inside. She instructed Silas Ochre to fetch something and he returned promptly with a bucket and some sort of covering. She placed it beneath the tree and simply left it there. It wasn't until a few hours later he realized it's a maple tree and Lucy Gray was clearly craving some sweetness honey can't provide, given the persistent medicinal taste that lingers after you eat it.

Coriolanus found himself envying their simple lives. The grueling work of finding their food and their warmth daily, knowing the next winter might be harsher than the last and not knowing if the previous harvest will be enough to hold them until it's over. But never having to worry about large scale betrayals, or political intrigue. Never concerning yourself with the competition because there hardly is any. Your competition around the cabin are other animals not nearly as strategic as you are and always good for thicker furs or emergency meat. On the rare occasion that a passerby might make things more difficult for you, you can always dispose of them fairly simply.

He ponders if his son, just beginning pubescence, would be capable of that.

********

The observation period lasts weeks. Coriolanus finishes work and returns home to watch the recordings that have been gathered, sometimes not even bothering to eat or wash up before sitting to watch his distant family go about their business. He's ambivalent about his realization that Lucy Gray was better off without him than he would've guessed. On the one hand, had she not been better off her and their son would've died likely before he was even born and then where would he be? Just a bitter man of nearly thirty living a life with nothing bringing him any genuine happiness the way just watching his amazing son and still gorgeous songbird does. A cousin who raised him but now nearly ignores him, a wife he can't stand who's given him sons that were meant to be a continuation of the Snow line and legacy but one only inspires irritation and resentment in him and the other is yet to be born but he doesn't hold out much hope for. He knows he'll feel little affection for him, too. He'll be too like his insipid mother, and have too much of Coriolanus' most distasteful traits, like Calix.

On the other, he relished in knowing his Lucy Gray needed him. In his most self indulgent and self-aggrandizing fantasies, she always needed him. Either needed him to save her from some kind of evil, a touchy ex-lover, a murderous and petty mean girl with a senseless vendetta against her, an incompetent man with too much power like Mayor Lipp, which he in fact made sure to scrap from office as soon as he had the authority to and place someone more fitting in his place. Someone he knew wouldn’t give The Covey any trouble.

Other fantasies have more masturbatory wishes. She needs him because he’s fed her, needs him because he’s given her water to drink when she was deathly thirsty. She needs him because she’s horribly sore and he can do away with her aches and pains. Because she needs him to satiate her desire for closeness and pleasure when in reality it’s him that needs satiating. He that feels a desperate longing to touch her again because nothing and no one else feels as good.

Every day he gets to watch as she fetches water from the river that runs near her shoddy, unprotected home, brings it back to boil clean on her fireplace in a large metal pot. She collects the water in a separate container and lets any debris settle at the bottom, carefully brings it outside and waits for it to cool. She takes out a soap either she traded for or made on her own and undresses. He feasts his eyes on her, angry that any of his men might’ve seen this footage before he did. Notices her dark nipples puckering in the cold, thankfully there’s not much wind. He’d hate for her to get sick. He laments the camera quality isn’t fine enough to zoom in on her, to see her tender flesh develop goosebumps. She slowly pours the purified, hot water over herself and starts scrubbing her skin with the soap and an old, filthy looking rag.

He wonders what the soap smells like, if it’ll interfere with the aroma he remembers her having. The wild rose and fresh, ripe peach that no amount of synthesis has been able to replicate to his liking. Either it smells too manufactured or the rose scent is too clean, or the peach fragrance is too saccharine, or they don’t quite match the slightly musky trail she always had. According to the perfumers, it has a great deal to do with the pheromones one produces and picks up in another’s. Biology dictates that unless you’re wearing a strong perfume or cologne, the way you smell is subjective to whomever may be smelling you. Sometimes it permeates through even the strongest of artificial fragrances. He knows there’s no way Lucy Gray ever made enough money through her performances to buy a perfume of any kind, despite her immense talent. Much less a strong, manufactured fragrance that even in The Capital, people struggle to afford. No, of course not. Her hygiene perhaps, some rustic soap much like the one she uses now, purchased at The Hob is what she used, and a rag with any water she could find was used to keep herself clean. The scent Coriolanus remembers so fondly is all their own, produced by her and to be inhaled by him.

He ponders what he might’ve smelled like to her, if she enjoyed his scent even half as much as he delighted in hers. If his resulted in the same warm sensation in her groin that grew in his whenever he inhaled by her neck, slick with the day’s sweat.

[heartschoicegames]

New game! Vampire's Kiss, by Dash Casey

New game! "Vampire's Kiss" by Dash Casey is now available on Steam, iOS and Android. It's 33% off until Oct 26 Please reshare this with friends!

Unleash your lust and your thirst in a battle for the soul of London! Will passion lead you back to humanity, or will you embrace the night as a vampire?

Vampire’s Kiss is a 170,000-word interactive erotic vampire novel by Dash Casey. It’s entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fuelled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

In life, you were the guardian of a priceless artifact, the Cross of Aguirre. Now you have been murdered and made a vampire; the artifact has been stolen, and you are at the center of a web of bloody conspiracies. 

Navigate a perilous web of secrets as you discover the hidden world of London after dark, staging daring heists and bloody battles across the city’s iconic landscape. As a plot centuries in the making unfolds, choose sides in the battle for control of London’s vampires, and embrace the night that has been thrust upon you…or, chase rumors of a way to restore true life to the undead, and hold out hope that you might see the sun once more. 

Your heart no longer beats, but your passion still burns. Will you share a slow dance with Marky, the rogueish vampire with dozens of piercings and a poorly hidden heart of gold? Hold each other tenderly, or fall into bed and discover all of the tricks that Marky has learned in more than a century of unlife.

Will you stalk the night alongside Kurt, a stoic vampire hunter, all muscles and chiseled face, who holds the secrets to ancient lore? He's as dominant in the bedroom as he is on the battlefield: choose your own safeword and submit to his powerful strength; or explore his gentler side.

Does the lure of London's mortal aristocracy draw you towards Alex? This fabulously-dressed and surprisingly courageous socialite is thirsty to learn what sex with a vampire is like - bring all of your powers of telepathy and shapeshifting to heighten your pleasure.

Or will you be dominated by the vampire queen Saffron, with her glorious red hair and brilliantly devious schemes? She's ready for anything, from the kinkiest night of whips and fangs to the vulnerability of using no vampiric powers at all in bed.

• Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, or bi; or asexual.

• Seduce a passionate socialite; the scheming vampire queen; a cheeky vampire rogue; or a stoic hunter.

• Opt in or out of scenes involving graphic violence and blood.

• Embrace your vampiric destiny, or dream of the sunrise in a quest to transform yourself back to humanity - and bring your lover along with you.

• Solve your own murder, and take vengeance on your killer.

• Delve into your vampiric powers: transform yourself into a vicious monster, cast shapeshifting illusions as a creature of shadow, or unlock the hypnotic mysteries of the mind.

• Keep your secrets and preserve the illusion that you have died, or shock the world by revealing the existence of vampires.

In this endless night, how will you quench your thirst?

[eridude]

Johndave, davekat, johnkat OR the elusive johndavekat for the ship bingo?

Hmm what if all of them ????

JOHNDAVE

ok kings of denying your feelings for each other... ok... johndave is so made for me because i fucking love when characters are best friends to lovers and i love john and dave so much as characters on their own and even when its not romantic they are like. each others PERSON, you know? like these two are quite literally the first friendship we meet in homestuck so you know right off the bat how important it is.

i love the idea(and also essentially the canon) of these two doing the gayest things in the fucking universe together and john insists it's for the bit and dave insists it's for the irony and rose and jade are just off to the side. staring at them. knowing the truth. they know what you are.

DAVEKAT

im really sentimental about davekat because no joke they are the reason i got into homestuck. someone reblogged all of the penis oujia scene on my tumblr dash and i fucking cried laughing and so i was like "maybe i should see what this is all about" and now im 3 years deep into a hyperfixiation!!!

anyways davekat!!! canonically boyfriends canonically dating so proud of them and i really do understand why they are the fandoms most beloved ship. the interactions these two characters have are fantastic(both with each other and with other characters ABOUT each other. god i love when dave and karkat talk about each other to other characters) the classpect parallels, self-worth issues, the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers of it all... its so good.

JOHNKAT

johnkat is RIGHT IN MY BRAIN MAN. ITS UP THERE AND IT LIVES UP THERE LIKE A LITTLE CREATURE CONSTANTLY.

THE PARALLELS. the friendleader parallels. the way these two are so stupid and i KNOW vriska is johns patron troll and i love their friendship a lot too dont get me wrong but in my heart secretly karkat is johns patron troll. in my heart. secretly.

i think there is something so wonderful about how unabashedly caring john is for the people that he loves and karkat is so awkwardly caring for the people he loves and i think john needs to give karkat a hug and i think karkat needs to give john a hug BECAUSE GOD THE IDEA OF THESE TWO COMFORTING EACH OTHER... it brutalizes me. i wish i was around when johnkat stuff was more popular because im so sad they dont get more love now!! same with johndave!! Like dont get me wrong im On The Davekat Train 100% but let john also kiss boys too.

GOOD SEGUE INTO TALKING ABOUT JOHNDAVEKAT.

this is the answer everyone. let them all date. Right. Now. or i will get down on all fours and start Biting People.

they're all a different brand of emotionally constipated and oh my god could you imagine the living space. they all live in a shared apartment wall to wall with horrible movie posters and sbahj comics just taped random places and they bicker and have terrible movie nights and get really into playing stupid video games and kiss each other and ... im normal about it i swear.

[lunarla123]

Friday Night Fightin - Pico Reference Sheet

Got a bit lazy with this one but it was still fun pfft, here's the last of the fightin RGB trio, Derrick the Dino bodyguard.

Friday Night Fightin BF Ref Sheet Friday Night Fightin GF Ref Sheet

Name: Derrick Dino

Nickname: Pico, Dee, DD

Birthday: 30th December

Age: 26

Orientation: Biromantic Aceflux

Species: Dino creature (yes)

Height: 5'6ft

Weight: 185 lbs

Voice: Riikami but a bit more guttural kekw

Relationship Status: Dating

Family: John Dino (fightin!Tankman)

Partners: Stacie Daemon (fightin!GF), Mikey Angel (fightin!BF)

Friends: Neena Arachnes (fightin!Nene), Darnell Phoenix (fightin!Darnell)

Acquaintances: Skid Skelly and Pump Pumpkin (fightin!SkidandPump), Marco Daemon (fightin!DaddyDearest), Janice Daemon (fightin!MommyMearest)

Enemies/Rivals: Darnell Phoenix (fightin!Darnell), Ayumu Obake (fightin!Senpai)

Personality: A taciturn and seemingly distant young man with a permanently annoyed face, but acts more of a tsundere when shown affection by other people, especially from his partners. He doesn't want to admit, but he can be quite the loverboy and would occasionally flirt with either Stacie or Mikey (mostly Stacie, Mic is as oblivious as a rock but that's part of the charm) from time to time. When fighting however, he would become a lot more trigger happy to shoot a bullet through your skull and acts a lot more aggressive and expressive. He takes his role as a bodyguard half seriously at first, but he gets more invested in his job overtime as he fell in love with Stacie and later Mic.

Personality flaw: Whenever something irks him, he becomes more antsy, impulsive and hot headed about it. He has a very hard time trusting others around him, especially strangers and people he doesn't like and would be more protective of his partners. Loud screams and epileptic lights reverts his brain back to the time of the school shooting during middle school, causing himself to hyperventilate and huddle in a dark area or a corner and will instinctively shoot anyone that would suddenly touch him. He's slowly getting better from it, though there are times he would regressed back progress if the trigger was severe.

Likes: Vocaloid, Crunk hip hop, working out at the gym, spending time with his partners, card games, initiating fights, compete in tournament battles with Mic, showing his muscles and physical flexibility, but likes to wear baggy clothing when spending alone time with Mic, hamburgers, Pepsi, gun shooting practice, firearms in general, showing and giving affection his partners (despite how hesitant he may be).

Dislikes: Stacie's parents (doesn't show it), loud screams and flashing lights, green tea, coke (joking), his impulsivity, being vulnerable, waiting.

Powers: Claw slashes, fists and dropkicks (basic combo attacks), Bazooka missiles! (Heavy combo attacks), Air dash and wall climb (launches himself in the air with a bazooka as a double jump), Bullet spray (fires his Uzi's at a certain direction), Claws strike (Pivots and slashes with all three claw hands at the target, Strength boost (Temporarily makes his attacks stronger and faster), Jelly Bones (Is able to contort and bend his body with relative ease).

Backstory (summary): John Dino was definitely a strict father, being a retired military officer and all. Now he works under the Daemon family as a bodyguard and brought him along to get life and work experience at a young age, which was when he met Stacie. At first he didn't really like her, but that soon change down the line as he would spend days together with her, finding her nice to be around now. Since Stacie was still homeschooled he would the mornings and afternoons at his own middle school with his other friends Neena and Darnell who would also visit Stacie from time to time when walking home together. One day without warning, all hell broke loose at the school. Fellow students were screaming and dying as light bulbs would break one by one from the stray bullets, Derrick think of anything else other than to survive (I will not go further than that, I'm not good at writing devastating scenes). Years passed, the memory was still fresh in his mind but kept suppressing it even during college years, and even after meeting Mic. However, he's finally trying to make a change to it as of late, maybe it won't be so bad. So long as he's with his loving partners, he'll definitely be fine.

Additional notes:

He's farsighted so he would wear reading glasses when needed, but rarely wear them.

Man is a love bug in denial, cuddle him and he will wrap around in his appendages in seconds.

Wears silver ear piercings, usually the thicker kinds

Likes contorting his body in odd places to spook his partners and friends.

Strangely likes to hang upside down when bored.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links

My posts

Dear diary: I reacted badly to a muscle relaxer, which knocked out a few days of my week; removal of the Diagonal Trees has begun. At the time, I was also wrestling with 2700 words that showed up out of nowhere, which have become “Why I Love Poppy Playtime (Even Though I Don’t Play It).” However, I am having Still Further Surprise Medication Side Effects (Do Not Ask), so the Poppy post will hit Patreon on Monday or Tuesday.  

Meanwhile, a 200 ft (61 m) radio tower was stolen from Jasper, Alabama. Yes, this is real. Y’all have tags about it.

Reblogs of interest

Richard Siken’s “Some Questions I Might Ask of My Poems and the Poems of Others” Creatures of the Deep Poetry Coloring Page

“this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it”

“Every computer is just a very specialized loom.”

Vulcan color theory

“There’s a labyrinth. In the middle of it, a minotaur is making waffles.”

Answering bids for connection: the attention we need. That last reblog also explains to me why I like to watch game playthroughs while winding down at night.

Video

Bharatanatyam meets Swizz Beatz

Ollie watches over his pumpkin patch everyday

From the Mission Status: Sick files

The meatball story showed up on my dash again

Personal tag of the week

No sacred texts this week; gonna have to go with fiber art again for the end-of-post spotlight.

ETA: I have now fixed two link errors in this thing, if you were wondering if I’d gotten over the muscle relaxer yet. Woooooo.

[nightravens-therapycircle]

This is Halloween - Chapter 1 Preview

An Upcoming Celebration

At the end of the day and left with nothing more to do, both Emery and Grim were thankfully able to spend the afternoon relaxing and taking a much needed break. The interdorm Spelldrive tournament wrapped up a few days ago, which was a weight off of the shoulders of those who had to investigate the strange incidents that surrounded it. While there were midterms in less than two weeks, Emery was confident that she could handle those with little issue. …so long as she got Grim to study.

….By the Seven, she hoped that Grim would study--

“C’mon! Hurry up!” shouted Grim, snapping Emery from her thoughts. He was taking the lead, a good few feet ahead of her on the rough, cobbled path that lead to Ramshackle Dorm. “I wanna get back to that game we were playin’ yesterday!” That board game she dug up from a random room that he got mad about because she was beating him?

“Uh-huh… no. No gaming until after you’ve studied,” said Emery, making Grim groan in disdain. “You heard Professor Crewel this morning, Grim. We have midterms soon. Our grades are averaged together when it comes to tests like this. If you fail, it brings down our total score.” Grim meowed loudly in frustration.

“Maybe I’ll just ask the kid…” Grim grumbled. Kid…? Ah, right. Astor. He had been hanging around Ramshackle more and more lately. And Emery soon found out that he couldn’t say ‘no’ to Grim whenever he was asked to do something. Other than that, he was a pretty good kid. He knew Night Raven College like the back of his hand and had even shown Emery some of the hidden passages in the old castle to help her get around easier. Astor even went as far as willingly lending her a hand when she was cleaning or making repairs to the dorm. The kid was no more than eleven years old, and he was already doing much more than his dad -- the school’s own headmaster -- ever did for Ramshackle.

As the Ramshackle duo made their way down the path, Grim dashed on ahead to get to their dorm first. A few moments later, Emery heard him scream.

“Grim?” she called out. When she didn’t hear his reply, she ran towards her dorm in hopes of catching up to him. To her surprise, Grim slammed into her legs to hide from a large, red dragon that was sitting in their yard. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. “Sweet Merciful Seven…”

“Don’t just stand there,” said Grim, paws pushing against Emery’s shins. “MOVE IT!” Emery could only stare at the creature. And the longer she looked at it… she began to realize something. This was--

There was a chuckle from behind them. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

Grim screamed, scrambling up Emery’s leg until he had himself wrapped around her head.

“GRIM!” Emery shouted, stumbling and nearly falling over as she tried to pry the raccoon-cat off. Lilia Vanrouge -- the one responsible for giving Grim such a scare in the first place, laughed to himself as Emery finally got him off of her.

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on October 5th!

[abysskeeper]

Chapters: 1/8 (Wyll)

Part: 1/3

Summary: "They say a singular flap of a butterfly's wings can cause an ensuing storm on the other side of the world."

Nox'ani Skuldavi is not good with people. She is, however, good with magic. She is also smart enough to recognize her preferred status as a "living elf" (emphasis on both living and elf) is, at least in part, predicated on this small group of individuals she and her sister have found themselves with. Unfortunately, these individuals are rife with as much of their own, personal strife as they are stricken with the parasite. Even more unfortunately, Nox is finding she actually wants to help them however she can.

It's not much, she's not good with people. But she is good at magic, she's good at listening, and she really likes butterflies. It's hopefully enough to get the point across.

(AKA: Extra scenes from Act 1 companion quests; also AKA a BG3 friendship fic.)

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

The first butterfly to enter camp was Wyll’s.

It flew in on a rather heavy evening, carried by the winds at the forefront of an approaching storm. The air itself was weighted with the promise of a long, hard rain that was primed to burst from the sky at a moment’s notice, though that hardly stopped the flight of the endeavoring, little creature. Having already moved his belongings under the protection of his tent, the man the butterfly sought sat at the makeshift cloth entrance of his camp home, a goblet of wine in one hand and an old adventure novel in the other.

Wyll had thought this weather would be perfect for him to dive back into his reread—his fourth time through—of one of his favorite novels. He had just been reaching the climactic battle of the story when other matters forced him to set it aside, and he’d had little time or desire to pick it back up since. Even now, he could admit to a bit of forcefulness behind his actions, though he considered his reticence to be caused by the change in his situation rather than a lack of desire. Reading was a touch different now than it was from when he last held the book in his hands.

For one, newly acquired horns rested heavily on his head, and unused to the new weight as they were, the muscles in his neck protested under the strain by the end of every day. Attempting to find a comfortable position to read in was quite a hassle, and even when he finally found one…it did nothing to relieve the weight that rested in his chest. When he decided to take up the book again earlier in the evening, he believed the fantasy and escapism residing within the pages of one of his favorite stories to be exactly what he needed. The words used to fill him with such joy and admiration, such hope and aspirations of how he wished for his future to be.

But…there was some hesitance. A fear that was becoming realized the longer he attempted to push through the book’s pages. The words that used to rouse his heart were now only breeding a deep sense of disappointment and a dash of humiliation low in his gut. It had only been a day and a half since Karlach joined their traveling party. It had only been a day since Mizora punished him for acting against her orders.

It had only been a day since he became this. Whatever this was.

Wyll snapped the book shut and rested his head on the tentpole he leaned against. Perhaps, instead of the escapism and fantasy, what he really needed was sleep. He discovered last night that was a much more difficult task with his new appendages as well—they hardly allowed him to lay down comfortably, never-mind that he could not clear his head of the images he saw during his soul’s descent through the Hells—and he was starting to feel exhaustion’s pull on his bones. Based on how the sky was clouding over, the storm would be starting soon anyways. It was probably for the best he packed it in for the night, he could always try again tomorrow.

He heaved a sigh, but before he could move to stand, something fluttering in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Confused, he turned to watch as a butterfly, of all things, landed on the book cover in his lap. He blinked at it, waiting for some trick on his vision to clear. The butterfly’s wings fluttered a few times before it settled on the cover and decidedly did not disappear. Now utterly bewildered, Wyll gently pulled the book a little closer to his face to inspect the insect.

He had never seen a butterfly in only one shade before, and never one that was such a pure, dark-green color. It was strikingly beautiful in its simplicity but also odd, both in color and in its behavior. It was neither the season nor the weather for such a creature to be out right now, and it was far too calm with him being so close to it. Also, probably the most striking aspect that truly set it apart from anything he had ever seen before, a glowing aura around the tiny creature lit up the darkness of the night and the storm befalling their camp.

“Interesting…” Wyll mumbled. Out of curiosity, he held a finger towards the butterfly. In turn, it crawled up his finger and came to rest on the back of his hand.

He watched it calmly flap its wings a few times again before he heaved another sigh and looking towards camp, determined to find who sent him the magical bug. It wasn’t hard to narrow down the suspects; aside from himself, the only ones to use illusion magic in camp were the wizards and Shadowheart. He caught sight of the cleric knelt in front of her tent deep in prayer and immediately doubted it was her. And Gale was nowhere to be found, likely already settled into his tent for the night.

That just left the other wizard, and his eyes landed on her across the camp. The elven woman sat next to her sister—the paladin also deep in evening prayer—with her quill in hand. Her violet eyes, however, rested on him instead of the open journal in front of her. He noticed a subtle flick of her wrist, almost as if she were writing in the air, and the butterfly fluttered again. Wyll cocked his head in question at her and her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. Her gaze flickered down to her journal for a moment before she set her quill down in the open spine and rose to her feet. She stretched out her back and then made her way over to him.

Wyll’s gaze shifted from her to the butterfly on his hand and then back to Nox when she stopped in front of him. Both of them stared at each other in silence for a moment, her waiting for him to say something and him uncertain where to begin with the odd gift. He finally held out his hand towards her, the butterfly curling around to sit in his palm.

“I believe you lost something, Nox,” he said lightly.

A small smile graced her lips as she shook her head. “I rather believe it found exactly where it needed to be,” she answered and motioned towards the ground beside him.

He nodded and scooted over to offer more space as the elf sat down beside him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. She fell silent again, chewing on her lip in thought. He waited for her for as long as he could in hopes she would give him a better answer. His hand twisted and turned while he waited, the magical butterfly crawling around and around.

Finally, his curiosity won out. “I don’t quite understand how I am where this little guy needs to be.”

“You’re struggling, Wyll,” Nox answered, matter of fact. As if his question warranted anything close to that answer.

He was unable to hide his wince, feeling his heart sink and the playful façade melting away. Was it really so obvious even she noticed? Or was he being foolish? Was it to be expected? “You certainly aren’t one to mince words, are you, Nox’ani?” Wyll asked with a chuckle he hardly felt.

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “I am…not nearly as eloquent or heartfelt as most,” she sighed and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, “but I wanted to offer you something, so…”

“So, you sent me a butterfly?” he asked, tone belying his confusion. Was he, perhaps, missing the context of some, elvish custom?

Nox shrugged, a slow rise and fall of her shoulders. “More than words, illusion magic is what I’m used to…well…using as a way to comfort others,” she answered. “Besides, it’s a far better icebreaker than words for me, if I didn’t just exemplify that.”

Despite himself, Wyll let out another, small chuckle. This one he did feel. “My prior question already had an answer then, you are rather to the point,” he agreed.

“Talking isn’t exactly a strong suit of mine, if that hasn’t been made obvious either,” Nox said with a thin smile.

It was obvious from their very first meeting that her sister handled most of the communication with people. Lux had that sort of personality; Nox was far better at handling the logistics and magical matters before them. “Not everyone is gifted with a silver tongue,” he shrugged and glanced around the camp. “Given the personalities in this little group, having someone who knows when not to speak is actually a boon, I think.”

Her smile smoothed a little. “Well, I am glad at least one person understands it. Not many appreciate the gift of listening.”

“It is a relief, honestly,” Wyll said. “And if nothing else, it is more than Lae’zel can say for herself. She is far brusquer with her words than you.”

Nox snorted, “I suppose I should count it as a win that, blunders aside, I at least have better manners than a gith.”

They both fell quiet again, wordlessly watching the magical butterfly crawl up and around his forearm. As the silence stretched on, Wyll began to wonder if she was waiting for him to speak on her original comment and he felt a bit of panicked bile rise in his throat. What could he say to it that hadn’t already been said? Where could he begin that wouldn’t cause a deluge of emotions he hadn’t started sorting for himself yet? Luckily, she continued before he felt obligated to ask.

“I do mean it though, the listening,” she clarified. “If you wish to speak on what troubles you, that is. Between my lack of words and these large things,” she chuckled as she tugged on her ear, “I am quite adept at listening.”

Wyll smiled at her joke but otherwise remained quiet. His attention remained on the butterfly as he cupped his hands and it crawled into the center of his palms. It sat there, nestled by his hands, and he felt the light brushing of its wings when they twitched in time with Nox’s soft sigh.

“Of course, you also don’t have to if you’d prefer not to. I would understand,” she added. “Over the years, I’ve learned that sometimes all people want is something pretty to look at. A distraction from what troubles them, or even just a reminder someone else is thinking of them. That’s really why I fall to illusion magic,” she explained. “I…never really know when I should step in, or how, even when I know I want to offer something. I’m good at magic, better at it than words, so…I offer what I can.”

Wyll didn’t think he wanted to speak on it; everything he believed mattered on the subject had already been said. He did not regret it. He was happy to have been stopped before he made an awful mistake, and he was happy to have found a new friend in Karlach. He could not speak much of his pact with Mizora, and everyone had respected that. Now that his latest orders had been cleared up and his punishment doled out, it was time to move on to solving the issue of the parasites.

Yet, the longer he stared at the butterfly and mulled over her words, the more he could feel it all churning in his heart. The disappointment, the embarrassment, the grief, and the anger. He blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his fingers curling gently around the butterfly, almost protective. “It’s…heavy.”

Heavy. That had been the one word on his mind since last night.

Nox hummed in understanding, and he felt her eyes roving over his face. “As the right choice often is,” she agreed after a moment.

“I…know.” He sighed again and opened his eyes. The butterfly still rested calmly in his palms. “That knowledge does not make it any lighter this time, though,” he admitted and turned to meet her stare.

She pondered him for a moment. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, though his gaze slid away from her scrutiny. He did not regret it, he would never regret doing the right thing. That still did not necessarily negate his…dissatisfaction. “But that does not mean I have to be pleased with the result, does it?”

“Of course not,” Nox said readily. “No one would imply otherwise.”

He felt her shift beside him, and a quiet breath of frustration escaping her forced his attention back towards her. Bemused, he watched as her hand suddenly retreated from the space around his arm and she frowned. Instead, the butterfly’s wings brushed against his fingertips.

“Wyll, you sacrificed a lot for a stranger, based on the words of other, effective strangers,” she continued. “It was the right choice in the end, obviously, but there are not many men in this world who would do that. Fewer still who would do it when they knew the consequences of disobedience…and you knew the consequences, didn’t you?”

“I…” Wyll hesitated, swallowing hard as he was yet again forced to acknowledge all of the changes he had just undergone. “I…suspected several options. All things considered, this was one of the better outcomes.”

“I’m sorry,” Nox mumbled.

“For what?” he asked, incredulous. He thought he would be annoyed by pity; he had no desire to be pitied for choices he willingly made. But pity was not what she spoke with, and sympathy was not what he expected in its stead. “As you said, I knew the consequences. I have always known the consequences.”

Nox made her gentle humming noise again. “Knowing the consequences and accepting the burden regardless is a noble venture,” she answered. “I respect it, but I also sympathize with it.”

Wyll stared at her for a few moments before an astonished laugh pushed past his lips. “You know, most would not assume that of a warlock pacted to a devil.”

“Most warlocks pacted to devils are not you.” She smiled and flicked a finger. The butterfly responded by escaping from his hands and fluttering up in front of his eyes. “Actions speak louder than any words or deals ever could, and while I’ve only known you for a short while, I would like to believe I’ve been around long enough to be able to say with certainty that your actions mark you as a good man, Wyll,” Nox said and caught his eye. “A noble one, even.”

Despite his best effort, he couldn’t hold her gaze or stare at her illusion any longer. She spoke words that he needed to hear, words that he himself had been repeating consistently since last night. Those words were starting to taste like ash, however. The longer he tried to tell himself exactly those words, the more it felt like he was trying to convince himself of a lie instead of reminding himself of the truth. Hearing them aloud, spoken to him by an effective stranger he needed to trust and rely on was…complicated. Simultaneously, paradoxically hopeful and discouraging.

Beside him, Nox huffed out a breath. Wyll felt the butterfly ascend and stiffened when it settled on his left horn. It was one of the first touches he had felt on his newest body part, and definitely the first not from himself or their surroundings. It was still odd, to receive sensations from a part of him that was so new. Odder still was feeling something so gentle on a part of himself he considered quite ghastly. The legs of the butterfly almost tickled.

“I know you cannot speak on it,” Nox continued softly, “but I’d also like to think I have been around long enough to confidently believe your pact with Mizora came because you saw no other option for whatever situation it was you found yourself in.”

That was what he liked to believe as well, and yet he had his doubts. “Believing to have no other option than a devil is a failure in even the best of men,” he mumbled. After a long moment, he blew out a breath and turned his face towards the sky. The wind had picked up and the clouds were moving in faster now. “I can recognize that, even if I do not regret it.”

Nox clicked her tongue, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched her attention turn towards the sky as well. “Desperation is a great motivator…and an even greater undoing. I refuse to judge someone based on their most desperate moments; I will judge them for what they do after, though.”

For the first time since they had met, Wyll was reminded he was talking to a nearly two-hundred-year-old elven wizard. It was such a simple piece of wisdom, and yet one that could only be uttered so honestly due to time and personal experience.

“And based on what you have done after your pact, I am confident in saying that it is a heart of pure gold that beats there in that chest of yours…oh!”

The excited gasp caused him to look back at her in question. She was grinning, eyes shining as if she just solved the answer to a particularly difficult puzzle. She drew her finger through the air, and he waited for the butterfly to move off of his horn. It never did.

After several, quiet moments, he sighed. Perhaps whatever it was she just discovered had nothing to do with him at all. Though, given how she was staring at him and smiling, he had his doubts. He also doubted she would answer him even if he asked—he barely knew her, but the way she was looking at him all but screamed she was wanting him to ask, just so she could tell him to ‘wait and see.’

“Well, I am glad to hear you say that—” Wyll’s small smile dropped as he felt the butterfly move towards the tip of his horn. “—Even if I can’t help but wonder if the outside is now a better reflection of what lies within.”

“Oh, it will take some time to get used to, I have no doubt about that. But—” Nox was cut off as a flash of lightning shot across the horizon, followed by a distant rumble of thunder. “—But the outside most assuredly is not a reflection of what lies within at all,” she finished with a shake of her head.

It was his turn to study her: smiling face, bright eyes, utterly relaxed. She was not lying to him just to assuage his concerns and she was quite confident in what she was saying. “You seem quite certain of that,” Wyll muttered.

“And there will be many more who are quite certain of it as well, many more who know you better than I—” He had thought the same once. The people of the Gate. Florrick. His father. “—And there will be many more still who see it because they see what you do, for them and for others. You help people, Wyll, and you’re always striving to do what is right. You would do well to listen to those people’s words and no one else’s,” Nox said. “It will help you in one day being able to say them for yourself again.”

There was another rumble of thunder, closer this time. Nox was unbothered, still looking up at him instead with a sympathetic smile; a hopeful smile that proved she did still believe in what she was speaking and a knowing look that belied her age and experience. It was the first thing to truly make him feel better since last night.

Wyll returned her smile and nodded. “I would like to believe you are right. Thank you, Nox.”

“Rest assured, I am right. Besides,” Nox shrugged as she rose to her feet, ���if I am to understand the trends these days, the…ah… ‘bad boy’ appearance is all the rage these days,” she smirked. “Many will outright enjoy the horns, I’m sure. And…all the better for them that something truly sweet lies underneath.”

Caught off guard, Wyll sputtered out a laugh and shook his head. Of all the things he expected someone like her to comment on—especially given the rest of their conversation—that certainly was not on the list. He wouldn’t deny it lightened his heart immediately, though. “On that note, I think it is time to say good night. I do not believe I am ready to receive your dating advice just yet,” he teased.

Both of them glanced towards the top of the tent as a few, small pitter-patters fell against the cloth. “And I do not want to keep you in the storm,” he added as he smiled back at her.

“Another night, then,” Nox chuckled. She turned on her heel and gave him a wave before bidding him good night. “I hope you sleep well tonight, Wyll.”

Wyll hummed in agreement and watched as she lightly jogged back to her tent in the drizzle. He watched her until she disappeared between the flaps before he grabbed the book again and entered his own tent. Genuinely feeling a touch lighter after their conversation, he set the book down at the end of his bedroll and set to straightening it out for the night. The butterfly—which he had incorrectly assumed disappeared when Nox did—floated down from his horn and onto his pillow. He sighed with a smile, moving to delicately nudge the thing out of the way, when a new addition caught his eye.

The butterfly was no longer solid green. Golden filigree spread throughout the four wings in gentle, swirling designs. His eyes traced over the looping gold patterns until they finally made sense of what he was seeing designed on the wings. There, surrounding the body of the glowing insect, the patterns on all four wings came together to form a heart in the center of the butterfly.

Wyll shook his head and let out a chuckle of disbelief. After a moment, he held out a finger to the butterfly and, once it crawled on, moved it to rest on the book laying at his feet. “You certainly are to the point, aren’t you, Nox’ani?” he asked softly while settling in.

Before drifting off, he glanced down at the butterfly resting on the book at his feet, wings fluttering lightly and softly casting the inside of his tent aglow. She most certainly was to the point.

Perhaps he really would try reading again tomorrow.