#My beetle (yes MY beetle) was in my hands when I found Mystery Bug

[tentapun]

Love it when theres a bug I can't identify in my room. Like hello sir, who are you?? I hold you, I love you, but I Do Not Know You. Let me take your picture 120000000 times.

[wing-ed-thing]

Birdbrain (Shino x Reader, Part III)

Synopsis: You've always been a hothead and Shino had always been cool under pressure. Today's just another casual showdown between Konoha's hottest temper and sassiest bug handler.

Word Count: 1,056

Warnings: Language

You sat on a few steps outside the restaurant. Fifteen minutes had passed since you first arrived and you hadn’t seen a single one of your friends. A small wagtail perched on your fingers. You smoothed out it’s feathers as you sighed. Tension left your shoulders and you checked the time for the umpteenth time in the past hour. One minute had passed. A shadow enveloped you from behind. The tiny bird cocked it’s head at you before letting out a chirp and flying away.

You turned to see the tall, mysterious figure of Shino. Rolling your eyes, you turned away and you wrapped your arms around your knees. You felt him sit down next to you. You shifted again, your cheek resting on your knuckles.  

“It seems that I got the time wrong.” He mused.

“Yeah, no shit.” You snapped.

Muttered a string of curse words before letting the silence return. As a general rule, Shino Aburame must have been the last person you ever wanted to see. You tapped your foot. The wagtail returned to you, sitting on your head. You should have known that he’d give you the wrong time. You boiled under your skin. Was he trying to embarrass you? You’ll knock him into next week. Another bird landed on you. Who did he think he was? You should ask him that. Two more birds appeared. Can’t reject me to my face, huh? Gotta mess with me like a little f-

“Um,” You were pulled from your seething when Shino spoke your name.

“What?” You snarled. The birds flapped before settling back into peacefulness. Shino paused.

“You’re brooding.” You stared at him, suddenly aware of the small weights on your head.

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Bugs for Brains?”

“Unintentionally.” You could’ve punched him. “That happens when you’re upset.”

“You make me upset.” You kicked up from your seat, marching a few feet to the left as the birds scattered.

Shino silently followed you. His legs were, unfortunately, longer than yours. He grasped your wrist. You swiftly slapped his hand away, fury in your eyes.

“Touch me again and my birds will be eating beetle tonight.” Shino looked at you dead on. Your angry face reflected in his glasses, framed by his stoic face.

“Okay, what is it?” He sighed. Shino had been trying to figure out what happened between the two of you for quite a while but quickly found himself unable to. So, that left one last option: to ask you.

“What?” You spat for the second time that day.

“You’re upset.”

“Is it just me,” You put your hands on your hips with an exaggerated huff. “Or are we going in circles?” Shino remained silent. Much like at the aviary, he remained unmoving, ungodly patient, and silent. “Do I really have to spell it out? Will you fuck off if I spell it out?” Shino paused before slowly nodding.

Your face flushed red. You began to fidget. Your arms folded in front of you and your eyes shifted downward. Pebbles underneath your shoes ground into the pavement as your feet brushed against them.

“W-well,” You gulped. You took a deep breath. “Who wouldn’t be upset about their feelings being played with?” A forced bite appeared in your words to obscure the nervousness. You looked away in a faux attitude. “You take a girl on a date and she never hears anything back? Then you show up at the aviary, like, all you had to say was that you didn’t feel the same, you asshole!”

The red on your face grew deeper. Shino bit back a smirk. He had never seen you so flustered. It was a good look for you. He spoke your name, but you cut him off, spiraling in your embarrassment.

“No! You asked for it, you’re going to get it!” Your cheeks puffed.

With a newfound confidence, Shino stepped forward as you continued to rant. You didn’t notice between your streams of insults and obscenities until he leaned down to your level, planting a kiss on your lips. Your eyes widened in shock, but as his lips moved against yours, you melted quickly. A hand gingerly came up to caress the side of his face. You felt dizzy by the time he pulled away. Shino finally let that subtle smirk form on his lips. He finally shut you up. You blinked to reorient yourself.

You put a hand up to your lips, still feeling the sensation. That’s when you cut his victory short, reaching up to personally wipe that small cocky smile off of his face. Shino recoiled, the sting ringing on his skin. But before you could dive back into your rant, you saw a group approaching. Shino seemed to notice at the same time as you.

Sakura called out your name. Naruto and Sai trailed somewhat behind, likely unhappy at the prospect of being in close proximity to the two scariest women in their generation.  You greeted your close friend. You hugged Sakura, genuinely excited to see her.

“Sakura! Hi!” The shift in your tone was a complete one-eighty. Relieved to have something else to focus on, you smiled. “What can I help with?”

“We brought some decorations for the table,” Sakura gestured to the bags that the two boys held. “I was thinking we could do something special before everyone else gets here.” You glance at Shino, narrowing your eyes.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful. Let’s go.” Sourness coursed through your tone as you left with the pinkette. Naruto and Sai shivered.

“Did you see that smile?” Naruto quivered.

“Like a vulture.” The sides of Sai’s lips were upturned, but sweat beaded on his brow. Neither dared to move.

“Shino,” Naruto stole a quick glimpse of the two retreating girls out of the corner of his eye. “What did you do? She’s pissed.” Sai leaned in.

“Is this what is called a ‘lover’s spat’?” He asked in a low voice.

Sakura’s voice rang out through the air.

“C’mon guys!” She shouted.

“We don’t have all day!” You laughed. The two boys shuddered.

“You’ll be fine.” Shino told them.

Naruto and Sai reluctantly retreated into the restaurant and Shino was left to his thoughts.

My poor analytical baby. All he knows is that you’re pissed and that he’s caught feelings. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[kingreywrites]

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

[swan--writes]

Beetlejuice’s Big Halloween Party

I thought about writing a Dewey Halloween, but let’s be real, there ain’t room for the both of these boys in this here holiday.

And listen, it is 2:30 AM and I just finished writing this. I wrote it all in one go. I’m not editing it. Please reblog though! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain!

Warnings: elements of horror, blood mention, eyeball mention

Words: 3,070

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

Your demon laughed at you from the rafters of your barn. Ever since you had moved out to your farmhouse, Beetlejuice had been hanging around. Sometimes literally. Normally you found you didn’t mind the demon’s antics – he kept things lively when there wasn’t much going on out where you lived. Sometimes he donned an old sheet and floated around the house. Sometimes he went out into your backyard and howled at the tree line. And sometimes he dropped live bats from the rafters of the barn, directly onto your unsuspecting head.

Frantically, you waved away the little menace. All you could see were glimpses of a wrinkled snout and long teeth. It seemed to be flapping its wings as fast as you were flapping your hands, and by the time it managed to fly off, Beetlejuice was hanging upside-down in midair and cackling.

“Wow, what a jumpy breather,” he said, wiping a thick black tear from his eye. You thought you heard it sizzle as it fell to the worn wooden floor.

“Knock it off, Beej.”

“Yeah, sure I will.”

“Seriously!” You shook your head, fighting off a shiver. “There’s gonna be screaming hordes of children here in, like, an hour. I cannot still be cleaning up your messes when they get here. So, lose the bats and the bugs and the…whatever else you’ve got.” You narrowed your eyes at his tattered suit jacket.

“Relax, babes, I got it all under control.”

Without thinking, you took a step back as he righted himself in the air. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

“Hey, take the help or don’t. I’ll be here all night.” With that, he zoomed up to the rafters, dropping beetle carcasses in his wake. You shrieked and leaped back. “Beetlejuice!” you complained, only to hear his laughter.

It had been less than a year since you moved into your creepy old farmhouse. You still weren’t entirely sure if the creepy old dead guy had come with the property, or if he had followed you there. But when you found his name traced over and over again in the dust of every reflective surface in the house on the first night, you had almost left.

In the end, it was one of the movers who had summoned him. You had had two burly men helping you move your things inside. One of them had remarked on the odd name, Betelgeuse. The other had just happened to be an amateur astronomer. Before any of you knew what was happening, lightening was striking, thunder was rolling, wind was blowing, and the two big, strong movers were scrambling back to their truck. Thoughtfully, they did hurl the last of your furniture from the vehicle as they peeled out of your shaded, and winding driveway. Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse…

“Okay, Beetlejuice, fine! Yes! I do need help.” You grumbled the last to yourself, trying and failing once more to move a heavy wooden table. It had been half an hour since the bat incident, and almost all of it had been spent on this table.

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Beetlejuice.”

“I’m getting kinda tired, y’know…”

“Beetlejuice!”

“A’right, a’right, fine! Taskmaster, jeez.” The demon floated down from the rafters, snapped his fingers, and the table you had been struggling with walked itself over to where you had been trying to move it – against the wall, centered under a window.

The barn was a decent size. Average by northeastern standards, but tall as hell. Or, the Netherworld, you supposed. The structure of the thing was entirely wood, worn down and lightened with time. The posts were a richer color than the floor, which was covered in scratches and the occasional hay straw. There were windows all around, installed sometime within the last half-century, and the sun shone in brilliantly when it was up.

Now it was dark, even at 5:00 PM. As you watched, the decorations you had strewn haphazardly across the space leapt to attention. Miniature pumpkin lights snaked their way around the rafters and posts, along with actual snakes. A layer of fog coated the floor so thickly you could no longer see your own feet. What looked to be a hundred flaming tealights sprung up from every table – some with black flames, others green. The overhead iron-wrapped pendant lights dimmed and aged noticeably, some flakes of rust falling to the floor and becoming lost in the low gloom.

The jack-o’-lanterns you and Beetlejuice had carved the day before lit up abruptly. Paper bats and bloody eyeballs on strings dropped down to hang from the rafters. A soft, eerie music began floating through the room, and when you looked up you saw a greenish gray skeleton manning the DJ setup on a slightly raised section of the floor. It gave you and Beetlejuice a thumbs-up, its other decayed hand on a headphone positioned just a few degrees south of where its ear might have been.

“Thank you, I think--whoa!” Before you could finish thanking your demon, you heard a loud BANG. All the window shutters slammed shut.

“No problem, babes, but what are you gonna do for me?” Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Politely ask you to open the shutters back up, please? It’s a full moon, we should be able to see it.”

Beetlejuice bent backwards unnaturally far and groaned. “Fine.” A flick of his wrist and the shutters swung open meekly. A few thick, black tentacles with a faint green sheen slithered in at the corners of each window, not breaking the glass but rather bending it open around themselves. The demon dusted off his hands and fixed his tie. “Happy?”

“Very.”

“How’d you get roped into doing this, anyway? I thought you hated kids.”

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t like them. One of the community theater guys asked me to.” You started for the barn door. Beetlejuice followed you, the tips of his shoes dragging the fog.

“Why?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Because the new, mysterious stage manager has a big, scary house in the middle of nowhere that no-one’s ever seen, that’s why.”

“Huh. Is he gonna be here too?” You didn’t have to look at Beetlejuice to know he was grinning.

Before you could warn him not to do anything dangerous, you opened the barn door to find your first chaperone. You weren’t sure if it was a state rule that a gathering of kids under a certain age needed adult chaperones, but knowing Beetlejuice, you were happy to have the help. This one was a theater mom. You barely knew her, but she said she would bring cupcakes, so you had shrugged and given her your address.

“Stephanie, hi,” you said, only mildly startled to see her so early.

“H--oh. Uh, hi,” she replied, now openly staring at Beetlejuice.

“Hi.” Still grinning.

“Um, who is this?” she asked, barely containing her horror.

“I’m–”

“Oh, this is, uh–”

“I’m her, uh–”

“Lawrence!” you said rigidly. “Lawrence…Beetleman.” You pulled at the demon’s arm and he dropped to his feet, stumbling to your side. You knew you should have rehearsed this.

Beetlejuice held out his left hand stiffly. “Nice to meet ya.” You elbowed him as surreptitiously as you could, and he dropped the hand, holding out his right instead.

Stephanie cautiously met his hand, then dropped it immediately. “Oh, I uh…you too, Mr. Beetleman?” Beetlejuice flinched and gagged noticeably.

There was a long silence.

“So…” you tried.

“Right! Yes, I, um…well, I came to help you decorate, but it seems like you have it all taken care of?” Stephanie glanced around you, coming away looking somehow even more horrified.

“Oh yeah, we got it covered, Stevie.” You tried to elbow Beetlejuice again, but he dodged. Moving forward, he took Stephanie’s arm at the elbow and led her into the barn. “Here, lemme show you where to put those cupcakes.” He nodded to the box she was carrying.

“Oh, okay. It’s Stephanie, by the way,” she said nervously.

“Sure.”

“Beetleman,” you cautioned haltingly, frowning at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babes. Don’t you gotta go put on your costume?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Stephanie spoke first. “It’s fine, I’ll just, um…”

“Yeah, she’ll just um. Go on,” Beetlejuice cajoled. Tightlipped and wide-eyed, you turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving the door open behind you just in case.

Surprising yourself, you managed to get into your costume in under thirty seconds. The makeup, on the other hand, was more of a challenge. There was something about the creaky sounds of wood settling and the draft through the second floor of your house that was making it more difficult than usual to keep your hands steady. But then, you had never been much of an artist.

So, you headed back to the barn in your broken shoes and your torn clothes, perfecting your shamble as you went. The door was still open. Stephanie had her back to you and seemed to be sizing up the tentacles on the far window, but Beetlejuice caught your movement as you tentatively stuck your head into the barn. You motioned for him to come towards you. He followed your lead.

Once you were both just outside the barn door, you turned fully to face him. “Hey,” you whispered.

“What’s up, babes?”

“I’m having a little trouble with my prosthetics. Could you do anything to make me look a little more…” You searched for the right word. “…horrifying?” Seeing Beetlejuice’s eyes light up, you held out a hand. “Without killing and/or maiming me.” You paused. “Or making the children cry.”

The demon gave you a look. “What, on Halloween? Huge cliché, what do you take me for?” You raised your eyebrows, but said nothing. He snapped his fingers and within an instant, you could feel your face and sections of your clothing stiffen with what you hoped was fake blood. “There: instant zombification.”

“Great, lemme just go check–”

“Sweetheart, trust me, you could strike terror into the hearts of any ghoul.”

“Do ghouls have hearts?”

“Whatever you do, never ask a ghoul that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Beetleman.” Almost compulsively, Beetlejuice gagged again. You laughed and led him back into the barn. Stephanie turned to greet you, then turned away again. Your demon gave you a sidelong, self-satisfied look. You shook your head at him, but couldn’t force the smile off of your face.

The kids started showing up minutes later. Stephanie’s wife brought their two sons, then the community theater director came with his daughter, and on and on. Before 6:00, the barn was full. Nearly half of the children had entered the costume contest, which you had begrudgingly appointed Beetlejuice head judge of.

It wasn’t so much that you had invited Beetlejuice as it was that you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep him from staying. Short of banishing him, he would not be left out of your Halloween activities, and the last thing you wanted to do was banish the demon. He could be awfully cranky when he felt ignored, worse when he felt betrayed. Best to keep a close eye on him and leave it there. Shockingly, though, he seemed to be on his best behavior.

That wasn’t saying much, but you appreciated the effort.

He kept the live animals to a minimum, only ate one of the eyeballs hanging from the ceiling, and judged the costume contest as fairly as he could. Fortunately, there was a clear winner: a young zombie whose costume rivalled your own. The judge committee gave him a small skeleton trophy and a candy medal, took some photos with him, and you privately wondered if he had his own ghost-zombie at home to help him with his makeup. Then you shrugged it off and watched – half-mortified, half-impressed – as Beetlejuice summoned a few dead cheerleaders to sing a surprisingly smooth rendition of Time Warp. You were fairly certain a few of his bones came loose during the dance, but you let it slide. The kids were duly impressed, the parents were a suitable distance that they hardly noticed.

It wasn’t until 11:00 PM that all of the adults in the room realized that Beetlejuice had removed the clock that had previously hung on the wall opposite the barn’s door. It took the better part of a half hour to corral the kids to their parents’ respective vehicles, and most of them insisted on hugging you. Warily as ever, you eyed the ones who tried to hug ‘Mr. Beetleman,’ but he somehow managed to turn all of their affections into a high five. Despite yourself, you found yourself smiling.

Once everyone was gone, you turned from the door to assess the barn. It was a disaster. The jack-o’-lanterns had remained lit, as had the candles, but those were the only decorations at thirteen-and-under year old level that had remained undisturbed. The bottles you had placed on the tables, with their faded potion ingredient labels, were toppled over. There were drink puddles and food stains on the floor and half the fog had dissipated. Some of the eyes and bats had come down, others were tangled with the lights on the posts. Somehow, even the pendant lights were flickering slightly.

Beetlejuice did not need sleep. Maybe he could get tired, maybe he couldn’t. You certainly could, and by the time the party was over, you had maxed out your entire energy reserve. So, when your demon told you he’d clean up the next day, you agreed and gave no thought to the fact that it would take him all of two seconds to clean up that night.

Once you had seen off the last of the kids and all of the parents, you trudged back up to your big, scary house. All the light in the barn went out behind you, but you paid it no mind.

Somewhere between the barn and the house, Beetlejuice disappeared. Again, you ignored it. It wasn’t uncommon for Beetlejuice to vanish without telling you, and on Halloween night you imagined there were a hundred more fun things for him to be off doing than watching you get ready for bed. Especially when you caught sight of yourself in your entryway mirror. It was the first time that night that you had seen yourself fully zombified beyond a brief glance at your dim reflection in a darkened, tentacled window.

Your face alone had several large patches of what looked like gaping wounds, and you could see more peeking out from your formerly white collar. You had been going for Proper Academic Zombie, and you looked like you would need a degree in showering to get all this gunk off of yourself. At least you could reuse the costume, maybe disrupt a seminar or two.

Shaking your head, you flicked the light switch beside the front door to turn off the overhead light. Instead of just that light going out, however, the table lamp under the mirror went out as well. So did the hall light over the stairs to your left, the kitchen down the short hallway in front of you, and the living room light beyond that. You tried flicking the switch again. Nothing.

Suddenly, a slam. Several slams all at once. All the shutters you could see swung closed forcefully. From the sound of it, all the shutters on the house closed.

You cleared your throat hesitantly. “Okay, very funny. Beej, that’s you, right?”

Silence.

“Beej?” Though you couldn’t yet hear your heart, you could feel it struggling against the walls of your chest. There was a slight ringing in your ears – the ever-present remnants of your teenaged years. Outside of that: nothing. You took a step, and the creaking of the wood seemed to echo through the whole house. For a brief, crazy moment, you thought about going out to your car. But it seemed the porch light was out too, and being inside a dark house was better than being outside on a dark night.

So, you took another step. Then another. You cursed your shortsightedness in leaving your phone in your room. You reached the stairs. You climbed them, you turned the corner. The wood settle beneath your feet with a deafening creak each step of the way.

There must be a short circuit. There had to be, somewhere. There was no reason for you to have simply lost power. When you reached your room, you saw that your alarm clock was still lit and showing the time, and it was plugged into the same wall outlet as your dark lamp. The box was in your basement.

No way were you going into the basement.

You reached out for your phone. It was dead. You looked over to one of your windows. Of all the windows you’d passed, this seemed to be the only one whose shutters hadn’t closed. Slowly – more slowly than you had moved all night, you crossed the room to look outside. You could see the full moon in all her red-orange beauty. Then, you let out the breath you had been holding. The moon wasn’t going anywhere, even if all the other light was gone.

You should have known better.

A shadow dashed across the moon then, but not at the surface. Through the air. Close to your window. Very, very close.

There was a muffled thud somewhere behind you. You jumped and whirled around to look. When you noticed the light from the moon fading, you slowly turned your head back and saw the shutters swinging closed. Before you could reach out to even open the window, they were completely shut.

Another noise, closer this time.

You couldn’t move. Your heart was racing. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. You thought about jumping for your bed, some childish thought of pulling the covers over your head before the whatever-it-was could reach you running through your head, but even in your fear you knew it was foolish. It was too late – too close. Your stomach dropped, your hands shook, your legs felt like splintering wood.

Yet another noise. You heard the hinges of your bedroom door waver. It was pitch dark in the room. All at once, a ragged breathing rushed at you across the squeaking floor.

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

.

.

Seriously, please reblog.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @a-okay-rj @geeky-marie @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

[jubans]

title: pinky promise pairing: chigasaki itaru/fem!reader rating: g (general) premise: promises were made to be kept, but damn did itaru have a sharp memory.

Back when you were still a kid, you had a peculiar friend.

Your fathers were best buddies in college and your mothers got along just as swimmingly as well. Whenever either couple would go out of town, the other would follow suit—both parties bringing along their young kids so they could bond with one another. 

Itaru was a quiet boy. The first time you met him, he was like a hermit that couldn't be coaxed out of his shell. Eventually, you gave up on trying to get him to play house with you; retreating to the living room with a gaming console in hand. You've been wanting a Gameboy for a while now, and your father did love spoiling his little girl. While you were in the middle of catching your first Pokémon, however, you noticed that Itaru was watching you play over your shoulder, interest sparkling in his pretty eyes.

"Itaru-kun, do you play Pokémon?" you wondered, hoping he'd finally open up to you.

The young boy nodded timidly. "My Gameboy is in my backpack..."

And that's how you started growing closer than you'd initially expected. You challenged him in Pokémon battles every chance you got, but Itaru defeated you every single time. Something about IVs and EVs, he said. But you didn't really care about those. You just wanted the pretty looking Pokémon on your team. 

In your usual outings with his family, Itaru would often play off-handed pranks on you—putting weird bugs he found behind your dress, spitting watermelon seeds at you, and even pushing you into a shallow part of a lake. But despite his outlandish behavior, you didn't cry about it like most girls your age would when a boy was being mean to them. You returned his mischief sevenfold in your own way, and that only made your parents think what a lively duo the both of you were.

But like most childhood friendships, it didn't last as long as you'd liked. 

With your father having gotten an opportunity to work in America, that meant you had to move residences. The news was hard to take in at first. You grew up in Japan. All your friends were here! And what will happen to Itaru when you were no longer there to keep him in check? But, you've always been more understanding than most children. You accepted it faster than your parents had anticipated.

One day, you decided to tell your him about your sudden moving-away with a proposition that would ensure he wouldn't step out of line while you weren't around. 

"We're going to get married someday, right Taruchi?" 

Itaru blinked at you in nonplus, surprised by the strange nickname. "Taru...chi?"

"Itaru Chigasaki!" You giggled, clapping your hands together in unhinged glee. "It's my nickname for you, so no one else is allowed to call you that, 'kay?"

He spared you a small smile. Even at a young age, he already looked breathtaking. Eyes of carnelian and hair spun from almonds and vanilla—there was no reason for you not to crush on the boy who lived the next door over. 

But then, he did something you've never seen anyone else do with you before. He held out his hand, holding up only his pinky, as he gazed at you expectantly. You craned your head to the side, not knowing how to react. Itaru laughed softly before taking your small hands in his own, manipulating your right hand's fingers so that you were doing the same gesture he was.

"We'll pinky promise on it," he said, entwining his stubby finger with yours. "It's a promise that we can never ever break. No matter what."

"You promise to marry me when I get back?" you asked, curling your own pinky as well. 

He snickered. "I'd hate to be stuck with an old hag like you, but if you insist..."

"Hmph!" you simpered, folding your arms across your chest as you turned away from him. "I'm only eight, Taruchi!" 

"You'll be eight-y when you return," he retaliated. 

You spent the afternoon trying to beat Itaru in another Pokémon battle, but he came out victorious as usual. Just before you could start up another match, however, his mother told the two of you that they'll be attending an event hosted by the company she works for, and that you could come back and play tomorrow again. 

"See you soon, old hag," Itaru imparted, waving a hand goodbye as you stuck out your tongue to blow a raspberry at him. 

Stupid Taruchi. Why do I even like you?

"Mom, was it really necessary for me to fly back to Japan for this?" you groaned into your cellphone, asking the question for the hundredth time. 

Your mother merely tutted at you from the other end of the line. "You know how much your father loved the MANKAI Company, sweetie. We even flew here a week early so he could take a peek at the final rehearsals." 

"Yes, I know that part of the story," you sighed as you slowly unpacked your things from the single duffel you brought. "But why do I have to tag along? I had to find a substitute for all my classes this week, and I think the head professor will give me a piece of her mind when I get back to California."

"I'll have your father talk to her, then." The sound of her laughter was jeering in your ears. Why your mother had always been so carefree was a mystery to you. "Unwind a little, sweetie! I think you're going to want to see one of the new Spring Troupe's actors."

"What?" Your tone came out exasperated, but at the same time, your eyes were trained on the ample view of Veludo Way from your hotel room.

Your father used to be one of the members of the original Spring Troupe back when you were still a kid. Though he was one of the most academically proficient professors you knew today, he always had an unbridled passion for theatric arts. But with how swamped he's become with his work at the university you both teach in, him flying to Japan to watch amateurs stage a production was the last thing you think he would do.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize that your mother had been telling you something over the phone. 

"Anyways, if you want to see him, I got us tickets for the closing night this Saturday." Your mother sounded disappointed for some reason. "The earlier showing dates sold out by the time we bought them."

You didn't even bother finding out who this so-called actor she was pertaining to, your mind too preoccupied with the lesson plans you forgot to leave to your substitute. With an exasperated groan, you pulled out your laptop from your luggage, booting it up. You loved your mother too much to point out that she could have just told you to fly over here at a later date so you could minimize your absences. 

"Sure, Mom," you relented. "Do you want to grab some dinner later?"

"No way."

Eyes of carnelian. Hair spun from almonds and vanilla.

"No. Way." You had to physically look away from the stage to contemplate for a moment. Was that... Was that who you thought it was?

From your right, your father spared you a sideways glance, confusion painting his features. "Hm? Something the matter?" 

It's him. The boy with the pretty eyes and the smile that masked his mischief. Itaru. Taruchi. 

"I-It's nothing, Dad," you reassured, forcing yourself to train your eyes on the scene playing before you. "I just remembered I haven't started formatting my midterm exam yet."

"Oh, don't fret about work here," he chuckled, gaze trained fondly on the stage. "Plays are where the actors give it their all to put a smile on people's faces. I've always wanted to see you up on stage, but what kind of father would I be if I imposed something you didn't want?"

His words made you relax back into your seat, watching as Itaru's character, Tybalt, conversed with one of the leads on-stage. He delivered his lines so naturally, like the character was moulded to fit him in particular. He looked so...different now, too. Itaru had lost the fat in his cheeks—angular cheekbones taking its place instead. His voice was set into a much deeper tone, given that he was probably in his mid-twenties, just like yourself. Who knew a gamer shut-in like himself would pursue theater, of all things?

"It's nice to see good old Chigasaki's son up there, though." Your father smiled. "That kid was almost like a son to me."

The scenes breezed past before your eyes, each one leaving you at the edge of your seat. Their twist on Romeo and Juliet was comical, to say the least. But each time Itaru stepped under the spotlights, you noticed the strain in his movements. Whenever he had to walk to the opposite side of the stage, his steps came off a bit wobbly. This was a critical scene where Romeo and Tybalt were going to duel to the death, too. 

When you spared your father a wary look, the set in his brow told you that there was definitely something up. 

"Boy's got a sprain," he concluded. "Goodness. He should've known better than to perform with that dead weight dragging him around."

You frowned. "Then Taruchi, I mean, Itaru should—"

"Tybalt, stop! The battle's over!"

Romeo's little ad-lib caught the attention of the audience, no one daring to draw a breath to see how things played out. 

"Lower your blade!" he shouted, voice carrying the emotion in his eyes.

Even Itaru was taken aback by Romeo's resolve. His mouth twitched into a smirk that reminded you of the days he would show you the stag beetles he's caught over the summer to freak you out. You haven't even said two words to him fifteen years later, but somehow, you knew that he hadn't changed. Not one bit. 

"(Surname)-san, hello!"

A woman that seemed right about your age greeted your father with a shake of hands once the two of you arrived backstage. Your mother had insisted that she would wait for the two of you at the parking lot as you gave your congratulations to the actors. So here you were, standing awkwardly behind your father as he animatedly conversed with the said woman, who seemed to be the director of the show.

"Kid, as much as I'd like to tell you about your dad, it isn't my place to tell," your father chuckled. 

She sighed. "Ah, that's what Yuzo-san told me, too..."

"Say, this is quite out of the blue, but my daughter here wants to have a word with one of your actors. Itaru, to be precise."

Wait, what?

"Oh, sure!" The director nodded, twisting the knob to the dressing room behind her before you could even protest. "Itaru-san, someone wants to talk to you!" 

"Oho? Itaru-san has stans?"

"Fans. But you're not too far off, huh, Citron?"

"Wah! Itaru-san is so popular!"

"Tch. As long as it's not her, I won't complain..."

The sound of cheerful laughter hit your ears, and the next thing you knew, he emerged from the doorway—still in costume without a single hair out of place. Itaru grew up to look like one of the princes in the fairytales your mother used to read to you, and it grated on your nerves more than it should. How could the kid with the most rotten attitude you've seen be blessed with a growth spurt like this?!

Too busy wallowing in your own frustration, it took you a moment to register the utter shock on Itaru's face once his vibrant eyes landed on your father. But when his gaze shifted to you, his lips parted in muted surprise before spreading into a disbelieving smile.

"So you finally thought about coming back, huh, old hag?"

Before you could even think, you seized the collar of his costume with your fist, familiar irritation festering in your chest faster than you could blink. "It's the first time we meet in fifteen years and that's your opening line?"

Itaru hollered loudly at your aggression, but the gesture didn't even faze him one bit. Maybe it was because he stood about a few inches taller than you now. Nonetheless, he held your hands in his own—holy shit they were smooth—before prying off your hard grip on his clothes.

"Ah, Izumi!" your father called out to the director. "I want to discuss something about the MANKAI Company and how I might be able to pitch in. Itaru-kun, you can keep her occupied for the time being, right?"

"What? Dad, don't leave me with hi—"

"She's in my care," Itaru spoke over you, a gloved hand going up to ruffle your hair. 

As you watched your father and the director disappear right down the corridor, you gulped when you felt Itaru's piercing gaze on you. Turning around, you saw that his lips were still affixed with a condescending smirk, like he had some dirt on you that you didn't know about. Slowly, you backed away from him, but the hallway was cramped and you ended up with you in between the wall and the man in front of you.

"So," he began before he braced his palms on either side of the wall, trapping you in place. How could someone who had the regal air of a prince look at you like a wolf in sheep's clothing?

You felt your heart racing hummingbird-fast in your chest, breath hitching when he leaned in to ask:

"When's the wedding?"

[gyrrakavian]

Umberlee saved my goblin eldritch knight...

This was revealed two weeks ago in session, and I spent those two weeks trying to figure out why a sea goddess of chaos who is very much not known for mercy would save my little amnesiac archaeologist.

And then I tried to plug him into @jewishdragon‘s custom alignment chart. I asked for help placing him and started listing some of the things he’s done. Then, it dawned on me that despite diplomatic attempts (-1 Char mod) he’s caused quite a bit of general chaos.

The first town he got to with the party happened to be the same town that the therianthropic blood cult who tried to sacrifice him was based. Umberlee spared him from bleeding out (magic initiate feat explained).

Upon arriving in town, Bug made certain to wear the ceremonial headdress the cult placed on him for most of his time in public there. Not all of the townies were cultists, but they all recognized the sacrificial helmet and were all made very uncomfortable by it.

At the local tavern that night, there’s a card game and Bug ventures over to join. He puts his trademark scarab medallion up for this hand. Bug wins the hand, grabs his medallion and winnings, then ducks out of the card game pissing off all of the townies and some of the caravan involved. Including some weird blue-skinned dwarf (who may be related to Bug’s near-death).

The party fights a few of the were-cultists that night to prevent them from kidnapping caravan members. We successfully kill all five of them. Bug proceeds to severe the head of the wereboar and carries it around town strapped to his back the next day looking for someone with dermestid or scarab beetles to clean the skull off for him.

That also happened to be the day he ate our kobold chef’s golden curry (grants telepathy). Bug passed his save, the townies who decided to eat some because Bug seemed fine did not. [The DM has informed us we may have a newly awakened warlock or 2 on our hands if we ever go back through there.]

More chaos ensued once the caravan got got to Luxheim. Bug only caused some of it.

During 3 weeks of downtime, he scouted most if not the entire ruined city. He only got into two fights during that time (his Int is 15). The first being when our bloodhunter unwittingly freed a gunpowder ooze from a barrel no-one could read the label on. Bug kept using firebolt on it, demonstrating that goblin science is a combination of gnome science and kobold science. Then, the PCs had to save some lvl 1 NPCs from 2 large slimes in the sewers. Turns out Thunderwave is a novel way to get someone out of a gelatinous cube.

Bug and Bohala (dwarf fighter) mined some weird green and purple crystals while exploring. Thankfully the wild magic crystals just blared out music when the two of them used the biggest one to try to signal some dwarves Bohala invited from across the frozen bay.

A 50ft celestial shark ridden by a Kuatoa preist came cruising out of the city to the by when the dwarvish ironside steamer started firing at the skeletal wyvern showing up across the other side of the bay with Dirk the reasonable wraith. The massive shark went across the top of the water to attack the dwarves (explained later).

After commandeering a landing boat and getting the dwarf to get us out to the shark, the 3 of us who showed up managed to fight the giant shark and priest. Only our poor bloodhunter had to make con saves not to drown.

First we managed to kill the priest. Our skeletal bard turning the shark into a boat (DM’s call) really helped in that respect since it made it much more difficult for the sharp to roll like that.

Once we killed the kuatoa cleric, we had to contend with the 50t celestial shark who was now a shark again thanks to the huge waterweird it was bonded with breaking the bard’s concentration.

Bug managed to crawl into one of the shark’s gill slits and used Shape Water to make an air pocket for himself. Meanwhile the bard and the bloodhunter had to hang onto the shark as it dove and rolled.

Bug slashed and bit at the gill membrane (with disadvantage), used Thunderwave to little effect, and successfully got the killing blow burning an exit hole through the giant shark with Aganazzar’s Scorcher.

After getting the dwarves and the wraith settled, we looted the shark. Bug only wanted it’s 2ft long teeth since it didn’t have much of historical worth in its guts apart from some old paintings and a sealed chest with very clear warning labels (he passed his Wis-save to overcome his curiosity).

That encountered prompted Bug to try to figure out which deity had saved him (nat1). It was totally Peylor. Thankfully, the bloodhunter asked him why he thought that and figured out (nat20) that it was actually Umberlee before Bug started praying.

The dream he gets says, “Open the city. Let the path open.” Still no idea what that means.

Bug had a sword commissioned to be made from one of the celestial shark teeth with the symbol of Umberlee on it. A DM roll later, and Bug had a Sword of the Mysterious Stranger.

We find out about The Curator when Baron Geoff (the bard) manages to catch one of the crows. Bug is trying to be helpful and accidentally spills the beans on some things. So we had to figure out where the Curator’s goons were going to go a raid it first. We narrowed it down to an island with Kuatoa in the harbor and an old  battlefield Bug had a map for and had been itching to get to.

We sent the party of now lvl 2 NPCs to the island and convinced Dirk the wraith to go assist them. The party proper managed to gather some NPCs to help us go scout the battlefield. Bug lost a day trying to tame some of the large goats roaming just outside of town while the rest of the party did other preparations.

We did manage to convince some NPCs to join us on our trip to the battlefield. A goblin gambler, an older cleric with a winter wolf, a dwarfish gunslinger, and a fey woodchuck.

Bug the convinced the fey woodchuck to accompany us so they could continue messing with the gunslinger.

The bloodhunter convinced the gunslinger to come so he could keep an eye on the fey woodchuck.

Bug followed the fey woodchuck through a Transport Through Trees spell, and asked to be sent to the battlefield. No one else in the party had thought to do so (we were all there). So they got to figure out a way to get to the battlefield. Turns out the coastal wizard a day’s trip from town is only lvl 4, so they had to ride oxen from the caravan.

The upside to this was that Gesento(sp?) got paid with the sharktooth shield Bug had him commissioned before heading out.

Thanks to being in the fey wild, Bug got transported to the battlefield 4 days prior. He remembered to thank and pay the fey. Then, spent the next 6 days scurrying about finding, logging, and deducing everything he could about the battle. Including some more recent spine devil spikes.

The bloodhunter found a sword that was buried that Bug overlooked. Bug recalled a story about a noble who refused to leave his castle as it sank, and a knight who had come from said castle (nat20). But the source was pretty sketchy.

The Currator’s crows show up, so Bug starts distracting them. Being a terrible liar did and didn’t help. Accidentally outing the Bloodhunter as being a Bloodhunter and asking the crows what they knew of the Promethean (dead language) phrase “seek the dead brother”, the crows (lesser undead themselves) got VERY riled up.

The Currator’s skeletal Kenku goons started showing up and a fight ensued involving a coatl that was acting weird. As soon as the skellies were dispatched, Bug booked it for the trapdoor Rolland had dug out in a fortified hut. Inside was a spiral stairwell. Bug tied some rope to the railing, then proceeded to slide down the hand rail w/o issue (nat20). Which also meant he went sailing off the end of it cartwheeling across the floor, setting off all of the traps behind him, a subterranean courtyard and stopping abruptly by slamming into a tree in its center (nat1) after causing a loud ruckus.

Found the sunken castle!

Thankfully the werewolves that lived there weren’t part of the cult and didn’t kill us since Rolland smoothed things over with them. And we successfully defeated The Currator’s goons! Bug was happy to had some more skulls to his collection.

He also made some Kenku jaw bone pauldrons for our Drow Light Cleric. Yes, you read all of that sentence correctly.

[friendshipcampaign]

Stories Are Better

Downtime between Kriv and Ditto, in the stable after some hugging and crying over moms.

Volfred's fur was soft, and just a little bit scratchy against Ditto's skin. Not that she minded the scratching. On the contrary, she could see why Kriv had a tendency to use the goat as a pillow when they made camp. There was something deeply comforting about Volfred’s gentle, sturdy bulk.

We'll see our moms again, Kriv had said, and Ditto had nodded fiercely, because she couldn't have possibly done anything else.

“...Hey,” she looked up at the dragonborn, who was still curled in a ball with herself, Volfred and now TikTik who'd finally stopped pacing and set up camp on top of his legs. “What's your mom like, anyway?”

"Patient," Kriv said, after a moment of contemplation. "Anyone raising us would have to be."

Kriv looked out through the space above the stable door.

"Her name is Novi. She's a... quiet person. Both of my parents are. I don't think either of them know where we got all of our energy from, but they did their best."

"Heh. Were you a handful as a kid?" Ditto smiled a little at the idea. Tried to picture a tiny Kriv, running circles around his parents. It was surprisingly hard to imagine. "You and your siblings? No shame in that. I know I was."

Kriv snorted. "We would have been for any other parents. If my mother had ever been frazzled by any of us, that stopped by the time my sister Vyra came around, and she did a lot of watching out for me. 'You will learn better from experience' my mother would say."

"What kind of trouble did someone like you get into? I can imagine but stories are better."

“Ha! Well. I've got plenty of those. Though, I know which one ran my parents the most ragged.” She twirled the ring on her finger, still glowing a bright, brilliant blue. “Our burrow was near a path in the forest, but it was pretty well hidden. Most people who passed by it didn't even know it was there. I used to climb the trees around the path sometimes to watch people go by.”

“One time, a human on a horse passed under the tree, and one of his saddlebags was open. I was way too little to leave the burrow, but. Eh. I was impulsive I guess. And little, and dumb, and I wanted to see if I could jump down and sneak into his bag without him noticing.” She smiled wryly. “Turns out I could, and did. Looking back, I was really, really lucky that guy stopped in Briardale to resupply before going off to whatever far-flung destination he was headed for.”

“Course, he didn't know about the burrow in the woods, and I didn't speak any Common back then. I must have been a heck of a surprise for him. Opened his bag to find a tiny gnome kid gnawing on his bread and waving hello. Must have thought he'd been made a kidnapper."

"You hitched a ride in a stranger's bag?! How did you even get back?!"

Ditto laughed. “Well, the guy carried me into a shop and talked to someone there. Don't know what he said, of course. Probably something along the lines of--” she held out her hands “'hey, did anyone lose a very small baby?' or something. People in Briardale knew about the burrow, so she at least figured out I came from there. She sat me down on the counter and I held her quill and waved at customers for a couple hours while she finished working, and she took me home after that.”

“When my family told that story later it was something to laugh about. But at the time they must have been half-dead with worry.” Ditto looked at her ring again. For a moment, she wished she could see what the other one looked like. Maybe if she could, she'd be able to put a name to what she was feeling now.

“What about you?” She smiled a little. “I am all kinds of curious what sort of trouble you got into as a kid.”

"It may be a bit of a disappointment. I have already told you about the dog incident," he said, lifting his left arm. "My home is separated from the desert by a single mountain range, and some people prefer to take smaller side paths through them without knowing that a town full of dragonborn and goblin is just a few hundred feet away. When Vyra brought me home that day, my mother patched me up without much thought and got to teaching me how to fix myself up. I stayed close to home after that." He let his arm fall. "There was one time, though, before then."

"There was a woman from the desert, Sani. She would bring things from the east, fruits and things, but the best part was the shiny, colorful beetles and bugs she managed to find and bring back. Her things were available for trade, but us kids didn't have anything worthwhile and could only look. But some of the other kids and I heard from the old goblins that you could find all sorts of shiny metals in the mountains and streams."

"So one day, as the rest of the town was getting to work, a group of us little ones ran to a large river a little outside of the woods that extended from the mountains. We searched and waded through the river for hours with no luck, and we were close to turning back with nothing when one of the goblin kids shouted out and pointed up the river, where something shiny and glistening had risen to the top of the water, smack in the middle of the river. I was too excited to think about what it could be, I had heard so many different stories, but I jumped into the water to try and each it, being the biggest of us at the time. Only when I got close, the effect disappeared, but I swear I felt something brush against my ankle! I yelled, swam back to the shore, and told everyone to run back home, but as I ran I looked back and saw what looked like water rising in the shape of a hand. I told the other kids and we never went to that part of the river again."

"When we got back, I was soaked and the rest were terrified, but my Aunt Mivi said it was probably just some magic user pulling a fast one on local kids who didn't know any better. And none of us found anything to trade for those beetles."

“Wow. That's spooky, though. What if it wasn't a prank? There's all sorts of strange creatures out there . . . some use tricks like that to lure people in.” Ditto shrugged, “I mean if grizzlegrumps can be real, anything can be real, right?”

Kriv considered this. "Yes, I suppose, though thinking back, dangling out of the water like that seemed like a ploy to scare us. I have no doubt that it could have grabbed me, and sticking out of the water in plain view afterwards definitely felt like taunting."

"Could've been a creature. Could've been a really mean-spirited person. Could've been a mean-spirited creature? Whatever it was, it scared the shit out of me."

"I think any childhood misadventures of mine involved doing something stupid and then running away, scared shitless."

“It's hard to picture, to be honest.” Ditto tilted her head. “You seem more careful than the rest of us usually are. We all got our quirks, and I mean all of us, but still. Hard to picture. You get your fill of danger as a kid?"

"It wasn't danger, it was adventure." There was a shine in his eyes as he spoke. "You get a group of kids, some brought up on adventure stories, and set them loose in a world where magic is this thing that exists but is somehow still distant and mysterious. I've tried being more careful, but up to a certain point, I wanted to explore ruins and discover things and be an adventurer, like the people I looked up to." His shoulders slumped, eyes a little more hard and irritated. "And all that impulse got me was a blood-eating book and a whole bunch of downer stories."

"And magic, I guess, but that's not from my own choices."

Ditto was quiet for a moment. She held out a hand towards TikTik, thoughtfully scratching at a spot behind the familar's shoulders. When she spoke again, her words came out more slowly than her usual rate of speech.

“I think. The stories never tell you everything,” she said. “It's exciting to hear about a fight or a scuffle or a chase. And if someone gets injured while fighting or running. . . it's bad, sure, you feel sorry for them, but as long as everything works out okay in the end it just makes the story more exciting. It's never going to feel the same as it does when you're the person getting hurt. Or worse. Watching the person get hurt. You know?”

“Still. I don't think that those kids in Folly's End would think that your stories are all downers. And even if they don't know anything yet, when those eggs at Auntie Eyren's hatch, they're going to want to learn about what got them there. About you. And about Tsova.” She took Kriv's big hand in both of hers and squeezed it tightly. “The people that would have been taken from those towns, the Kaftner, Tsova. . . their stories are still going, thanks to you. Thanks to us. You've got their stories, even if it hurt to get them. And I think. . . that's something pretty special.”

"Whether you like it or not, you're the sort of person you grew up hearing about. And those kids are going to be telling your story for the rest of their lives."

"Thank you Ditto," He squeezed his hand around both of hers. "Though if I'm being honest, if this is a 'story', it is not ultimately mine."

“No?” Ditto asked. “Whose is it?”

"I have some ideas, but I don't think we'll know until it's over."

“I guess not.” Ditto took a deep breath. “Hey. Tell you what. I'll make you a deal . . . I'll try to be a little more careful, if you try to remember that feeling of wanting to go out and explore. I liked the look you got when you talked about it. I wouldn't mind seeing that look on your face a little more.”

Kriv looked at his hands, seeming to struggle with something, before setting his jaw and making eye contact with Ditto. "It is a deal, though I have one other request of you. You are free to changing terms if you feel like it as well."

"What's the other request?"

"When you speak of the things you have done, and the things you wish to do, the thing that seems to come forth is guilt. I ask that in times when you may feel guilt, you focus instead on how you have accepted responsibility for your actions. Do not leave too much room for guilt when there are things to be done."

"You are not the type to face things head-on, and yet you are. That takes determination."

Ditto swallowed hard, looking away from Kriv and back to TikTik. “Heh. You keep surprising me, you know that, big guy? I think I maybe know what you're gonna say, but then you open your mouth and something ten times wiser and kinder than I could've ever thought of comes out.” She wiped at her face with her sleeve, then turned back to face him. “...I think I can do that. I can at least try.”

"Good, then we have a deal."

Ditto nodded, placing her small hand inside Kriv's big clawed one, and they shook on it.

[catemagum]

          This has been a long time coming, but I wanted to talk about some of Sylas’ followers that I’ve created as NPCs. Yes, the majority of them are OCs of mine that were pulled in and used for just this, but they impact my interpretation of Sylas. These NPCs will be mentioned in replies, drabbles, and he may even feature some of their powers from time to time. I also decided to use this as an opportunity to really expand on how much foreign influence he has, and really showcase his allies from their respective nations. Of course, they’ve reached out in secret and met outside of Demacia’s borders, but Sylas has made quite a few terrifying acquaintances and friends. I will also update this post with new NPCs as I see fit, and will let everyone know when I’ve done so.

          If you ever want to interact with any of these NPCs, as I’ll be linking this post to the biography directly, you’re free to send in asks or inquire about roleplaying with them. This isn’t a multi-muse blog, but I do genuinely love these characters and would love to build on them more. With that said, just specify if this is the case!

          * Faceclaim names will be put beside the character name. All drawn image icons used feature art pieces that belong to me, either by commission or gift.

CASSIA WINCROFT   ---   RUTH CONNELL

          A beautiful and strong individual who wields powerful and wild fire magic. Wanted for breaking the Laws of Stone, Cassia has managed to evade authorities on Demacia’s outer borders for decades with her wildfires threatening their forestry and putting a wall between her and the mageseekers. Intrigued by Sylas’ cause and determination, she sees the fighting spirit and overwhelming potential in his eyes and was the first to ally herself with him. Over these short few months, Cassia has become almost motherly towards Sylas, ensuring he cares for himself from time to time whilst being the first at his side in dire times if possible.

          She finds Demacians amusing and toys with them for her own entertainment. While she isn’t one to endanger them purposefully, Cassia has a habit of forgetting the extent of her own powers. She and Sylas have an unspoken agreement that he may borrow her power whenever need be, and together they devastate the competition. She has burned down the homes of countless nobles with Sylas, and they are very rarely seen apart.

AMARAH KHAFRA & RASHAKEN

          Shuriman born with a brief involvement in the Noxian military, Amarah was known for her unique abilities granted to her by the desert god RASHAKEN. A wielder of pestilent magic, Amarah causes widespread disease through magic locusts and scarab beetles, creatures summoned from the pendant around her neck. All it takes is one touch, whether by her hand or her insects, to inflict an individual with crippling illness. Exiled from Shurima for leaving the deteriorated and half-eaten carcasses of Shuriman nobles, and leaving Noxus when they pushed into her homeland, Amarah heard word of the chaos unfolding in Demacia.

          Reaching Sylas through a few stray bugs, they met in secrecy within Demacia’s walls and formed an acquaintanceship. While she cares not for the freedom of Demacia’s mages, she is a loose cannon following discourse and Sylas himself has felt the power she wields. Gifting him a few messenger beetles, they communicate through her unique insect creatures while she returns to Shurima and scouts for new allies, undercover.

EVANORA STEROS

          A demonic being that had lived in the world of a damaged magic painting within the Immortal Bastion long before Noxus existed, Evanora emerged from her world when the Demon of Secrets was claimed by Jericho Swain. Since then, she led a pretty quiet life within Noxus’ walls, opening a small shop of magical   ( and cursed )   items and potions, becoming something akin to a traditional   ( and stereotypical )   witch. Gifted with the ability to travel to any place through a painting or photograph, whilst also capable of creating alchemical reactions with a single touch, Evanora’s curiosity got the better of her.

          She travelled to Demacia through one of many paintings she had acquired from a weary traveller, and found herself clad in their usual white and gold garments. She had arrived in search of trade, her goods for items she otherwise couldn’t find in Noxus, and had gotten caught up in an encounter between Sylas’ starting group of people and some nobles. Evanora minded her own business, but Sylas persisted when he saw the magic she possessed. He asked her to join him, and she agreed, insisting that she could bring him supplies from Noxus in exchange for things she needed. Agreeing, though wary of her Noxian status, he took a chance and has yet to regret it.

KIRAEL NOAVEK

          Kirael was born into Demacian nobility, and hated every moment of it. Her childhood was spent at home, sticking to the books and learning proper etiquette, always deemed too good for the other Demacian children. She was later discovered to have psychic abilities, things akin to the powers oracles held whilst allowing her to utilize basic telekinesis. Appalled by her magic and deeming her as a disgrace to their family, Kirael’s parents locked her away in their home and reported her as missing. Several years later, during Demacia’s first Harrowing, Kirael could not escape the cellar as the corruption crept in. A spectre came with it, and took Kirael’s life only to bring her with it. Welcomed to the Isles as their oracle, Kirael swore vengeance on Demacia for what they had done to her.

          Seeing Demacia’s future in a vision, Kirael headed for the shining city three days before Sylas’ escape. She arrived a day after and sought him out, travelling only at night and avoiding prying eyes until appearing before him. She shared her story, her mistreatment, and offered her psychic abilities to aid him. She would be his eyes for the future, so long as he would be her eyes in the present. Although it is unsafe for her to remain in Demacia for too long, she occasionally visits to share her information and to obtain stories from Sylas. Their close bond formed through similarities of imprisonment, and he values her and her connections to the Shadow Isles. It is said that when she lends Sylas her powers, she lends him her true sight   ( with the consequence of losing his physical sight )   so long as the physical connection is not broken. Otherwise, he inherits her telekinesis for a brief amount of time when they separate.

YUYAKO KUROSAWA

          Born in Ionia, Yuyako is known for adopting orphaned children in her nation. Afflicted with a terrible curse that allows her to raise the dead, Yu tries her best to ensure the safety of the children she adopts while also attempting to bring restless and vengeful spirits to peace on the side. She was once a prisoner of war after the Noxian invasion, told that she would either join Noxus and aid them with her powers or she would hang, Yuyako spat in the soldiers’ faces in defiance. Feeling the ancient corrupting energy in the ground below her, Yuyako needed a diversion for her escape. She brought back several soldiers of the Ruined King’s army to storm the prison while she managed to steal one of Noxus’ ships and set sail back to Ionia.

          During her time in Noxus, she heard of Demacia’s mistreatment of mages and found herself disgusted. In a nation where magic was everywhere and in everything, Yuyako couldn’t fathom suppressing it. Her heart bled for those affected, and although she doesn’t approve of Sylas’ more violent means of fighting the government, she isn’t exactly anything short of a fighter either. Willing to participate by more peaceful means, Yuyako is the one to aid Sylas in breaking mages out of prison so long as innocents aren’t killed in the process. Sylas struggles to use her ability, attempting to force the dead to raise for him, but she knows he can learn to ask and reach them with practice. It requires peace, not violence, and she hopes he will learn to settle down with her teachings. Of course, she always returns home once her job is complete, as her loyalty always lies with Ionia.

DRAKKAR

          A former Bilgewatian gambler who made a deal with a mysterious man, only to find himself later possessed by a wraith of sorts. With his body morphed into holding this malicious entity, Drakkar is capable of becoming smoke-like, whilst also choking others by bombarding their lungs with smoke. He is a terrible creature, known for slipping through the smallest of cracks and willing others to gamble their lives. He becomes stronger with each life he takes.

          He and Sylas met in one of Demacia’s bars, the mystifying man attempting to coerce Demacians into gambling with him. One was brave enough, and Sylas had walked in to see the bar shrouded in thick smoke and fog. Intrigued by this power, whilst Drakkar assumed the worst, Sylas instead offered him a place among the other mages. So long as Drakkar promised not to harm the mages of Demacia, he would be allowed to stay. Accepting the offer, Sylas now has a personal spy and scout. Sylas does not enjoy using Drakkar’s abilities, and avoids doing so unless absolutely necessary to make his escape.

JAECAR

          Drakkar’s son, or, rather, partner. He, too, was possessed by a spiritual entity and has taken up the job of a Zaunite medic. Unfortunately, he’s not one for healing, rather, experimenting. He specializes in turning anatomy into puppets of his, whether living or dead, and he controls them through terrible means. It isn’t unusual to catch a glimpse of severed limbs moving on their own, nor is it unusual for the corpse of one’s local soldier to shamble through the town at night. Suspicions of his activities grew larger, driving Jaecar out of Zaun before he was caught. While he does have healing abilities, he prefers to use them for unfortunate purposes.

          Hearing word of his father’s stay in Demacia, Jaecar used his anatomical puppetry to cause a distraction and slip past the guards. He found his way to Sylas, reunited with his father, and offered his services as their medic. Despite his questionable morals, he promised he would not experiment on the mages and would, instead, use the nobles they killed as his research subjects. All too eager to lend his power to Sylas, mostly for research purposes, Sylas finds himself at an internal war over using it. While he has no qualms with controlling the dead, he does find it a bit unsettling to control the living.

ENJORRAN

          Deep in the Freljord, there is one such individual that has suffered far more than most. Known as an assassin, Enjorran is a golem created long ago as a royal guard for the first king and queen. After so many years, those he was made to protect have passed and he finds himself without purpose, whilst hating the direction the Freljord has gone in. With his devastating ice abilities, Enjorran has made it his personal duty to restore the Freljord to its former glory, and has essentially become a menace to any who stand with the three current tribes.

          Sylas reached out to Enjorran on a whim, hearing of this mysterious and powerful golem from books Lux had given him. He was surprised to receive an answer by way of snow owl, a letter written   ( albeit poorly )   in response and affirmation of acquaintanceship. Enjorran agreed to seek out other mages in the Freljord, ask them for help whilst reminding Sylas that he cannot go anywhere near petricite. He has agreed to lend his aid however possible in exchange for some of Demacia’s plantlife pressed between books. He has never gotten to see nature.   ---   Although Sylas has never used Enjorran’s powers, it would be incredibly devastating. Able to cover an entire city of Demacia in snow and ice, Sylas hopes that he may be granted the ability to use this magic someday.

LUCINDA DAWNHEART

          An orphan from the city of Piltover, Lucinda was adopted into the Dawnheart family and registered within Demacia’s group of mages. She has since then hidden her talents, but is among the Demacian youth who suffers from the discrimination against mages and magic. Living within one of the annulment slums, Lucinda has been protected by the other mages and has used her magic to both help and save people from danger. Magic that takes the shape of large claw-like manifestations that hover over her, this young girl has become a favorite among Demacian mages.

          Sylas indeed witnessed her powers when scaring away a thief from taking their supplies, mages telling the tales of a young girl haunted by a violent spirit. They keep her magic a secret with such a tale, and she plays off having no control over this demon.   ---   Recognizing her strength, Sylas has asked her to continue to protect mages so long as she stays safe, but she isn’t one to listen. Lucinda has a fighting spirit despite the innocence she portrays, and is determined to fight alongside him despite his instruction. Sylas has used her abilities once, and consequently torn a mageseeker and their accompanying soldier to shreds to protect a child being taken from their family in the slums.

VEL’AAN & NAVRESHA

          Not much is known about Vel’Aan aside from the fact that they were raised in Ionia. Trained to be a formidable assassin, Vel’Aan was given a task to hunt down accursed objects within Ionia’s hidden passages. It was their job to uncover the country’s secrets, and on one day they did uncover something. Hidden within the ruined temple, guarded by mages of all sorts, Vel’Aan heard the whispers of a voice with enticing promises. They slipped in through a hole in the roof, unseen and undetected, only to be met with a sinister-looking mask depicting the face of a woman. Introducing itself as Navresha, Vel’Aan would be given power in exchange for the mask’s freedom. Agreeing and leaving with the mask in hand, Vel’Aan would never be the same after putting the mask on.

          Sylas sought this duo out when hearing tales of the accursed mask being free’d from its confinement, that a young shaman had appeared in a Noxian city and left more than half the town in comatose. Bodies mummified in branches and covered in white flowers that never wilt nor die, not dead but asleep with no means of waking them, Sylas was intrigued by these powers. He sent an invitation to where he heard Vel’Aan was hiding out in Ionia, and set up a meeting outside of Demacia’s borders. They agreed to work together, and Sylas realized the power’s potential. It was not violent, but peaceful, a calming coldness that felt as though he himself danced with death personified. All it took was one touch, and a body blossomed. The flowers bloomed and the body shut down to sleep. It was beautiful, a good means of disengaging people, and he felt as though together they could do great things.

More to be added in due time !

---   void mage ---   darkin w/ hemomancy ---   one ( 1 ) yordle ---   targonian w/ weird space magic

[gymleadercheren]

Another excerpt from today... have some Good Boy Ona and a mysterious old coot:

—

“And where are you journeying to, eh? No demidrakes out here for miles around. Out to find your clan? Or perhaps your dragon kin? You are traveling alone? With friends? Are you a hired bodyguard, perhaps?”

“Uhhhh…” Ona backed away, but found himself only able to move about an inch, pressed against the potion counter. He couldn’t see how he could extricate himself from this uncomfortable conversation in a polite manner, and so he was forced to stay put. “With some friends, yes. I think we’ll all do our best to keep each other safe on the road ahead. No need for hired hands.”

“Oh?” the hunchback asked, his eyes bugging out in feigned surprise. “A simple romp through wolf-infested wilderness? Through keeps and dungeons and all manner of wild and untamed dangers?”

“Uh…” Ona looked to the left and to the right. Up at the ceiling and down at the floor. Anywhere but in those odd eyes. “I never said we were going anywhere dangerous…”

“Oh, but you must be!” the man continued pressing mercilessly, taking yet another uncomfortable step forward. “Why else would you be stocking up on healing draughts and Bolt-In-A-Jar and antidotes and Faefyre and Windless Night and—“

“Better safe than sorry, right?” Ona interrupted, reaching down to close the flap of his satchel. This guy was getting a little snoopy… “You never know when you’re going to be, uh… accosted by… highwaymen.”

“But what has a demidrake to fear from highwaymen?” the hunchback asked. “With your claws and fangs and spined tail and acid spray and—“

“I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Ona found himself yelling. He covered his mouth immediately, berating himself for speaking so loudly while indoors. How rude of him! “...I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he repeated in a whisper, taking his hands from the end of his snout. “I just wish to go in peace.”

The hunchback looked him over, his bright eyes narrowed again. Ona wasn’t sure what was happening. Was this man going to yell at him? Attack him? Surely not… He was old and certainly not in peak physical condition. And he was a human without a weapon of any sort. Even if he tried attacking him, and even if he was stronger than he appeared to be, his human fists and feet and teeth and nails would do absolutely nothing to his dragonlike hide. But still… for reasons Ona couldn’t begin to explain, this man felt dangerous.

“Hmph.” The old man finally backed off. He lifted his shoulders in what Ona could only assume was a shrug, but it was difficult to tell due to his humped back. “Of course you do. That just figures, doesnt it?”

“Does it?” Ona asked, unable to stop himself. But before the man could give any sort of answer, the door to the back of the shop flew open and the apothecary keeper made his way into the room, arms laden with all sorts of little glass jars and bottles of all shapes and sizes and colors balanced precariously under his chin and pinched between his armpits.

“Got yer potions all r-ready to go here, S-Sir!” The man wobbled back and forth a bit before carefully setting his pile on the countertop, shifting around a bit and ensuring the weights of each bottle were distributed in exactly the right way to prevent them all from rolling off the counter and shattering before letting go and backing away, a look of utmost relief on his face. “That’ll run you about 990 guilder with uh… adventurer’s tax.”

“Oh,” said Ona, looking down at his satchel. He had forgotten that these potions would cost money. Human money. Human money that he didn’t have. But it sounded like a lot and he didn’t think he’d be able to conjure up enough in the next few seconds to avoid making a fool of himself. Would he break the spell with his lapse of courtesy and foresight?

“Adventurer’s tax?!”

Ona, the potioneer, and the hunchbacked old man all turned at the sound of the door to the shop bursting open, the indignant voice turning out to come from Orland, who stormed into the shop with a rather bedraggled looking Ari following behind him. Orland stomped his way towards the counter, pulled a nearby crate of beetle eyes towards him, then stood atop it so he could see over the counter and glare menacingly at the potion maker.

“What’s adventurer’s tax?! When did that start?! Why?! How do you know whether or not he’s an adventurer?! Why should we— or he— be taxed for stepping outside his normal boundaries for once in his sheltered little life?”

“Oh, Orland, you don’t have to, uh… you shouldn’t—“ Ona feebly began, but he decided his objections would be of no use, as Orland had pulled himself up onto the counter and was now standing atop it so as to match the apothecary owner’s height.

“Let it go,” Ari muttered out of the corner of her mouth. She shouldered her stolen bow and her new quiver full of arrows, and Ona couldn’t help but admire the fletching. Owl feathers they looked like… He smiled to himself. It reminded him so very much of home…

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Orland continued rambling, pressing a tiny finger forcefully into the shopkeeper’s chest. “This is discrimination, pure and simple! You see a non-human wander through town and automatically assume they don’t belong here. They MUST be far from home! They wouldn’t know the local ins-and-outs of the place. Easy coin for you, isn’t it? Do you pull this with every demidrake you see, or are you trying something new out, eh?”

“I don’t SEE a demidrake,” the shopkeeper said through gritted teeth, reaching up to slap Orland’s hand away. “All I see is an irritating munchkin dirtying my counters with his horrid little boots and making a scene in my private establishment.”

“Munchkin?” Orland gasped, sounding rather like the man had run him through with a sword. In fact, he held a hand to his stomach as if he were concealing such a wound. “Horrid boots?! I’ll have you know that I come from a proud and noble people and my boots are handmade from the finest Vandelvanese leather! And they were cleaned this very morning by my own industrious and meticulous hand! If anything, your filthy counters are dirtying my priceless boots and I should be reporting you to the authorities for not adhering to the strict health and safety regulations this noble city is known for!”

The shopkeeper opened his mouth to argue back, Ari sighed heavily at Ona’s side, and Orland began to talk loudly over the potionmaker’s rebuttals, but Ona tuned all of it out. Did that man just say he didn’t see a demidrake? But… that’s what he so obviously was. Did he not realize it? He couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anything else. Was it… was that the spell that had been cast over the town? He looked down at his hands. Still black and scaly and clawed. He turned around to see his long spiny tail still firmly attached to his backside.

Did the rest of the town see him as a human? That would explain why nobody seemed to fear him at all. But then… that man—

Ona turned around to look for the hunchback, but saw to his dismay that he had vanished completely. Perhaps he had made himself scarce while Orland caused a commotion. But surely Ona would have noticed him move… he had been standing right beside him after all.

[scurvgirl]

Something Cute, Something Unexpected

The news has been terrible every day for a very long time now and I just wanted to write something happy. I saw a video of a caracal and it was so cute and someone made a comment on the video about a fennec and well, I thought how cute it would be if a caracal kitten and a little fennec played, which of course made me think of Mealla.

So, here’s something cute and fluffy.

Mealla and Aili belong to @lillotte17

Uthvir belongs to @feynites

Set in a GL AU

Lasvala’s family is visiting their aunt who works for June. She’s nice, they guess, she likes to wear some weird things, but there are lots of pillows in her apartment and Lasvala loves pillows. Babae is happy too, he hasn’t seen his sister in forever, he says, but Nenae says it’s just been ten years. That seems like a long time to Lasvala though, so they think Babae can be melo-dra-ma-tic like Nenae says. Papae couldn’t come though, and they’re sad about that. He said that he has some important pieces to make and that’s why he has to stay, he told them to still have fun, so they’ll try.

On the fourth day of the visit, Babae and Auntie Veneth decide they want to go to this special park. There are big fountains that go whoosh which sounds very exciting. Nenae lets them ride on their back all the way there. They love riding on Nenae’s back, they’re so tall so Lasvala can see everything. They have to be careful to not pull on Nenae’s hair, so Lasvala pushes it over their shoulder so they can lean up to look at the surrounding area.

It’s different from Mythal’s area, that’s for sure. It’s less fancy but lots weirder. Not a bad weird, but it reminds them of when Nenae surprises them coming home and jumps out from around a corner.

They make it to the park and Aunti Veneth sets out a blanket while Babae works on taking out all their lunch food.

“’M hungry,” they say and Babae nods.

“Yes, baby, I know. Here, I brought you grapes,” he says and hands them a small box of grapes. They’re Lasvala’s favorite! The light green kind that are nice and sweet. They try to fit as many as they can into their mouth and squish’em all at once.

“Lasvala, you are making a big mess,” Babae clucks but it makes Nenae laugh. They reach in and grab an orange wedge and hold it in their mouth to make an orange mouth!

“Hahaha!” They laugh. Their nenae is so silly!

Auntie Veneth sighs but Babae chuckles as he hands them their sandwich. Peanut butter and banana! Their favorite!

After they eat and rest a bit because Babae says that’s important for die-ge-shun. Auntie Veneth plays her little harp for a bit and it’s very pretty. Lasvala reaches over to see how she’s doing it but she pulls it out of their reach.

“Veneth, let them look, they won’t hurt it, right Lasvala?” Babae says and Lasvala nods.

“I can be gentle! Like with Papae’s turtles,” they say. Aunti Veneth slowly lowers the harp to show them how she plucks at the strings to make music. They are very careful touching it. Like a big turtle.

It’s really neat, they think. The wood is smooth and the strings make really pretty noises, but it’s also a little boring after a moment. Nenae knows, because they always know, and directs them over to the grass.

“Irathar, my heart, come play with us,” Nenae says and Babae stands up, turning all pink.

“Very well. What would you like to play, little one?”

They giggle and run up to him, pressing their hand to his knee.

“TAG!” They scream before turning and running.

“Oh you got me!” Babae says.

“BABAE’S IT!” They shout, continuing to run as fast they can towards a small copse of trees.

“Eee!” Nenae shouts making Lasvala laugh and stumble into the trees. They quickly pick themselves up and continue to run through the bushes until they come to the other side.

They’re breathing heavily and very excited but when they turn around they don’t see Babae or Nenae. They blink and walk back into the trees, trying to remember where they were running so they can retrace their steps. Papae says that retracing steps is very important, they should know how to do it. But they were running super fast like Nenae taught them.

“Where’d you go, baby?” They hear. It doesn’t sound like their Babae, but it also does. They walk towards the voice, stepping over leaves and larger sticks.

“Nenae!” They shout, climbing over a log.

“Babae!”

“Who you shouting for?” Another voice says – and it’s coming from the log they’re on!

“Who’s that?!” They ask, shimmying up to edge of the log. They peer over the edge to see…someone like them, but also not like them.

“I’m Mealla,” she says, emerging from the log, “wa’s your name?”

“Lasvala. Are you a forest person?” They ask. They’ve never met a forest person before, but Mealla laughs and shakes her head.

“No! I’m a girl, you’re silly.”

“You’re in a log!” They say, to assure her that she too is silly.

“And you’re on top of one!” She says back. It’s a good reply.

“Okay, we’re both silly.”

“There you are, Mealla. Who’s this?” A grownup appears out from behind a tree and Mealla wiggles out of the log to run up to them.

“Tha’s Lasvala. They’re silly.”

“I’m sure they are. Lasvala, where are your parents?” They ask and Lasvala shrugs.

“I don’t know. I was running and then I stopped and then I didn’t hear them anymore.”

The grownup inhales and holds out their hand.

“I’ll help you find them. Can you point to where you last saw them?”

They scramble off the log and take the grownup’s hand then point to where they came from.

“Over there.”

“Alright, let’s go over there and look for them. What are your parent’s names?” The grownup asks as they begin to walk towards where Lasvala pointed. Mealla holds onto their other hand.

“My Nenae’s name is Courage ‘cuz they’re a fierce warrior for Lady Mythal. And Babae’s name is Irathar. Papae’s name is Mystery ‘cuz he works for Lord Dir…Dirf…D-ir-fa-men.” They say. Their ears twitch and their bracelet starts to make a very loud noise. They yell and shake their hand. Nenae always said that if they got lost the bracelet would make noise, but it’s so loud!

“LASVALA!” They hear and it sounds like their Babae.

Soon enough Nenae emerges looking very upset. They run over to Lasvala who lets go of the other grownup just in time for Nenae to pick them up.

“I’m here, little one, I’m here.”

“’M okay, Nenae.” They pat Nenae’s shoulder and soon Babae shows up. They wave at him and he places a hand on his chest before rushing up to them, touching their cheeks.

“Oh thank goodness you’re safe,” he says, running his hands through their hair.

“I’m okay!” They say again but Nenane doesn’t let go.

“I know, baby, you’re so brave. But you give us such frights when you do this,” Babae says softly. They begin to squirm to look back around at the other grownup and Mealla.

“They helped me! And that’s Mealla! She’s a log person,” they announce.

“Am not! A frog jumped in there, I went after it!” Mealla protests. Nenae keeps Lasvala close, their strong arms securing them to their chest.

“Thank you for assistance,” Nenae says and the other grownup nods.

“Of course, children should not be lost.”

And then another grownup shows up! She stumbles in through the brush, small like the other grownup and looks like Mealla.

“There you two are, I was getting nervous – oh, hello.”

“That’s Lasvala, and their parents!” Mealla says, being helpful. Lasvala waves and she waves back.

“How exciting!”

Nenae shifts their hold on Lasvala to shake the new grownup’s hand, “Courage, I take it you are Mealla’s mother?”

“Er, yes, what exactly happened?”

“I ran too fast and got lost,” Lasvala says, then points to the other grownup, “they found me.”

The new grownup smiles, “I’m glad everything turned out well. I am Aili and this is Uthvir, you already know Mealla.”

Babae steps forward and smiles a little weird, “I am Irathar, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Lasvala begins to wiggle again but Nenae holds them fast. They flop against their parent’s shoulder and huff.

“Nanae, can I play with Lasvala?” Mealla asks softly.

“I don’t know, it sounds like they gave their parents a scare –

“I wanna play too!” Lasvala says.

Nenae sighs but doesn’t let them go, “We have a little picnic set up, if you would like to join us?”

There is a pause and Lasvala wriggles around to look back at Mealla and her parents.

“That could be nice, we can gather our things and have a little impromptu playdate,” Aili says and Mealla raises her arms.

“Yay!”

Nenae and Babae lead Mealla and her parents out of the trees and to the field. Nenae still doesn’t put them down though, but at least they get to feel all tall and stuff.

“We’re up there, by the fountain,” Babae points.

“I’ll go get our things,” Mealla’s Nanae says and walks back towards the trees.

“Nenaaaae,” Lasvala whines, but they don’t put them down until they get back to the blanket. Auntie Veneth runs over from her spot by the fountain and cups Lasvala’s face.

“Oh thank goodness you’re alright,” she says and they push her hands away to stand up and walk over to Mealla.

“Babae says it’s polite to give food, are you hungry?” They ask and she shakes her head.

“No thank you. There’s a bunch of cool bugs over there,” she says, pointing towards a lone tree.

“Can we go?” Lasvala turns to Nenae and they smile.

“I will go with you.”

Babae and Mealla’s Mamae also come with them, walking very closely to them.

“I’m seven,” Lasvala says. They think Mealla must be really young because she’s so little but she perks up.

“I’m six!”

“But you’re small!”

“So? You’re big and not a hundred,” she says and that’s true. They are big. But not as big as Nenae. But Nenae is huge.

They make it to the tree and Mealla goes to her knees, “Look!” She lifts a large piece of bark to reveal lots of shiny green bugs crawling around in the muck.

“COOOOOL!” Lasvala shouts, crouching down next to her. They reach out and gently touch a particularly large beetle. The shell is smooth but there are little grooves in it that catch the light and turn a different color. It kinda looks pink?

Mealla pokes at a longer bug with a bunch of legs and the entire thing lights up as it skitters away. Mealla giggles with delight and both of them follow it through the dirt and around a large protruding root. A dragon fly with glittering wings takes flight off the root.

Mealla watches the dragonfly while Lasvala gets distracted by a chipmunk dashing out from under the root. They don’t think, they just jump, their body vibrating with magic. When they land it’s on four paws instead of two feet and they chase after the chipmunk.

“Hey!” They hear Mealla shout, and their Nenae shouts and so does Mealla’s Mamae. They chase after the chipmunk and the air vibrates again. They turn around to see a fox with the biggest ears they’ve ever seen! They know the chipmunk got away but a fox is much more fun.

They jump back and the fox forward. They laugh and run around and the fox follows. They’re bigger and they manage to jump to the fox’s side and they pat at it.

“Hey!” That’s Mealla’s voice! Oh!

“You’re fox!”

“You’re a…kitty!” Mealla says and then their nenae walks over to them. They look so much bigger from down here.

“A caracal, the most amazing little caracal I have ever seen,” they coo and lean down, gathering Lasvala in their arms. Their giant hand comes down over Lasvala’s had and apparently very tall tufted ears.

They look up at their nenae who looks like they’re about to cry but they’re smiling so big, the kind of smile when Lasvala had finished their first book by themselves.

“Let’s go show Babae!” Nenae declares and promptly heads over to the blanket.

No! They want to play with Mealla!

“Nenae!”

“You can still play but let’s show Babae first,” they amend. When they squirm and manage to look behind them, Mealla’s Mamae has her in a similar hold.

“What in the world – Courage, what are you holding?” Babae asks, rushing over to Nenae.

“Babae, it’s me!”

His eyes bug out and Lasvala laughs because he always looks funny like that. He reaches out and touches their fur and his face goes soft.

“Oh look at you, baby!” He coos and takes them from Nenae’s arms. They let him hug them for a moment before they squirm.

“I wanna plaaaay!” They cry and he sighs but he puts them down.

“Fine, but be careful!” He warns just as Mealla pounces and wrestles them to the ground.

For the next hour of play, Lasvala thinks that Babae almost faints like five times. By the end, Lasvala can’t help but shift back into their original form. They are so tired and they promptly flop into their Nenae’s lap. They look over to see Mealla do the same with their nanae.

The grownups talk a bit, all boring stuff that they’re too tired to listen to. They feel Nenae pick them up and they turn to wave at Mealla.

“Bye-bye,” they say on a yawn.

“Bye-bye,” she replies, sounding already half asleep.

“Let’s get you to your nap, little one,” Nenae says and for once, they don’t protest.

[towncalledkingdom]

The three people sitting on a set of crumbling concrete steps do not look happy. The building behind them sways when the wind blows, rotting boards pulling against rusted-out nails. The head of an ancient-looking animatronic giraffe sticks out of the ground ahead of them like it has just dug its way through Earth from the savannah.

“What next?” asks a girl with a sash full of files, picks, and gauges.

"Do you believe them? What they said about dying if we try to leave?" asks a young man in a suit of elaborate, burnished armor.

"I don't see any reason for them to lie to us now, not after rescuing us and then letting us go," says the third. The other two nod their heads.

Riddle, Merrick, and Friday had found themselves alone when they awoke that morning. No sign of the masked Mercury or the green-scarfed Mantis they had spoken with so recently. They were in a barren room populated by three identical beds. A small pack of food, a toothbrush, and a crude hatchet had been lain beside each of their heads with a handwritten note that said, "Find your way."

Now the trio sits on the steps of the empty house they woke up in, trying to decide what to do next. "I need to know what happened to my dad," says Merrick for the thousandth time. "We have to find him."

Riddle casts an uneasy glance at Friday. "Merrick," she begins, "I can't go with you."

Merrick reddens. "Can't or don't want to?"

"Neither. And both. I want this," she grabs a handful of gray dust from the step beside her and lets it sift through her fingers. "This mess, this kidnapper heaven, this mystery- I want it."

Merrick clenches his jaws, "Sounds like you don't even care what happened to him," he says through gritted teeth. They all remain quiet for a few minutes. Merrick looks straight ahead into the broken stone walkway. "You killed some of those men, you know. Some of those Privateers. They probably had families and lives. Does that bother you at all?"

Riddle draws a question mark in the dust by her left foot. "Is a life still a life when you live to bring death?" she wonders aloud. "Would they have wondered the same?"

Merrick's face is returning to its usual pallor, but the sides of his jaws still bulge. "Friday?"

Friday's brow furrows, a single wrinkle in the center of her forehead. "You're chasing your old life. Riddle's running from it. What am I doing?"

"Well ya don't seem to be grieving too hard, that's for sure," calls a voice from the rubble.

Merrick is already on his feet, hatchet in hand. He looks like an angel as he steps into the morning sun, light burning from his polished armor. The hatchet looks pitiful in his clenched fist. Friday raises her eyes in the direction of the sound just in time to see Riddle dive into a nearby house. A thin whipping sound as something small and sharp is thrown and an abrupt THOCK as it embeds itself in a wall. Indignant cries. Merrick rushes toward the collapsing doorway and is knocked to the ground by an enormous charging beetle.

The beetle skids to a halt in the dust, an about-face as it readies itself to charge back into the building. Riddle appears panting in the doorway, one hand reaching for something in her sash. Merrick sputters and pushes himself to his feet.

"Hold it, murderer children, now wait a minnit!" cries the beetle.

Friday stands and calmly walks over until she is between her friends and the newcomer. "We apologize, we aren't sure who's the enemy around here," she says, reaching out a hand.

"You and me both, lady!" says the giant bug.

The beetle straightens, totters, and stabilizes on two legs, revealing itself to be a man wearing the exoskeleton of an enormous insect. A tall, tubelike snout protrudes far above his head. Two enormous black orbs- eyes long dead- emerge where his ears should be. Brawny bare arms have been thrust out through holes where the beast's middle legs must have once been. Riddle scrunches up her face in curiosity. Merrick gapes. Friday's expression doesn't change. Her hand still hangs expectantly in the air. The man shakes it.

"Outsiders, eh?" says the man good-naturedly, "Don't see many of you around The Shambles. Seems like they're always shippin' you off to the University or the fields."

Friday releases her hand first. "It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Friday, and these are my friends, Merrick and Riddle."

"Nice meetin' ya!" he waves. "They call me the Weevilsmith."

Merrick deadpans. "So, what? You smith weevils or something?"

"Yes." The Weevilsmith holds Merrick's gaze to assure him that he isn't joking. Merrick finally looks down.

"Sir, we have no idea where to go from here. We know we can't leave Kingdom, but we don't know what's next for us. Is there a place for people like us?"

The Weevilsmith scratches at his thick mustache, fingers trailing down to the black stubble covering his chin. "Don't know that I've ever seen people like you before." He walks over and knocks his knuckles against Merrick's chestplate. It echoes softly. "Interesting getup. Like weevilplate for humans..."

"Sir is there anywhere we can go that won't get us killed or arrested?" Friday pushes.

"Klava Besto!" replies the Weevilsmith.

Friday shoots Riddle a questioning glance. Riddle shrugs and grins, "Club of the Beast, I think. It's like they jumbled two languages together."

The Weevilsmith continues, "In fact, tonight is the perfect night to get on Phylla's good side. Holo fight. New Alpha looking for fresh initiates. And with the outsider controversy getting heated, Phylla might be your best place to start."

"The outsider controversy?" asks Friday.

"Bunch of Wrath Worshippers blaming Kingdom's problems on the newcomers. It's gettin' pretty bad."

Merrick punches through the window pane nearest to his gauntleted fist. "We didn't ask to come here. We just want to go home."'

The Weevilsmith looks at him with a faint trace of sympathy. Riddle starts walking down a long stone walkway leading out of the crumbling ghost neighborhood. "Is she going the right way?" asks Friday.

"Nope," says the Weevilsmith. "C'mon, I'll take you three up to Phylla's neck of the woods."

[sciencebulletin]

Beetle penis field investigations lead to new species discovery in Norway

It took seven years, countless beetle penis field investigations, and hours upon hours on hands and knees in coastal wetlands. This is the story of all the research that has to happen before a new species can finally get its official name. It was the shape of the penis that first set insect scientist Frode Ødegaard on his multi-year odyssey. The year was 2013, and he and colleague Oddvar Hanssen were poring over a massive amount of insect material that had been collected on coastal wetlands in southern Norway. Their task was to identify the species and count and record them to find out how important coastal beaches are for endangered insect species. It was when he saw the penis of a specimen of the leaf beetle Galerucella tenella in profile that he began to wonder. Before you ask: Yes, studying insect penises is something bug researchers do. Many insect species look practically identical on the outside, but have genitalia that are completely different. The purpose for that is to provide reproductive isolation—in short, to prevent related species from mating. "Sometimes I use the technique of preparing insect genitals to accurately determine a species right away. The shape of the beetle genitalia functions almost like a key for identifying insects," says Ødegaard. He is an associate professor at NTNU's Department of Natural History. Unknown American? In this case, however, the shape did not agree with the key. Galerucella tenella has a penis that is thin and pointed as seen from the side. On the other hand, the beetle penis Ødegaard had before him had a thick and blunt profile. That got him pondering. Could this specimen be a variant of the common species? Could it be a foreign species that had spread north or been introduced by humans? Or could it simply be a whole new and as yet undescribed species? Ødegaard quickly became sure that this was not just a variant. As he studied the insects more closely, he found further subtle differences. The colour of the antennae was different, their wing cases had denser hair, and the depth of the indentation in the rearmost abdominal segment was different. "The next stage involved trying to find out which species this unknown shape actually belonged to," the researcher said. "My first suspicion was that it could be an American species, so I contacted Canadian and American leaf beetle researchers, but they quickly ruled out that this was a species from their home area," he said. A big deal Ødegaard then examined the Russian and Chinese leaf beetle literature, but neither provided an answer to the true identity of Beetle X. Farther south in Europe and in tropical regions there were no other known species in this subgenus. Suddenly, the improbable became probable: everything indicated that this beetle was a whole new species—which is far from an ordinary occurrence for a Norwegian insect scientist. "It was a big deal. It's really rare to find completely new beetle species in Norway. Usually you find species that are known from other places, and that are only new to Norway," he says. Ødegaard had now come a step further in solving the mystery of the blunt-tipped beetle penis, and the investigation entered a new phase. Searching for Beetle X among hundreds of thousands Describing a new beetle for science is no glamorous job. You need to find out where and how this new species lives, which isn't that easy when dealing with a small crawly bugs. The researcher returned to southern Norway in 2014, but the results were disappointing. He didn't find a single specimen of Beetle X, although he combed the meadowsweet wetlands where Galerucella tenella thrives, and netted thousands of beetles. "It felt like looking for a needle in a haystack, trying to find deviant shapes among the hundreds of thousands of beetles that need to be distinguished from each other under the microscope," he said. But Ødegaard didn't let himself become discouraged. The following year he travelled back to southern Norway, and this time he made a breakthrough. He found two specimens of Beetle X on the short part of the coastal wetland and realized that it lived on a low-growing plant. However, it wasn't until the next summer that he found out which one. "This time it was really clear that these critters were jumping into the net when I'd bring it down over the silverweed (Potentilla anserina) plants. And I was able to quickly confirm it when I first found feeding marks and then adult beetles on the plants," he said. Almost like living in Linnaeus' time Now Ødegaard had found the host plant, an important part of describing a new species. However, it bothered him that he had only found the two species in separate locations. Would the two species—Beetle X and Galerucella tenella—stick to their host plant if they were free to choose? More field studies were needed. In 2017, Ødegaard went to Fredrikstad and spent an entire day kneeling with his nose to the ground and picking leaf beetles off their plants. He sorted the beetles into containers according to which plant he found them on. "Once I was home I could check the identity of the beetles, and I found that all the specimens were true to their host plants. Then the species description could finally begin," Ødegaard said. That took some time, too. The research world is characterized by an endless rush of projects and deadlines, and it isn't easy to find time for a writing project without a deadline. In March this year, the species description was finally published in the international journal Zootaxa. With that, Beetle X was incorporated into the world's biodiversity register under the name Silverweed leaf beetle Galerucella anserina. After almost seven years of work, there is no doubt that success tasted sweet for researcher Frode Ødegaard. "Discovering and describing a new species for science feels like real pioneering work. Almost like living in Linnaeus' time and getting a taste of the great discoveries that were made over 200 years ago," he said. Provided by: Norwegian University of Science and Technology More information: Frode Ødegaard et al. Galerucella (Neogalerucella) anserina Ødegaard & Hanssen, sp. nov., a new species of Chrysomelidae (Coleoptera, Chrysomelidae, Galerucinae) from Norway. Zootaxa (2020). DOI: 10.11646/zootaxa.4755.2.8 Image: Beetle X, which was eventually incorporated into the world's biodiversity register. Credit: A. Staverløkk Read the full article