#I just am...a finicky creature

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Tale For A Mouse, part 2

Part 1

Now that I think of it, however did you find your way in here, mortal mayfly? Honestly, I could do a better job of guarding than some of these hari'nilo. Someone go tell Cefalin to give all of them a good whipping, please.

I've wandered off again, have I not? I am afraid I simply go off every which way when given half a chance. Did I use that phrase correctly? I did? Ah, wonderful! Now I can return to the tale at hand.

After a good afternoon's worth of pulling large blocks of wood off various food products, I was angry, fed up, and perfectly willing to blame the entire misadventure on a fool dryad who had accidentally launched a branch up in the air. Then I found the creature to blame for Killinoa's predicament. And would you believe it? It was a mere mortal girl! 

Oh, but what a beauty she was, with the massive splinters digging into her flesh like a mega-porcupine had ravaged her. Blood stained her fair hair like sunset on a painter's brush, pooling in a fountain of clotted glory. She thrusted her throat most daringly to the world, and it was twisted past the point of usability. Her ghost had begun to emerge out of its dead chrysalis, pale ectoplasm bared to thin air. It could well have been the start of a fable, one about the warrior-princess who died tragically and became a ghost of vengeance, setting off to spill the blood of those who had wronged her and her clan. So I, casting myself in the role of her sidekick, hauled her out of her old body and welcomed her to the world with a smattering of dust and the reel of rotting onions.

She was no violent heroine, of course, just as I was no sweet sidekick. In fact, it turned out to be the very opposite. Whence she came out of rippling flesh and crackling bone, flush with blood as a babe from the womb, the innocence on her face was such that even one such as I could not delude myself: This girl was an ingenue, true as the winter grey of her eyes.

The first words out of her mouth were to express her gratitude for the rescue. She spoke trade-tongue, rough with an eastern accent, and for once I was grateful that I learnt how to speak it too. We both stumbled over our words, excited and not all that fluent in kinali.

From what I gathered, however, her name, back when she was alive, had been Berry. It was… Quaint, I suppose. Sweet and tart, just like her. Damn, but I miss that girl. I will miss her until the very end of time. 

She knew neither how she had ended up in a shattered barnyard a hundred li from her hometown of Semetera, nor why she could not recall a scrap of her past. We both chalked it up to ghost things, neither of us having had enough experience. 

Those were the days, you know. Sitting in the musty old place, me offering her some squirrel jerky, her spitting it out in disgust. I was not a lonely child, but I suppose the other youths recognised what I was to become, and avoided me thusly. Berry, however, cared not for spirit politics or soon-to-be Emperors. All she wanted was to recover the missing gaps in her memory, and find a way to go home.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles,

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[foxes-that-run]

Olivia

Harry wrote Olivia for One Direction's Made on the AM which was written and recorded between March - September 2015. Several months after 1989 was completed. Taylor has said she played 1989 for Harry and it's highly likely he was also aware of the Vault Tracks.

From Rolling Stone:

Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse. “When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky, and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around, and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

Harry also said Olivia 'fell out' when they were trying to write something else to GMA and avoided answering what he was trying to write which may have been Perfect as it took a long time.

Who is Olivia?

Harry famously answered this "Is Olivia even a person? Is Olivia an emotion? Is she a place? We don't know" Oliva sounds like 'I love ya'

Harry later referenced Olivia in the leaked Ophelia (I feel ya). Harry wrote Ophelia, in Tokyo when she was there for the last Reputation show in November 2018, he also wrote Little Freak at the same time. Ophelia and Olivia are Taylor Swift.

Taylor also has a cat Olivia Bensen, adopted June 2014, Harry can be heard laughing in her adoption video.

Lyrics

[Spoken Intro] [Verse 1: Niall] Remember the day we were giving up When you told me I didn't give you enough And all of your friends were saying I'd be leaving ya? She's lyin' in bed with my t-shirt on Just thinking how I went about it wrong This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love

Harry has referenced Taylor wearing his shirts in a number of songs. She's also wore a few of his shirts.

The Red wine is also a reference to 1989, so we know who he is singing to:

Clean - "You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore"

Maroon "The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me" and

[Pre-Chorus: Niall] Please, believe me, don't you see the things you mean to me? Oh, I love you, I love you, I love, I love, I love Olivia

I think this is a reference to "Say don't go" a 1989 Vault Track. As Harry and Taylor were dating again through the production, and she has said she played it for him it is likely he knew the lyrics "Make me love you (Make me love you)? / I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you")/ You say nothing back"

[Chorus: Harry] I live for you, I long for you, Olivia (Ayy, ayy) I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia (Ayy, ayy) I live for you, I long for you, Olivia Don't let me go, don't let me go

This is almost a direct response to Say don't go's: "Say, "Don't go" / I would stay forever if you say, "Don't go""

[Verse 2: Liam] Say what you're feelin' and say it now 'Cause I got the feelin' you're walkin' out And time is irrelevant when I've not been seeing ya The consequences of falling out That's something I'm having nightmares about And these are the reasons I'm cryin' out to be with ya

Say don't go was asking him to ask her to not leave, In Olivia he did.

[Bridge: Harry] When you go and I'm alone You live in my imagination The summertime, butterflies All belong to your creation I love you, it's all I do, I love you

Harry continued to refer to Taylor as sunshine, butterfly's and all things good:

Golden: "golden as I open my eyes / Hold it, focus, hoping, take me back to the light / I know you were way too bright for me / I'm hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky”

Sunflower Vol 6: "Sunflower / My eyes, want you more than a melody"

Sweet Creature: "Wherever I go, you bring me home / Sweet creature, sweet creature / When I run out of road, you bring me home"

Fine line: “You sunshine, you temptress / My hand's at risk, I fold"

Daylight "If I was a bluebird, I would fly to you / You'd be the spoon / Dip you in honey so I could be sticking to you / Daylight, you got me cursing the daylight (ooh)"

Grapejuice: "Give me something old and Red."

Little Freak "I disrespected you / Jumped in feet first, and I landed too hard / A broken ankle, karma rules"

Happily "I don't care what people say when we're together / You know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep / I just want it to be you and I forever"

[madhogthymaster]

Master Recs: The "N64" Trilogy (2023)

Pseudoregalia

Let us muse over a very small, three-dimensional Metroidvania game stylistically fashioned after the Nintendo 64 era of graphical fidelity. It stars a deliciously polygonal rabbit-y, goat-y, cat-like girl.

Now, I am playing this on the fabled Steam Deck. It runs and controls smoothly on the platform but you might require to fiddle with the video settings as the default configuration is slightly blurry due to a very specific and fascinating reason. It turns out Pseudoregalia vaunts a certain level of depth in its technical customization, one that's surprisingly fun to manipulate. There's an option to toggle on or off a retro graphical scale and character movement rate, which graciously emulate the old school console experience. You can also manually reduce or augment the maximum framerate for the whole game. You could theoretically play something that looks like a 30 fps 3D Platformer from 1997 or the most HD upscaled version thereof at 144 fps, or everything in between! The default, blurry configuration comes as a result of the aforementioned retro scaling clashing with the 4K resolution in full screen mode. This is the first and last time in recorded human history that I will ever be this enamoured with "specs talk."

The point is, we have a darling gem with a cultivated aesthetic, a good level of polish: it will look "right" regardless of your favoured settings. I'm impressed by the extra layer of work placed in the subtle use of limited framerates for the character's movement.

Pseudoregalia captures the idea, the abstract concept and low-poly charm of a N64 title with a gameplay that recalls your memory of it, rather than the unwieldy reality. I say this as someone who doesn't have nostalgia for early 3D graphics: the game makes them look spiffy.

I shall be honest, this is normally not the sort of title I would enjoy playing, as precise platforming and traversal puzzles are my nemesis. I mentioned afore the level of polish, which is generally consistent, but some of the movement upgrades you get (such as the jump/wall kick) can be rather finicky to master. In that sense, be wary that the game does not openly provide you with tutorials for the moves that require more finesse, choosing instead to hide an additional set of instructions in the inventory descriptions. It's "old school", you see. Older versions were bereft of maps thus making exploration a burden for those like me who are directionally challenged - both in games and in real life. Regardless, I kept getting drawn by its world, its somber atmosphere, its tight gameplay and especially its protagonist, Sybil.

An appealing design for your avatars goes a long way in ensuring an emotional connection to them and Sybil just so happens to have one of the most striking and instantly recognizable appearances I can fathom. It's a pleasure to look at her go! Furthermore, I would posit that she has a lot in common with my precious videogame fluffy boy, Klonoa - and I do I mean, a lot. I will not elaborate. If you get it, you get it. In conclusion, Pseudoregalia is an impressively put together jam. It's easy to pick up yet punishing to handle, it's fun and fascinating in spite of its more irritating aspects. The best overall critique I can give it is that it made me want to keep trying, and trying, and trying, until I eventually became good enough to complete it several times and even beat the insanely hard Time Attacks. In short: game is good. Play it.

---

Corn Kidz 64

If I had a nickel for every time a throwback 3D Platform game starring a cute goat-like creature managed to grab my attention, I would have a whopping three nickels! Anyway, here is Corn Kidz 64, an artistically verosimile homage to the Rareware games you probably remember.

Deliciously stylized polygons welcome both you and I into a quirky mindscape. You play as a rude little prick named Seve who's having a vivid nachos related dream but has to contend with various bollocks - as it's often the case.

If you are even marginally familiar with all the Kanjo-Bazooies and Konkey Dongs out there then you will recognize its sphere of influences right away. It's a proper tribute to that era of gaming up to the inclusion of the "correct" low video resolution settings and insane completion requirements. There is much puzzling and platforming to be had, tactical traversal and secrets-within-secrets to bamboozle and titillate your gamer's lizard brain. Genre freaks will feel very welcome here.

I will say that I find the character design especially pleasing. Aesthetically, I would place it somewhere in between Rayman. Belgian comic book artist André Franquin and web strips from twenty years ago or more. It's expressive, to say the least.

As a sign of good will from the game's part, this is the track that greets you as you plunge into the realm of your dreams of childhood:

Corn Kidz 64 is a short, fun experience, bedazzled by tight controls, surreal atmosphere and "Early Internet" humour. It does not overstate its welcome and only occasionally gets immensely frustrating. Its dedication to the N64 ethos is both a boon and a detriment, in that sense. Let me put it this way: I shall not be doing a 110% completion run any time soon.

---

Cavern of Dreams

As a direct result of me wanting more, here is Cavern of Dreams. Yet another N64 aesthetically driven title that came out last year but was promptly overshadowed by Funny Goat Game and Sexy Goat Game - as far as my own pop cultural myopia is concerned, that is.

It is a small yet multilayered Collect-A-Thon with an emphasis on exploration rather than combat or complex platforming. There is no health bar and there are no traditional enemies. There is a handful of puzzles here and there, some of which might be legitimate head scratchers. The dragon baby is cute. I do have a couple of gripes with this one.

Playing this game is, in a word, annoying. It is bothersome how weighted and limited the movement is, it is fastidious how the character collision is in relation to the environment, it is aggravating how it all affects the gameplay in small yet noticeable ways. Here's an example: you can use the traditional ground pound to gain extra height. However, in order to do so, you have to keep pressing the attack button while in midair. The problem with that is the game still registers it as an attack when you do so. As such, if you happen to be hugging a wall, atop a small ledge, this action will inevitably cause your character to hit said wall and propel you backwards, resulting in you falling to your doom. This happened constantly. Generally speaking, the control scheme doesn't feel ideally tailored to an experience that requires precise platforming. A repeated offender would be grabbing onto climbable ropes. Which is to say, sometimes it just doesn't happen. You'll float towards a rope and, if the collision isn't pixel-perfect, you will miss it entirely. Also, Baby is unable to jump above once he climbs all the way to the top, half the time. The later levels are worse in that regard as they need some amount of skill.

Speaking of which, something that will always make me consider quitting a game in a fit of rage is being sucked down a drain that expels me into a different area, forcing me to walk all the way back to where I was before. Once again, annoying is the word.

All that said, the saving grace of Cavern of Dreams lies in the exquisitely crafted, imaginative stages that compose the dreamlike tapestry of the game's aesthetics: living airborne vessels, desolate ice kingdoms, nightmarish art galleries that twist and distort your senses.

The use of colour hues, sounds and deliberately non-contiguous spaces create this palpable atmosphere of both wonder and anxiety. A welcoming world may turn weird and alienating. A dream may turn into a nightmare. There is a depth beneath the surface presentation that is absolutely worth experiencing. I really wanted to like this game but, alas, I'm left with mostly mixed feelings. Regardless, it's an adorable title with some tinges of darkness and it might just be for you!

---

As a conclusive note, I find myself enthralled by the subtle similarities these games share as well as their abundant differences. All of them are stylistically reminiscent of a specific bygone era whilst being perfectly distinct in presentation, and they all are about Dreams...

They are about exploring dreamscapes, lands where subconscious thoughts and memories materialize in daunting vistas of a forlorn past, comically bizarre hyper-realities from an active imagination or an infant's idea of the world around itself. Pondering about the familiarity of it all fills me both with comfort and melancholy: the parallelism of Dream, Childhood and Gaming. The distant memories of youth in correlation to the experience of videogame escapism are akin to a dream from which we are expected to wake... Well, now I just want to gush about Klonoa again!

In fact, I would go as far as to say that Corn Kidz 64's "plot resolution" feels like a direct parody of Door to Phantomile's ending, and it gets funnier the more I think about it.

---

A/N:

Thank you for reading.

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[grizzersmamma]

Eight Hands to Hold | Kraken!König x Horangi

Summary: In a world where monsters and magic run rampant, Kim Hong-Jin (nicknamed Horangi by his friends) receives a gift from a new business partner.

Notes: This is a non-military au, so neither of the boys are part of Kortac. I'm not allowing myself to start any more fics or AUs, so this will just be little snippets of the AU as we go.

Pairing: Kraken!König x Horangi

Warnings: Non-Military AU, Monster Cruelty, Unedited.

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Next

Kim can only stare at the small creature before him as it attempts to cram itself as far into the corner of the box as it physically can. The monster – and that’s a generous term for the little octopus considering how tiny and anxious it seems – has its head buried behind its tentacles, creating pathetic little whimpers.  

“Cute, right?” one of the men ask, sneering at the octopus, “he’s not so cute when he isn’t under control.” As if trying to prove his point, the man jabs a finger harshly at the writhing mass of tentacles, snickering when it squeaks and tries to curl up further.  

The man lifts his hand, showcasing the soft glow of red runes marked across his skin like a glowing tattoo. Kim has seen such marks before, used to bind a monster to serving a human with powerful magic, but he’s never seen a mark so complex for a single beast. Yet even with clear evidence of its power in the numerous charms needed to keep it contained, it’s difficult to see the quivering black blob as dangerous.  

He easily fakes a laugh to play in with the other men gathered for the meeting, adding a disgusted scoff for good measure. “Where did you find it? A monster with that kind of power must have been difficult to take down, no?” His heart clenches a little when he catches sight of the monster’s big, beautiful blue eyes blinking up at him. They’re wet and sad like a kicked puppy, and the tiny whimper the monster makes only sells the look further.  

The other man shrugs, waving away his question, “I dunno, I bought him from a couple of mages that said he’d been harassing fishing and military boats. He’s supposed to be some sort of kraken I think?”  

Now that’s interesting, no wonder such a complicated mark is needed to keep the monster under control. A kraken is a dangerous creature, said to have been touched with the strength of Cthulhu himself. Though it’s difficult to know for sure with how finicky magic tends to be and how secretive monsters are of their origins.  

“Impressive,” Kim hums, leaning back further into the chair behind him, “although I am a little confused as to why you chose to bring it to our meeting?” he raises an eyebrow, doing his best to pry his eyes from the monster and focus on the man before him. 

A business partner who could provide just the edge needed in such a competitive market. As much as he would enjoy telling the man exactly what he thought of mistreating another living creature, he bites his tongue, tamping down his disgust so it isn’t visible in his tone or expression.  

The deal has already been completed and the finer details agreed upon and set in writing, sealed with a signature from both parties. Yet still, he cannot risk ruining things by insulting the man, irritating as he may be.  

“Well, in anticipation of a successful deal, I thought it would be polite to show up with a gift!” the man’s grin is all teeth, showing off his perfectly white smile.  

Kim just blinks, completely at a loss for words for a solid few seconds, “you mean the monster is-” 

“A gift to solidify our partnership!” the man cuts him off, his booming voice causing the octopus to flinch away from it and Kim to grit his teeth.  

“A most gracious gift,” he acknowledges slowly, “but I’m afraid I know very little about magic, I wouldn’t be able to perform the ritual to transfer ownership.” 

Once again the man waves off his concerns, “don’t worry about it, Kim-“ he does his best to cringe at having his first name used, “-I’ve had several pet monsters in the past. Transferring ownership is easy, it’s binding them that’s supposed to be the hard part.” The man reaches out a hand, “just give us your arm, yeah?”  

Kim gets the feeling that this person isn’t often refused and, wanting this meeting to be over as soon as possible (if only to get these people out of his hair), decides to comply. It takes what little remains of his patience to not gag when he feels the man’s sweaty palms grasp his arm.  

Using a phone to find the words needed, the man proceeds to rattle off a whole long spiel in some dead language. He’s pretty sure that the pronunciation is being completely butchered, but can only watch in amazement as the crimson runes seem to gradually fade from the other man’s skin.  

Where the runes vanish from one place they immediately reappear on Kim’s arm. It’s a strange sensation, hot like a brand, yet somehow painless. No doubt he’ll be feeling the strange tingling sensation in his arm for a while yet.  

As soon as the short chant is complete the greasy man laughs, clapping his hands together like a delighted toddler. “Congratulations, your first monster!” 

Kim doesn’t particularly feel any different, even as the runes pulse and glow. He supposed he’ll just have to take the other man’s word for it.  

It takes a while to finally get the small group of men to leave – over an hour of painful chatter as Kim tries not to make it too obvious that he’s attempting to o push them out the door – and the moment the door closes he deflates. Hours of ironing out details with lawyers, each point more tedious than the last has left him weary. 

When he eventually musters up the strength to straighten back up again and turn back towards his desk, he spots the little octopus. It’s crawled out of the box it was hidden within and is now perched on the desk.  

One of its tentacles is poking at a pen sat precariously on the edge of the pen holder, creating almost inaudible chittering sounds as it inspects the object. Unfortunately, the action causes the pen to be displaced and it rolls off of the holder and onto the desk, landing with a loud thump.  

The octopus shrieks at the sound, moving at a frankly rather impressive speed as it dives back into the safety of the box. The whole container is vibrating with how badly the monster is shaking. 

Kim simply sighs. Now he has to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with a monster.  

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Vampire Captures Vampire Hunter to Use as Bloodbag part 13

Warnings: kidnapped human hunter, recovery whump/caretaking, carewhumper

"Hold on -- you really have no idea what's wrong with this situation, do you?"

Alex narrowed his eyes at the hunter's tone. He got the feeling the man was playing games with him, and he was not to be toyed with. "Enlighten me, oh wise one," he said icily, on the verge of losing his patience.

Mallory rubbed his face with his palms and let out a noise that sounded half like an anguished sob and half hopeless sigh at the insanity of it all. "I can't eat raw meat," he groaned loudly.

"Why the heck not?!" Alex barked angrily. "It's food. I brought you food, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You don't understand anything about humans!" Mallory cried in frustration. "If I eat this, I will get sick and die. Raw meat contains all sorts of bacteria and diseases that can be lethal if contracted. Humans eat cooked food because cooking it kills all the harmful stuff and makes it safe to consume."

Alex really, really wanted to punch something right now. He had to do even MORE work just to keep the blasted human alive?! How hard could this get?? "I had a pet dog once, and not even it was this much trouble to care for," he growled.

Mallory grinned far-too-smugly. "Unfortunately, sir, I am not a dog," he sneered. "I'm an exotic pet."

Alex thought he might blow a fuse -- he wanted to rip the arrogant human's throat out so badly. But he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down to avoid doing something he'd regret later.

"Fine," he snarled, and marched forward to snatch the meal packet away from him, storming out of the basement. It sounded like a lie, that maybe the hunter just assumed him to be ignorant and was trying to sneak favors, but a quick call to Anisa confirmed that yes, humans cannot eat raw meat. Finicky little creatures. How on earth have they not gone extinct already, if even their own food could kill them when not properly prepared?!

Somehow knowing that made Alex even angrier, knowing how cocky Mallory would be about it later.

Anisa had better be certain about how good blood from happy humans tastes, Alex grumbled to himself as he stalked into his mansion's grand kitchen.

Anisa had given him some vague instructions on how to cook the meal he had gotten, but it was a lot harder than it had sounded over the phone.

But eventually, he succeeded in creating a chicken dish badly burnt on one side and slightly singed everywhere else. But at least it was cooked?

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

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

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

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

[whumpflash]

Shadow Puppet: Promises, Promises

cw: threats, talk of death, (fairly mild.)

He didn't know what he was running from.

It was dark, dark enough that he could hardly tell where he was going, branches cutting his hands, his face, as he pushed through the brush. He couldn't see, but he wasn't lost.

Peter knew the island too well to ever be truly lost.

He had to get to a clear spot. He had to find an area to take off, to fly, and maybe he could get away.

But get away from what?

It had started with a chill down his spine, a whisper that told every instinct to flee, and he did.

He knew the darker side of the neverland wasn't something to be taken lightly.

So he ran and ran and ran, though he heard no crashing through the trees behind him, though he saw no sign of an enemy. The presence, whatever it was, was after him, and he couldn't stop.

He made a sharp left, tumbling into a familiar clearing and taking to the air with a flying leap that turned into just plain flying.

Whatever it was, it couldn't follow him up here. Unless—

Something seized his ankle in a bruising grip, cold as ice, and he looked down and saw nothing but he still couldn't escape it.

Fae magic. It had to be.

He kicked at it, trying to shake loose, but the nothing wouldn't budge. And of course it wasn't just nothing, it was darkness. Shade. His mind raced, poring over his recent interactions with the fair folk. Had he done something to offend them? Likely. Fae were finicky creatures, easily upset over trivial matters.

After a brief internal debate, he let himself sink to the ground, into the icy embrace of his own shadow.

If the fae sought his attention, they'd get it eventually, one way or another. Best to have it over with. Try and talk his way out of it.

The darkness was quick to seize him, his shadow moving on its own, wrapping frozen arms around his torso and hauling him back into the treeline with enough force that he could barely form words.

"Enough. I'm going willingly, you—" the shadow squeezed him as if to shut him up. "Enough!"

But it didn't seem to hear. The cold of its grasp was starting to seep into him, making him shiver, but all he could do was wait for it to reach its destination.

Eventually they came to another clear spot in the woods, this one softly lit by luminescent mushrooms. Or moss. It was hard to tell which was providing the glow. The faint light silhouetted three tall figures. Peter failed to catch a glimpse of their faces before being thrown at their feet, but he already knew they were fae. He stood up, making a big show of dusting himself off despite shaking with cold, and faced his hosts.

"Well that was unnecessary, don't you think? What happened to an invitation?"

The one in the middle stepped further into the glow, a faerie he knew as Locust. The light made their face look ghoulish, and were he not busy making polite conversation, Peter might've laughed.

"You are undeserving of our hospitality, Pan," Locust said, using the name he'd given them.

Pan. The old god of the wilds. He'd thought it fitting, and besides, even a child would know to never give one's true name to a fae.

"And what have I done to… not deserve this?" Peter questioned, and Locust sighed in exasperation.

"You and your crew were the first humans to set foot on this island in centuries. Your men are satisfied with merely dwelling here, but you've sought boons from us."

That he had. Flight. Safe passage throughout the island, so he might explore. His boys were daring, but only a handful of them were bold enough to follow his lead. He wondered if the faeries had staged similar meetings with those few, or if he was special.

"And I am grateful for your kindness," he replied with an easy smile. "But I don't see what this has to do with–"

"You've taken our gifts, and yet you convene with the merfolk. So tell me, Pan, are you our friend, or our enemy?"

"Why your friend, of course," Peter replied. "I had to speak with the merfolk you see, as they've been convening with my enemy."

"And who is your enemy?"

"A pirate captain," Peter said, flourishing his hands. "He prowls the island's waters, hunting me and my band."

"And you consider him a threat? You cannot die, boy."

"It's a sort of game we play. One day we may yet kill one another," he said casually.

"A day I've yet to see in all my life," one of the faeries behind Locust muttered. "The island refuses to let go of those who've tasted its lifeblood."

"Quiet, Wisp." Locust looked down at Peter. "If you wish to stay a friend to our people, conspiring with the mer is out of the question."

"Oh you know I'd never conspire–"

"Speaking then."

"Mhm." Peter's smile grew thin. Rotten luck that someone had seen him leaving the cove at all. Why should the fae get any say in his comings and goings? "I take it you'll snatch your gifts right back if I were to–"

"What is given cannot be ungiven," Locust said with a scowl. "Which is unfortunate. But should it happen again, you will be punished."

Through his dismay, a bit of glee shone through. A punishment from a faerie! He wondered what sorts of oddities they could come up with. He'd heard stories; children forced to count every leaf in the forest, unable to sleep until their task was complete; mortals bound to an eternal dance.

Locust must've caught wind of this, as they stepped in closer. "And nothing so trivial as a hundred years serving in our halls. To take our gifts yet disregard our wishes is to spit in our face, to incur our wrath." They leaned down until their face was inches away from Peter's. "Say another word to a mer and I will break every bone in your body, Pan. That is a promise."

They didn't wait for a response, vanishing back into the shadows almost immediately, Wisp tight on their heels.

Breaking bones wasn't quite as whimsical as counting leaves, but it didn't seem too awful. After all, a sip from the fountain and he'd be good as new, and even if he did go back to the cove, who was to say he'd be caught?

"Pan," said a soft voice, and he looked up. The smallest of the trio was still standing there, another faerie he was familiar with.

"Bell," he replied. It was the name she'd given him. Who was to say if it was anything like her true name? Who was to say what any fae names were really like? That particular curiosity of his would take a great deal of trickery to satisfy, but he was sure he'd get there one day.

Bell was fond of him. At least as fond as a faerie could be for a human. She was the one who'd given him flight in the first place; after he'd charmed her with a story or two, all he'd had to do was ask nicely.

"You know Locust means it," Bell said. "They made a promise. Such a thing cannot be taken lightly."

"I know," Peter replied, if only to placate her. Sweet Bell, to worry for him when there was nothing to worry about.

"You don't. I know you, Pan. Heed their words. Stay away from the cove, or you will be found out, and Locust will make good on their promise."

"Alright, alright, I will."

He wasn't sure if she truly believed him, but she gave him a smile, then turned to follow the others into the shadows.

Peter supposed it was a little childish to have crossed his fingers behind his back when he could've simply lied, but the little trick made him feel like it didn't quite count for a lie. Maybe that mattered.

He oriented himself quickly and took to the sky. It was a clear night, stars speckling the dark blue. The Scarlet Merry was just visible on the horizon, and he thought briefly of paying James a visit. Dispel the nervous energy he'd acquired from the meeting with a friendly skirmish. 

But no, a warm fire and tall tales passed between him and his boys sounded far more inviting right now. Home it was.

As he flew, he was aware of his shadow, mirroring his movements far below. He tried to push that awareness down. To be followed by one's shadow was nothing new.

To be watched, however, was a different story.

tag list: (tagging the same group from Never. Feel free to PM me if you'd like to be removed! Planning on this being a three-parter, but we'll see where it goes)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next part

@hold-back-on-the-comfort , @i-can-even-burn-salad , @whumpsday , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams , @rabbitdrabbles , @cyberneticwhump , @dream-whump , @apokolyps , @kixngiggles , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @chibichibivale , @itsdappleagain , @lelly-belly , @whumpy-catfish , @enteredin2eternity ,

[superconductivebean]

#1038: [seen]

Just so it will be out from the replies. Just so I can have it said loud and clear, after months. So you are able to understand what's it with me, a bit.

tldr; beanie and his trust issues because he was screwed over bad

Imagine how discouraging it feels after you saw a craze for your favourite character, decidedly stepped out of drafts to have people see your things because you know they'll be happy to have more things, expecting that craze turn conversations and its own little fandom, much like what I already had in another fave's tag, but in return you'd have a ghost town; a ravaged beach; an empty plot of land you hoped would become a little thriving garden one day.

To some extent, however, it did. I'm glad to be a part of it -- I hope I am. I'm glad to have made friends and talked to so many awesome people over the past few weeks. This post aren't about you, lovelies.

I value your support and attention tremendously.

But why am I bitter, you may ask. What happened.

Last time I went for a craze, a wlw craze, the fave craze, I had always been downplayed in favour of someone else. Gone unnoticed. Never spoken about in relation to wlw. I was even told I had to treat fandom like a marketing game at all times in order to be seen. Seen. [seen] at a place that claimed to be friendly, supportive, accepting, that was every thing under the Sun, but that had always ignored what I had, but what it would also had asked of me all the time: wlw / wlw smut.

Only never to read it. Never to even open it, at least. Never to remember their asks were always answered and could be answered right away. But alas, unseen, unnoticed; largest wlw fic collection in Russian in this fandom went to bin because I can't look at it any longer anymore.

Granted, it wasn't anything perfect, spectacular, or even finished. But it was very dear to me nonetheless, writing these silly romances and shaping characters I post headcanons about. It all has started there.

What I faced was a mistake which I profoundly regret making, placing my trust in that finicky interest of others, very eager to had me but then… never telling me something vital and crucial. Never realising the more silence I'd gotten would eventually lead to my leave after all my work -- my lore stuff -- would've been called a delusion.

Word thrown at me in annoyance at my futile attempts to have some rhyme and reason to whatever conversation we'd had at the moment. I do not take offences lightly. Especially after said delusions were praised and highly rated. I left, didn't want to know what my fics were nor who I were to hid them and never to share them with anyone.

I'm afraid of making this mistake again; writing and publishing more works that I shall, must approve of myself first, accept them as my soullings, and then… what, see them being [seen] again? first praised, then, when I'm appearing slightly less conforming, dip them into shit, because this is what they really are -- to somebody I used to trust? Because this is where I am at, too -- at the septic pit, yes?

I'm not projecting, mind. But keeping this ungodly experience in mind and remembering how it has affected me, shaped me into an anxious and angry creature, I just…

Don't ask if you're not going to ever indulge in anything written not by the dear friend's hand, please. Let the sleeping dogs lie. Let them hum to each other, growl, snore, hiss and share dreams in peace.

[laminy]

Thank you for the tag @merriell-allesandro-shelton!!

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

How many works do you have on ao3?

Apparently 74! I'm not sure how that's possible but okay! Not what I was expecting. That's like twice as many as I thought.

What's your total ao3 word count?

2,178,053

What fandoms do you write for?

The works that I have posted on AO3 are for Bohemian Rhapsody Actor RPF, BoRhap/Queen, Ted Lasso, 13 Reasons Why, Teen Wolf, 6 Underground, Midsomer Murders, and Shazam. Pre-AO3, I wrote in a lot of other ones. Hypothetically, I write for Gran Turismo, but I've never finished any of those fics lol.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. I'm breathing in the chemicals (Teen Wolf) 2. and you know you don't have to go (Ted Lasso) 3. Fear and Self-Loathing in Beacon Hill (Teen Wolf) 4. you're the sunflower (Ted Lasso) 5. into the blue and sunny morn' (BoRhap Actor RPF)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, absolutely! I appreciate when people comment and I like the interaction.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I try not to have angsty endings! All my angst is sprinkled throughout the story (maybe more than sprinkled lol) and then they get a happy ending.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Since most of my fics have happy endings, I don't know what the happiest of the happy endings would be. Probably a fic in the ITBASM-universe, because I tried to make them all very happy (they deserved it).

Do you get hate on fics?

I did get a couple hateful anons on here in my day but they didn't stick around. Thankfully I've avoided much of that (knock on wood).

Do you write smut?

I do, I do. All M/M, though for my original NaNo story I'm apparently going to be attempting M/F and idk how that's gonna go lol.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written two 6 Underground x Midsomer Murders crossovers because Ben and Gwil.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! I hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I'm also not sure I'm aware of any.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not! I'll be honest that I really don't know how it works and I'm kind of a solitary creature in that regard. so, I don't know that it would be my vibe.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Everrrrrr? Oh my gosh I don't know if I could pick. According to my AO3 bookmarks, apparently it's Joe/Nicky from The Old Guard but I don't think so (and for the most part I avoid that fandom these days). I don't know, ever???? I still can't decide. I'm too finicky. I will say that a ship that I will always love and I go forever without reading and then I'll be in that mood again is Eggsy/Harry from Kingsman. Like, they're the old stalwart.

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably those Gran Turismo fics I mentioned above.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say dialogue but I don't know if anyone would agree. I find it the most fun, so I enjoy it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't know how to describe what people look like, because 99.9 of stuff I write is fanfic and readers already know what those characters look like, so that whenever I attempt anything original, I don't know how to naturally include some idea of "this person has brown eyes and is very tall." I see it done so badly sometimes and I just try to avoid that.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done it before sparingly. Different languages, I know fics I've done have included French, Spanish, Dutch, German, and Arabic. For most of them, I use Google Translate. for the Arabic, I watched YouTube and tried non-Google Translate sources. for the French, some of it I knew myself and wrote it as I know it (I am not fluent in French). I would never write an entire fic in another language but I think including other languages is fun and rounds out the characters.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably shockingly, it was Friends. A friend and I wrote it together in the fifth grade. Handwrote it, actually. We had a notebook that we passed back and forth.

Favorite fic you've written?

Overall, every ITBASM fic because it's like, my universe, my world, my characters, and it covered so much time (and space, ha). I don't know that I could pick an individual fic.

[laurfilijames]

So I have always been curious about something, but I didn't want to overstep, so if this is personal or you don't want to share, please delete this Ask. XD

You mention that you're an equestrian and a horsegirl--can you please tell us more about that? About your horse(s), your experience riding, all or any of that stuff. :) I love horses but have never lived anywhere you can access them easily, so lucky people with horses fascinate me!

Me getting this ask.

Ohhhhh you're so nice for asking!! I am indeed an equestrian and proud Horse Girl and am more than happy to talk about my passion and number one hobby!

I've always loved horses, and first rode one when I was 2. My aunt (who is like my mother, who also never had kids ((we say every time we're together that were each other's favourite family member ☺️)) has always had horses and introduced me to the lovely beasts. Her first horse that she owned was the first one I rode; her name was Chardonnay (yes I know...) and we sadly lost her two years ago at the age of 25. We still have her two babies, a 20 yo gelding named Hooligan (again, I know...) and a 18 year old mare Izzy (aka The Red Devil) and yes they live up to their names.

I've ridden at various stables throughout my childhood and teenage years, with some breaks in between being a boy-crazy teen and working/school, but have always consistently ridden my Aunts horses.

I've never competed, had zero desire and it would've taken the joy out of it for me, as showing is a whole different ball game. I ride purely for the love of it and bonding with my horse.

I ride "English" and do hunter/jumper (jumping over fences through courses) but really just love going out and spending time with them by grooming them and maybe going for a hack through the fields after doing some walk/trot/canter exercises.

I was part-boarding two different horses over the last few years but sadly my coach sold one and then the other became severely lame so I actually haven't ridden since December 😭. I think I needed the break, and now that spring is here I will get back in the saddle and working my aunts horses as they've fattened up heaps over the winter.

It's a dangerous sport, and sometimes I get in my own head over it and am becoming less "risky" with riding in general (ie not terribly fussed if I jump or not). Now that I'm in my thirties, falling off hurts a f*ck of a lot more and takes longer to heal/recover and I have a job and a house and a cottage to pay for.

I don't know if I'll ever own a horse myself, they're bloody expensive, finicky beasts who have insane, head-scratching illnesses and injuries, but I know I will always have them be a part of my life.

Horses are truly magical creatures. They're like dogs, but bigger, and usually forget their size. They know when you have a bad day, are sad or happy, and have the amazing ability to feel every emotion you do. When you're on one, you can literally think what you're going to do next and lo and behold, they're doing it. They feed off of our emotions and even though they are prey animals and are completely reliant on us for their love and care, they give so much.

I really hope you have the opportunity to be around them one day, because it will change you forever.

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask and please please please feel free to chat with me about them any and all the time!! 💗💗💗

Here's some photos because obviously...

Hooligan

Izzy

Hooligan and Izzy

Chardonnay

(Let it be known that I say "MUSTER THE ROHIRRIM" whenever I bring them in from the field because how can you not?)

[laneynoir]

Happy (very late) mothers day @sotwk

Complete.

So... Timelines. They're gone. I set this some where after your fic where Maereth's hurt.

Tw: bad poetry (more like a sketchy rhyme), that for the sake of the plot I'm pretending is adequate.

"Swift step would be advised, oh prince. We have hardly enough time as it is to reach the woods."

Gelir shifts the large obsidian pot in his arms, shooting a glare nearly as sharp as the arrows he carries. "I would remind you oh peasant, that we would have returned home nearly four days hence, had we our mounts."

Darthol swaquks indignantly, "I had no choice but to send the animals away, they were not trained for battle and would have served only as dinner for those orcs in the end. I do wish that I knew they reached safety."

Bright green eyes softening to his year mate's clear concern, the fourth prince of Greenwood the Great quirks a smile. "I'm sure the mares are in good health, and I am glad that you sent them away, if only for the excuse to avoid my eldest brother; he does get so... Finicky about things he takes as his duty."

"Far be it from myself to critique one of our illustrious royalty-"

Here does Gelir let loose a scoffing audible noise of pure disbelief, a sound that would be sure to send his father's youngest advisor into a lecture on manners.

"-yet even I, as a mere peasant know of the steady sense of honour that the crown prince carries. Say, would you like a hand with that?"

He is of course reffering to the potted plant secured in Gelir's arms, though he could only reach two thirds the way around the sparkling black of the stone. "No," he sighs in answer, "I feel I must be the one to carry it. Only, I do not understand why the dwarrow must make everything so... Large."

"Compensating." Darthol supplies, startling a laugh from his companion.

"I have a cousin on mother's side who would be quick to disagree, somthing to do with the size of a dwarve's nose." The cajoling tone is one infrequently heard, and usually only in the presence of his family or yearmate.

Removing his eyes from the road and horizen, the cornhaired elf aprsises the container. "You must admit, it is very pretty. Though I still do not ubderstand why those of Kazad Dúm would craft it of obsidian and not somthing sturdier. One tap is hardly less than it would take to shatter so fragile a thing, regardless of the gold."

Gelir pauses over the questioning words for a moment. "I had though of that, I belive it comes from the friendly rivalry they and their elven neighbors share. With so delecate a plant, they wished to show that they too could provide something of such beauty that it need not protect itself." Here he pauses. "Or somthing of the ilk, Arvellas is a better source of such ponderings."

"And I am sure it has nothing to do with those glances the head of the guild was sending the lady Horiath?"

Gelir gives a highly unprincley snort. "Nay, do you mean that you suspect an attraction betwixt the two noblewomen? Where ever should you have taken such an idea?!"

Darthol grins in silent laughter, but he freezes just as quickly, causing the other to still as well. Both listen carefully, and it is no embelishment to say that the prince of Greenwood swears quite colorfully in three languages that he does not speak.

"Why does it have to be wargs? We couldn't just have some goblins or others of the ilk. It is of course necessary to have the ones with the best sense of smell and feet fleet as our own under normal circumstance." Though his ranting is mostly to bring a smile to Darthol's face, the unreasonably humongous dirt filled pot prevents Gelir from wielding any weapon, must less his bow.

He hears the singing of a bow before the yelp of the cursed creature falling. Though he has already guessed, he nods in return to the classification of the scout.

They make it forward to a pile of rocks before the remainder of the pack shows themselves, Gelir spending longer that he likes attenpting to find a safe place for the black pot (which he is begining to doubt the worth of, he should have just made a card, or breakfast, or anything else that a mother may apriciate).

There are not many of the foul animals, and most fall swiftly to arrows fletched with both red and gold. An orc rider carrying a bow of his own aims for Darthol, targeting the rear of his head.

Turning in time near to late, Gelir sees the arrow loose, watching as if time has slowed as the black iron dart flies through the air.

Gelir has never once in his life screamed. A fact which had worried the nurses at his birth, for when he was taken from the womb, covered in placenta and entierly sighlent, they had thought him dead. Bright eyes shining green, he had been quiet as a falling leaf. Maereth had ignored the strangled cry of one young healer, and demanded that her child be given to her. The moment the child had been olaced in her arms she cried out, "My child yet lives, and shall be my joy. As joy is no loud thing, but may be the stirrings in ones heart in the quiet beauty of the forests" so had Gelir earned his name.

And so has he lost in a moment even the thought of joy. A sounds ripped from his throat that sends a shock through Darthol

Bow prepared he has not time for prayer or though as he lets go the string.

The resounding crack as the arrow near folds into itself in contact with the orc weapon is painful to hear, yet their is no time for calibration. Only a swift wide eyed look from Darthol before the fight is resumed.

Not long after do they leave the piled carcasses boring and make way to the forest, breathing deeply in relief when the greenery is once again over their heads.

It would be dishonest to say that Gelir has never snuck out of the palace, and in doing so, snuck back in. It is however Eru's truth to say that he has never felt so utterly ridiculous, exhausted, dirty, and paranoid.

"I don't think it is going to- get down."

"Well we know that- OH"

Both duck under the flora surounding the gates and whatch as the king and queen stroll down the path, Maereth's voice flowing like a clear brook over the forest.

The two stare for a moment, before Thranduil turn back, and of all the impossibilitys winks at them.

Recovering from the shock, both Ellons stand and resume the trek into the palace, gaining not a few strange looks from various persons of differing status. Gelir did admit, if only to himself, that they did indeed make an odd picture. Having made the decision of discretion, Darthol was walking backward under and holding a sheet to cover the pot and plant.

Pot and plant being awkwardly large, this understandably obstructs the sightlines nearly so much for the peince as his year mateunder the sheet.

"Left now"

"Other left other left!"

"Ouch"

"Oh do shush"

When at last they arrive in the prince's preferred common area, both heave a sigh of relief that the plant is still sound in its dark soil. The relief is cut short by the gasping laughter of both the eldest and youngest Thranduilions.

"What-" a bout of laughter, "in Eru are you two doing?"

Gelir scowls, but it is Darthol who answers. "Just a bit of under the covers plant delivery from your humble subjects, my leige."

"Is that?" Legolas asks staring at the object of offense, sounding wonder struck.

Gelir's expression only softens slightly. "Indeed. Though after countless miles of carrying and caring for it no longer hold so much reverence for the thing."

A whistle sounds softly from the door on the west side of the room, and there stands Turhir, framed by the late afternoon sun and greenery of the courtyard. "If you wish to get rid of that, I shall gladly accept. I do not think I've 'ere seen such a plant, you are sure it's a growing plant?"

"Not on your blades brother, we've put far to much into this gift, Naneth will receive it from my own hand." He gives the brunette a dirty look. "Tis no fault of mine that you were quote: 'ocupied' when the opportunity arose."

"For the child named joy, you are the most dour of us all, Gelir."

Gelir sends a rather impolite gesture to Arvellas before nudging the pot to a corner of the room. "As you say oh wise one. I have been far to long wuthout the luxury of a bath, and mine arms are stuck in a circular position from this thing. I beg you not break the thing while I am away." That last of this is said very pointedly, much to the indignation of Legolas.

"It was one time!"

~

"Eyes closed my queen, you should not spoil the surprise."

Maereth smiles. "I do not seek to do such, and you know this, Ninniel. I am only excited, I have had no chance to see my second youngest since he has returned from his diplomatic mission, though why my love decided to send him, I hace no idea."

Ninniel sighs. "Not all of your children can be so blessed as ambassadors." She grins cheekily though the queen has no way of seeing it. "Leave the woodland and it's creatures to him I say, but if you search for a diplomatic and truthfully tounge, look to the eldest."

"Well as I know, Mellon nín. None of my children are yhe same, and I could not be more grateful for the fact. Now, are you going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"No, but they will." Ninniel removes tge covering from Maereth's eyes, opening the door to what she then recognizes as the princes' old play room, now tirned into a sitting room.

"Oh- oh my..."

Legolas wraps her in a hug. "Joyous Mother's Day, Nana!"

The area has been painstakingly decorated with shimmering fabrics and various displays of flora. Her five sons and husband stand before her, near a table with the largest cake Maereth has ever seen.

Thranduil pulls his wife gently from the arms of his youngest. "Suprised dear? The children have put much work forth in this endeavor."

She tightens her grip on his arm and speaks louder, so that the others hear as well. "I am indeed suprised. I expected nothing, but should have known that my lovely family would choose to celebrate a holiday of man."

"Come mother, we've presents!" And indeed they did, as maereth soon found.

"Turhir, how is it that I was unaware of your talent in the kitchen?" A valid question, as the towering confection is an utter work of art. At ten tiers, it is iced with as many colours as can be imagined, and there are sculptures made of differing edibles, raging from fondant to rock candy. "Not only do you seek the position as gaurd captain, but also to usurp our cook?"

Blushing brightly at the praise he grins ruefully, "The cook is safe mother, and I cannot claim all credit for this, Legolas helped much with the decorations."

Legolas nodds, "Though I did also make you this Nana." He hands over a small wraped box.

Maereth gently removes the green silk from the outside, before sliding the lid through its grooves. She gasps in delight when the action causes two small birds to pop out and begin twirling around one another. When they still, she repeats the opening movement again, and sure enough they preform the dance again.

"Legolas, this is truly amazing, however did you manage such detail? And the spring system is ingenious, my son!" Legolas joins his brother in the Red Face Department. "Hannon Lee."

Next she receives Mirion's gift, a set of long daggers, crafted flawlessly from mithriel and green stone hard as diamond, but soft as jade. Pulling them from the sheaths, she delights all with a few practice twirls.

Gelir disappears for a moment, only to return with the object of his current distaste, though he sets it very gently before his mother. "I made this not with my own hand, but retrieved the plant from the settlement beside Kazad-Düm, and commissioned the planter from the dwarves." He fidgets uncharacteristically, and waits for the response.

Maereth kneeks before it, and traces the petals. "Is this truly living?" The flowers are in apearance that of a rose, but bloom in a rainbow of colour, all clear crystal and luminescent. The leaves are starlight silver, but for golden threads runing throughout."

"It is."

To hear one of the fair folk laugh is a privilege, musical at its crudest, and at its best, as Queen Maereth's always was, it is remnicant of the song with which the world was sung from. "I should never have belived that you were truly sent on a diplomatic mission. But tell me, are the two ladies courting yet, or still dodging eachother with banter?"

Without expecting an answrr she pulls Gelir into a hug, which he imeadiatly recuperates. Much to Legolas' faux indignation. "Oh sure, when mother wishes a hug it's fine. But I try to claim one and you're all 'mkve your hands or I'll feed them to the wolves'"

At last Arvelass hands her a rolled parchment, tied with gold string. Upon unrolling, she is met with the most beautiful example of Caligrafy she has ever seen, and the words which read:

A mother like an oak tree,

Standing tall, and strong.

Giving to us, life for free,

Gently correcting when we are wrong.

As an acorn must tumble,

Taking it's own life in the ground.

She assists when we do stumble,

With her we are safe and sound.

Beneath the branching shade,

Kept from scorching sun.

Protection she has bade,

For children, every one.

Through the ground roots do twist,

Entwing in our life.

Connected and gentle as the mist,

Our blessed kings wife.

Indeed she gives home to many,

Kingdom's branches welcome all.

She is wise, fair, and canny,

Under her rule, we'll never fall.

In her moments of sickness,

To our best we do guard.

No matter the opponent's quickness,

We strive to protect from every shard.

In storms of wind, heat, water, and snow

She stands ever in grace and power.

Under her she watches grow,

From fern to moss, to flower.

By the end her eyes are damp, and Maereth is glad to lean her head against the chest of her husband. When the brothers move to claim extra cake she smiles up at Thranduil. "What? No gift from my beloved?"

Thranduil's chest move in faint laughter before he leans down to whisper in her ear, "You shall claim your gift later Meleth, patience."

"Flirt"

"Yours"

Maereth watches with the loving eyes that only a mother can manage as Legolas topples from a table into Arvelass, smearing cake into the dusting of hair on his chin. And who truly can begrudge her the belief that she truly is the most blessed of all Eru's children.

[levelzeo]

Level Zeo’s Brilliant Diamond Nuzlocke - Part 1

I’m going to do a Nuzlocke of Brilliant Diamond.  I never played the gen 4 games growing up, and even now I have never finished a playthrough of one (not for lack of wanting to, it's a long story), so this is going to be semi-blind.  I also like Nuzlockes a lot as a storytelling device, so as I play I like coming up with headcanons for my Pokemon and their personalities, and I thought it would be cool to share those alongside the factual info of what happens in the run.

What are my rules?  Well, I am pretty bad at video games.  But I’m also better than the pure damage move spammer I was as a child, so I’m going somewhere in between casual and hardcore.  Rules are as follows:

Pokemon faints, Pokemon dead.

I can only catch the first Pokemon I find on each Route/Area.

Nicknames for everybody!

No duplicates!  If my first encounter is a duplicate I am forced to try again until I get something new.

Level Caps.  Nobody is allowed to level past the next Gym Leader’s Ace.

Items.  I will allow myself to use healing items in battle, but no battle items.  If I find it too easy, I might put a limit on the number of heals I can use in one fight.

I will be playing in Switch Mode.  As I said, I am bad at video games.  I’m going to be losing a lot of Pokemon to stupidity and cockiness already, so I don’t need the extra challenge of Set Mode.

Okay then.  Let’s begin.

I start up the game, pick the base female avatar, name her Zeo, and name my rival Melvin.  Entering the game world proper, Melvin drags me to Lake Verity where we steal borrow some Pokemon from a briefcase to protect ourselves from getting mauled by wild animals.  I pull a d6 from my pocket and roll it into the tall grass to decide which one I will pick, and I end up going with the middle Pokeball, Chimchar.  Do I even need to say how this fight goes?  We all know what happens here.

My new Chimchar has a Careful nature, and a characteristic of being Very Finicky.  That makes me feel as though he is a very nervous creature.  Cautious of everything, even to a fault.  Perhaps he is right to worry so much, since on the way to Sandgem Town, he gets Crit TWICE by random encounters, forcing me to go home and heal each time.  Poor fella.

I finally make it to Sandgem, and can finally give the Chimchar a nickname.  I decided to go with Simmer, since he doesn’t seem like one to turn up the heat right out the gate.  I get my Pokedex from my second favorite Professor, and the adventure can truly begin.  First things first, I buy some Pokeballs so I can get an encounter from Route 201.

I end up with a lvl 2 Starly as my first encounter on the route.  Don’t ask me why, but the Starly line has always reminded me of the seagulls I would always see on the coast.  Because of that, I name this Starly after the food those winged rats would always steal from me.  Chips.  He has a Jolly nature, and is Strongly Defiant.  These traits make me think that this virtual bird would try to steal my food just like the real ones.  A hungry and energetic little gremlin.  I imagine that he would quickly get on Simmer’s nerves.

After 201, I head north to Route 202.  There, I ended up with the encounter I knew I was going to have going into a Sinnoh game.  Bidoof.  She has a Brave nature and Likes to Thrash About.  I probably could have picked a name that goes better with those traits, but since I only get to know them after the nickname, her name is Boof.

This is where I make the stupid mistake of not going back to heal.  Because of this, I almost have a complete wipe against my very first trainer fight in the entire game.  Luckily, newcomer Boof is able to pull through and win the day with a sliver of hp remaining, and nobody dead.  A Brave soul indeed.  I hope this close call is not an omen of things to come.

Next stop is Jubilife.  Pros of Jubilife: the music.  Cons of Jubilife: the clowns.  I get the Poketech before heading north again for more encounters.  Between Route 204 and The Ravaged Path, I gain two new friends.  Doc the Zubat, who is Hasty and Finicky.  And Petard the Geodude who is Jolly and Somewhat of a Clown.  

Between the name and traits, I think of Doc as a bit of a mad scientist archetype.  Cackling maniacally as he swoops in and out of combat, scoffing at anyone who dares question his intelligence (despite not actually being as smart as he thinks he is).  Simmer and Boof definitely aren’t buying the act, but Chips is all for it.  I imagine Chips sees this as an opportunity to make a friend (and also to mooch food off of him), while Doc sees this as obtaining a new minion.  Mwahahaha.  Since they’re both flying types it saddens me that I will need to box one of them eventually, since I probably won’t need two fliers most of the time.

Being Jolly and a bit of Clown would normally make a Pokemon a bit of a prankster in my mind, but something about Petard being a Geodude wants me to go in a different direction.  I’m picturing just a very chill and laid-back kinda guy, always trying to lighten the mood and crack a joke.  Maybe even a bit of a “stoner” (cue rimshot and/or gunshot from the audience).  Him and Boof would get along great due to them both being tanky and willing to roll with the punches.  He is also willing to let Chips perch on his head, which is very cool of him.

I feel like I’m forgetting something else about my Geodude… oh right!  I named him Petard after a type of bomb.  In poor taste?  Maybe.  Does this mean I will be keeping and/or using self destruct when he learns it?

…

No comment.

Something I notice is that Simmer doesn’t really have anyone he can connect with.  Chips definitely thinks their friends, not realizing how much his antics and gremlin energy annoys the Chimchar.  Meanwhile Boof/Petard try to keep Simmer included, but his nerves and caution to most situations cause them to do so less and less.  Doc just laughs and calls him a pitiful cowardly wretch of a fire type.

Poor Simmer.  His loneliness is somewhat of his own making, but you can’t force yourself to be around people you don’t vibe with.�� As the Starter he is in a “Team Leader” role by default, and he’s definitely the powerhouse of the team, but is he confident enough in his abilities to be the leader they need right now?  Probably not.

Enough characterization for now!  Let’s get back to the game.

Since northwards is a dead end as of now, I go back to Jubilife.  Popping into the trainer’s school, I have a vague memory of losing all of my Pokémon to the two Charge Beam Abras in there the first time I tried playing this game.  Luckily Petard is immune to anything they do and he is easily able to slowly beat them into the dirt.

After that I head east onto Route 203, where I am immediately jumped by Melvin who challenges me to a Rival Battle.

It’s not a hard battle.  Petard is tanky enough to not be hurt by anything the Starly can do, though I do switch to Boof to finish them off after the bird used Growl enough times to make the fight annoyingly slow.  My decision that these two should be friends solidifies.

I have discovered in retrospect that Piplup has no water moves at this point, but at the time I didn’t know, so I sent in Chips instead of Simmer, who probably could have done it faster.  I choose to believe I was just role-playing my starter’s careful nature.  Chips is probably excited to prove himself though, and he certainly does.  It’s a close battle, but I prove that my bird is superior and win the day (probably also stealing Melvin's lunch in the process).

I thought about continuing after that fight, but decided this was enough for a first update.  If you read this far I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing in!  Again, I think Nuzlockes are a fascinating medium for storytelling, and I hope the personalities I gave my Pokémon are fun to think about.  I know that I like them.  Next time I update I hope to at least get to the first Gym.  Hope to see you then!

(PS, I am not an artist.  I am bad at art.  But for some reason I wanted to draw my Pokémon children.  They aren’t good, but here they are.  Let’s hope none of them die on me.)

[zorkaya-moved]

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜ gale just lowkey ignoring some slight red flags at the very moment

@avaere

"I'm glad you are not listening to the loud minority of people who love to demonize a woman who works for what she wants," Zarina laughs softly, offering a charming smile at Dekarious. He is a human, an ambitious human. All wizards are like that, aren't they? They search, they seek, and they get what they want. Who would've expected for Mystra to take an interest in a mortal. What a finicky goddess, an absolute fool to forget that mortals are greedy little creatures who will want more, more, and more. Isn't Gale just the same? She wants to laugh. Such sweet smiles and such gentle approaches, but he is no fool and neither is she. ( How far are you willing to go, sweet mortal? )

Zarina knows she is greedy and wanting and selfish, not slowing down in her pursuits. The Moon of Sehanine shines above her, Selene of this world will keep its gaze on her silver hair and her golden gaze. The Astral Elf doesn't care how she is perceived in a personal sense, but she cares about perception of her from a business standpoint. If Gale speaks in such a manner, there must be reasons why he adds the 'as' instead of saying it plainly. Then again, she doesn't want this little group of campers to think of her as a saintess. As she is not one, the owner of the White Night Tavern and the true Frigid Moon doesn't hide away her ambitious plans and her wishes to return to Baldur's Gate.

"I live in this world as you all do. Just because I am willing to make sacrifices doesn't mean I want this world to be destroyed or taken over by the slimy bastards," Illithids are such aesthetically un-pleasing sightings to behold. They lack ambition, they lack individuality, they lack what makes the diversity of cultures and languages so much better. A hive mind, a lack of personality, a soul disappearing almost machines. How funny it is that even now Gods do not dare to intervene, but they are trying. Oh they are trying through their followers, don't they? Such silly attempts. Mortals will always be a better fate than to be a God. Gods leave this world with nothing, shackled and constricted. She will never be a God, she will never wish to be a God. Gods are useless where she is concerned. But would Gale agree with her? After all, Mystra is another type of goddess. Then again, Zarina doesn't exactly care.

"Believe me, Gale, upon our return to Baldur's Gate, you'll see chaos where I once kept it under tight wraps. I may be bad, but my authority held off rats and snakes from shaking the carefully kept balance," she opens her arms, adapting the position as if a priest speaking to large crowds. "I nurtured spies, wizards, sorcerers, priests, and more. What a shame you've never entered the White Night Tavern. Elminster loves the drinks I prepare for him. We should find what you like!"

[volfoss]

how serviceable is the machine translation for volfoss? it seems like you’re able to understand the plot fairly well using it if i’m right. and what is the gameplay like? i’m more interested in playing it from your posts, i’ve always wanted to but never got around to it

FUCK YESSS ok so. A few things. I am pretty used to working with machine translation and kind of working with how stilted it can be. I've translated comics this way and it can be a massive pain at times. From the last time I tried to do this with a game -> now (maybe 8 months or so?) Google translate has really upped their game with getting more accurate/good translations. I use a mix of Google translate and Yandex, and then match it with checking a Japanese to English dictionary when I need to (sometimes Google and Yandex completely disagree on something, so using a dictionary helps a lot in those cases). Volfoss itself is kind of a peculiar beast with translation solely because of names. The machine translation does not play nice with names because they are spelled odd. For example, an enemy called Iron Meiden will NEVER get translated with the proper spelling. The protagonist, Shalvas, gets translated as MANY different names, so it's kind of a pain to work with that. Places have the same issue. Where a machine translation might put Korel as Kolel or anything in that range, it rarely gets it right. One of the major locations, Caldealand, gets spelled 5 different ways and there is never any reason for it. Thankfully, the in game gallery has the English names for creatures and characters, and the map I just got has the proper English for the places. This is probably not like. A big issue for most people but it's something that I'm pretty anal about because I don't want the translations to be super bad and inaccurate. In the guide I'm working on, I have a massive glossary for the names and places due to how finicky this is.

All of that to be said, I definitely do understand the plot with this, but there are a LOT of frustrating things when you're first getting used to it. I can send you the guide as it is right now if that would help, as I think the long list of characters and the summary of the first route I've nearly completed could be helpful :) I'm also here to help anytime.

As for gameplay, it's a trpg, so you move your characters from tile to tile and choose attacks. It's kind of hard to explain but from what I understand it's similar to fire emblem (haven't ever played it but my friend who has says it's similar). It's honestly not too bad after you get used to the combat, there's just a LOT of story crammed in there if you're bothering to translate all of it. There's a lot of specific systems that from what I can tell are pretty unique to volfoss (you get gems and can make combos with them, and that's how you can make your attacks/defense have certain attributes. Not explaining that well at all but. There's a lot of weird stuff to it I think. There's also a system for getting enemies to join your team both temporarily and permanently and just a lot of other stuff that can make it complex to give a short summary of gameplay).

Tldr: machine translation is definitely viable, however, when it comes to proper nouns it is a VERY scary experience. This was my first trpg and I got used to it pretty easily so I wouldn't say it's too bad?

[abnormal-iterators]

radio please tell us everything

[RSSS]: Oh, well everything is quite a lot to tell! [RSSS]: I suppose you could say that I'm something of a scientist! In a similar vein to Between-Two-Worlds! Both of us share a particular interest in purposed organisms, however... [RSSS]: [quietly] I do like Worlds, but I can't say I always agree with their... methodology... nor their results. Or quantity. [RSSS]: Two kids is quite enough for me, thank you! [RSSS]: Speaking of! The kids! [RSSS]: Freak and Weirdo! The... latter being the elder of the two. [RSSS]: Weirdo was... well, they were my first attempt at any sort of creature. Was supposed to just be a control but... Well! Life is full of all sorts of happy accidents, isn't it? [RSSS]: The fungi that contaminated the sector I was working on them in have settled into a very nice symbiosis! I couldn't be more pleased with that result. Far better than the alternative. [RSSS]: And Freak! Turned out exactly as planned! Aside from the anxiety, but we're working through that. [RSSS]: I heard once from some of our other groupmates about a slugcat that fed exclusively through it's tail! Made by an iterator in a far-off local group. Fascinating idea! [RSSS]: I had to see how that would work for myself, and so I made Freak! [RSSS]: Really, I couldn't be happier! [RSSS]: And other than that... ah! Yes, DBR. They're alright, though I can't say that I understand it's thought process half the time.... [RSSS]: Oh! And Craig! Who I am speaking to you through right now! [RSSS]: He's an old ID drone. Finicky thing. Doesn't like to project images anymore, does best with an audio format. [RSSS]: ... [RSSS]: But yes! That's about all, just off the top of my head! I'll let you know if I think of anything else!

[kyndaris]

Aurora Fox-realis

Heading down to PAX in Melbourne, I could not in good conscience lug down Seto Kaiba in my stowed luggage. Instead, I brought my ever loyal Nintendo Switch for a few quick indie games that were still sitting on my dashboard and clogging up the storage on the SD card. After all, when one goes down to a gaming convention that encourages handheld consoles, it’s always easier to bring a Nintendo console.

To be fair, though, if you asked me years ago, I would have said Sony but alas, the PlayStation Portable and its big brother, the Vita, have since fallen to the wayside.

Though I had games aplenty on my Switch, after fiddling around with Owlbow (which will hopefully be played in the near future), I decided it would be better to keep it simple on this short trip down south.

Enter: Spirit of the North.

In this game, you play as a fox. Why a fox? Who knows. But a quick Google search indicates that Spirit of the North is an exploration into Finnish folklore where the Northern Lights are considered ‘fox fires’ with the actual mythological creature an elusive prize coveted by many a hunter.

But instead of actually explaining this concept, the game thrusts the player into the world with little explanation. Rather than having an objective indicating where to go, my first guide was a streak of red staining the sky above in a wintry wonderland. Just like that, I delved right in. After all, years of playing video games have taught me to just follow the signs dictated by the designers a la Journey or Abzu.

And just like those games, Spirit of the North tells its story through the environment. Murals are scattered around the world. As are a host of shamans and buildings that tell of a grand civilisation that once thrived in the world before a disaster wiped them out. What the disaster was is open to interpretation but remnants of it still remains in the corruption scattered across the land that impacts the poor fox’s health.

Beyond the folklore and the stunning vistas that helped inspire the game, I found that Spirit of the North stumbled in areas where games like Journey and Abzu shone. For me, the world was a bit too vast and not as compact as it could be. There were also several puzzles that proved more frustrating rather than rewarding. Coupled with finicky controls, the adventure across the tundra was more slog than wonder.

Despite all that, the revelation once I had reached the top of the mountain was a joy. Becoming a second guardian of the Northern Lights and running across the sky, tail creating sparks as the credits rolled was one of the most magical moments I’ve ever experienced in a video game.

Will I play Spirit of the North again? Probably not.

Am I thankful that I played it on the Switch instead of a console that would have trophies popping every few seconds? Yes. My goodness, trophy hunting in these short experiences would probably ruin my enjoyment of the game and the message it is trying to tell.

While Spirit of the North doesn’t quite hit the heights of Journey, it is an interesting look into a folktale that I would have not known. With its breathtaking views and its decent musical score, I enjoyed my time as playing as a fox exploring the hinterlands. Rather than a deceitful creature, the fox here is a noble creature that brings hope and wonder.

And much like stories from other cultures, it’s an intriguing look into how people of the past attempted to explain the natural phenomena that occurred around them. The world is filled with so many fantastical things and the Spirit of the North taps right into that.