#also I noticed she seems to have horns like DE

[quibbs126]

So question, who the heck is Matcha Cookie?

I’ve only seen her on the Wiki, but apparently according to the relationship chart she’s related to Dark Enchantress Cookie??

[jayaury]

Marrying the Maid

More archive short stories. Get more on my P*treon. Enjoy! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

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Baron Lukas Instaf fell into his office chair with an audible groan.

Yes.

His office.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. To think, he would inherit the barony at a mere twenty years of age. It was quite a bit of pressure, he had to admit.

He found himself looking back at the imposing portrait hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. His father’s picture was of a grim, sullen man with dark hair and a face of hard, disapproving lines.

Lukas had inherited the man’s hair, if not his rough features. He was slimmer than his stocky father. Many said handsomer, and certainly younger. He flexed his hands on the arms of the chair uneasily and scanned the study. He didn’t much care for the decor. But that had always been his problem, as his father had frequently berated him. He was indecisive. Weak.

Well, Lukas had best start getting decisive. For this was his home now.

Well, mostly.

The door swung open with a bang. “Good morning master!”

He sat up sharply as a familiar figure bounced into the room. Clarissa, the family’s maid of two years, was a forceful personality in the house. She filled every room she stepped foot in with her presence and somewhat unconventional character. Lukas had no idea why his father had kept the boisterous redhead.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a good idea. Two of them, actually. Clarissa was bustier than some holstaurs. In fact, there were rumours that she was one of those bovine maidens, but had filed down her horns. Lukas wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he did know that she did attend that new cow goddess church that was making waves. And she was unbelievably brash and forceful for a servant. Not to mention teasing. He’d often been at the receiving end of her attentions, leaving him flustered and annoyed.

And she was wearing scent again, he noticed with a sigh. Honestly, it seemed like every day she wore a new kind of perfume. The current one was jasmine, and was shockingly potent. Well, at least it was better than the rosemary she used to wear around his father. In fact, it was almost�� pleasant.

“Clarissa!” he sighed, forcing himself not to stare at the maid’s impressive bust. “You-”

“Here with your tea!” she said, sliding the tray into place before him with a wink of her long lashes. “Starting off the morning well, as the big, strong baron should!”

“Clarissa, really. You can’t just-”

“Not to worry, my baron! There’s plenty of cream. I know how much you like it,” she added, picking up a pitcher and pouring a generous helping into his cup. “And you’ll need it today! Because we have quite a bit of work to do.”

In the midst of tidying his papers, Lukas paused. “We do?”

“Of course, my lord! Now that you are baron, we must decide on your betrothed.”

“M-my what!”

“And I have them right here!” Clarissa chimed, lifting a folder out from some hidden recess of her scandalously short skirt (it had to be custom. No other maid in the estate had such a revealingly tight uniform). “Shall we take a look, my baron?”

“Wh… Hold on now, I can’t just-”

“My baron!” Clarissa cried in mock horror. “Surely you realize the importance in choosing your bride? The barony cannot be left without a mistress. Not only for the hard work running the estate, but also the vital work of carrying on the family line! Which means we must choose the most ample, breedable, lovely wife for you.”

“B-breedable? Clarissa! That is-”

“Not to worry, my baron. I’m sure you can manage that. Why, any woman would consider herself lucky to be bent over your table as you thrust home, stuffing her full of your droit de seigneur.”

Lukas’s face burned as it always did whenever Clarissa got going like this. Not to say she was wrong, unfortunately. She was absolutely right. He did need to get married, but it still seemed so early to be shopping for a bride. “Clarissa, really. I-”

“Early to start, my baron! We must be. Once word gets out that Baron Instaf is not only single, but such an adorable, impressive, handsome piece of stud meat, why, we’ll be besieged by eligible young ladies looking to have you mount them like a prized mare! And whichever does will be lucky to have you. Take my word for it!”

“Clarissa! This is… that sort of talk is hardly-”

“You’re so right, my baron. Here I am, chattering away, and you haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the choices! Let’s take a look at the candidates, shall we?”

Lukas sighed, finally giving up. It was near impossible to stop Clarissa once she set her mind to something, though by gods he would soon. He’d have to talk to the head butler about firing her. She treated him far too casually. But for now, he supposed the best thing was just to get this business with the portraits over with.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s take a look…”

“How wise, my dear baron,” Clarissa chirped merrily as she opened the folder to the first page, propping it up just underneath her immense bosom.

Lukas cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at the portrait and not the impressive pair of breasts just above it. “And this is…”

“Mirria Mable. Daughter of a lord in the southern country. Quite the pick specimen. An attractive if air headed young thing. Pretty, but not terribly bright. And not nearly as endowed as me, hm?”

“Clarissa! That’s hardly appropriate,” Lukas said, though he had to admit it was true, and his eyes did quickly steal a glance at Clarissa’s chest as if just to make sure of that. Gods, the room felt suffocating in the perfume she wore. He should open a window, though the scent wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was a bit… soothing.

Clarissa giggled. “Very true, my baron. We cannot judge a woman less blessed than myself in that respect. Some of us were merely born with a generous bosom. Perfect to lay one’s head upon.”

Lukas rolled his eyes, but felt his cheeks warm at the thought. “I ah… Well, what about the others?”

“The others? Of course, my lord,” Clarissa said, turning the page, her chest bouncing as she did so.

The sight made Lukas realize quite suddenly his mouth was very dry. With haste, he picked up a teacup and took a sip. Mm. Normally he wasn’t a big fan of cream in his tea, but wherever Clarissa got hers, it was delicious.

“Now then,” Clarissa said. “Lady Blumen from the duchy of Clausen seems like a perfect match for you. Nearly as busty as I am, and I know how important that is for you, my baron.”

“Not that important…” he mumbled.

“Ho ho!” Clarissa laughed, the throaty mirth making her breasts bounce most distractingly in her tight top. “How droll you are, my baron! But I know how much you value an impressive pair of breasts. You can barely keep your eyes off mine!”

Lukas flushed again, realizing he had been staring at her chest. He hastily took another sip of tea. Gods, he was feeling a bit light headed. “I ah… What else is there about her?”

“Why, only that she is something of a black widow, my baron. A nasty piece of work. She delights in wedding rich men, then crushing them beneath her heel. Nitpicking them until they don’t dare breathe without her approval. And what a cruel thing, my baron! Why, she cannot understand true love. The love of a good husband willing to do anything for his darling wife. Adore you. Worship her! She’s only in it for the quick cash! No sense of adoring her new spouse like the good boy he is.”

“S-sorry. Good boy?” Lukas said.

Clarissa giggled, her long lashes fluttering again. “Oh yes, my baron. A husband must be assured what a good boy he is. What a good, obedient, lovey dovey dummy he is to his beloved wife. Otherwise, he might get the most silly ideas in his head.”

Lukas felt his cheeks redden at the degrading words, even if they weren’t addressed to him. And he found his eyes looking at Clarissa’s breasts again. Big and soft. The subtle heave as she breathed. Or rather, the not so subtle. Looked like she was as into the discussion as he was.

“Er, right. Sure,” Lukas said, taking another sip of tea, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. “So, not her.”

“Oh no, my baron. You deserve so much better. So much bustier! So much more loving and adoring. A sweet wife who would show you what a good boy you are. Who would let you adore her like the happy, dopey husband you were always meant to be.”

“Er, yes. Yes. But uh… Who is the next one?”

“Oh yes, my baron. That would be the Countess Francesca,” Clarissa said, turning the next page. “But she wouldn’t make an appropriate wife for you either my lord.”

“Hm?” Lukas said, taking another sip, barely paying attention as he watched Clarissa’s breasts bounce. “She wouldn’t? Why… why not?”

“Oh my baron! Why, she does not want children.”

“O-oh,” Lukas said as he took another long drink of his tea. “Yes, that might… might be a problem. Need an heir…”

“Oh no, my baron. Not just one.”

“S-sorry?”

Clarissa gave him a knowing look. “Why, my dear baron, your wife must bear you many children! A dozen at least. A dozen happy, lovely children. Your wife needs to be very eager to take your virile seed. Because I know, my dear baron, that you’re far too much a stud to be satisfied with just one child. That you would like nothing more than to breed your beloved wife at every opportunity. To make her breasts so big… so heavy… so creamy and soft that you can’t help but play with them and kiss them every night.”

Lukas stared at her breasts. Gods, he could imagine it. Imagine those breasts bouncing. Heaving. Wobbling and Clarissa positively glowing from… from…

But… but no. He… he needed to only think of… of his wife like that. Yes. Only his wife. His beloved wife, whoever… whoever it turned out to be.

“I uh…”

“Oh dear, my baron,” Clarissa sighed, closing the folder dramatically, crossing her arms beneath her jiggling bust. “This just won’t do! It seems like there isn’t a noble woman in the land who can satisfy all your needs. A woman so busty. So loving. So beautiful and fertile to satisfy your very high standards.”

“I… y-yes. No one…”

“Oh!” Clarissa suddenly said, brightening visibly. “But then, of course! How silly of me. I didn’t think of that at all! Why, you don’t need a noblewoman for your wife.”

“I… I don’t?” Lukas said, frowning a little, brow wrinkling in concentration. Didn’t he? He was under the impression that was important…

“Oh no, my beloved baron,” Clarissa cooed as she planted her hands on the table, climbing onto it and crawling towards him, pendulous breasts swaying teasingly, her eyes hot, molten with something that made Lukas’s pulse quicken and pound. “Not at all. Why, if the noble stock isn’t up to the standards, then we must simply find another who is. One who is capable of seeing the greatness in you. The handsomeness. The virile… powerful… studliness in you.”

Lukas found himself instinctively retreating, pressing into the back of his chair, watching his maid move towards him like a she-wolf on the hunt. “Wh-who?”

“Now that is the question, isn’t it, my baron,” Clarissa giggled, straightening so she was kneeling on the desk in front of him, her hands cupping her breasts, fondling and massaging them teasingly. “She’d have to know your domain inside and out. She’d have to have every servant in the house already under her thumb. She’d have to know the ways you love things done. She’d have to be so pretty… so clever… so very… very… busty that you just couldn’t say no to her. Every idea she had would just seem like the bestest idea ever. Oops! Did I say breastest?”

“D-did you?” Lukas said, fairly drooling as he watched her bounce and mold her breasts together.

“Maybe I should have, hmm?” Clarissa said. “Because I know how much my baron loves breasts. Big… bouncy… soft breasts. That’s why I know he’ll make the right choice. I know he’ll decide on exactly the right person to be his baroness. To be his loving wife. His devoted mistress. His gorgeous… bouncy… beautiful bride. But who, my baron? Who is busty and smart and beautiful enough for that.”

“Wh-who?” Lukas gasped.

“Think hard, my baron,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas tried to. He really did. But his mind just didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Every thought he had swirled and squished and bounced and wobbled like Clarissa’s breasts. He whimpered, biting his lower lip, trembling with need as his maid continued to massage her breasts, her buttons straining against her ample tit flesh until… until…

“Mmmm,” Clarissa moaned, tearing open the front of her uniform, her ample, pale breasts spilling into the open. Bouncing with heavy softness. Nipples dark accents to their creamy slopes.

Lukas gasped, jolting like from a physical blow as her breasts bounced free.

“Whoops!” Clarissa giggled. “Did I do that?”

“Y-you… you…” Lukas stammered.

Clarissa’s smile widened. “Me, my lord?” she said coyly. “You want me to be your gorgeous baroness?”

Lukas blinked blankly, his sloshing thoughts struggling. “I…”

“Well, it is true, my lord,” Clarissa cooed, her leg extending, foot pressing against his chest and pushing him and his chair back with a squeak. “I am so very smart. So very beautiful. So very…” she breathed, sliding off the desk, into his lap, Lukas groaning as her weight settled on the hardness of his tenting cock. “Very…” Clarissa moaned as she leaned forward, her ample titflesh pressing against his face. “...Busty…”

Lukas shuddered, inhaling, breathing in the heady scent of Clarissa’s breasts and body. A scent so potent and strong it made his toes curl. Sweet. Heavy and wonderful. Something so real. So potent. The jasmine stuffing his nose. Suffocating his thoughts. And with… with just a faint hint of cream…

“Oh, but whatever would society say,” Clarissa groaned, her hips rocking, rubbing herself upon his thick cock, making Lukas moan and pant under her as his cock throbbed with need. As her breasts squished his face between them and Clarissa’s weight ground him under her. “They might say such terrible things…”

“Ohhhh,” Lukas groaned.

“You’re so right, my baron,” Clarissa giggled. “True love overcomes all odds. And oh, but you do love me, my baron. You do love my big… soft… breasts. And I love you. Loved you so much I tried all sorts of alraune perfumes before I found the one that just. Makes. You. Melt.”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned as he inhaled deeply.

“And you love my wonderful, clever mind, don’t you?” Clarissa cooed as she gave her breasts a bounce, swirling his thoughts again to a lather. “So smart to think of buying that holstaur cream for your tea. So clever to know how malleable it makes a good boy. How needy and aroused by big breasts it makes him. How adoring and dumb. How needy and horny and obedient.

“But there is something bigger than my breasts, my baron,” Clarissa moaned as she squeezed her tits around his head. “Oh yes! Believe it. And that is my warm, adoring heart. Perfectly made for my darling baron. Utterly devoted to him. Because I know, my beloved baron, how haaaaard it is for you to think with me around. How distracted you get from a big… soft… pair of breasts. How hard it is for you to rule. You’re not suited for it, my lord. You’re just suited to be a lovey dovey bimbo. A perfect, obedient stud to your darling wife. And oh, my baron, do you really want me? Do you really need me?”

Lukas whimpered beneath his maid, his mind whirling. Drunk on lust and love and heavenly cream and her body. His hands trembled as they touched her, stroking her hips and rump. Touching her back and causing Clarissa to lean forward and bounce teasingly atop him, his chair creaking.

“Oh my baron. If you begged me, then, well, maybe,” Clarissa giggled. “If you told me how much you loved me, how much you need me, then maybe I’d believe you. Maybe I could be convinced to make you my adoring husband. My sweet, brainless stud of a man who’d do anything his busty wife said. Shall we try, my baron?”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned into her breasts.

“Let’s,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas gasped as her breasts came off his face. He blinked dully as he found Clarissa smiling down at him, gaze smoldering and smirk hot with desire.

“I…” Lukas said.

“I want you, my baron,” Clarissa breathed. “Don’t you want me too?”

The note of hot passion in her tone dashed any effort of resistance from him. Lukas’s mouth trembled and he nodded, the truth escaping him in a panting gasp.

“Y-yes,” he said. “W-want you.”

“Do you, my baron?” Clarissa cooed as her hips rose, her hands teased down his chest and to his crotch, Lukas gasping as her fingers played with his bulge, undoing his zipper. “Do you want to fuck your beautiful bride? Propose to her and fuck her and breed her glorious pussy?”

“Y-yes!” Lukas whimpered, his cock springing into the open, a shock of pure ecstasy surging through him as her fingers wrapped around his length. “C-Clarissa, I… I…”

“Oh my baron,” Clarissa giggled, leaning in closer, her molten eyes hot, her rouged lips soft, enunciating every word as he felt his cock guided under the tickling hem of her skirt, brush the smooth skin of her inner thigh, drawn towards the heat of her naked pussy. “Just say… I do.”

“I… I… d-dooooo!” Lukas groaned, head falling back as Clarissa’s body eased down, his cock swallowed in the warm tightness of her pussy. His face buried again under the buxom softness of her ample tits.

“Mmmmm!” Clarissa moaned, her hips rocking, riding her atop his cock with slow, passionate motions that sent throbbing ecstasy radiating through his body and manhood. “Ohhhh my baaaaron! Yes! Yes! I will! I’ll be your baroness! I’ll be your gorgeous wife! Your perfect lover! Your loving, breedable bride. Ah. Ah! Oh goddess yes! Fuck me! Fill me with your cock!”

Lukas groaned beneath her, his lips kissing and licking her breasts, lost in the creamy valley of her tits, trapped in the ecstasy of her figure and the seemingly endless ampleness of her bouncy breasts. His cock throbbed in her, squeezed by her adoring inner walls. Heat consumed him. Pleasure subsumed him.

It was so good. So perfect. He couldn’t break free. Couldn’t resist. The need to cum surged within him. Devoured him. Urged him towards the inevitability of climax. He panted, gasping, moaning under her.

“Yes!” Clarissa gasped. “Oh my baron! Oh my husband! Yes! Fuck me! Fill me! Stuff me full of your cum! Ohhhhh my baron! I neeeed it! Need your mnnn! Your cum! Ah. Yes. Yes! Cum in me, Lukas. Cum in your bride! Fuck me! Breed me! Now! Breed me… nooooow!”

Her voice rose, a crescendo of shameless pleasure, her inner walls tightening, flexing, squeezing his cock with the glory of her peak. As her breasts shuddered around his head, Lukas cried out, surrendering to her pleasure, his cock throbbing, his balls tightening.

And he came.

Blessed release seemed to burst within him. Sear him. Devour him. His cock surrendered to her, filling her in sharp bursts of heady pleasure.

Lukas moaned, lost in her breasts. Lost in the pleasure. Floating in a sea of creamy ecstasy and delight, his mind sinking under waves of soft, bouncy bliss.

Atop him, Clarissa cooed, giggling as she felt him sag, lost beneath her breasts. Her arms wrapped around her new husband’s head, pulling him deeper into her bosom as she looked about the study. Ugh. Such depressing decoration. She’d have to get it cleaned out. And the room would make such a lovely nursery too.

She giggled, admiring the dazed expression of her former master as she smothered him beneath her breasts. She couldn’t wait for the wedding. Especially since she promised that holstaur priestess and her alraune friend they could be her bridesmaids. After all, when one was looking for a husband, one needed a foot in the door. And she just knew her beloved betrothed had some friends in need of busty, brainwashing brides.

Clarissa hummed contentedly, lazily rocking her hips, feeling Lukas’s cock stir anew within her, ready for round two.

Mmm.

All too easy for a clever, busty girl like her…

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Interesting takes I've seen so far in the "Makes me feel safe" votes

1) people saying Astarion or Laezel would make them feel safe- I have to assume you mean Act 3 versions of them that are healed and have a close bond with you??? Idk man Act 1 and even 2 versions don't offer much physical or emotional safety 😂 ya'll

2) Haslin comes off as a predator to some of you?? A creep? This startled me. Then I realized his writing was lacking and they shoe-horned in the romance so if you ask him casual questions, like just friendly "any lovers in your life?" It triggers as flirting and then he acts like you guys have been making moon eyes at each other and is surprised if you reject him. He's also Polyamorous and some people see him asking when you're in a relationship already as being gross. It's interesting because my interpretation of Halsin is WAY DIFFERENT but I can also see how some people got there

3) Karlach is a safety net for most people the only thing that de-railed her from winning was two things: her heat issue/engine causing lack of physical safety and then interestingly her Rage. She gets loud when she's mad and hits objects and this can trigger some people. Neat take! Never noticed that

3) Wyll not sweeping the poles surprised me a lot but people seem concerned that he'd take them put on an adventure and get everyone killed monster hunting and that cracked me up a bit

None of these are my opinions I just trolled the tags and comments and saw these angles presented

[popblank]

Been trying to gather my thoughts about Tamara de Lempicka as a character, and the difference between Eden Espinosa’s Tamara vs. Mariand Torres’s Tamara:

EE’s Tamara: Her Tamara seemed to me to be a little more self-serious and intense to the point where it both fed into the humor (e.g. when she meets the street painter and very earnestly steps in to try to correct his perspective while completely missing his offended reaction), but also informed her interactions with basically everyone else she interacted with. That focused seriousness and disregard/cluelessness about others’ feelings really made a lot of little moments—especially with Kizette, Rafaela, and Tadeusz—more understandable.

I remember thinking after seeing the show in La Jolla that she had done a very good and solid job as Tamara, but something about the performance was a little bit out of focus. I’m not even sure what that missing element even was, but between La Jolla and Broadway it seemed like she found the central spark; by the time I saw it at the Longacre it was the kind of performance (for me at least, if not the professional critics) where you’d jump out of your seat for bows, because she fully embodied that central role in such a way that it’s hard for me to think of the character of Tamara and not think of her in it.

MT’s Tamara: Her Tamara seemed a little lighter than EE’s in both vocal tone and personality. To me she came across as a blithely self-involved upper-middle class lady whom you might not take seriously until you find (to your surprise) that she has steamrolled right over you to get what she wants, and she herself might not even notice that she has done so. I liked her “I Will Paint Her” a lot, but I thought she also was excellent in “Speed” and “Just This Way” – she really conveyed the sense of sorrow and despair (with an interesting little dash of entitlement) from losing Tadeusz and Rafaela.

(On a less meaningful note, Mariand Torres seems to be slightly shorter than Eden Espinosa, and I remember feeling worried during some parts of “Woman Is” when Tamara is running up and down the stairs with her long robe open and billowing behind her, which seemed like it could easily snag or cause a mishap. Thankfully it didn’t!)

The moment that for me best illustrated the difference in the portrayals between Eden Espinosa’s Tamara vs. Mariand Torres’s Tamara happened early in the show, when Tamara’s mother tells her on her wedding day, “Don’t forget to smile. You’ll be surprised where a pretty smile can take you.” What I remember is that EE’s Tamara halfheartedly attempted a smile that looked much more like a grimace, while MT’s Tamara pasted on a smile that was bright, pretty, and fake. So I see MT’s Tamara as one who is better at putting on the façade.  

The second example that I found interesting was in “I Will Paint Her.” I have always interpreted “I Will Paint Her” as Tamara almost (but not quite) understanding that the overwhelming feelings she has upon seeing Rafaela for the first time are actually romantic and/or sexual, and not solely artistic inspiration. The humor is one of my favorite aspects of this song, and I just find that interpretation funnier than the alternatives. (The muted horn sound after the line “she’s just a woman who’s pretty” makes me laugh, because it’s as if the music itself is having a *looks into the camera* moment.)

One reason I like EE’s “I WIll Paint Her” is that her emotions are bursting forth and only occasionally (on those “I will…” pauses) she realizes what she’s been saying; she seems to be surprised by herself, and in trying to grasp at reasons why she’s feeling this way, she lands on what she currently knows best, which is “art.” I did really like MT’s “I Will Paint Her” as well, but after the “I will…” pauses, her follow-up seemed a lot more deliberate and knowing. In the moment I thought she was just overemphasizing the point for the audience, but thinking back on it, it could also be that she is more aware of where her thoughts and feelings are leading, so she is trying to regain her decorum and maintain a little plausible deniability. (You could interpret EE’s version this way too, really, but I am just choosing not to.)

[ana-lmao]

Coded Shift (Chapter 2)

Sorry for being absent!! Have been busy!! Warnings: Swearing, code, g/t ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ -Oh my god Thats what Charlie heard before opening his eyes, he seemed... Normal? Not taller or shorter... but.. why was Phil staring at him like that? Phil backed away a bit, a worried look was on his face, Charlie's code got worse, It was covering more then half his body, a single horn coming out of his head which was also black and green with numbers floating, He had a tail, shaped like what he would assume is a demon tail and claws.

-Charlie... -He said quietly, slowly approaching him. -W-What? -We need to talk. You're getting corrupted too much... -Corrupted? Don't be silly! Nothings wrong! -His tail sways without him noticing.

-Charlie that's not Juanaflippa! -He shouted. -What..? What do you mean? -It's a code Charlie! A Code! You need to stay away from it! Look at you!

Charlie looked at him confused, then angrily shouted: -SH3'S R34L!!!! Another glitch effect happened. -W-What the fuck?! -Phil was now looking up at Charlie, backing away.

*Philza is Bleeding, Philza was slain by Slimecicle* [Cellbit]: ??? [Cellbit]: Phil??? *Philza was slain by Sl1m3c1cl3* [Tubbo]: L [Tubbo]: L [Tubbo]: L

[+]El Mariana *Philza was slain by Sl1m3c1cl3* [Tubbo]: L [Tubbo]: O h [Tubbo]: Dam Phil what did you do [Cellbit]: Phil Coords [Roier]: Why's his name like that [Tubbo]: Why is he special [Phil]: egxilr [Cellbit]: Eggxile? *Philza was slain by Sl1m3c1cl3* [Philza]: ys [ElMariana]: Qué? [Roier]: Late to the party Mariana [ElMariana]: Cállate hijo de puta Cellbit hesitantly warps to EGGXILE, Him and Phil were just here a few hours ago and the place already looked so much worse. It was silent... too silent... -Phil?.. -He mumbled, before being surrounded by darkness, flickering 0's and 1's, he felt.. that the darkness was moving?.. He tried to get his sword out before he was in a random room surrounded by dirt and a few code blocks. -Cellbit!!! -He heard a scream from behind, it was Phil. -PHIL!! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE ARE WE?! -Charlies.. code's worse, I don't know where we are tho. -What was the huge black uhh barrier thing? -That wasn't a barrier, it was- Phil was cut off by another crash. -OW WHAT GIVES??? -Tubbo!! are you hurt?! -Phil went over to him -I WAS JUST HANGING AROUND WITH SUNNY WHEN I WAS SUDDENLY CRASHED DOWN HERE!! Suddenly a small child-like figure starts approaching them. It places down a sign. -1'M S0RRY, 1'M S0RRY!!, 1 D1DN'T M34N F0R TH1S T0 H4PP3N!!! -What..? -The child came out of the shadows, it was "Juanaflippa". -What do you mean you didn't mean for this to happen?! You have been corrupting Slime for MONTHS now! YOU MADE HIM A MONSTER. -Phil yells at Flippa and she places down another sign. -1 Just m1ss3d p4p@ 4nd 1 d1dn't w4nn@ l3@v3 h1s s1d3!! -You aren't Juanaflippa... He's not your father! And you are not his child! -Cellbit approaches her. -1 4M!!! Th3 f3d3r4t10n m4d3 m3 l1k3 th1s, th3y t0ld m3 1 c0uld s33 p4p@ 4g@1n but w1th c0nc3qu3nc3s, 1'm s0rry... 1 d1dn't kn0w... They were all stunned, it was her after all. -So wait, wait- What's happening to Charlie now?-Tubbo asked to break the silence. -Th3 bl4ck v01d th4t br0ught y0u h3r3 w@sn't a barr13r... -What was it then? -Cellbit asked, getting closer and crouching down. -P4p4 -What? -1t w4s p@p4 -But how?.. -Th3 c0d3 m4d3 h1m l1k3 th4t -Like?... -B1g -Oh. *On the surface* -donde está todo el mundo? -Mariana was walking around looking for people before teleporting to eggxile since he saw the chat earlier. -Slime? -M4r1n4....-Mariana heard a glitchy voice, similar to Slimes -QUÉ?! -Why 4r3 y0u h3r3. -Why are you here?! This is my husbands place! -G0 1n th3 h0us3 -Why? -... -G0 1n th3 h0us3. -No I won't Suddenly Mariana gets tied by.. something. -EH? WHAT IS THIS?! -1 t0ld y0u t0 g0 1ns1d3... A shadow looms over Mariana, A demonic figure with flickering 0's and 1's, Horns, one shorter then the other, a tail, which seems to be wrapped around him and just a bit of human skin. The figure was Towering over Mariana, it sounded and looked familiar... but why.. -LET ME GO!!! -N0. -WHAT EVEN ARE YOU?! YOU'RE WORSE THEN THE HORRIFIC OTHER MOBS HERE! AN ACTUAL FUCKING MONSTER- WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY HUSBAND?! The figure stopped. -1-1'm n0t @ m0nst3r... -Shut up and LET ME GO! The figure lets go and starts.. whining. It tries to hide behind the small "house" which obviously doesn't work. -W-What?.. -Mariana stayed still for a bit. -1'm n0t @ m0nst3r... 1'm f1n3... 1 just w4nt t0 pr0t3ct h3r.. -Wait- Slime-? He approaches the figure. -Slime?.. Wh- What happened?! Charlie goes back to normal height, putting his head in his knees. -Mi amor.. I'm sorry- Mariana tries to comfort Slime -Do you hate me..? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/ana-lmao/742474743195811840/couldnt-upload-coded-shift-chapter-i-normally?source=share

[nilesdaughter]

You Great Unfinished Symphony

Fandom: Critical Role Characters: Percy De Rolo, Vex'ahlia, Gwendolyn De Rolo, Pike Trickfoot Pairing: Perc'ahlia Word Count: 781 Note: This... is not my usual style, and I am both excited and nervous to be sharing this for @percahliaweek.

[Also found on A03.]

X-X-X-X-X

“Oh.”

It’s such a soft sound, he almost misses it.

Percival looks to Vex’ahlia, his gaze searching, questioning. “Is something wrong, dear?”

“I… believe we need to call the midwife, darling,” she says in a breathless tone, her dark eyes flicking up to meet his blue ones.

He stands with such celerity that his chair nearly topples to the floor behind him. “Pike, as well?” he asks.

“Yes, Pike, as well.”

The master suite of Whitestone Castle becomes a flurry of activity as Lady De Rolo is carefully transferred from the study to the bedroom and helped out of her tea gown. She is then arranged in the bed, towels and hot water prepared for the delivery. Lord De Rolo is at her side the whole while, murmuring affections and running his fingers through her hair as they wait for the contractions to begin in earnest. If nothing else, this is their fourth time in this particular situation and they like to think that they are used to it; Percy knows that Vex finds comfort in holding his hand, Vex knows the best position to lay in so that her contractions do not hurt quite as much. Pike, bless her, acts as the midwife’s assistant, just as she has for all the other births, monitoring her dear friend and passing over fresh towels as needed, reheating the water when it begins to cool.

This one takes longer, despite coming after four other children. (Four perfect children that Percy and Vex marvel over every single day.) It lasts throughout the night, the stars and the moons bearing witness to the new addition to the De Rolo family.

As the sun crests over the Alabaster Sierras, Vex lets out the loudest cry she’s released during the entire process, her hand squeezing tight around her husband’s, seeking solace in his touch. (If he feels as if she might just tear off his hand, he has the sense to not say a word about it.)

In the next breath, the new baby wails.

The midwife quickly passes the child (“A girl, my lady!”) over to Pike so that the gnomish cleric can clean her up. Percy notices, vaguely, that the child seems unusually red, but his attention returns to Vex as she gives his hand another–softer–squeeze.

“I believe that means we outnumber you, darling,” she says, amusement and mischief twinkling in her eyes even as exhaustion pulls at the rest of her features.

He laughs, kisses her knuckles. “I believe it does, dear heart.”

When Pike returns to the bed with their new daughter, washed and swaddled, it becomes much more apparent why he had seen so much red. Poking out of the dark curls on her head (she’ll certainly be taking after her mother, then, in that regard) are four tiny horn nubs.

Percy feels a wave of guilt wash over him, because he knows, he knows these are the ramifications for decisions he made nearly two decades ago.

Vex, however, does not react negatively to the revelation that she has given birth to a tiefling. She simply accepts the baby into her arms, cooing at her just as she has for all the others, whispering soft words about how she’s perfect and loved and welcome to the world, darling.

“This would explain why I seemed to be running a fever so often,” Vex then comments idly, as casual as if she were relaying her observations from a walk in the Parchwood.

That startles a laugh out of Percy and her warmth, her acceptance, keeps him from spiraling too far down. “I suppose it does.”

“You should hold her, too, darling,” she says, already lifting the bundle up to him.

He reaches down, moving in to cradle her in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. She is unexpected but she is theirs, a testament to the city–the lives–they have built together. She is so warm and small and he never wants to let her go. She begins fussing and, with practiced ease, he slowly walks circles around the bedroom, rocking her, making little shh, shh, shh noises. As he does so, he pauses at the window and looks down into the courtyard, watching as the last bit of scaffolding is finally taken down from around the clock tower, which had been finished but a week ago. (Well, ‘finished’ is a subjective word; he already has plans for adjustments and additions, small ways he can improve upon the parts of the tower that had been completed years prior.) With his new daughter in his arms and his Heart completed, he finds he continues ever-onward to a brighter, happier future.

[moonlight-tmd]

I absolutely love the au where bee is a con!! if you don't mind, do you have anymore info on it? I'd love to know more on bee's own reputation and conjunx lol!

That is not a thing i expected to pop off. Oh well. This is an old idea i had like few months back that i just remembered. It's not really an AU, more like a continuation from the present.

So for short introduction- Bee is one of the counselors to Megatron, he's more of a "give ideas" guy than the one to make them work. Blitzwing, who he's been dating back on earth, is now his Conjunx and got himself his own fleet of soldiers to command. Basically Elite Guard. Bee is known to be very kind and caring but also merciless and strict when needed. He's either feared or loved among the lower status folks. He was the one that helped Megs work out the laws for the workers since he has experienced it himself. On free cycles he plays video games like always, he hangs out on videocall or in person with Longarm/Shockwave(depending on which the transformer is feeling like that cycle). If he's not doing that or working then he's spending time with Blitzwing in their apartment. They have a knack for watching romcoms from earth on evenings. They love each other very much. <3

Anyway, oh boy- a text wall!

As i said it all happened because the others basically neglected their friendship with him. They ignored or didn't notice when he was genuinely feeling bad or upset. He learned that the Autobot Council basically screwed the 'cons over from Blitzwing when they were dating- he met up with Megatron in secret and discussed few things, Blitzwing was so surprised when he saw him at the 'con base wearing the Decepticon insignia.

And so, Bee had few arguments with his team before he disappeared for good and the 'cons gained advantage after advantage and before they knew it they were arrested in their own base and taken hostage along with Sari. Megatron got the Allspark and won the war and now Cybertron's laws are being reformatted, there are few questionable changes but overall it's not that bad- truth be told but denied, it's actually better than what the Council had going on.

The next thing they know is that they are being de-armed and set free to do their job as repair bots. Sari couldn't bring herself leave them alone so she tagged along. She was about 24 i'd say when they arrive at the construction zone in New Iacon, they overhear the coversation and recognise one of the voices- they couldn't believe when the small dark cybertronian turned to them. It was Bee, his paint was matte black with shiny yellow with orange gradient stripes. His frame was different from the yellow one they knew, his alt mode was a Lamborghini. He had heels like Prowl and his horns were bigger, kind of making his helm look like a V shape. And he had doorwings. To add to it all the Decepticon Elite insignia proudly shined on his chassis and his deep lavender optics matched its color. (think Elite Guard symbol but Decepticon, it's really just to show high-placed status of the one wearing it.)

He was oddly cold to them, even corrected Ratchet when he called him 'kid'- "It's 'Sir' to you, old bot. And so is to everyone else in the facility." The others asked him questions but stopped when Bee ignored the first few and just kept talkign about what they will do here. He led them to their temporary quarters before going off somewhere.

The job would be long to be sure, they were building a space bridge gate from scratch- they had supplies assigned and more of them coming soon promised. In the first few cycles there were no issues, Bee was always on topic and polite, which was weird to see. He seemed cold whenever he spoke with them- which is why when one of the guards started talking crap to Sari for being slow and weak, Bee seemed to materialize out of this air behid the guy. He only said 3 words when the guard looked at him, petrified. "My office. Now." He wasn't angry, he spoke in a cold tone with an uncanny calm expression, optics locked on the big 'con guard. Which maybe made it more scary. He only glanced at Sari breifly before walking away, presumably into his office. What surprised them the most was how scared the guard seemed in that moment, like he just insulted Megatron himself.

It was then another guard spoke up, a femme this time. It was she that told the group that guards that mistreat workers end up without jobs and that Bee is a high ranking advisor to Megatron. And that this place is a future orphanage. Bee was strict but with a kind Spark, a respect well earned. For that and for what he did with some of the laws. They never expected Bee out of all people to be so concerned about the law n stuff. It was odd enough to see him sit by his desk signing datapads in his office.

They knew Bee was raised in an Carequarters(orphanage) with awful staff so knowing Bee was in charge of building and almost running the facility they were working on warmed their Sparks.

On all construction sites, it's bound for accidents to happen- one of the heavy-duty workers dropped a metal pillar from the upper scaffolding and Prowl was about to get hit. But Bee pushed him out of the way, unfortunatelly damaging his stabilizer. He even asked if Prowl was fine before being concerned about himself. Prowl helped him to the medbay and they had a little chat; Prowl didn't expect Bee to do that, he asked few question and Bee straight up scolded him for thinking he would be a tyrant and told him that not all of the 'cons are bad, just rough on the surface.

Then there was an accident where the weakly supported ceiling crashed on one of the constructicons. Bee was speeding down the hallway to the repair crew's quarters- they were just talking about Bee when Ratchet said something that might have been offending- "Ratchet!!" Bee yelled as he bursted thru the door- Before the medic could say something let alone apologize if Bee had some 'someone insulted me' senses, "Accident in the front hall! Medic needed- NOW!" All in a worried but stern tone. It was enough to make him grab his medical kit and rush down the hall after Bee. After that Ratchet was put on Medic duty and didn't have to work with the rest of the repair crew.

When Bee was speaking with Optimus one time he noticed a worker having troubles with lifting some materials they had no issue carrying last cycle. He left Optimus mid-conversation and came up to them to ask if eveything's alright. The big bot did say he was feeling a bit under the weather and Bee send him to get checked out in medbay and that he was off-duty for the rest of the cycle. Then he came back to Optimus and resumed the talk just like nothing happened. It only showed that Bee cared a lot about everyone.

The Bulkhead got the offer to paint the play area since it was finished. Of course for a hefty pay bonus. The play area was in a dome, in the middle stood a bronze statue representing earth's tree with swings hanging and a tunnel thru it. Prowl was also artistic in a way so he also got to paint it- the final result was a beautiful mural of a flowery meadow with a forest all around the room. And the higher you looked, there were clouds, stars and even planets near the glass ceiling. The two deemed the work as a success, seeing Bee with that childish smile again as he looked around with wonder was worth more than any of the sights from the most beautiful galaxies.

The moment the facility was finished, Bee gathered all the workers and gave a speech even Optimus was jealous of- He thanked everyone and said how grateful and happy he is to be building a better future for everyone along with them. Everything was perfect- but then the alarm rang and the Autobot rebellio bursted thru the wall and started taking everything apart. And wouldn't you know, it was the old friend Sentinel who led the pack. He tried to get Optimus to join him before being pulled into a fight with Bee who had a staff similar to the ones the guards had. Sentinel and few others were arrested(again) and the rest of the rebellion fled. Don't worry they got caught by another fleet of soldiers further away from the facility.

But that didn't matter- everything Bee was working hard for was ruined. The beautiful area was a ruin covered in dust and gunpowder. "Bee? Are you o-" "What are you staring at?! Get back to your quarters!" He had snapped before retreating to his office to cry his Spark out. The call to Megatron was hard to make, but it was even harder to answer Blitzwing's call after he was done speaking with the Warlord. They called each other at the end of each cycle, this was the first time Bee didn't answer. And he didn't answer them until Blitz was assigned to go aid him with security and arrived at the place the next cycle. He comforted his hummel as he cried- a small conversation between them happened, which Sari managed to overhear when she was passing by Bee's quarters.

From then on, whenever Bee was present on the construction-again zone Blitzwing was always near. Another worker told them about gossips that they were Conjunxes. Later Sari confirmed when they were speaking in private.

And so the construction works go monitored by a lot of guards and soldiers- few of them seemed to recognize the crew from earth but they never mentioned it- whether that was intentional or an order from Bumblebee they may never know. Blitzwing is there for Bee on every step of the way, and even his old friends had few cases to reassure him.

The carequarters are finally finished and Megatron himself comes thru the newly-built space bridge for the final check-up before grand opening later. Bee is very happy and does compliment his workers- he said how good of a job the repair crew has done right in front of them. Once the grand opening is held and done, Optimus and his crew are about to leave- but not before Bee catches them to talk. "Actually... it's just Bumblebee." He says with a smile when they call him 'sir'. he wishes them safe travel and leaves to get the facility going. Upon entering their ship, they are met with a stack of boxes and a note saying "A bonus for fast work!" signed with a cartoony earth bee doodle. Each of the boxes were signed for different crew members. In the end, Bee hasn't changed much.

Later down the timeline he and the crew regain contact after few of other projects Bee was in charge of. Bee gives them better stuff and gifts and invites them to a grand gala. He and Sari have a proper reunition then, he cannot apologize enough for leaving her like that. There is a happy ending after all.

And that's it. I don't have any more info on this. The well is dry. Feel free to ask about anything else.

Lol, on the side note; this Bee's theme song would be Little Girl Gone by CHINCHILLA. (The "Say that again i didn't quite hear ya" song)

[3d10fire-damage]

Colors That Run Highlights 58

water once again causes us issues

Valor and Calypso set about gathering people that seemed anti-Oasis and anti-snitch. Valor then brewed some Goodberry tea (using her fancy dragon ability to heat the kettle with fire breath) and the people quite literally piled into Valor and Calypso's small dorm-sized room. Calypso acted as a bouncer, scrutinizing the group and noting one lady with an average sized narwhal horn that gave her Big Narc vibes. She approached the lady and told her "I don't like you. Get out." The lady reluctantly left, intimidated.

For extra security, Calypso cast Zone of Truth to help ensure those in the room were committed to the uprising and wouldn't rat anyone out. Everyone formed a line, as best they could, and had Valor de-activate their cuffs of obedience. Then the group started making a plan, informed by the workers' intimate knowledge of the Oasis-- including how steep the security is. Calypso settled some doubt about fighting this security by telling those that can't fight not to, and that those that can fight should only take on what they can handle. Plus, the rest of the party would be joining as reinforcements, and they're badass. 😏

As the gathering wound down and people started to leave, Avi cast Sending to check in with Calypso (and mentioned offhand that Team Outside met a crab man). Calypso, surprisingly, managed to respond rather informatively with the 25 words she was allotted. When Avi messaged Jericho, Jericho did not follow suit. (Calypso said in her message that she'd "let them know" when it was Go Time, not realizing she can't contact the rest of the group from the inside. Method acting.)

By the way, the Oasis staff were basically in love with Teagan, noting his many dexterous legs. This led to a discussion of sex appeal in deep sea society, where having many legs is attractive because... more holes. Calypso thought this meant there was a hole per each pair of legs, not realizing the Oasis workers meant filling.

Realizing Team Inside couldn't message Team Outside, Avi devised a plan. He went into the Oasis and set up a private meeting with Calypso-- he claimed to the rather skeptical receptionist that he was trying something new, and that he was Genuinely Interested in having sex with a woman for a change.

As Team Inside prepared for their shift, a guard came to Valor and Calypso's room to inform Calypso she had been requested privately by a customer. Valor acted surprised by this, which prompted Calypso to ask "have you seen this ass?" Valor said the ass in question was kinda flat and Calypso told her to fuck off. Calypso headed to the main floor and made herself a stiff drink before going to the private room. To her quite amused surprise, good ol' fruit loop was waiting for her.

Avi launched into what could perhaps be called a performance, scooting in close to a rather giggly Calypso and whispering about setting up a time and place for Team Outside to enter the club-- trying to avoid notice by the room's lone guard. Avi also bemoaned Jericho's less than helpful response to his message so he insisted Calypso be more informative in her messages. At Avi's attempt at giving her a lap dance, the guard spoke up about how it's usually the dancer that does the lap dance. But Calypso basically told him to let him cook. This was Avi's paid trial for heterosexuality, dammit. (They were both in on the same joke. It was weirdly cute and silly.)

Avi then promptly decided he wasn't into it and left. He then paid his way to a meeting with Jericho (someone much more his speed) and found him waiting dressed up like a (scantily clad) dog. Apparently the People found Jericho's clueless disposition endearing and suited him up appropriately.

Avi communicated the details of the plan to Jericho, and gave him a lap dance for his trouble before leaving the poor guy high and dry. Avi then returned to the rest of Team Outside and brought them up to speed. Meanwhile Calypso found Titan literally dislocating a dude's shoulder while others watched in anticipation. Calypso also watched, in awe, and waved Titan down to talk to her. Titan took five to discuss Team Outside's entry point with her, and together they worked up a sweat thinking about the best strategy.

After work Calypso talked to Valor and told her about the plan she had come up with(!). Team Outside would have a couple options: come in from the roof (sneaky but with a risk of getting lost in the upper levels of the Oasis, Valor noted) or come in naturally through the front door, wait for a signal, then start fucking shit up and catch the staff by surprise (assuming they could overcome the enchantments of the doorway). Calypso noted she had given herself a headache thinking these up.

When Avi used Sending the next day for their next moves, Calypso managed once again to make good use of her 25 words. Kattie also used Sending, to instead reach out to Valor, asking basically the same question Avi had, because Kattie can be a little shit, as a treat.

Before taking to the front door, Avi busted out a Motivational Speech to give some buffs to Fea and Kattie (even though Kattie thought it wasn't that great of a speech). Avi then also applied True Seeing to Kattie so she would be able to fight when the time came. But then as they passed through the door, Kattie failed the save against the charm and got all silly and uninhibited. So Avi slapped her upside the head to cognitively re-calibrate her. This did work, but it also had the effect of swapping out who was fronting, and so now "Battle" Kattie was awake and very confused. "...Are we underwater?"

Just before they had come in, Calypso found Jericho in a dancer's cage and brought over a cocktail for him, and used the opportunity to catch him up to speed on what was going to happen soon. Then, as Team Outside entered and encountered their issues, Shouscylla approached Calypso and told her the main stage dancer was sick and asked her to go up there in their place. Calypso hesitantly agreed.

Team Outside took their seats near the stage and scrambled to look normal while also explaining things to Kattie (not to mention that Avi, being new, hadn't even known about the whole Lynn/Kattie thing). Calypso tried listening to the conversation over her music, no longer having any clear idea what was happening.

Kattie hit the door with Dispel Magic, which had the intended effect, but also had the unintended effect of creating a very loud shattering sound. Cover blown; Shouscylla was a sharp woman and had front row seats to this display. Calypso took a flying leap off the stage and tried for a punch to club owner's head, but Shouscylla dodged her. Chaos broke out over the club-- the Oasis workers distracted most of the guards, leaving only Shouscylla herself and two of her personal advisors to fight the party. Valor and Sven took off at the sound of the shattered enchantment and headed for the main floor.

COMBAT! Avi set about freeing Jericho and Fea distributed various pieces of equipment that had been given to her (though, Calypso would have to re-attune to her bracers later). Kattie busted out Destructive Waves because they're awesome, and Valor took out her hardly used rapier and squared up with one of the advisors. Calypso had already targeted Shouscylla and aimed to stun her-- but Shouscylla proved to be a dangerous opponent with her many attacks each round (her eel leg-heads could bite of their own accord). After the first round, Calypso pulled out the hidden dagger in her boot, finding it moved easier through the water than her blunt fists did.

Avi cast Dawn on where Shouscylla stood, which was pretty rad until she rudely moved out of the light. Shouscylla, in making a statement and being a bad bitch, grabbed Calypso by her throat and threw her into the stage. Calypso's answering Hellish Rebuke did fuck-all because... water. Fea had a tendency to miss her attacks during this encounter, though not from a lack of a trying with Sentinel and all. Eventually one of the other enemies was taken down and Valor kept on the second one. Avi started applying healing to the party where he could, and once freed Jericho went apeshit. My man.

Shouscylla and Calypso kinda became Rivals during the encounter, exchanging nasty taunts and blows. Shouscylla was taking the lead on that score... and then Calypso cut off one of her eel heads. Because fuck that hoe.

(Calypso was really low on HP and used her Dope Monk Shit to disengage from Shouscylla, both to lure her into some attacks of opportunity, and to get some healing in the meantime)

Valor made good use of the seldom-used Absorb Elements to protect against the remaining advisor's elemental trident attack, and Kattie incapacitated Shouscylla with her Psychic Lance. Avi cast Moonbeam (or rather, that other spelling that incapacitated me) and really it was a lot of pressure bearing down on Shouscylla once her ally was down.

Despite the struggle, the group took Shouscylla down triumphantly. Reminder that this whole combat took place with Calypso, Valor, and Jericho all dressed in stripper gear. Hell yeah.

next time we might finally get out of the damn ocean

[dreadfutures]

Happy Friday: For DADWC, perhaps: ‘begone. I prefer you in the dark.’ though I'm not sure who to ask for. A part of me would love to see this between Morrigan and Kieran, but that almost seems cruel.

For @dadrunkwriting!

Kieran and Morrigan in Serault, each doing their own magical sneakery.

Pairing: Morrigan & Kieran

Rating: G

Words: 1476

Thank you!

-:-:-

Morrigan struggled, and she did not want Kieran to know, so he pretended. But it was hard. His heart longed to help her, or at least to ease her worries—but she had all but begged him to focus on the equally important task of learning the ins and outs of his magery while she dealt with whatever obligation she had to the Horned Knight. He tried, truly, but because his heart longed so earnestly, many spirits sought to offer him what he desired. Some of them were quite persistent, appearing not only in his dreams but also whispering to him through his waking days.

One particular nuisance was a spirit whose nature he could not yet discern, but it seemed to have a deep connection to Serault's Thousand-Windowed Castle. Whether it was flashing mirrors at him from one of the many towers, throwing books in the Whistling Gallery, making torches flicker in the throne room, chilling his bedroom, or even casting strange shapes in the water beneath the Bridge of Masks, he noticed its peculiar presence following him across the Veil like a shadow. Though he had not yet developed the ability to cross the Veil by simple meditation, as his mother suspected he may one day accomplish as a Dreamer, he was well aware of this Spirit's nearly constant nagging. He did his best to ignore it, for he could not sleep all day just to please its need for attention, but sometimes it would not take no for an answer.

Kieran prided himself on his patience, well aware that it was part of him by virtue of knowing he was part of something older nearly than time itself. More than anything else, perhaps, it was patience that set him apart from others of an age with him. It helped him immensely in many ways, including in his magic. He could identify patterns, charm the young and the old, stay out of trouble, and master complicated tasks—all with just a little patience.

But if he had to suffer one moment more of this annoyance…

"FINE," he said, slamming his book closed.

The rapping on the window stopped.

Kieran shoved back his chair and shot a glare over at the window on his way out of the room.

He followed the leading presence, the whispers, through the ancestral Chateau de Serault, mercifully without running into any Bards or Abbesses or any of the other strange folk who so often populated its mysterious halls. In fact he made his way up to the Tower without seeing a trace of another soul. When he found himself at the base of the tower and realized this, his relief faded into a deep-seated misgiving.

But he knew that the pestering would not cease until he saw whatever lay at the top of the tower, at the very least, so Kieran began to climb the many, many, many steps to this, the crown jewel of the Chateau—its highest peak—the Tower of Lights.

The tower was, like all things in the Thousand-Windowed Castle, covered in stained glass. The proliferation of windows meant that even at the heart of the tower, no torches were necessary to light the stairs. Even in the dimmest starlight, somehow, the tower was filled with a muted rainbow to guide Kieran upward.

Strangely, the top of the tower was dark.

He stood in the center of the open terrace and looked out at the great, dark sea of the Applewoods—and the Tirashan—in Serault's Twilight and felt as though the attention of the whole universe was focused on him here. He felt suddenly like he was a beacon, as though he had emerged from deep, dark cave, or from beneath the weight of leagues and leagues of earth or water. He understood immediately, intimately, that it would be dangerous to spend any length of time here in the eye of the storm, for it was the storm itself that obscured him from those who might seek him out in the world and in the Fade for dangerous purposes.

The hair at the back of Kieran's neck prickled, and he scowled down at the floor (not at the forests, no; they would not take kindly to that).

"Alright," Kieran said crossly. "What am I here to see—"

A light brighter than nearly anything Kieran had ever seen flashed in his face, and he threw up his arms to cover his eyes against the heat of it. In the spots that flared against his eyelids, he saw the imprinted outlines of what had caused the flare.

From the Heron Tower—the West Tower—the Tilted Tower—the Foal's Tower—the defunct heliograph network had come alive with light. Mirrors caught the moonbeams and amplified it thousand-fold, directed upon the central heart of the Tower of Lights. The terrace was crowned in burning starlight, not hot but cold, and blindingly bright.

Kieran squinted his golden eyes through his hands and could just barely make out a dark shape before him, in the confluence of the beams. It was as though the light bent around its form, broad and vaguely ungulate with stooped shoulders and curling, twining horns.

"What do you want?" Kieran asked.

Home, he felt keenly, a yearning that was all too familiar. Home, family, protection. Herd. I heard.

He could not tell if it was feeding off of him, reflecting him, or speaking independently. Nevertheless, he shook off its influence and straightened up, squinting still against the glare of light that surrounded the strange creature. "You're Desire, then?" he prompted. "I can do nothing about my own at the moment, and I don't want to, thank you. If you want to find home, it's probably not here."

Family. The Spirit latched on to that feeling, and its vaguely hart-like shape began to slim and straighten. He watched, first in curiosity, and then in mounting fury, as its form took on an elven height and build. And when it finally coalesced into something close to being solid, Kieran was filled with anger.

"No," he said flatly. "Begone! I prefer you in the dark!"

The Spirit taking on the shape of his father took a step toward him, one hand outstretched in silent entreaty, and something close to a voice growing in its throat—

A staff blade suddenly swiped through the air between the Spirit and Kieran, and the Spirit flinched back.

Morrigan stepped in front of Kieran and pointed her staff straight at the Spirit's chest threateningly.

"I suggest you listen to Kieran," she said in a soft, deadly voice. "Begone, you pale thing. There are orphans yet in town who have need of your coddling. Bother him not. He knows his father comes not in a dream or a literal trick of the light, but in flesh and blood. Go! Begone!"

As she spoke, she stepped toward the Spirit, then continued walking forward until the Spirit wavered at the edge of the tower. Its white eyes flickered to Kieran's face over Morrigan's shoulder, and he thought he saw a profound sadness reflected back at him.

Kinship, it sighed, but put up no further protestations.

The Spirit melted away on the breeze, scattering like embers swept off the side of the tower, and the night grew dark once more.

For a moment, Kieran watched his mother's shoulders sag as she stared out at the very same watchful trees that had watched him, earlier. And then the wind picked up and brought the Tirashan's disapproval floating toward them in the voices of its Twilight.

"Mother," Kieran began, his voice cracking.

"I am proud of you," she said, sounding just as weary. She turned to face him with a weak smile, and he saw that there was some dark substance smudged across her cheek—blood, turned black in the starlight, but not, he thought, her own. "You did well to meet the thing, and to rebuke it."

"…Thank you," he said, not knowing what else to say, but as she swept by him on the way to the stairs he felt compelled to reach for her.

She slowed to a stop with his hand on her arm, but she did not immediately look at him.

"I don't want to lose you too, Mother," he said earnestly. "Are you alright?"

Kieran thought he heard her sniffle quietly, but he could not see her face to confirm it, and he was certain he had been mistaken.

"You are sweet, my son. All will be well," she replied. "Come to bed before the blasted trees march on the chateau."

She pulled free of his grip and descended the stairs without further ado, and Kieran was left watching her back with a growing sense of fear.

On the breeze, her heard the same voice of Desire whisper to him:

I could protect her.

[azazelsconfessional]

((so i was gonna open up my askbox again but I got distracted doing this and watching streams i think idr what i did the past few hours, buuut there's something I need to cover first, especially since there are so many new people around! Hello! Especially since so many of you are playing OCs/MCs.

Don't worry, it's a tip to hopefully help you along! It may get a little long, especially as I try and provide examples. . .but hopefully it'll help.

I'm gonna talk a lot about OCs but this applies to canon characters too a bit. It certainly helps.

Tl;dr, you should have a character profile page.

(also remember that tumblr mobile doesn't really have direct access to Pages made with the Pages function on desktop, so you'll have to link them manually in your pinned or description or host them on another site(I used Google Docs in the apst) or in a regular post(this makes it very easy to lose as a forewarning) for maximum accessibility!)

(rules pages are also really really handy if you have alot of resteictions.)

So, in general, OCs have a bit of a lower reception rate in rp. Idk if that'll be the case here with MCs because they're, well, the main character. Housamo is also a series that lends itself well to OCs pretty well, especially non-human ones, but I figured I'd warn for that.

BUT. That doesn't mean you shouldn't play an OC! It just means there are things you need to keep in mind!

Think of all of the OCs you've seen--you all seem to be fun and wonderful people, and your characters are surely interesting. But. . .if you don't tell anybody about them, nobody will know what's going on or where to start, which makes asking questions a little hard, right? That's easier to work around with MC characters--we've played the game, we know the story, we know the characters, so we can figure out questions fairly easily based on that alone and go from there.

But with other OCs, especially those that don't represent charactera from mythology or fiction like many other characters in housamo do, there's like. Nowhere to start. We may see a face or some dialogue, but otherwise we don't have a frame of reference.

That's where a profile comes in!

Azazel-mun, I don't want to share all of the info about my character at once!

What if I don't know everything about my OC yet and want to figure it out along thw way?

The profile doesn't have to be super detailed! At most it shoule include things like the character's name and age and probably things like their location, profession, grade in school or place of work, etc., and anything you'd notice on the surface like their apperance. It's never a bad thing to include a description of their personality too, or a small section about their history/background. Little things that even you should probably know, too.

You can also section your profile off a bit into things like "surface info," "meta info," "things you could easily figure out about them," etc. That way, no one can spoil themself. Making lists like this can help you think these things through if you haven't already as well.

Let's use Azazel, a character that you probably know already, as an example here. I don't have a profile set

Name: Azazel

Species: Fallen Angel; Capra Therian - an anthropomorphic Goat (?)

Gender(pronouns): Male(he/him)

Age: difficult to calculate; several thousand years old?

Apperance age: hard to say, he's not human. Adult.

Origins: banished from his home world of Eden, has been in the human world for several thousand years

Profession: Priest of dubious denomination, most likely Catholic or Protestant; teacher at Daikanyama Academy; de facto head of the Missionaries Non-Profit charity Organization; supervisor of the Aoyama Missionaries

Role & Rule: Watcher; Revelation - allows him to see anything within the territory of the Aoyama Missionaries and anywhere the pages of his Artifact see

Apperance: Azazel is a 5'10"(180cm) tall, anthropomorphic goat of ambiguous breed, with fawn fur all over his body and lighter fur on his head and around his neck. He has brown, riged horns which curve out and back. Though his eyes are often closed, when opened they're red. He always carried around a leather bound bible with an eye on the cover, and is never seen without several chains on his person, although only the one(s) around his neck can be seen unless he's undressed.

He wears a black priest's cassock with a maroon sash and a capelet of the same color, with the same eye as on his bible on the shoulders of the cape, and brown dress shoes. The front of the robe is always open to expose his bare chest and the chains beneath.

Personality: Azazel is kind and doting, very fitting of both a teacher and priest, although his openly flirtatious, lustful, and secretive nature causes others to distrust him. He doesn't mind this at all. He has a strong adoration for humans, and values love in all of its forms more than anything. He's a bit of a passive person, often being unmotivated but working hard regardless, and seems to prefer to watch others and the world go by, although he won't decline most invitations to take part in it. He is always aware of anything that happens within the extensive territory of the Missionaries, and seems to know and see just about everything about anyone he meets, from their surface to their soul. . . .

If you know Azazel, or take note of some of the wording or question marks, you'll note I didn't explain everything(although I may have shared more than you want to.) This is just a bare bones exampe of how I do my profiles--but it can get even more bare!

I'll do two this time, a more vague version of Azazel's, and another that obscures information all together, using the same or a similar format to the above.

Name: Azazel

Species: anthropomorphic goat

Gender(pronouns): male (he/him)

Age: unquestionably an adult

Origins: Eden

Profession: Priest; teacher; head of a charity NPO; member of the Missionaries

Apperance: Horned goatman of slightly above average human height. Light brown fur, blond fur-hair, red eyes. Wears priest robes and a gold chain around his neck and chest. Carries around a bible with an eye on it?

Personality: Kind of eerie, but friendly and affectionate. A little flirtatious, especially towards humans. Seems to know everything about people for some reason?

Compare it to the one before--see how I've left even more things off or left things ambiguous while still sharing what's necessary or surface level? However, it's also not as engaging or as informative as the other one where I gave more information.

As someone who plays him, profiles like this aren't as helpful for me lol since he knows so much about everyone and everything, having a lot of details helps me play my character!

Now, as helpful as this is, this is also a character you probably know. So how about I do this with an OC? Normally I'm extremely detailed in my profiles and such, especially for OCs, sharing headcanons and ideas for relationships between characters. But, again, I'll try and show how you can show some info while leaving some up to people to ask about to later be filled in.

Name: Kezia

Faceclaim/Art Source: [this is where you would put where you get the art for any icons you use--if you draw it yourself, say so; if you use official art from a series, credit the name of the character and the series; if you use picrews, link the specific picrews. DO NOT USE ART YOU HAVE NOT BEEN PERMITTED TO USE. DO NOT STEAL ART. IF YOU CAN'T FIND THE CREDIT, ASK SOMEONE TO HELP YOU, DO NOT JUST SAY THAT IT ISN'T YOURS. DO NOT USE ART YOU HAVE NOT BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO USE OR THAT ISN'T FROM A SERIES OF SOME SORT.]

Species: Human

Gender(pronouns): Female (she/her)

Age: mid 20's~early 30's?

Apperance age: older than she looks?

Origins: Tokyo?

Profession: Professor; Witch

Apperance: A fidgety woman who looks older than she is. She looks anxious and confused as often as she looks curious and confident. Wavy light brown hair. Often carries around schoolbooks and is never alone, always with a Rattus Therian and often with a Nyarlathotep.

Personality: seemingly anxious, but curious and exploratative nonetheless. On the awkward side, but can still keep up with the Nyarls that accompany her. Gets into trouble when she gets ahead of herself in exploring and learning about the arcane, but her Rule allows her to disappear easily.

History: Has always been curious about magic and attempted to run through a Gate when they began to open up. Performed a summon and brought a certain transients to Tokyo and recieved her familiar and the magic to use her Rule as a result. Currently teaches at a college. She stumbled into a certain someone while attempting to explore time, and became a fan ever since.

That tells you a fair amount, doesn't it? Even for someone you don't know? It may even raise some questions that you could ask. At the same time, it doesn't tell you that much, and that can be as much of a hindrance for coming up with questions as saying too much can. It's really up to you what's too much and too little. Here's a more detailed version! Some things have been left vague or confusing in such a way that they could be filled in after being revealed through asks and play. That way, people are encouraged to/given ideas of what to ask--and you can still share things in the long run.

Name: Kezia

Faceclaim/Art Source: [N/A]

Species: Human

Gender(pronouns): Female (she/her)

Age: mid 20's~early 30's?

Apperance age: somewhere in her 30's, maybe even a little older

Origins: Tokyo, with some sort of connection to at least one other world

Profession: Professor of [?] at [?] Academy; Witch

Role & Rule: [?] & [?]

Artifact, Summon, Familiar?: Always accompanied by at least one Nyarlathotep and some sort of man-rat? She also carries around a book that's labeled as a Grimoire, but it's rare for someone to be both a summon-user and an Artifact-user. . . .

Apperance: A fidgety older woman wearing a labcoat and a witch's hat. She looks quite stressed and has trouble sitting still. Her ashy brown hair is thin and a little wavy, with some strands of gray. Although she often squints, she doesn't wear glasses. She carries around a lot of books relating to maths and sciences and one labeled 'Grimoire' decorated with arcane symbols from Gehenna and Old Ones. She's always accompanied by at least one Nyarlathotep and a very short, bearded man who can best be described as a brown rat therian with a human-like face. Sometimes there's a normal rat on her person or in her pockets.

Personality: Kezia is a fidgety and anxious magic practitioner. She's very curious about other worlds and has been since the Gates appeared in this Tokyo since she was a child, however she has been pursuing magic before then. She often appears somewhat confused about or fascenated by even her usual surroundings, but, at other times moves through the world with confidence even in unfamiliar territory. She also likes rats and other rodents, and as such will often avoid felines and birds of prey. She has a tendency to disappear, seeming to walk through walls despite assuredly being alive.

She's a little bit awkward with people, but somehow keeps up with Nyarlathoteps nonetheless. She's a good teacher, once she figures out how to explain things in ways others can understand easily, but can be a bit difficult to follow and flighty up until then. Aware of this, she's rather patient, if a little down on herself at times. However, she most often simply has her mind elsewhere. Despite this and the company she keeps, she's relatively sane. . .most of the time.

She shares a name with a witch from the world of Old Ones who made a pact with Nyarlathotep, believing him to be the Devil. . .and the ratman always at her side uses the same name as that witch's familiar as well. It's. . .probably just a coincidence. . .who would rightfully make a pact with Nyarlathotep?

History: Kezia is an adult human from this Tokyo before the apperance of the Gates and construction of the Walls. She's explored various witchcraft pursuits since she was a child, with what was originally a mere imaginative curiosity and fascination. After the arrival of the Gates when she was still young, she snuck over the fences built around one and attempted to go inside the massive pillar of light, which she attributes to the reason she often seems to struggle with her vision. Several years later, she performed a successful summon and she recieved her familiar, Brown Jenkin, transformed into a somewhat therian form from one of her pet rats, and was given some powers from Nyarlathotep. She has no discernable control over any of the chaotic creatures, however they seem to spend time around her regardless.

At present she's a professor of a subject that interests her at a certain college. She's had other dangerous run-ins due to her excitement over the arcane and "darker" arts, but doesn't seem to show any signs of stopping. However, after an incident in an attempt to explore time itself, she encountered a certain guardian of time and feels reluctant for once to explore it further. . .although she's become quite a big fan of his.

. . .i ran out of steam amd kinda lost track of where i was going. idk if that helped at all really. But maybe it did! I hope it did. You don't need to use any of those things exactly by any means, but that's the kind of thing you usually see in profile pages. Basics like someone's name and birthday and age and apperance and a little about their personality, maybe some history. Oftentimes things like powers and weapons and the like. Interests, hobbies, ways they could be intereacted with, etc. Just stuff that'd help you know the character.

I write everything in paragraph form, but everyone is more than welcome to use a more script format. I love making profiles, myself--it really helps to think about the character and details about them. Normally I make really, really detailed profiles, but maybe I'll try and be more simple about it this time around. depends on how i'm feeling.

I know this seems weirdly hypocritical given I don't have one but when I first made this blog there were like four of us including myself. I didn't see the need for a rules or profile page because I didn't anticipate that there'd be so many of us or, like, people from other fandoms or who aren't familiar with certain characters. I'll rectify that soon hopefully. But I figured I'd pass along this idea/knowledge to others.

. . .I'm gonna go reopen my askbox now. Feel free to send asks again, ask about this, etc! You can send me an IM too if you want. I'll properly close up the guest event tomorrow. I'm real tired rn lol so idk how much i'll get done, but i usually do things super late at night my time, so i have some time to pull my shit together haha))

[jow99]

Panticosa

Today was a day hike from Panticosa to the Valle de la Ripera. It was a bit cool first thing but with the inevitable uphill start we soon all warmed up. It was however a warning of things to come as we move higher.

Today’s hike was stunning, through a gorgeous valley. Before getting to the valley in one part of the path was a gate with a sign asking you to close the gate as there were animals on the other side. We assumed cows and were correct. As we were walking along I could hear bells getting louder until eventually we were face to face with a cow. She was happily munching on the side of the track but as we approached decided to park herself across the track and munch on something on the other side.

Here shepherd Jose took over. She looked none too pleased that he wanted her to move (if looks could kill) and at one point I thought she was going to give him a nudge with her horns. Thankfully she finally turned around and headed up the hill in front of us. I was sure she was going to deliberately poop on Jose but he passed by unscathed.

As we got into the valley there were lots of horses as well as cows just roaming around everywhere. You’ll see in the photos Jose obviously got a taste for shepherding cows as Wend and Rob have headed off the road and are passing to the left of the cows, meanwhile Jose is on the road getting them to move aside - the cheek 😂

Not long after we entered the valley our trip notes told us there would be some picnic tables. We had encountered a couple of other hikers along the way but suddenly there were people everywhere. It turns out the tourist train we’d seen in town brings people out here on a 4WD track so they can walk along the valley and then it takes them back.

After morning tea at the picnic tables there was a discussion about which of the various options we would take from there. I was happy that we landed on walking along the valley as I thought it was spectacular. By now we could hear the marmots but with all the activity I doubted we would actually see one. After our walk up the valley we were back at the picnic tables for lunch and had a visit from two curious calves - very cute 😍 Wend also spotted a marmot half way up the hill opposite us. We all got to see it scampering across but way too far off for a photo.

Being a day trip the one drawback was that it was an out and back unless you followed the road the train takes a lot of the way back. We weren’t particularly keen on continuing on the 4WD track and we noticed a trail that seemed to run alongside the road, albeit on the other side of the river. So off we set, unfortunately the track kept getting very muddy so we would move higher to get around the mud. We we’re getting higher and higher and at the place we should have come off the road and onto the track we were considerably higher than the track.

Jose consulted one of his hiking apps that shows all the trails and confirmed that he’d found a way we could rejoin our track to get us back to Panticosa. Long story short it looks like this track is no longer maintained so we pretty much lost it and found ourselves even higher now above where we were meant to be.

Jose disappeared down the steep slope to see if he could find a way to get back into our track. He was gone quite a while and the three of us were getting quite concerned. I’d tried looking for him on the Find-my app but it couldn’t locate him. Suddenly a WhatsApp came through that he’d found a way.

Well I spent a bit of time on my bum (intentionally) and sort of slid and side stepped most of the way down. Happily we rejoined the track and were now well and truly looking forward to our post walk drinks. The rest of the walk passed without incident and we did indeed enjoy our post walk drinks and some tapas - I for one was starving.

A bit of a relax in our rooms (plus some washing) before we met up for a drink and dinner. These dinners are killing me, I roll home stuffed every night. So much for losing weight on this trip 🙄

[oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co]

The Lovelorn Monster

Welcome to my first Modern AU, which I wrote for @lovelyrita1967  It’s a Geraskier Romcom with extra suffering and gore! Also, it’s a Christmas fic as @booichiboo requested. 16k, M.

You can read it on AO3.

Summary: It's been many months since the mountain incident. Jaskier is alone on Christmas day. His lovely, old house has somehow become a monster-infested hellhole. Now it seems there might be a way to kill two birds with one stone. Only deciding what actually needs killing is much more complicated than that.

cw: blood, so much blood, also a lot of angst (although there’s a happy ending), suicide references, some Geraskier disagreements and heartbreak. No sex, but there’s a fair bit of angsty cuddling and some much less angsty kissing.

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

When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create

No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;

Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Dido’s Lament, Henry Purcell, adapted from The Aeneid

Jaskier stared at his beautiful, tall, richly dressed Christmas tree with pride and a wistful smile. Each ornament was a souvenir or a gift. This tradition gave his decorations deep meaning, but also made him reluctant to come anywhere near the tree this year.

Memories. He had a cardboard box full of them. There was a delicately carved wooden heart covered in rich, red paint he received from Countess de Stael. Then his favourite - a perfect, tiny copy of his lute he had ordered to celebrate his first successful performance for the royals. He even had a little doll that a sibele, a demon who steals children, was using to lure a baby when Geralt cut off her head.

Geralt never approved of Jaskier keeping the toy, let alone using it as an ornament. ‘I don’t need keepsakes to remind me of the last time I killed something,’ his gruff voice would say.

Well, this year it’s going up. Jaskier picked a spot for the doll with a rebellious toss of his hair. It was quite a nasty, clumsily knitted thing. Seeing it on the tree succeeded mostly in creating an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he imagined Geralt sitting on his living room sofa, relaxed, with a snide smile, some acerbic remark already forming in his head.

Perhaps Geralt would ignore the doll. ‘You just love making yourself sentimental,’ he’d say instead, seemingly no connection, just a short, judgmental glance at the tree.

And Jaskier did, actually. No shame in that. It had its benefits. In his mind, Geralt could easily become just the memory of a perfect, lost friend, regardless of how he would feel about the prospect. He was the hero Jaskier once traveled with, no more, no less. They parted ways for perfectly rational reasons.

‘Just give me a couple of years,’ he said to the imaginary Geralt in his mind and smiled with pride. Being the storyteller meant being in control.

Then he noticed a little ornament shaped like a golden dragon lying at the bottom of the box. The sight made him freeze for a moment. He shook off the memory and ignored the draw towards his phone which has been intensifying over the last couple of days.

Everything was going fine. The phone was just playing music, lying perfectly innocently on the windowsill as it should. It was set on shuffle, and Annie Lennox’s “Dido's Lament” was on, a little bit ominous, but also somehow appropriate.

He hummed with the music while hanging up a few golden baubles. As he started to sing, another voice joined in, a distant echo of his hum, a gentle, female timbre following along quietly. It made him smile, eyes suddenly attracted to the window. It was already getting dark, and the Christmas lights he put up outside were reflecting in the glass. A weird glow by the evergreen shrubs made the snow underneath them shine delicately.

The decorations were nearly complete. There was a comforting smell of cinnamon and apples coming from the kitchen. Also, he still had some surprisingly successful homemade ginger biscuits left.

The golden dragon was the last thing he hung on the tree. He flinched a little as he did, but it was where it belonged. Then he moved away to admire his finished work. ‘Better late than never,’ he whispered to himself.

At that exact moment, the next song started to play. Jaskier instantly recognised it and stared at his phone as if it personally insulted him.

‘It's been a blue holiday since you've been gone,’ Aretha Franklin started to sing.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Jaskier whispered while walking calmly towards his phone.

‘Oh darling, won't you hurry, hurry home,’ she continued undisturbed.

He actually liked the song and was starting to wonder if he was overreacting.

‘It's been a blue… a blue holiday. And I'm all alone.’

No, he wasn’t.

‘My dear I need your love to keep… to keep me warm.’

Yeah, sure, like that was ever an option, he thought to himself.

‘I cry when I hear the chapel bells ring… And sometimes I cry all through the night.’

Fuck. Jaskier’s fingerprint lock was a little wonky.

‘Won't you please come home and make my… make my holiday bright.’

Finally, he managed to skip a couple of songs, and quickly discovered he actually preferred some silence this time. He took a deep breath and decided it was time to focus on cooking. That should be comforting enough.

As soon as he turned towards the kitchen he heard a weird, buzzing sound, and then a high, disembodied laugh. Lights flickered. There was a loud crash, a cavalcade of many little objects falling all at once, baubles suddenly bouncing off his furniture. A glass ball he bought at a little Christmas market in Vizima rolled in between his feet.

He swore under his breath and turned back. All the ornaments were lying on his wooden floor, and only the Christmas lights remained. A small dark shape with sharp horns moved along the wall and then disappeared behind the sofa, still giggling to itself.

Jaskier stared at the naked tree, feeling a bit hopeless. Then he climbed up the sofa pillows and looked into the tight space between the wall and the backrest.

Two small, red eyes stared back.

‘Proud of yourself?’ he asked with irritation and heard only a quiet hiss in response. ‘You know what? Fuck you. Sincerely, fuck you.’ He pointed at the thing, his eyes narrowing. ‘No more biscuits for you. You’re going down,’ he threatened, a surprising and, by all accounts, disproportionate amount of uncurbed fury in his voice, hand shaking slightly.

For a moment Jaskier seemed overwhelmed. He took a couple of very deep breaths, then coughed a little and his eyes watered. ‘Right,’ he said to himself, his attempts to calm down obviously failing. He stretched his neck, then rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension with a sigh. ‘Right,’ he repeated as his expression switched to resolve.

He squeezed his phone with newly found determination, and then fiddled with it nervously for much longer than he originally planned.

Finally, he clicked on his least favourite icon of all - the phone app.

The signal was ringing loud in his ears. Time slowed down. He was just about to hang up when he heard a deep voice on the other side. ‘Yes?’

‘Vesemir,’ Jaskier announced, jovially. ‘Merry Christmas!’ He listened to Vesemir return the greeting and massaged his temples nervously. ‘Yes, thank you. Erm… I was just wondering… No, no, I am not going to hang up. Whatever gives you that idea?’ He laughed nervously. ‘I do need help. It’s a dreadful emergency. No… Of course, I would have called otherwise. Yes, it’s quiet because I’m at home. No, I have not been drinking. I am most definitely sober. Yes, yes, yes… No, I do realise… I actually do have a monster that needs to be… witchered? No, it’s not just one, actually… It’s- it’s a couple of things, really. I know it’s Christmas. Yes, I see your point. But… isn’t Geralt working anyway?’

He waited as the line went quiet for a while. ‘Yes, I did just ask for Geralt,’ he confirmed.

No response. Vesemir must have moved away from the phone, and there was a sound of distant chatter. When he returned his voice was hesitant. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I definitely want Geralt here. As soon as possible would be grand,’ Jaskier confirmed again, surprised at how confident he sounded.

‘Fine,’ Vesemir said finally, before hanging up right away, voice a bit more irritated than the situation justified.

Jaskier put the phone away and tried to force himself to breathe again.

You can read the rest on AO3.

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

Extra thanks to @ohmybgosh @variousnoises

@thelastsock​ @jaskierswolf​ @rawrkinjd​ @katesierra​ @gilbert-von-kneecap​ @stinastar​ @carmillacarmine​ @ro-the-bard-writer​ @ikeptupwiththejoneses​ @purpleonionofsex​ @marvagon​ @fontegagrilledcheese​ @sarah-midnight​ @geraskierficrecs​ @renfribrooks​ @darknessyuu​ @comfortabletextiles​ @gosh-diddley-darnit​ @ohjules​ @short-potato​ @anie6142​ 

@valdomarx​ I know you don’t read Modern AUs but this one has a wyvern, a rusalka and Geralt is still a witcher. Also, I love you. That’s my argument.

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift appears to be waging war over the serial resale of her old master recordings on two fronts. She recently confirmed that she is already underway in the process of re-recording the six albums she made for the Big Machine label, in order to steer her fans (and sync licensing execs) toward the coming alternate versions she’ll control. But now that she’s followed the surprise release of “Folklore” with the very, very surprise release of “Evermore” less than five months later, the thought may occur: If she keeps up this pace, she may have more new albums out on the Republic label than she ever did on Big Machine in a quarter of the time. Flooding the zone to further crowd out the oldies is unlikely to be Swift’s real motivation for giving the world a full-blown “Folklore” sequel this instantaneously: As motivations for prolific activity go, relieving and sublimating quarantine pressure is probably even better than revenge. Anyway, this is not a gift horse to be looked in the mouth. “Evermore,” like its mid-pandemic predecessor, feels like something that’s been labored over — in the best possible way — for years, not something that was written and recorded beginning in August, with the bow said to be put on it only about a week ago. Albums don’t get graded on a curve for how hastily they came together, or shouldn’t be, but this one doesn’t need the handicap. It’d be a jewel even if it’d been in progress forevermore and a day.The closest analog for the relation the new album bears to its predecessor might be one that’d seem ancient to much of Swift’s audience: U2 following “Achtung Baby” with “Zooropa” while still touring behind the previous album. It’s hard to remember now that a whole year and a half separated those two related projects; In that very different era, it seemed like a ridiculously fast follow-up. But the real comparison lies in how U2, having been rewarded for making a pretty gutsy change of pace with “Achtung,” seemed to say: You’re okay with a little experimentation? Let’s see how you like it when we really boil things down to our least commercial impulses, then — while we’ve still got you in the mood.Swift isn’t going avant-garde with “Evermore.” If anything, she’s just stripping things down to even more of an acoustic core, so that the new album often sounds like the folk record that the title of the previous one promised — albeit with nearly subliminal layers of Mellotrons, flutes, French horns and cellos that are so well embedded beneath the profuse finger-picking, you probably won’t notice them till you scour the credits. But it’s taking the risk of “Folklore” one step further by not even offering such an obvious banger (irony intended) as “Cardigan.” Aaron Dessner of the National produced or co-produced about two-thirds of the last record, but he’s on 14 out of 15 tracks here (Jack Antonoff gets the remaining spot), and so the new album is even more all of a piece with his arpeggiated chamber-pop impulses, Warmth amid iciness is a recurring lyrical motif here, and kind of a musical one, too, as Swift’s still increasingly agile vocal acting breathes heat into arrangements that might otherwise seem pretty controlled. At one point Swift sings, “Hey, December, I’m feeling unmoored,” like a woman who might even know she’s going to put her album out a couple of weeks before Christmas. It’s a wintry record — suitable for double-cardigan wearing! — and if you’re among the 99% who have been feeling unmoored, too, then perhaps you are Ready For It. Swift said in announcing the album that she was moving further into fiction songwriting after finding out it was a good fit on much of “Folklore,” a probably inevitable move for someone who’s turning 31 in a few days and appears to have a fairly settled personal life. Which is not to say that there aren’t scores to settle, and a few intriguing tracks whose real-life associations will be speculated upon. But just as the “Betty”/”August” love triangle of mid-year established that modern pop’s most celebrated confessional writer can just make shit up, too, so, here, do we get the narrator of “Dorothea,” a honey in Tupelo who is telling a childhood friend who moved away and became famous that she’s always welcome back in her hometown. (Swift may be doing a bit of empathic wondering in a couple of tracks here how it feels to be at the other end of the telescope.) One time the album takes a turn away from rumination into a pure spirit of fun — while getting dark anyway — is “No Body, No Crime,” a spirited double-murder ballad that may have more than a little inspiration in “Goodbye, Earl.” Since Swift already used the Dixie Chicks for background vocals two albums ago, for this one she brings in two of the sisters from Haim, Danielle and Este, and even uses the latter’s name for one of the characters. Yes, the rock band Haim’s featured appearance is on the only really country-sounding song on the record… there’s one you didn’t see coming, in the 16 hours you had to wonder about it. Yet there are also a handful of songs that clearly represent a Swiftian state of mind. At least, it’s easy to suppose that the love songs that opens the album, “Willow,” is a cousin to the previous record’s “Invisible String” and “Peace,” even if it doesn’t offer quite as many clearly corroborating details about her current relationship as those did. On the sadder side, Swift is apparently determined to run through her entire family tree for heartrending material. On “Lover,” she sang for her stricken mother; on “Folklore,” for her grandfather in wartime. In that tradition the new album offers “Marjorie,” about the beloved grandmother she lost in 2003, when she was 13. (The lyric videos that are being offered online mostly offer static visual loops, but the one for “Marjorie” is an exception, reviving a wealth of stills and home-movie footage of Grandma, who was quite a looker in a miniskirt in her day.) Rue is not something Swift is afraid of here anymore than anywhere else, as she sings, “I should’ve asked you questions / I should’ve asked you how to be / Asked you to write it down for me / Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt / ‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me,” lines that will leave a dry eye only in houses that have never known death. The piece de resistance in its poignance is Swift actually resurrecting faint audio clips of Marjorie, who was an opera singer back in the day. It’s almost like ELO’s “Rockaria,” played for weeping instead of a laugh. Swift has not given up, thank God, on the medium that brought her to the dance — the breakup song — but most of them here have more to do with dimming memories and the search for forgiveness, however slowly and incompletely achieved, than feist. But doesn’t Swift know that we like her when she’s angry? She does, and so she delves deep into something like venom just once, but it’s a good one. The ire in “Closure,” a pulsating song about an unwelcome “we can still be friends, right?” letter from an ex, seems so fresh and close to the surface that it would be reasonable to speculate that it is not about a romantic relationship at all, but a professional one she has no intention of ever recalling in a sweet light. Or maybe she does harbor that a disdain for an actual former love with that machinelike a level of intensity. What “Evermore” is full of is narratives that, like the music that accompanies them, really come into focus on second or third listen, usually because of a detail or two that turns her sometimes impressionistic modes completely vivid. “Champagne Problems” is a superb example of her abilities as a storyteller who doesn’t always tell all: She’s playing the role of a woman who quickly ruins a relationship by balking at a marriage proposal the guy had assumed was an easy enough yes that he’d tipped off his nearby family. “Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘ Til someone’s on their knees and asks you / ‘She would’ve made such a lovely bride / What a shame she’s fucked in the head’ / They said / But you’ll find the real thing instead / She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.” (Swift has doubled the F-bomb quotient this time around, among other expletives, for anyone who may be wondering whether there’s rough wordplay amid Dessner’s delicacy — that would an effing yes.) “‘Tis the Damn Season,” representing a gentler expletive, gives us a character who is willing to settle, or at least share a Christmas-time bed with an ex back in the hometown, till something better comes along. The pleasures here are shared, though not many more fellow artists have broken into her quarantine bubble this time around. Besides Haim’s cameo, Marcus Mumford offers a lovely harmony vocal on “Cowboy Like Me,” which might count as the other country song on the album, and even throws in something Swift never much favored in her Nashville days, a bit of lap steel. Its tale of male and female grifters meeting and maybe — maybe — falling in love is really more determinedly Western than C&W, per se, though. The National itself, as a group, finally gets featured billing on “Coney Island,” with Matt Berninger taking a duet vocal on a track that recalls the previous album’s celebrated Bon Iver collaboration “Exile,” with ex-lovers taking quiet turns deciding who was to blame. (Swift saves the rare laugh line for herself: “We were like the mall before the internet / It was the one place to be.) Don’t worry, legions of new Bon Iver fans: Dessner has not kicked Justin Vernon out of his inner circle just to make room for Berninger. The Bon Iver frontman whose appearance on “Folklore” came as a bit of a shock to some of his fan base actually makes several appearances on this album, and the one that gets him elevated to featured status again, as a duet, the closing “Evermore,” is different from “Exile” in two key ways. Vernon gets to sing in his high register… and he gets the girl. As it turned out, the year 2020 did not involve any such waiting for Swift fans; it’s an embarrassment of stunning albums-ending-in-“ore” that she’s mined out of a locked-down muse.

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 11

I'm back! Almost a month late, but exams got in the way of @marichatmay (how inconsiderate of my uni to hold them at this time of the year, really) The updates should be more frequent again, especially since I've got at least a couple of chapters planned that combine two prompts! Hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 11: In which, to quote Taylor Swift, dancing is a dangerous game

Marinette hummed happily as she inspected the dress on her mannequin.

Without tooting her own horn, it really was some of her best work; she'd chosen an asymmetric cut for it, slightly shorter in front, so the silk fabric teased the top of her knees. It was light enough that it could expand like a corolla if she twirled, but the shape of the skirt prevented it from hitching too high (one had to remain classy).

She was so pleased with the result. She'd fallen in love with the velvet lining of the cherry blossom pattern fabric when she'd stumbled upon it at the Marché St Pierre over a year ago, and had bought it on a whim. It had been safely sitting at the back of her fabric case ever since, for lack of a worthy project. She’d looked at it longingly every time she opened the box, hoping inspiration would strike.

She didn’t know if it was the upcoming class party, her strangely giddy heart, or the lovely late spring weather, but something in the air had titillated her creativity, and here she was, the proud owner of a beautiful dress, perfect for any occasion.

And what an occasion the class party was turning out to be. What had started out as a lowkey plan to celebrate the approaching end of the school year and the end of the brevet, had developed into something much bigger when the class had started discussing where to hold it, and Chloé had ended up suggesting the Grand Paris restaurant with a seemingly exasperated sigh. Marinette had seen her small smile when everyone had thanked her, though, and had made a mental note to suggest that they found a small present for her before the party.

Alya had been shocked when she’d voiced the thought aloud, asking if Marinette was feeling feverish, but her friend had shrugged the comment off. She just felt very light and breezy for some reason, and nothing could knock her off her air path.

She sighed contentedly as she put her pins away and opened a window to let the warm spring breeze in. This would do nicely. Even if she wasn't going to directly pursue Adrien, she was sure he'd notice the quality of her garment. And then, if he asked her to dance like the last time they’d been to a party at Chloé’s...

Oh, but what if we do dance like last time , she froze at the thought. I haven't made any progress in dancing, and even though I managed to not faceplant in front of him last time, I'm not sure that my luck will withstand a second time - what if I step on his feet? What if I knock into him and break his nose? Then he will hate me, his whole modeling career will be ruined, and Gabriel Agreste will make sure I never become a designer, and Adrien and I will never get married, have our house, three kids and our hamster named-

The lack of oxygen from her hyperventilating made her lose her balance and she caught herself on her desk. She breathed out slowly, relaxing as her eyes met Chat’s on their picture from the Café des Chats. She needed to stop catastrophising. It wouldn’t be a good idea to dance with Adrien, not while her “relationship” with Chat Noir was still "going strong”. She caught herself wondering how out of place it would be to invite him along to the party (it would definitely give her an excuse not to dance with Adrien), but promptly waved the thought away.

She went up to her computer and pulled up a dance tutorial to get her mind off of things. Just to be on the safe side.

"One two three, one two three..." She tried following the waltz steps, pretending to hold someone in her arms.

She felt a little stupid, but quickly brushed the feeling away. It wasn’t like someone was going to see her. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried by the music, picturing the movements in her head. It was easier this way.

“I must say, Marinette, you have excellent taste in music. Oh! Whatcha doing?” Her eyes flew open at the sound of a familiar voice and she stumbled backwards, crashing into her mannequin. Had she somehow invoked Adrien? A quick glance at her window and the smiling, masked face dangling upside down from it answered her question. "It really drags a cat- woah there, careful Princess!”

Chat leaped inside as his smile melted into a concerned frown.

“Would you stop sneaking up on me like that?!” She cursed as he helped her up, not admitting that she was actually kind of glad to see him. It had been a while. She immediately straightened her mannequin and started dusting off the dress.

“But where’s the fun in that? You’re cute when you’re dancing.” He felt his cheeks pinken, on par with hers at the compliment.

“Yeah, well, um…” She stammered, occupying herself by frantically checking for any sign of damage. “You could have ruined my dress!” She huffed.

“Ooh, is that what you’ll be wearing at Chloé… Bourgeois’ party?” He caught himself before he could sound too chummy about Chloé, but his face lit up as he turned around the mannequin to inspect it.

“What do you know about that?” Marinette crossed her arms and squinted suspiciously at him.

“Oh, nothing much,” he gulped, remembering how attentive to detail Marinette was. “I just heard about it through the grapevine, you know? I kind of keep a tab on events involving the Bourgeois, they tend to be at high akumatisation risk.”

“Clever kitty,” Marinette whispered under her breath.

“What was that?” Chat smirked.

“I said, that’s fair.” She cleared her throat.

“Right.” He nudged her. “Anyway, this dress is gorgeous, you’ve done an ameowzing job on it, Marinette.”

“Thanks.” She bit back a giddy smile, and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I…” Chat hesitated. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d been relaxing in his room, gazing at his ceiling, when he’d suddenly felt an irrepressible longing to see Marinette, and had promptly been on his way. He wondered if he could invoke his right to want to see his girlfriend, but decided it probably wasn’t for the best. They hadn’t seen each other since their encounter at the flower shop (well, of course they had, but she hadn’t been aware of it), and the part of him who was still hellbent on ending this absurd arrangement was convinced that a bit of progress towards a potential breakup had been made; blurting out defining relationship terms would definitely not help go down that road. “I was just in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d pop in and say hi! I’ve missed you.” He felt the tip of his ears warm up at his words.

“I’ve missed you, too.” She looked at her feet bashfully and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Both remained silent for a moment while the waltz music kept playing in the background, unsure what to say next. The silence was interrupted by a loud ad for Tsurugi cars on Marinette’s computer.

She jumped and went to close the tab, but Chat Noir caught the name of the video before she could do so.

“A dance tutorial?” He tilted his head inquisitively, and she froze. “What’s this for?”

“Well, I know it sounds stupid, but… I’m a little worried about the dancing part of Chloé’s evening.” She admitted, knotting her hands together.

“But you’re a great dancer!” Chat’s exclamation came out like a cry from the heart. “I mean, I suppose. How could you not be? You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You can do anything.”

“Thanks, Chat.” She flashed him a bright smile, making his heart skip a beat.

“I’m only speaking the truth.” He bowed, and decided it would be for the best for him to change the subject, before he went down the ‘Marinette is amazing’ rabbit hole. The rant could easily last for a long time. Thankfully, the video came to his rescue. “You know, though, I hear kids these days don’t really waltz anymore,” he said conspiratorially.

It was true; even though his father had been adamant about him taking ballroom dancing lessons, claiming every respectable young man knew how to dance, Nino had been almost uncharacteristically mocking about how he’d danced with Marinette at Chloé’s first party when they’d discussed it later (he’d had to gush about how great it had been to dance with his good friend), advising him to update his dancing style. Adrien had therefore looked it up, and had found out that Rock’n Roll dancing seemed fairly popular still, and his father had approved the suggestion to add it to the acceptable dance list. He wondered if Marinette also knew how to dance it.

“I know people who still waltz,” Marinette replied, defensively crossing her arms in front of her chest. “And so what if it’s a little old-fashioned? I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

“It’s just not very twenty-first century, is all.” He shrugged, although he wanted to scream that he agreed with her. He was mildly afraid that she’d see that two of the people she knew who appreciated waltzing were blond guys with green eyes, about the same height and build, and absolutely fantastic, funny and well-dressed, and that she would connect the dots. He wasn’t sure Ladybug would be very pleased if his identity was leaked over a dance, no matter how trustworthy Marinette was.

“Oh yeah? And what would you suggest, then?” Marinette cocked an eyebrow.

“Ever heard of Rock’n Roll?” he asked.

“I don’t live under a rock, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “Pun unintended.”

“And do you know how to dance it?” He took a step forward.

“I know the basics.” She shrugged.

“Would you like to practise? Just in case it turns out to be useful at Chloé’s…” He trailed off, trying to hide how excited he was at the prospect of dancing with Marinette again.

She wrung her hands together and pondered her options. It would be pretty stupid not to seize the opportunity, plus, she’d always kind of wondered what it would be like to dance with Chat. She didn’t know where the idea came from, although maybe their late night patrols in the moonlight played a part in it. “Are you sure you don’t have more important things to attend to?” She looked up at him.

“I’m free as a bird.” He grinned.

“Okay, then.” She found a playlist and launched it. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Chat Noir extended his hand and she took it. He pulled her in a little closer, twirling her in and back out before swinging their hands in rhythm with the music.

“The real pros trace little hearts to the beat, because your heart rate actually changes to match the tempo of a song,” he confided, before taking her other hand.

They met chest to chest a couple of times, then lifted their arms over their heads, letting go of one hand. Chat’s gloved hand hovered over Marinette’s arm as they moved just out of reach of each other, giving her goosebumps. Her breath hitched slightly, and she was fairly sure her complexion was now a couple of shades redder. Chat didn’t notice, or pretended not to, twirling her again, then taking her other hand again to go through a series of passes.

Marinette was impressed by how smoothly he led her, how natural it seemed to be for him. He smiled casually as they danced and she relaxed, effortlessly falling into rhythm with him.

As the end of the song approached, Chat got more confident that she could take more complex moves and picked up the difficulty. Marinette was slightly dizzy from all the twists and turns and was thankful for the pause he gave her after a string of moves. They stepped to the rhythm, her back to his chest, for a couple of beats longer than was traditional. She wondered if he’d sensed that he’d reached her limit.

“Hey, Marinette?” Chat’s breath tickled her ear as he whispered in it.

“Yes?” She looked up at him. Their faces were mere inches away; his gaze had an intensity she’d rarely seen him sport. She couldn’t deny it was a good look on him.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was slightly hoarse from the exercise.

“With my life,” she breathed, her eyes mindlessly landing on his lips. “Why-aaaah!”

She yelped as his hands dropped to her waist and he picked her up, then flipped her in the air.

He caught her before she landed, but her surprise made her fall more heavily than she would have with more notice, a loud thud echoing with her pulse in her ears as the song finally came to an end.

“Hmm, you should really rehearse that last move before the dance, you weren’t very light on your feet…” Chat bit back his laughter.

Marinette was about to punch his shoulder and yell at him to never pull that kind of thing on her again, unless he wanted to become cat food, when Sabine’s voice sounded from below.

“Marinette? Is everything alright?”

“Ah, er, yes Maman! Everything’s fine, I just knocked over my mannequin again!” She called out, frantically starting to push Chat up her stairs, towards her skylight. “You need to go, she can’t know that you’re here,” she added in hushed tones. If Sabine found him there with her… Well, Marinette had managed to convince her after the very first lunch that Chat and her wouldn’t work out, and she knew her mother had taken her word for it; she wasn’t so sure how she would react if she discovered that things were serious enough that he came around and danced in her room with her. Not that it was romantic in any way, but she knew what it could look like from the outside.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, “no need to be so pushy.”

“Consider it your punishment for almost giving me a heart attack,” Marinette shook her head. Her next words reassured him that she held no grudge. “See you later?”

“I’ll definitely cat ch you around, Princess,” he winked as he quickly kissed her hand. She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “By the way, I’m sure you’ll do great, whoever you dance with.”

“Thanks, Kitty.”

As she returned inside, she reflected on their synchronicity, and wondered if it was all down to the couple of years of fighting side by side, or if something bigger was at stake, allowing herself, for the first time since it had happened, to think about her first kiss for a little more than a couple of seconds.

[satum-eloquence]

AAAAAAAAAAA I CANT WAIT FOR “THY CREATURE”!! (it reminds me to continue play mazm: jnh but thats for another time).

so in anticipation i will share my thoughts and my speculations on thy creature and some little things i noticed in the trailer and other materials mazm released. note: i havent played mazm much but however i am just so stoked about a frankenstein game sooooo

ready?

HERE WE GOOOOOO

My Dumbass Thoughts on Thy Creature I Will Regret Posting (as of March 2021)

(SIDE NOTE: I will use he/him pronouns for the creature as the book uses this pronoun for him and in the MazM caption of the post, the pronouns were not explicitly stated or implied)

THE DESIGN OF CREATURE

Honestly? Very good and yet somewhat accurate to the book. As I, vaguely, recollect his description includes “yellowish skin; scars, stitches, long, dark hair; yellowish eyes, 8ft.”

In the MazM ver,

he has lots of scars and stitches

no yellow skin but his current skin is very becoming of the overall aesthetic

long hair but not dark

has a yellow eye

i am not so sure about his height but i conjecture it would be similar to the book

has some cool looking horns!! there is a mysterious, alluded, character whose presence is set up as this big mystery that is continuously hinted at. maybe symbolic of his past or his conflict with himself?

imo, the creature looks very innocent and not as horrid as he was described in the book :> (such a cutie!)

holding a white flower. symbolizing innocence, maybe?

shows some flesh.

GAME MECHANICS

A very fun impression though I might feel very frustrated because of the maze lol (im bad at mazes, i just panic). Not much to comment on

So as we can see, it plays out like a typical mazm game with the whole “approaching other people, seeing their well-designed sprites and reading their dialogue”.

but it introduces unique gameplay

other than what i previously mentioned, we can dodge certain attacks as we travel through a maze

and in some instances (the non maze part), we a little logo of sorts with “x75” beside to it.

maybe that is the number of lives we have

75 is quite the large number, exceedingly odd!

the game might be very difficult or something like that or maybe we only have to complete the game in a single attempt before retrying. idk much about game design lol

its on pc so maybe we will use wasd or the arrow keys to move

TRAILERS, TEASERS AND DETAILS

This is the part where I point out small details and seeing what they could mean and stuff.

Teaser:

at the start of a teaser posted on MazM’s instagram two days ago (Mar. 22), the narrator says “many unbelievable things happen in the world” and we see a fluffy white creature with horns similar to the creature’s and that one mysterious character. as what i have mentioned in the design portion, the creature has a white flower which could mean innocence. the small animal (?) seems to resemble a lamb, a known symbol of innocence. It seems like the theme of innocence will be a recurring theme.

we then see the creature and start the gameplay.

slides of text reads “struggle all you want before i am fair to everyone”... does it mean that the creature will treat everyone else poorly because of his mistreatment by the humans? i am not sure

In the gameplay segment, two black figures, whose silhouettes remind me of a wedding dress, express their concerns over someone (likely male because of the “he/him” pronouns). They say “Poor thing.” and “He needs his mother’s care”. hmmm mother’s care?

also the figures seem to be identical to eachother

after the segment, we see an old man with a scarred eye (maybe de lacey???) and a woman beside him (if the old man is de lacey, maybe agatha is the one beside him).

If my guesses are correct and they are the De Laceys, could they be allies of TC (the creature)?

After the scene w the duo, we see creature and the quote of “Why does she hate me?” Who is she? An OC? heck, maybe fem!Victor? that could be linked with “he needs his mother’s care” (if the quote is referring to tc) but the fem!Victor thing seems QUITE farfetched imo because i am just shooting in the dark w no braincells recovered from school. some of these are just probably from the mazm ver of the creature’s past

also ooo a book at the right-bottom portion and the screen and a counter for how many of those lamb-like creatures (chimeras? parallels to creature? idk)

after they show us a bit of the maze gameplay again, a book which is similar to the book i mentioned, is on the floor.

Maybe the book is actually Victor’s journal which you can collect to know some of the lore

TC approaches the old man and says “I came to help you, why are you frowning at me like that?” It is likely that the old man isnt de lacy because the old man is probably not (fully) blind upon perceiving him. if he is de lacey, theyre taking some “creative liberties” by not rendering him fully blind. grrr i wish i had more context >:((((

then after TC interacts with a book which contains a letter from Ingolstadt. Most likely written to Victor and it speaks of overdue books on human anatomy, etc.

Then some speedy text!! I am not able to procure all of them but I got “I am” and “everyone”.

By 1:01, we see the same mysterious entity with horns similar to the creature (except the horns are even).

There is a family portrait of (possibly) the Frankensteins to the right. I conjecture the woman is Caroline and the boy beside her is victor himself! :D

Anyway, my eyes feel a bit droopy and there is still a trailer but yknow i gtg. so see ya and thank you for enduring my dumb thoughts for this long. youre pretty cool <333

[brawltogethernow]

Agatha and Da Boyz - urban fantasy AU for the ask box meme, please?

Maxim, experimentally, reached out with his tongue, circled it around a package of cup ramen sitting innocently on the gas station shelf, and drew it, styrofoam and clear plastic wrapping and all, into his mouth.

He bit down. It went, KRERNUNCHffkfCH?

“No!” hissed Agatha. Futilely, she bat at the general area of his shoulders with her hands, head swiveling around to look for witnesses.

The cashier, a woman with purple-dyed hair and a chain connecting a piercing in her nose with one in her earlobe, was indeed staring right at them, mouth open slightly. As Agatha watched, she blinked with unnatural slowness, her face flickering like she was struggling to get a firm grip on one expression.

Finally her face cleared, and she smiled as genuinely as someone in a service job was likely to. “Oh, ha!” she said. “Munchies, right? Yeah, I’ve been there. Just make sure you bring me the package so I can scan it, alright?”

Agatha turned back to Maxim, who was fully engrossed in chewing consideringly. The package was definitely gone.

“She izn’t gonna see ennyting veird,” Oggie informed her easily. He was staring into the little mirror over a rotating display of sunglasses, trying to get a pair on without the single horn on the side of his head knocking them askew. “Iz de Fadey Ting.” Agatha could hear the capital letters. “Hit keeps pipple from noticink magic schtoff who izn’t all speshul-like.”

“Like hyu!” Dimo supplied, horribly casually.

“Dot’s vhy hyu roommate didn’t scream vhen she saw hyu lock dot big tentacly tingy in hyu’s broom closet,” Oggie continued, cheerfully. One of the stems of the star-shaped sunglasses he was trying to get to sit straight snapped in his hand. He sighed and put them back on the stand. They sagged, languorous.

“She izn’t gonna notice vhen hyu keel it, needer, so dun vorry,” Maxim finished, now done with his snack. “Vill just congratch’late hyu for taking out a rilly big rat, sumtink like dot.” He ran his unreasonable tongue over his jagged teeth, thoughtful. “Nize texture,” he declared. “Hy vants to try de odder liddle flavors.”

Agatha emitted an unhappy tea kettle noise, scooped up a miscellaneous armful of cup ramens (SALE! declared a little sign above them in screaming yellow and red), and swept them over to the poor cashier, who she deposited them in front of. Anything to get them out of here faster.

The cashier, enterprisingly, counted them and then picked one up and scanned it sixteen times. So that solved the issue of Maxim’s 33¢ debt to society.

“$12.22,” she declared after Agatha handed her the things she had actually come in for. Three containers of salt, and a plastic barbecue lighter.

Dimo leaned around Agatha and deposited a gold nugget on the sticky counter. It had a winged chess piece stamped on its side. “Buy hyuself sumting nize with de change, sveethot,” he rumbled, grinning. With, oh, too many teeth.

The cashier picked it up with businesslike efficiency, flashing Dimo a tight smile, then started to deposit the nugget in the register, paused. Her hand drifted to hold it over the tip jar, back. Paused. She stared down at it, looking fuzzy.

She looked back up, dreamy, and then more present as her gaze lit on Maxim. “That’s such a natural looking ombre!” she said, gesturing with her empty hand at Maxim’s hair, which was the same shade as hers. That his skin was also purple did not seem to register. “So subtle, I love it. What brand do you use?”

She looked down at the nugget again. Her brow furrowed with confusion. Her wrist twitched in preparation for resuming its circuit between the register and tip jar.

Agatha leaned forward, twitched the gold out of her hand, plunked it into her shirt pocket, and slapped a twenty down on the counter. Then she grabbed all three of her monsters by various bits of wrist and tattered jacket lapel and pulled them out the automatic door. Maxim, snagging up his bag of instant noodles, came rustling.

“Dot vos fon,” declared Oggie, as they stepped out into the pool of lime-tinted electronic light, refracting in almost steamy just-post-rain air, outside the gas station. He lifted his head and sniffed the bouquet of petrichor and gasoline fumes appreciatively. “Ken ve finish tellink hyu about hyu’s ancient birthright now?”

“Monster first,” declared Agatha, stomping off into the night, salt gripped tightly in her hand.

“Oh, killink,” replied Oggie, pleased.

“She doz have her priorities in order,” said Dimo.

“Did hyu understand vot dot sparkly face gorl was sayink ‘bout mine hair?” asked Maxim. And they trotted along on Agatha’s heels, banter muffled by the misty night.

.

[In deference to the garbage urban fantasy aesthetic, the perception filter is called the Fade. ...Uuuunless Jaegers introduce you to it.

Now on AO3 / follow-up]