#and i need somewhere to put all those chronicle sheets

[blackestnight]

ttrpg directory 2024

it's been a hot minute since i made a round-up of my blorbos, so have an updated roster below the cut!

pathfinder (2e)

electra godstongue (elf aasimar oracle of flames): her four-year-long campaign finally wrapped up, so my baby girl has gone into...retirement? LOL, no. she's got a backlog of resurrection rituals she promised, plus she needs to pester the gods until they help her undo yet more of aroden's bullshit. plus she and the gang might get back together to go beat up an immortal dryad living in absalom for stealing the sun from the darklands. might fuck around and attain godhood while she's at it? i mean, the starstone would be right there.

god, having a level 20 character is nutty. you can just say things like that! and be serious!

two-feet "tufi" stalks in dappled leaves (elf animal instinct barbarian): a PC for a homebrew campaign. she is also, somehow, part of a traveling circus, which is only slightly more bonkers than her previous occupation, which was "feral child living with a pack of mountain lions." she doesn't believe in shoes or weapons—that's what her teeth are for. she's currently on her way to rescue a dragon from...a cult or something. she stopped paying attention halfway through the mission briefing.

nordylva "nori" rook (elf commander): not related to that new veilguard game. nori is a veteran of lastwall, and my PC for a kingmaker campaign! she escaped lastwall with her unit and several civilians when tar-baphon returned, only to be caught and mauled by a pack of werewolves in the virlych region of ustalav. her tragic backstory is fully narrated here. currently she's mapping a region of the Stolen Lands under a charter from brevoy, accompanied by a party of monster hunters...none of whom know that she's a werewolf. with the full moon fast approaching.

fuck.

pathfinder society organized play

álmos szarka (half-elf thaumaturge): still menacing the inner seas and beyond with their charm (and charms!) álmos is a native of irrisen, the winter-locked kingdom ruled by the winter witches under the guidance of baba yaga. as such, they have an inherent dislike for magic, and spent their formative years learning every folk trick and old wives' tale that could ward off foul hexes, supernatural creatures, and worse. having finally fled irrisen as an adult, they put their knowledge to use dealing with haunts, curses, and all sorts of dangerous beasties for the pathfinder society. in the aftermath of the godsrain, álmos has been busy putting their illusion and smuggling skills to work helping 'rain-blessed' refugees flee rahadoum, while gathering intel on an extremist faction of the pure legion that seeks to take the matter of these unwilling divine magic-users into their own hands.

ivorna fen (elf twisting tree magus): miss ivy is also a pathfinder, though she found her way into their school of spells after being expelled from the chiroglyphica, a middling magic academy in taldor. she doesn't approach magic in a traditional sense, instead treating it as a complement to her martial skills. she goes on dungeon-delves quite often for the society, since she's well-equipped to find her way around magical traps and hazards; when she's not waist-deep in cobwebs she's probably putting out fires (metaphorical and literal) at the dacilane academy for pathfinders' children.

zafsah "the harrower" reiland (fetchling ranger): an expat from nidal who took up a post guarding the nirmathas border from undead incursions before being recruited by the pathfinders. zafsah prefers the company of nature to people, and never travels anywhere without her trusty terror bird, hades. recently she and hades have been helping track, study, and calm the wildlife on the island of kayajima in minkai, where she was stationed for a mission when gorum died and the godsrain fell. the red rain drove some of the fauna into a dangerous frenzy, and she and hades have already rescued a pair of griffins, a tiger, and a family of ducks (which immediately imprinted on hades).

eike blacksun (human warpriest of sarenrae): the daughter of a minor chelaxian noble house, eike was originally sworn into service of the temple of asmodeus as a champion. however, her faith was badly shaken when her young cousin was executed by the state, supposedly on charges of sedition—which rang a little hollow since he was all of eleven years old. she abandoned her oath to asmodeus and joined an underground cell of sarenrae worshippers, who taught her the doctrine of redemption and healing. she joined the pathfinders to help bring freedom to the chelish people. lately she's been working covert missions in egorian and westcrown, battling devils to thin the forces of the crown.

maris may (merfolk hydrokineticist): 'maris' is technically a pseudonym, but since her birth name is impossible to pronounce above water, it's the one she uses most commonly. maris is from one of the rare trench kingdoms of merfolk at the bottom of the arcadian ocean; she was forced to abandon her home when it was overrun by algollthus, and since the shallow-water merfolk communities were as alien to her as the surface world, she figured in for a whisker, in for a whalefall, and emigrated to absalom. the pathfinder society allows her to travel and experience the wonders of the surface while making accommodations for her needs—not a need for access to water, which she can make herself, but her blindness, which was common in her home where the light didn't reach but isn't accounted for in most above-water communities.

karina harker (human dhampir avenger rogue): karina is the youngest daughter of a pair of accomplished scholars from ustalav, both of whom moonlighted as vampire-slayers in their younger years. family lore says that her mother mina was bitten by a vampire long before karina or her siblings were born; mina survived, and neither her eldest son quincey nor her daughter lucy showed signs of vampiric influence, but a necrotic influenza swept through lepidstadt while karina was in the womb, and she was born with red eyes and fangs. her parents taught her and her siblings the basics of slaying undead, but once she reached her majority karina went into service of a militant sect of church-sanctioned hunters, worshippers of arazni and vicious undead-slayers. she joined the pathfinders as part of a partnership program between them and the knights of lastwall, and hopes to recruit more pathfinder agents to fight back the tide of undeath sweeping across lake encarthan.

starfinder (1e)

star mistress britta makee: somehow STILL has not died. she did recently get sucked through a wormhole, though, which was deeply unpleasant. currently she's battling her way through the graveyard of the gods to destroy some sort of fucked-up moon that's fueling a legion of unkillable murderous robots, because of course it is.

starfinder (2e playtest)

yenva togzu (fetchling shadow mystic): yenva is a native of the netherworld, and was raised by a cult of zon-kuthon in the shadow version of skydock. after zon-kuthon's divine reunion with his sister shelyn, yenva took up worship of their new deity with characteristic zeal, and departed the netherworld to help spread the good news of zon-shelyn's worship throughout the universe. they're rarely seen without their painglaive at hand, though in quiet moments they're known to sit down and sketch out tattoo designs.

syzygy (lashunta borai witchwarper): "sizzy," as her companions usually call her, doesn't remember when she died. it must have been at some point during the millenia-long blank space in history known only as "the Gap," although she finds her death less interesting than the fact that she woke up at some point after, secured in a pod in cold storage on a remote space station. somewhere, somehow, a tear formed in the fabric of spacetime, and syzygy fell through: no longer dead, not really alive, and full of weird reality-warping magic. these days she's mostly taking cargo transport jobs, although a couple of them have gone weird, but she has proven adept at dealing with ships suddenly overrun with ghosts!

greeroy jenkins (skittermander soldier bombardier): he has six arms, two grenade launchers, and enough adrenaline to kill a void troll. best move out of the way.

[theredconversegirl]

Hello! Can you recommend any angsty sasusaku one shots or fics that end in fluff or smut? :)

Hi nonny :) Thanks for stopping by!

First of all, sorry for the wait. It took me awhile to go through my ffnet and ao3 fave lists and confirm if the fic did have a happy ending at least. Some here will end with fluff, some with smut, and some will be more subtle but still soft and happy. 

So, I’m calling this list: 

Angst with a Happy Ending 🍅🌸

My go to story when I’m in this mood is Heartbeat by letmeannoyyoutoday, which I have recommended here before. It’s long and detailed, and it will make you cry before it will make you smile ;)

Now, let’s get started:

A Blue Bathed Litany By: Elegies for Shiva  / @elegiesforshiva

Bad dreams are nothing new for any shinobi. But being comforted is, especially in a fashion as sensual as this. Angst. Fluff. Lots of lemons. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

A Highly Contested Topic By: Annie Sparklecakes  

SasuSaku. He's not lonely, he says, Because he has her. In which Sakura desperately tries to form a bond, and Sasuke grows more and more attached by the day. He won't admit it, but the truth doesn't lie. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Ambrosia By: refracted  

Dark/AU. In the morning, when all the pretense has dissolved and they have finished the deeds that will become the death of them, he pretends he is asleep when he hears her sob. She breaks too beautifully, he believes. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Being with you By: La coccinelle bleue  

At that moment, he could recall comparing her, and her presence, to the smell of fresh paint. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Blood for Blood By: SouthSideStory  / @southsidestory

It's vengeance that drove Sasuke away from Konoha, and vengeance that brings him back. Staying, though, is a different matter entirely, and it's only Sakura that could give him a home. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

breaking the habit By: the blanket  

I'm scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway. Sakura, Sasuke, and breaking habits. And maybe, just maybe, learning new ones. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Cruel Cycle By: EmilyEphebiphobia  

She really does hate this sick cycle, but at the same time, she can't help but love it. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Decennial By: fayevalentines  

The ten years and ten separate times that Uchiha Sasuke catches himself staring at Haruno Sakura's back chronicled his descent into a maddening, consuming and achingly prosaic lunacy he fearfully acknowledges as love. [Canon-verse and Postcanon-verse.] [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Distant Ruins By: soulaire / @soulairee

AU. One-shot. She is lucky, she thinks, to have Sasuke as her first client. He's handsome, rich, and everything else she's not, and that is exactly why she's here, in his room, giving all of herself over to this stranger she just barely met. She only hopes Naruto never finds out. It would kill him if he knew she was selling her body to keep them alive... [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

don't let go By: theeflowerchild 

He made love to her in between the hospital sheets, released her name like a prayer between cracked lips. "I thought I lost you." [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Elevation By: refracted  

On day three hundred, he realizes he's probably loved her all along. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Enlightenment By: ClaraDraconis / @claradraconis For Sasuke, clarity comes after the final battle. Sometimes reflecting on the pain you've caused is the only way to realise what you've been missing all along. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Even After Everything By: Rise of the Blossom  / @riseoftheblossom-ff

Once more, her eyes searched through the large crowds of people, searching for that certain face she knew would be lurking around somewhere. At that moment in time, to her, he was all that mattered. He would always be the only one who mattered. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Everywhere By: flowerslut  / @flowerslut

"Did you—" she hesitated, looking away, "did you miss me?" He did not hesitate, although he did pause and think for a quick moment. "No." [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

finding the inbetween By: glossier 

Whether it's love or hate or something in the middle, his pupils dilate when he sees her. [Rated T, complete] ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

For the Love of the Amaryllis Flower By: theClosetPoet7  / @theclosetpoet7

With them, it has always been like this, him doing whatever he wants and her patiently waiting for his return. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Ghost By: twilightdazzle 

Sakura is officially declared missing on a Wednesday morning. Wednesday, what a stupid day to go missing. Of course, Sakura is the only person he knows that is annoying enough to interrupt the middle of the week like this. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

he said By: the blanket  

Sasuke, Sakura, and all that lies between. “I have never expected anything from you. That would have been the height of all foolishness, and say what you want about me, but I was never that. With you, Sasuke-kun, I only ever hoped.”  [Rated K+, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Her Patience Was Rewarding By: DeepPoeticGirl  / @xxlovendreamsxx

"I don't care if I throw my life away. If that's what it takes to make your life a little happier, and that this is exactly what you need to fulfill your dreams... then I don't care. Anything and everything for you, Sasuke-kun." [Rated M, complete] 

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

how scattered is the shattered glass By: silence.like.sleeping 

Sasuke knows that glass is easy to break and very hard to put back together. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

I think By: Lady Starburst 

She thinks it's impossible to get over something that never was. He thinks there's nothing left. A few years later, Sasuke and Sakura pick up where they left off. Sort of. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Intoxicated By: cherryblossomthundercrash / @uchiharvno

Sasuke always catches Sakura. (TW: alcoholism and drug use) [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Kaleidoscopes By: twilightdazzle 

Because Sakura loves Sasuke in kaleidoscope colors, and not all of them were so pretty. AU. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Magnetism By: twilightdazzle  

No," she snarled. "If you're going to leave again, then I want you to be man enough to say goodbye to my face." In which Sakura is stubborn and Sasuke is conflicted. [Rated M, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

more than enough By: proserandom 

But of course. She never did have a place in his heart. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

One Touch By: Clearheart 

They're always close, but they never touch, and it's killing them both. One touch is all Sakura craves to set things right. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Once More, With Feeling By: JinnySkeans

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

parting the clouds By: in cages  

he points his finger & she bares her teeth; they are in love, or so they're told. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

raindrops falling up By: rawrchelle  

“It can’t be anyone but Sakura.” “Why?” “Because she’s the only one stupid enough to love me despite everything.” [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

say anything By: the blanket  

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. But sometimes radios help, too. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Sickness of love By: GrimmjowKurosaki19 / @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Sasuke falls sick in love and there's no cure. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Tangible By: twilightdazzle 

Sometimes, she feels like she's invisible and they can't see her. Like she wasn't real. And they finally realize she's there just when they're about to lose her. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

The Long Way Home By: the general girl  

Sakura finds Sasuke again in Wind Country five years after the war, when he is supposed to be dead and she is supposed to be beyond caring. Neither have been very good at meeting expectations. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

this is how you lose her By: wistfulwhispers 

and that's when you know it's over. as soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end. for most people, at least. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Three Months Overdue By: silence.like.sleeping 

There is nothing worse than waiting. Unless you fear that you're waiting in vain. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

time spent By: sincerelyLen / @sincerelylen

Uchiha Sasuke is not oblivious to how popular Haruno Sakura has become over the years. Once in their lives, she tried to spend most of her free time solely with him. However, years later, Sasuke begins to feel a frustrating displeasure rise when he realizes how happily she splits her time with others, especially those who are not a part of the immediate Team Kakashi. [Rated K+, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

yours, forevermore  By: DeepPoeticGirl  / @xxlovendreamsxx He never meant to hurt her, but he did. He never meant for things to fall apart so bad, but they did. And now, even five years later, as he holds the Hokage seat and finds himself juggling more responsibilities than he can bear, Sasuke still tries to find a way to make things right. Hokage!Sasuke AU. [Rated M, complete]

——————————————————————————

Well, I hope you find what you are looking for in this list! 

And if you enjoyed these stories, make sure to leave some love & feedback. 💕

P.S.: I’m slowly going through other asks and prompts as I have free time after work and when my computer allows it - I’m still having some issues :(

~ Happy Reading & Stay Safe!

xoxo

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 13

hey y'all. happy update. sorry i've been so quiet like... literally everywhere. it's been, a lot lately, as you can imagine. i'm doing my best on my end and i hope you are too. i'm coming back to things. slowly.

if you like, come give me a follow over on twitter where i’m more active, or on twitch where i’ve started streaming. (username is omnistruck for both, but i was afraid that linking would nix the post from the tags ;;)

hang in there.

29 July, La Tortue. You in?

Luka has been, quite frankly, working his ass off like he never has before.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He remembers at least sort of working this hard to study for the bac, even if by most standards he nearly passed by the skin of his teeth. And he remembers at least sort of working this hard to find a paying job once he could actually have a job. But those ventures were for other people. To make a school district look good. To put food on the table even when he did n’t much feel like eating himself. This… he might even say this is the first time he’s worked so hard for himself, taken every bull he could find by the horns and steered it toward this club Bubbles has been hyping up, instead of figuring out where the things he loved decided to take him.

…Okay, and maybe he’s been doing some of this with Marinette in mind. But it isn’t entirely because of her, and he’d be dead and buried before he’d admit that Juleka’s right about this.

But what’s so bad about having a reason to work so hard? What’s wrong with calling the band together to practice when they’d been so lax about performances before? And what’s so bad about having a face to focus on in his imaginary audience whenever he closes his eyes? Or about having their setlist running like ticker tape in his head whenever he has a quiet moment in between deliveries? Or about splitting his attention between his messages to Bubbles and the tireless search for that perfect shade of blue music in the middle of the night?

Isn’t this what drives art? A color, a smile, a touch of the hand? Doesn’t this stuff launch ships and pen poetry? Isn’t it the little things, the things that are inconsequential to almost everyone else, that makes a painting into a masterpiece, or a song into a symphony?

Juleka says it once at the end of practice. Mostly with a jerk of her thumb and the hollow drawl of, “Get a load of this guy.”

Luka barely hears it, mostly because he’s crossed the room to study a heap of sheet music and rearrange it for what feels like the third time this hour. But he has enough spare energy, between writing and erasing and rewriting, to raise a middle finger behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Rose laughs, stepping back from the microphone; in seconds, he can feel her looming over him, studying with him. He doesn’t mind it, or how she rests her chin on his head, simply because they’ve known each other so long. “You just wanna get it right for our big break, right?”

Luka’s gotten a lot of things right; it’s easy to do when he keeps the bar for “right” on the ground nine times out of ten. He doesn’t want to get it right. He wants to get it perfect. And, as it turns out, the tenth time is the most finicky son of a bitch he’s ever dealt with. Which is saying something, when he’s been at the mercy of hungry customers more times than he can count.

“We’ll get it,” Rose encourages him with a friendly kiss to the top of his head. Her voice sounds tired. Maybe even worn. “But it’s not gonna go anywhere if you leave it alone for a while. I promise. Come on, let’s give it a rest.”

After a moment, he sighs, rights his papers, and rests his forehead on the keyboard he’s had to use as a makeshift desk. It makes the most distressing mix of notes in protest, but he hardly winces; it’s not like he’s ever been able to play it properly, anyway. “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll make you some tea and meet you upstairs.”

A shift in the air tells him neither Rose nor Juleka believes him. In the end, Juleka says, “Fine,” and Rose unravels from him, and their footsteps fade up the stairs.

With a sigh, Luka lifts his head from the piano, sure that the keys must have left some kind of mark, and finds Ivan still there, seated half-uncomfortably behind the drum set and twirling one of the sticks in his fingers.

“Juleka gave me The Look,” is all Ivan says, but it’s enough of an explanation. They’ve all been on the business end of The Look before. Even Rose, and maybe Luka more than most. He can see it in his head from the words alone.

“I get it, I get it,” Luka says, and he sets to work putting the kettle on and fishing out a couple of teabags and mismatched mugs from the cupboard. “You want a soda? Last one before we go grocery shopping—”

Ivan shakes his head. “You have it.”

Luka tosses him a water bottle instead, impressed by how he downs half of it in one go, dismissing his apology when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The kettle’s still going. They’ve got time to kill.

“She… kinda has a point,” Ivan mumbles after more than a beat of silence, like he’s uncertain about being too honest. Luka’s always thought he had nothing to worry about—Ivan’s much more tender than first glances would have others believe, and maybe tiptoes more than he should to fight those first glances. But he’s also had more than his fair share of overthinking the right words to say when music doesn’t suffice, and of regretting the words no matter how he ends up stringing them together, so he can’t really blame him.

Luka decides to bite. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” Ivan says, which usually means that he does know but is looking for the right way to cushion his words. “It does kinda feel like you’ve gone into turbo mode about this whole gig. But like, Luka-Couffaine-Style Turbo Mode.”

“Is that better or worse than the average?”

“Well… it’s definitely different. It’s like you tune everything out and go… I guess, somewhere inside yourself that the rest of us can’t see.” Ivan shrugs. “I guess maybe she’s worried that it’s so nice in there that you won’t come back out.”

Luka smiles grimly at the stovetop. “You’re not gonna tell me there’s no I in ‘band,’ are you?”

Ivan laughs and takes another swig. “Nah, that sounds like something a guidance counselor would say. More like… it’s okay to come out sometimes.”

Luka bites his tongue and resists the urge to joke that he already does it every time he meets someone new. Instead, he busies himself with turning off the kettle and making the tea. “Hey, uh… you don’t mind if I ask you something weird i do you?”

“I’m already scared,” Ivan jokes, “but go ahead.”

Luka pauses, tea bag in hand. “How did… you and Mylène get together?”

When he turns, it’s hard to say just how Ivan’s expression’s shifted, but he knows it has. Reminiscing, maybe? Or is that... cringing? Or—for better or worse—understanding? “I, uh, wrote her a song. It… didn’t exactly go well.”

“What d’you mean, it didn’t go well? You’re dating, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but. “Ivan shrugs. “It’s not like we just magically came together or anything. There were hiccups, I guess. You know?”

Luka knew hiccups better than the back of his hand. “So… what happened?”

Ivan tells him everything. How he liked Mylène and how sometimes it felt like everyone knew it but her. Or how maybe she knew after all, but didn’t want to, now maybe she even pretended she didn’t to let him down easy. How he buzzed from head to toe just sitting next to her in class but barely talked to her because he didn’t feel like he had the right to. The nights he stayed up thinking about it, wildly swinging back and forth between what if she doesn’t? and but God, what if she does? How he was teased and goaded by his classmates into finally gathering up the courage to confess to her, and humiliating them both with that stupid, loud song. And how, at the end of the day, all she needed to do was read the lyrics.

“It didn’t have to be perfect,” Ivan tells him. “It just had to be good.”

Luka smiles to himself at the end of it all, and feels his stomach turn, and wonders in the silence if all Marinette needs to do is hear the notes.

“Is it?” Ivan asks. “A girl? The one you’ve been posting about?”

Luka doesn’t say anything. He only takes the tray of drinks, and gives a little shrug, and nods toward the stairs. He gets the feeling Ivan would know without words anyway.

Cause I’m in. In fact, I’ve never been more “in” in my life.

[inventors-fair]

Rising Action: Commentary

I appreciate your patience, everyone! You've waited long enough, so no further ado!

NOTE: If this week's feedback feels harsher than normal, just remember that this challenge put a lot of restrictions on your designs. The designs this week certainly aren't worse on average, but all the extra restrictions make it easier to pick out individual critiques. So, hard hats on for this week's inspection!

@aethernalstars​ - Regrowth of the Vastwood // Oran-Rief, Reborn

Slot: Vastwood Fortification // Vastwood Thicket. The MDFCs have their own sheet in the set, so they can only really replace each other. Luckily (if expectedly) Green already has a +1/+1 counter DFC to replace, though this is a more powerful enabler for that archetype. This uses Landfall explicitly, but the MDFCs always enable Landfall so that doesn't significantly improve its fit in the set.

Card: Mechanically, this is a pretty neat little callback to Retreat to Kazandu and Murasa Ranger. Narrow cards like this are actually great choices for modal lands, though I suspect the double-gating on this one (only green creatures and requiring a mana cost) is probably a little too narrow for something that appears as often in Limited as this does.

Nitpicks/Templating: The target hiding in the second half of this ability is strange, as you'll actually have to choose that target before you decide whether or not to pay. This would be an opportune place to use a recursive trigger, replacing "If you do" with "When you do", to avoid that weirdness. Also, only the mythic MDFCs got names that sounded legendary; all the others are named like standard nonbasics.

Overall: I agree that Oran-Rief probably deserved more than an Ooze, I'm glad somebody went for it.

--

Allison - Tarrasque, Party Crasher

Slot: Nissa of Shadowed Boughs, probably? Mythic slots are always tight, and this exact color combination is already represented there, so the only real option would be replacing that card for this one. At the very least they both play into the Landfall theme. That said, this actively punishes the Party mechanic, which is generally something you want to avoid when selling the themes of your set.

Card: Cards that rely on your opponents' deck construction to turn on are always a little iffy, as they're generally either great or terrible. Ignoring the parts you can't control though, this is still a huge threat that your opponents will have to answer immediately, and even when they do every land drop will just bring it back. This is probably a little expensive (or unreliable, at least) to see play in Constructed, and basically just 'game over' in Limited.

Nitpicks/Templating: Cost reduction abilities call themselves "this spell" nowadays, and this one would be be awkward to template nonetheless: probably, "This spell costs {1} less to cast for each creature in the party of the opponent with the most creatures in their party." Conversely, the Landfall trigger would refer to the card by name. I know, it's a little confusing.

Overall: I don't doubt that the D&D set this summer will feature a Tarrasque, and I suspect the Party mechanic as well. Maybe hold onto this one until then.

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@dimestoretajic​ - The Last Relic

Slot: Myriad Construct. Colorless rare with kicker has a couple options, though this probably nabs the creature slot among those. This one doesn't support the +1/+1 counter theme as nicely as the Construct does, and I can't think of any other themes it's contributing to.

Card: Independently, this is a fairly reasonable design for a kicker Vehicle. The rate seems a little high for either the Vehicle half or the colorless 7-mana 5/5 evasive finisher, so having a card that can be either is probably well above rate, at least in Limited.

Nitpicks/Templating: You actually don't need a triggered ability for the kick effect: "If CARDNAME was kicked, it's a creature in addition to its other types" works fine.

Overall: I'm assuming this is intended to be a rare capstone to the uncommon Relic cycle, which is honestly a pretty nifty idea.

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@emmypupcake - Seek Allies

Slot: Murasa Rootgrazer. The only muticolor uncommons in this set are the signpost ones, so this would be competing for space with that. Since the GW theme in this set is Landfall, changing the signpost slot to something that doesn't support that would cause a few issues.

Card: I actually really like what this is doing, though the rate on it is a little unimpressive. Eladamri's Call is cheaper, more flexible, and instant speed; while you don't need to compete with that for power level directly, it probably warrants a change or two to make that comparison less obvious.

Nitpicks/Templating: Looks good.

Overall: I agree that this is definitely the color pair I would expect this effect in, despite the structure of the set. We'll keep our fingers crossed for it in the D&D set this summer.

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@fractured-infinity​ - Twinspell Mage

Slot: Coralhelm Chronicler, though the design itself is awkwardly similar to Sea Gate Stormcaller. You would likely want to either upshift the rarity to replace Stormcaller, or change the design not to hit so many of the same notes.

Card: You're not the only one to take advantage of the new flexibility of copy effects, though I wouldn't actually expect them to be that prevalent going forward. This probably isn't a totally unreasonable rate for that effect, as it costs extra for both the flexibility with kicker and the higher cost of copying permanent spells, though there's an argument that one more mana on the kicker would still be pretty good.

Nitpicks/Templating: You probably still want a line allowing you to change targets, since this doesn't only target permanent spells - and even permanent spells sometimes have targets.

Overall: I wouldn't be surprised to see something like this printed at some point.

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@hypexion​ - Inscription of Authority

Slot: Archon of Emeria. There are a few slots in each set just for format regulators, and both of these cards are serving that role. Neither is a great rare to pull in limited, but small evasive creature and awkward inflexible removal are probably on a similar power level, with the Inscription being a slight upgrade for White in the set.

Card: This is mostly just a removal spell with a kicker to get the second two abilities, as you'll rarely spend the card to do the other two. The second ability is pretty awkward to use; you'll have to caste it in the upkeep and hope that it hurts your opponent's plans somehow. Preventing lands from untapping isn't a particularly fun effect, and in Constructed that's often going to be Silence.

Nitpicks/Templating: Those are some unusual effects, but I think you managed to template them accurately. Kudos.

Overall: I can see why they decided finishing the Inscription cycle was so hard.

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@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ - Relic of Resonance

Slot: Lithoform Engine or Forsaken Monument. Mythic Legendary colorless artifact surprisingly has a couple options in this set. Engine feels closest to what this is doing, though this is much narrower than that; Monument is serving a throwback role in the set, so this would be more relevant to the set's themes but would cost it that element. Also consider that downshifting it to rare would allow it to take the place of Throne of Makindi.

Card: I actually really like the idea of this inclusion in the set. My biggest issue with it was just how narrow it was, as kicker is only one theme in the set and colorless cards are best at bridging themes with diverse colors. With a little extra going on, this likely would've been in the winner's circle this week.

Nitpicks/Templating: This wants to specify "spells" rather than "cards", and I'm not sure there's a compelling reason to limit how much you can reduce the kicker cost. "Kicked spells you cast cost {2} less to cast" would achieve the same thing much more concisely.

Overall: I think there's a cool design that fuses this with Lithoform Engine that I would've been really pleased with.

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@ignorantturtlegaming​ - Tribe of Heroes

Slot: Throne of Makindi, though it's not really straightforward adding multicolor cards like this. The fact that this is the exact same four colors as Omnath, Locus of Creation led me to think that was the slot it would be taking, but they're at different rarities. Having both would mean you need extra Black at at one of those rarities in order to maintain color balance.

Card: I'm not sure why this wasn't five-color, or even non-green - the colors for Party in this set are RB and WU. But then, this isn't actually a Party card: it uses the mechanic, but mostly circumvents what makes the mechanic interesting to play with: you don't even need to run other creatures in your deck for this to work. This plays into the flavour space of Party, but mechanically it isn't really supporting what that Party does for the set.

Nitpicks/Templating: You could probably get away with just listing the relevant types when creating the token, but the template you went with allows the token to be printed accurately. I think yours was probably the correct choice.

Overall: The mice are super cute. I don't totally get it, but you don’t need an excuse for cuteness.

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@illharg-the-rave-boar​ - Master of Possibilities

Slot: Jace, Mirror Mage. Mythic slots are tight, and maintaining a (rough) balance of colors means yanking the one mono-Blue mythic already in. The result is less kicker support and more Wizards Party support, though at mythic they weren't contributing much to as-fan anyway. Somewhere in the midst of commentary, I lost track of how many mythics there were in the set: mono-Blue has two, and Sea Gate Stormcaller is definitely a more direct comparison for this card, as it plays into the Wizards and instant/sorcery themes in a similar way.

Card: My biggest issue with this design is how often the trigger just won't do anything - there are zero Wizards with Flash in Zendikar Rising, so Wizards and sorceries will generally trigger this for no benefit - especially in the Wizard tribal deck you would typically want to play this in. The idea is kinda clever, but the execution just doesn't really deliver on how cool the idea is.

Nitpicks/Templating: We've never seen a target self-replacement in a triggered ability like this, and I'm not convinced it works. Normally the ability wouldn't check your party size until resolution, but targets need to be chosen when the ability is put onto the stack. The template probably looks familiar because it's used on spells with things that are chosen before targets (like X values or kicker). This may be as simple as a rules update to cover it, but I'm not convinced there aren't other repercussions.

Overall: I feel like your Sphinx looks more like a typical Zendikari Sphinx than the one that did make it into the set.

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@kavinika​ - Spear of Radiance

Slot: Akiri, Fearless Voyager. There's a cycle of ten rare two-color legends, so any multicolor rare would require breaking that up. Mechanically, this plays in some similar space to Akiri, with each providing one of the 'halves' of a Warrior/Equipment deck. Both offer protection and incentives for equipping, though this does so in a much narrower way.

Card: The most interesting part of the design is definitely the protection effect, which is an interesting take on what Akiri was doing and a fairly unusual approach for Equipment. If I had one qualm, I think I'd rather see the bonuses reversed: the untap effect does neat things with several non-Warriors in the set, and there aren't really any Warriors that can maximise it.

Nitpicks/Templating: You're missing a comma between your trigger and your effect (between "battlefield" and "attach"), and the condition in the activated ability should read "it's" rather than "it is". Both very minor quibbles.

Overall: I agree that that art would look very at home on Innistrad.

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@mardu-lesbian​ - Tuktuk, the Ever-Returning

Slot: Crawling Barrens, probably. That's the closest we've got in colorless, at rare, and that synergises with Landfall. Losing the one creature land in the set feels like a big loss, but gaining a familiar legendary creature has its own advantages. Both are resilient threats that make drawing lands late in the game not feel so bad, so functionally the resulting formats probably look similar.

Card: Based on what I saw in the Discord, I believe your intent was for this to trigger from both your graveyard and the battlefield, so we'll assume that's how it works. Turning every land you draw into two tokens is pretty powerful - that's about on par with the first mode of Felidar Retreat, except this one can't be removed and sometimes doesn't cost mana. There are no good ways in Limited to permanently remove this card, and the Mill/Rogues draft archetype likely just can't win games where this is a factor. Outside of Limited, this is much more likely to exist in multiples and more likely to be free through self-mill, which sounds like a very, very powerful effect that would likely warp the Standard environment around itself.

Nitpicks/Templating: As implied above, as written this ability only works from the graveyard. Making an ability work from multiple zones requires stating so explicitly, and you generally don't want to do so with abilities that don't make equal sense in both zones. This would be a tough one to make work, though perhaps there's a clever template that I'm just overlooking.

Overall: I would've been really pleased to see more of Tuktuk.

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@misterstingyjack​ - Roil Watcher

Slot: Tajuru Paragon. None of the other Green rares lean into the Party mechanic at all, so the committed member of the vertical cycle of multiclass creatures is the best bet. This trades out Kicker and additional Party synergies for (big) Landfall synergies, as well as synergy with MDFCs - this sounds pretty even, but because Kicker and Party both need the extra support in order to be playable themes, trading their support for themes that need it less might be a risky exchange.

Card: This is a neat way to interact with MDFCs and to turn on Landfall in the decks that want that - getting up to four additional triggers in a turn can be gamebreaking, but isn't always and the card doesn't feel overpowered at all. It has a similar feel to Nahiri's Lithoforming, leading me to believe it's probably an effect the Landfall decks really want.

Nitpicks/Templating: Effects that return your own lands generally don't target, and didn't in Zendikar Rising. As a general rule I would avoid targeting on anything unless making those choices before resolution actually leads to better gameplay, and opponents will rarely be able to interact with your lands at instant speed to make it matter here.

Overall: This one showed a really good grasp of the themes of the set. Kudos.

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@nine-effing-hells​ - Total Party Kill

Slot: Shadow's Verdict, the Black rare sweeper for this set. Total Party Kill is definitely more aware of the set's themes, though it falls into the trap (pun intended?) of punishing what the rest of the set is trying to encourage. Party isn't something that works naturally in every set, so a lot of design work goes into making it as reliable as possible in Zendikar Rising. As such, we can't really afford to spend slots actively making it harder.

Card: That said, the card is a really clever idea. One thing to note for the design: sets with Kicker generally have a lot fewer modal spells, because those operate in very similar spaces. It might've been worth a couple extra passes to see if there was a Kicker version of the effect you'd be happy with.

Nitpicks/Templating: It's an unusual template, but probably the correct one for the effect.

Overall: This beat out two different Bruse Tarls and a whole party of mouses for Card That Made Me Chuckle the Most. That's gotta count for something.

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@reaperfromtheabyss​ - Akoum Magnamancy

Slot: Nahiri's Lithoforming. This is doing something pretty different from Lithoforming, but noncreature rare slots in Red are slim. Both do a bit to enable Landfall, while this also reaches into Kicker and party space. That said, I worry it may have stretched itself too thin - I'm not sure any of those archetypes really want a card that requires so many pieces to optimise.

Card: There's a lot going on here, and even I'm struggling to come up with all the different permutations. It has four different modes (kicked and unkicked, and with and without party), up to two possible targets, and interacts with several different themes. It's definitely an ambitious design and it's certainly interesting, but it's hard to gauge, likely hard to use, and especially hard to maximise: which just means it will often prove less satisfying to play than to read.

Nitpicks/Templating: The last effect wants to be first, as a cast trigger: "When you cast this spell, if you have a full party, copy it. You may choose new targets for the copy." As written, this is part of the spell's effect, and the copy still 'knows' that you had a full party as you cast the original, causing it to copy itself ad infinitum. Probably not intended.

Overall: Magnamancy has been a really fun word to roll around in my mouth. Moreso than actual magma, I assume.

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@shakesz - Kesenya, Sea Gate Head

Slot: Omnath, Locus of Creation. Mythic slots are always tight, and multicolor mythic slots are even tighter. There's a color balance between the planeswalkers in the set, leaving only the colorless mythics and Omnath easily replaceable. Dropping Omnath for Kesenya means less landfall and more Party support, though mythics aren't really all that relevant to Limited anyway.

Card: I was expecting to see some designs that stretched the limits on Party, and this wound up being the only one exploring that space. That said, I expected to see it turned up to five; potentially doubling the size is a much larger boost. The tap ability is a bit snowbally, as it does essentially nothing on its own but does a lot on a crowded board. That said, the card is not individually powerful.

Nitpicks/Templating: The elephant in the party room is that Party doesn’t work that way - “party” returns a numerical value, it’s not actually a way for grouping creatures on the battlefield. The first ability almost works, though as written it’s not absolutely clear that “of each type” refers to party types and not...well, each type.

Overall: You’ve definitely succeeded in piquing my interest in the character, so that’s a win.

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@starch255​ - Zulaport Subjugator

Slot: Nullpriest of Oblivion is the closest thing, mechanically. And it’s when we look at the set this way that we see the obstacles they were facing with making Party work: adding more Warriors largely meant axing other Clerics, or Rogues. Skyclave Shade is the one rare Black creature without a party type, but that design is supporting +1/+1 counters, Kicker, and Landfall - replacing it just to get a small increase in Warrior as-fan would probably cost the set more than it gained.

Card: The design seems individually solid, and rather powerful.

Nitpicks/Templating: Looks sound.

Overall: I agree that Standard could use more Black Warriors to make Party come together, but we may have to wait for Kaldheim for it.

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@socialpoison​ - The Lithoform Core // The Murasa Skyclave

Slot: Emeria’s Call // Emeria, Shattered Skyclave. There’s exactly one slot for a mythic White DFC in the set, so adding this requires breaking the bolt land cycle. I’m inclined to think that’s not worth it. Attaching the land’s tap condition to your party seems clever, but lands coming in untapped is almost always most important on early turns and that’s especially true for the decks that will rely on curving out into 4 different party members.

Card: This overlaps unfortunately with Ondu Inversion at a lower rarity, though this is effectively an instant speed sweeper. In addition to punishing your opponent for committing to the board, it punishes them for things like...playing lands, and tapping them for mana. At seven mana I can’t imagine it being a very effective hoser for the things it’s trying to stop, which is probably for the best because I can’t imagine the format where this sees lots of play would be very fun.

Nitpicks/Templating: Legendary lands are still a thing they try to avoid. Having another side does ease some of those issues, but it’s still probably best practice just to let people play their lands - especially if that land is just a bad Plains.

Overall: The callout to Lithoform Blight is pretty sweet, I have to admit. 

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@thedirtside - Refreshing Breeze

Slot: Lotus Cobra. This is ramp that helps enable Landfall, so the rare Green ramp/Landfall card seems like the clear cut for it. This interacts interestingly with the large amounts of incidental mill in this set, providing you a way to ramp when you do happen to wind up with lands in your graveyard. Unfortunately, there are many ways to enable it yourself, which leaves it slightly lacking.

Card: I’m a sucker for a good ramp spell, and this one is very cleverly done. In formats with fetchlands it is a much better Birds of Paradise, since lands are much more dependable ramp than creatures. In Standard it’s interesting, because it’s one-mana ramp that almost never works on turn one on the play, which is when one-mana ramp is most powerful (and most dangerous).

Nitpicks/Templating: This would be a much better fit for the set if it let you play an additional land from your graveyard - the most reliable way to get lands in your graveyard in this set is on the back of an MDFC, but unfortunately as written this ability does not work with those.

Overall: I’m a big fan of the simplicity of this design, though I can’t help but wonder if there was room for a small Kicker effect to round it out.

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@wolkemesser​ - Bruse Tarl, Bull-Headed

Slot: Akiri, Fearless Voyager. This successfully fits into the ten-card cycle of rare two-color legendary creatures, so kudos on that. It has a kicker effect and is a Warrior to support Party, but its Landfall ability actively discourages you playing with the themes of the set.

Card: I think you must have underestimated how powerful a 3/4 double strike, lifelink for two mana actually is - thanks to his Landfall ability, he would serve as the top-end for a deck that only ever wants two lands on the battlefield, and seeks to end the game by turn 3 or 4. I can’t imagine the kicked ability coming up very often, because random Ox tokens are generally worth so much less than an hyper-efficient creature like this.

Nitpicks/Templating: Looks like you forgot to tell us what color the Ox tokens should be. White, I’m guessing.

Overall: I suspect this was intended as a Commander card, but since this challenge was for a Standard-legal set I have to keep that in mind. The idea is neat though, and I love how it makes Bruse and his Oxen adversaries. 

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Thanks again for your patience in getting this commentary out this week. This challenge was a little smaller than our weekly average has been, but I received enough positive feedback that I'll probably still try to make it a recurring feature. I appreciate everyone that took the time to join my little experiment this week!

~Mod [ @3smuth ]

[rpgmgames]

February’s Featured Game: Ressurflection

DEVELOPER(S): charlottezxz ENGINE: RPG Maker MV GENRE: Fantasy, Cartoon, RPG WARNINGS: Paranoia, fear and tension, mild swearing and blood. SUMMARY: Ressurflection is a Fantasy/cartoon RPG set in the fictional universe of the Arbvar and taking center stage primarily at the coastal city of ‘Horizon Bluff’. Its story and game play are heavily character driven, with its narrative divided into two parallels told both within and outside the mirror itself. Ressurflection’s core themes draw from our inevitability of fearing death, and that at some point or another, we all must accept it, and to treasure what’s really important in the time that we have.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *charlottezxz: Hiya this is Charlotte, lead game developer for Ressurflection! I’m some silly, overactive drawing monkey who works a lot with Narrow on Ressurflection! I’m always sketching and conceptualizing monster bois, taking a lot of inspiration from various games, primarily monster hunter! I’ve had avid interest in the Indie scene for a while now and a lot of the great friends I've made have been due to it and a lot of my recent favorite games have come from it! I would have had Narrow say a few things here but he’s hiding in a corner somewhere!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *charlottezxz: Ressurflection started out as what can be described as two separate stories. Myself and Narrow wrote our own stories and every so often we swapped over ideas or combined them together with each other. One day I said to ourselves ‘You know what? This could work quite well as a game rather than just a story’ so eventually Ressurflection was conceived, around the idea of a mythical mirror capable ‘Ressurflection’ the title of the game. We’ve gone through quite a few iterations of the story before it came to its current form and to be honest if we even showed or compared them side by side they’d be pretty unrecognizable as the same thing except for certain characters, locations and the mirror itself to identify its primordial form having any kind of ancestral relevance to how it is today. As for what Ressurflection is about, I think our synopsis can get that across quite nicely! ‘Horizon Bluff has always annually held its ‘Legend of the Wyvern Glass’ festivities. The Wyvern glass was a long lost mythical mirror, once fabled for its power of ‘Ressurflection’ and coveted by a kingdom now all but gone. That is quick to change however with the arrival of the Roulette Runner’s circus to the coastal city of Horizon Bluff. Trouble is soon to set in motion not just the kingdom’s sudden reappearance but the entrapment of one of their own acrobats within the mirror silver. Yet things are soon to worsen...with the spread of a purple ‘corruption’ across the city and the fact that our most unfortunate trouper is far from alone within the mirror, finding himself at the mercy of its ‘Mirror Maiden’. > The apparent all powerful manipulator of its realm…’

How long have you been working on your project? *charlottezxz: Conceptually we have been working on it for 4 years which is hard to even fathom, however that’s more tinkering around the idea for the story and conceiving it as we learnt the engine. The blog itself is hitting its 4th birthday in February! Ressuflection’s development went on as i attended university, so its always been a side lined hobby of ours.Steam says 108 days worth of hours in the engine and most of the game progress other than concepts has been done in 2019. So I could say 4 years for the ideas/stories and concepts and a year of that for actual game making!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *charlottezxz: We each have our own inspirations, Lost Odyssey, Final Fantasy 9, Xenoblade Chronicles, Monster hunter and many older PSX titles such as Medievil, Tomba and Heart of darkness are great influences and inspirations to me personally. The dark, dangerous environments of Heart of darkness contrasted by some innocent characters, the monster designs in capcom’s franchise and the storytelling and themes with a cinematic approach to cut scenes found in some of FF9, Xenoblade and Lost odyssey, a lost game stuck in the recess of the xbox 360. There are many more but these spring to mind first and foremost. Narrow himself draws inspiration from games such as Earthbound, the Persona series and FF10!

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *charlottezxz: We started the project in VX ace to begin with, until MV released. It was in Ace that I experimented learning RPG maker and in the early days of MV too. Although before Ressurflection’s time i also dabbled a bit in XP. MV seemed more in line for what we wanted, as i really wanted to try animating beyond SV sheets and do more, with Java being a bit more flexible and the scope of it being able to allow dragon bones later. However it hasn’t been without its hiccups! Part of that is the sheer amount of time you underestimate games and certain elements to take in their development. That and everything that comes with it, streamlining, trimming the fat...in the past week alone i spent days optimizing pictures, sounds and music in the game to cut down the staggering file sizes they were. So far they have retained their form without being as costly on the MB! Since I do the vast majority of the game development myself, everything takes a lot longer to develop. You underestimate all the little things to consider and that you may need later. By the end of development, I hope to have the vast majority of the game consist of custom assets and be able to truly call it something that is ours. Though that path is long ahead we won’t stray too far from it.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *charlottezxz: The game itself has always been a story-driven RPG at its heart, although certain game mechanics have been scaled down or developed further from puzzles to battle flow. As mentioned previously, the story has changed considerably which changed the direction of the overall narrative and gameplay as a whole. Certain characters and scenarios have been culled completely too. At its start the story wasn’t as heartfelt nor was the scope of the story all that big - Oh and the game had a time limit, a bit like Majora’s Mask! But it is a lot more meaningful now and we hope that you will enjoy it when the time comes.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *charlottezxz: It has been just myself and Narrow for the majority of the development but we reached a point where we wanted to reach out to find a musician for our game. We eventually came across Geoff who has done the majority of our music up until recently. However we have had friends help and contribute along the way such as Harry helping sprite some NPCs for me, Bart helping formulate and do some math balancing, Vaijack has also contributed to music making him our second musical boi and more on the way, our preliminary demo testers( it would take a little to list them all) and more peeps i’ll be sure to credit!

What is the best part of developing a game? *charlottezxz: For me it has to be conceptualising all the little ideas we have and bringing them all into being. This is especially so for any monster and character bois! I spend a lot of time visualizing and planning the design of areas, locales and creatures. Would this thing live here? Why would it be this way? If this is a historical town wouldn’t it have x and x? Then when we ultimately put it together, and all the pieces of the puzzle line into place and then you can just...experience, the final thing, that for me is the best part in developing our game for me.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *charlottezxz: I learn best by doing, so more often than not I just dive into things, including the engine blind and tussle around with it. It’s a silly way of doing it, but I've often found myself learning more that way than following tutorials. Although in any game I've played, RPG maker or not, i do like to ponder and deconstruct scenes within them. The Witch's house, Pocket Mirror, Dreaming Mary, Mad fathers and Ib are all wonderful games that are great to learn from, dissect and understand what makes and made them tick. This applies across any game I've played or intend to play! I look at game making as one giant puzzle with lots of intricate little details that need to be solved, it’s more fun and engaging that way!

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *charlottezxz: There’s some characters I like a great deal, but i can’t talk about as it would be spoilers to the plot, that and it’s hard to pick any overall favorites. Charm comes across as a fun character to write for as she’s quite witty and sarcastic, the kind of dialogue that comes a bit too naturally to me. She’s a budding magical prodigy of the circus under the tutelage of Jerine. She bigs herself up a lot but isn’t quite ready to deal with the problems of the adult world just yet, as much as she strives to get into it. Then there’s the likes of Ashley as well, she’s the loudest circus member and a close friend to Zakai, its ringmaster. She’s a super hard working down to earth country girl who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and jump into the thick of things. Honestly I love all the cast, but there’s those two for now!

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *charlottezxz: I would say ideally we should have had all our ducks in a row before we dove into development. My development style is very messy, especially since when we started development we had a lot of learning ahead of us. That combined with focusing on a lot of coursework and real life things meant I often forgot how we made things for consistency. This has improved considerably since i started getting more organised now, keeping lists and things tabbed for reference. My desk has bits of paper kept with it with information I need to retain. I forget far too many things for my own good, but now I'm taking better count measures! I would advise anyone to keep tabs of important information about your game such as consistent sprite style sizes, resolution size, x and y positions of certain things and important variables and switches.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *charlottezxz: There’s a few ideas bounced about to do side stories for some of the cast of characters in the circus, such as before they became one and the origins of how certain members joined the circus essentially the ‘First Stringers’ and ‘Second stringers’, these being those that joined afterwards. These would be great to do as small little episodes added onto the game post development, but currently they are just ideas and won’t be given too much thought until the game is either done or close to fruition.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *charlottezxz: My most hopeful thought is for people to enjoy the game and have as much fun and interest in it as myself and Narrow have had in creating it. It’s the kind of game we want to make and hope that the characters and story chime with people enough for people to see the journey through to its end! It’s a big scope of a project but i have endless enthusiasm for it, no matter how long it takes it will get out there at some point!

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *charlottezxz: That the games story and overall feel doesn’t quite hit the right notes, it's always a little back concern. From a technical perspective I would say that the game might have some oversighted bugs or critical crashes that slip under the radar or not run as smoothly on other PCs on release. We will do our best to optimise the game as much as possible for MV and squash those pesky bugs during testing, but it is on our minds often as a niggling fear.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *charlottezxz: Gut everything from the base project that you know you most definitely will not be needing and give all your files smart tags and naming conventions. It would be great if MV allowed for sub folders, but it does not so naming your files smartly is key to finding what you need. Any of these files you know you will use often in certain ways, make them common events and call for those in events and cut scenes. This saves you mass editing them later. With naming conventions this could be Actor_1_Hurt or Chapter_1_NPC. Anything you want at the top of the list name it with _ to begin with. The bigger our project gets, the more important this has become for us and we hope it serves other inspiring devs well all the same.

Question from last month's featured dev @rojisroomrpg: How do you keep yourself happy and healthy when making your game? *charlottezxz: I’m normally a happy-go-lucky person, so I'm rarely not happy when working on Ressurflection. It's the happy little hobby I devote most of my spare time to. However, recently i would say my hands, wrists and neck have been hurting from spending a little too much time drawing assets and pieces for the game. Taking more breaks and spreading that time with other activities in between has helped to ease that pain and i would like to advise any dev to do so for their own health, including always having one or two bottles of juice, water or whatever beverage always at hand to sip at as you dev away!

We mods would like to thank charlottezxz for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Ressurflection if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta’s big creative to do list for when I’m not drowning in final exams

(the rest are below the cut because this got LONG! I am putting this here so you have some idea of the stuff I’ll be posting about come Monday 5/11 and also so I can find it again instead of putting it in my notebook where it will inevitably get lost among my fluids practice and history essay jottings. if you’re curious about the fact that I am not yet done with my semester, yes, I am absolutely procrastinating an essay right now by writing this. don’t worry about it.)

FINISH STORGE!! I’m only like 3 chapters away from writing The End and I desperately want to do that this year so I can edit and start sharing snippets with alpha readers by this time next year at the latest :D

Outline the Laoche Chronicles

this includes the trilogy outline in broad strokes to make sure everything sets up the next points

a detailed outline for the first book which will need a name eventually

(my outlining process can be found here!)

Character profiles for all the new OCs

(this process can be found in this post!

worldbuilding write-up questionnaire for the new civilizations that’ll feature in the main trilogy and differ from Storge

Learn how to make edits for tumblr because graphic design and anything resembling Proper Authors Platform Branding continue to elude me

This won’t happen this month, but I need to do a cleanout of the social media’s I do have so I can put writing stuff there too and start a proper Author’s Internet Presence. If I do finish Storge this year, I’ll be looking for beta readers eventually and I need to have something to show for myself. This includes...

doing a mass edit of this blog and organizing my tags

teaching myself HTML/CSS and making a custom blog theme that works for my needs or commissioning someone to do this for me

making a Laoche Chronicles wip page

buying a domain and designing an actual authors website

making an #aesthetictrash book Instagram? I’m vaguely aware this is something people do but I only use insta for it’s chat feature with my college friends so I know not the first thing about how that works

I have a disasterous Pinterest that’s 100% private boards for my various bits of nonsense that needs to be turned into a place to showcase WIP aesthetics

I refuse to touch twitter nor facebook nor snapchat nor ticktock with a fifteen foot pole

if you couldn’t tell by now, I was that kid who had a brick trac-phone until 10th grade, and used my smartphone primarily as a music device until very recently

Write a considerable backlog for my Newsies fanfic so I don’t fall behind whenever I go to my internship in a month

Finish the intro for my Vampire Plague Doctor Buddy Cop story and the Chaotic SFF Academia idea that I started last month, and write a few one shots for those Maybe start posting them somewhere if I’m happy with how they turn out?

Make a proper quilt from the 10389238320923 old event t-shirts I have sitting in a pile in the basement so I can take it to college with me in the fall. (also maybe mockup a walking skirt out of an old sheet, so I at least have an idea of what to do whenever proper fabric stores open again)

It’s going to be below freezing tomorrow for SOME REASON despite being MID- MAY, but I need to plant my garden and make a compost pile at some point

Make a list of art skills to start practicing so I can tackle the concept of “learning to draw” in a logical manner like you would in a class, and start doing these drills

Also participate in the rest of MerMay

Read a few books! My current next list of TBR looks like this

Illthdar! I have been dying to get my hands on @illthdar‘s book but I didn’t want to start it during the school year and then have to inevitably put it down like two chapters in because I had boring real life obligations to attend to, so this is my first read for as soon as I’m done with the semester on Sunday.

Pride and Prejudice, which I've heard is excellent and regrettably not actually read yet (nor any of Austen, yes I’m a heretic I know, but I’m also an engineering student and 90% of my time is spent doing maths)

Storm of Fire and Blood - I have had this book for a year and put it down because of school which is a crying shame because I really love this series! For any religious/historical fiction fans I highly recommend the Sword and Serpent trilogy! It’s a retelling of the story of St. George and the Dragon long before he’s ever a saint. I think anyone could enjoy it, but if you’re Catholic or enjoy early Christian history, you’ll get a lot of the references and saint cameos and it’s just! A lot of fun!!

also my patron St. Katherine of Alexandria is a major character in the 2nd and 3rd books and she’s absolutely wonderful so I might be just a little bit biased

Make a few watercolor maps of the world of Laoche! Including detailed maps of the city of Maaren where Storge takes place, and Arga (one of the countries in the later trilogy)

update my bullet journal which has been languishing unused on my dresser since march when I moved home from college 

Carve new dulcimer hammers and teach myself a few songs. (also maybe try to make a longbow or new bridges for the dulcimer but that’s all probably a BIT of a stretch)

Brush up on my piano and guitar practice because I am very very rusty. I need to find some new songs to learn because I don’t really want to relearn Debussy or Chopin again, but I need to find some good ones first...

If you’re still reading this. Wow. Congratulations. That was a lot. and thank you! But yeah! This is what’s been knocking around in my head recently while I was supposed to be studying, but now that it is out of my head and into a post hopefully I will be able to focus again :P This is extremely ambitious and I 100000% will not be able to finish everything on this list, but! it is a plan! Wish me luck!

[ivebeenmade]

Not The Vampire Chronicles

(major reboot on an old love, work in progress of course but here’s the face claims and a little fic)

Lestat:

Louis: 

The monster has been listening for months. The man on the radio is all the more interesting as his mood becomes more and more obviously the signal to the end of his human life. But he can’t have that. As a generosity, a courtesy, he plans to allow the radio DJ to take his own life, to end his human life. 

It’s a favor. If he’s being honest with himself- something he tries very hard never to do- he’s never been this nervous. Not in all the years he was alive (longer than he claims but not all that long), and definitely not in the century or so (always exaggerated in the company of the undead) he’s been a vampire.

He’s only done it a few times, and almost every time either went wrong or the one he chose did, somehow. They often left him, for all the love he gave them.

Lestat believes that this one will be different. That they need each other. Each night, as he listens to him for several hours; the irony of the subject of his desire working a ‘graveyard shift’ isn’t lost on him. Those around him, who’ve been dead longer, would say he’d always just been there for the aesthetic. He’d fix his hair in the mirrors they could now catch their reflections in, and he’d laugh agreeably. He was the most beautiful monster you’d ever meet.

The DJ would be even more beautiful.

*

He’d had his gig since he left his home and family behind. It was for the best, he’d told himself, as they already expressed their disapproval that he wouldn’t make more of himself with the chances they’d given him.

It was all a thinly veiled excuse to ignore, to pretend that they never would have approved of any life he chose to live. Not unless he wanted to live it lonely.

Louis became a self fulfilling prophecy in LA anyway. He never could keep a relationship down, or really stomach most people anyway. Even on his late night show (a damn good gig that payed well enough to live in the expensive city) he’d gone off the rails on people when they called in. Losing his temper, for the DJ, boiled down to an even toned scathing retort that made him both all that much more popular and hated by ‘a certain type’.

A first generation American with a simple dream hadn’t met to be some kind of viral sensation. Too much attention for him. Between the music, the praise and critiques of bands’ latest albums, this gig had somehow become a big fucking deal.

It’s the night it gets personal- or maybe he was just feeling lonely that night and some random asshole asks the wrong question- that his mind gets made up.

Louis has been taking shots all night. Not abnormal for him, and it’s probably his natural tolerance for alcohol that’s kept his boss from getting the word that he’s not-quite-three-sheets-to-the-wind when he hosts the show (if they minded at all) that’s kept him from losing the only thing in this life that’s keeping him going. 

To be fair, and to take responsibility for himself, it’s not just one call that sends him over the edge. But it is. Some silly comment about the music he’s been playing, the ‘type’ it’s for, the ‘type’ some members of the band are, and he lets loose, rages, and signs off early. 

The message he leaves his fans with isn’t cryptic at all, telling them he’ll leave them with some good tunes but he couldn’t possibly promise what his replacement would do to them. For that he was sorry, “but fuck this, I’m out.” 

There’s no one to leave a note for, no one to apologise to. Except maybe himself but he’s never been good at that. He’s learned not to be too proud of anything, accept any praise for anything. There’s always a catch.

Swigging from the bottle now, when he reaches for the key he shouldn’t have to the roof of the station, he feels the wind and the end of the night surround him. There’s no more anger, frustration, he doesn’t hate his life at this moment. He doesn’t like it much either though. 

Right in front of him, there’s so much possibility, and right below him too. There’s his car, around the corner the janitor will just be getting in. He shouldn’t even hear this from where he starts his shift. No telling how long it’ll take to find him, but yet again he’s making it easy on everyone else. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t close his eyes. Louis isn’t sure he’ll die instantly, not everyone is that lucky he’s read, but he’s pretty sure this is the easiest way. His body certainly won’t be any trouble.

*

The monster Lestat knows that tonight is tonight. Hell, if every fan of the program doesn’t, they’re fools. Humans have a knack for that, though. 

He’d expected to have to follow Louis home, that he’d use some other method. But he’s just in time to see with his preternaturally honed sight, the DJ taking one final swig and, not jumping or falling, but just- letting go in a grand gesture. 

The body hits the car, so gracefully posed and if he’s already dead (even close to it) he looks so beautiful and alive. To give him the gift he remembers he must drain his blood; he can already smell the trickle of it, and knows that underneath this beautiful suicide the body is messy. His cold fingers find a fading pulse, and with a thrill he realises he’ll have to help him along before he gives him his own blood. 

Louis’ eyes are closed, and Lestat reaches out with his mind. He’s not conscious, not feeling this. And from the taste of him he was heavily intoxicated. Even after he cuts his own wrist (with a small knife Louis keeps hidden inside his coat- ah the poetry) it takes everything in him to wait the time it’ll take for the injuries from the fall to knit themselves back together. It’s then that there’s a groan from Louis. It pains the monster to hear it.

“What would the others think of this, eh,” Lestat mutters to himself. “I don’t mind, you’re worth it Louis.” He kneels next to the body, listening and waiting, in a dark suit with a subtle expensive brocade you wouldn’t see in this light. It’s the least flashy of his suits, something you have to be close to notice how expensive it is. The DJ, in turn, wears a simple pair of worn dark jeans and a bomber jacket. His modern hairstyle shaved close to the sides, the black curls slicked down on the top of his head dyed deep blue and purple here and there. Interesting, decorative, a lot of effort to put in if you’re suicidal.

Somewhere deep and dark and barely alive Louis hears a gentlemanly british accent; he’ll remember this as a fever dream later on even after Lestat fills in the details. Something about it is good, comforting; all said and done not familiar to him. He’ll remember death hugging him, and being ripped from it. When he comes out of it, he’s going to ask this bastard what the hell was so important about him to save his life. It had never mattered to anyone else. 

*

[kanene-yaaay]

Cloudy Day

Author’s Notes: Heeeyioooo, my lollipops! Okay, this is a gift for my Awesome Birthday Week Buddy: @august-anon!! (I still don’t beliving our birthdays are in the same week! XP) Yaaaay! Sparkles!! I’m know it was last week and I’m sorrey for being late dfghjhgfsdf. I hope you like it, dear (And all of you too, lollipops!).

Okay! Now let’s begin!! Yesh! I’m sorrey for any spelling mistakes, I just put this on Google Translator and corrected some setences X’”). Dfghjhghjuhgf. Sorreey! See ya! ~

Warnings: This is a Tickle Fanfic, if you don’t like, please, look for another storie in this site, there’s a plenty of wonderful arts here! Hmmm... Ah! There is Lee!Virgil and Ler!Logan. Something around 3.000 words. -w-)s2.

                                                    [~*~]

It was a cloudy day, and cloudy days were signs of foreboding.

Blackbeard died during a storm, many said. (Perhaps more for the bloody battle he fought during the natural phenomenon than for itself, but that was kind of a understanding that few really understood.) The Kraken awakens during the worst thunderstorms and windstorms that shakes him from his sleep as shake the deepest of the seas, a thousand and one poems recited. The ocean floor is filling with ships and the shattered treasures of those who couldn't escape the rains and their tides, they warned. Some older, more experienced pirates, also meaner, could not be left out, commenting between smiles and a few doses of rum: Beginner's ordeal.

But Virgil denied, not because he was novice or so experienced that he no longer saw it as a challenge, just thought it was unfair to ignore all the good things that cloudy days can bring. Often the clouds, the cold wind, and the faint appearances of the sun's warm rays were more signs of a change than a storm.

So he liked to enjoy them.

Preferably lying in the small, but comfortable, Mast cabin. The perfect resting place: high enough to close your eyes and get lost in the scent of saltwater brought by the cold wind; a place where nothing, not even a problem, could reach you, where you found yourself almost touching the sky at the same time it was low enough to hear each one of the crew on their tasks as a little reminder that there is always somewhere (and someone) to go back to.

He took a deep breath, taking advantage of the wave of inspiration to get back to his story. It was not one of his largest, only a little over than five pages, made just to quench the sudden, insistent, uncontrollable tickle desire that had practically woken up with him that day. He barely contained the uncontrollable smile that opened up on his face and the way he squirmed slightly as he described the protagonist (who was caught by his friends in the middle of his mission to steal the fridge and now 'suffered' the consequences) being attacked without mercy in all its ticklish spots: the sides, sensitive to the slightest squeeze and nudge, the belly full of laughter, the neck colored by the blush and all the scribbles, absolutely impossible to ignore, along with...

Virgil found himself letting out a series of giggles, blushing at no one in particular. He filled a few more lines until he began to imagine the pairs of hands coming out of the paper, their fingers wriggling playfully, making him realize his onwed fate when they tickled him.

- AAAAAAAH !! - Initially it was just one scream, quickly being doubled with the help of the on with purple bandana, who practically hurled his entire storie through the boat with the jump in the fright obtained. He quickly recompose himself, turning toward the kitchen, where a Roman (“How could he stand to be shirtless at this weather?”) gestured wildly. - It's cold! It's cold! COLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLD !! PAAAAAAAATTON! IT'S TOO COLD TO WASH THE DISH!

It was almost audible the stubborn expression in the other's tone. The one on the Mast tried to control his unrhythmic breathing, leaning against the half wall of the cubicle. 

Roman...

- Be cool, kiddo! You can do it, ‘cause you're hot!

Virgil didn't listen to the rest of the conversation, trying to slow the excitement of the euphoric butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the intense heat wich spreaded all over his face. His heart skipped a beat.

 He needed a glass of water. Maybe two.

He clipped the story sheets together and slipped down the loose strings of the sails, stopping on deck and heading toward the kitchen quickly.

- V! I heard you scream! Are you hurt? - The quartet's father figure did not wait for a response as he grasped his shoulders, his eyes at the same time scanning every square inch of his being for the slightest damage.

- N-no, I ... - And if those hands would go a little higher and scratch your neck ... VIRGIL! Focus! - I just freaked out about Roman's morning drama.

He looked away, a little ironic smile in the face. Well done, Virgil, he congratulated himself, acid teasing is always a good way and a safe ground.

By that movement he did not notice Patton's gaze, which frowned for a few silent seconds, suddenly seeming to notice something different in the other. A small detail that he couldn't really distinguish, just knowing it was there. His expression softened, sending to him a loving look.

“When will you tell, my kiddo?”

They both shook their heads slightly, trying to frighten, or perhaps shuffle and confuse, their thoughts. The eyes met shortly after. The pirate with glasses (it seemed like the beginning of a chronicle) laughed.

- Don't be mean to him. - Warned before hugging him. - We'll dock tonight, what do you think we leave tomorrow morning to get supplies and new spices? - The animation in his voice was practically palpable. The hug tightened a little more. If those hands changed to his ribs...

- Of course, Patton. - Virgil was the first to break the touch, a simple smile being the perfect mask for the huge search in his mind of every possible curse which he could use to curse his Lee Mood. - That would be great.

- Oh. And be careful with weather for not get a flu, you're already red.

 Correction: Scarlet. Patton gave one of his angelic smiles and left.

Okay, he decided, feeling his ears got hot, maybe three glasses of water. Cold water. Very cold.

He finished serving himself and returned to the deck, his mind already returning to a few increments in the plot of the story. He just had to go through Logan, which would not be difficult since he was concentrating on reading his papers, finding the pencil he had dropped on the floor with the earlier fright, returning to the Mast-

Hang on.

Logan. Reading some papers.

His body froze.

“Maybe it's not mine. - He tried to convince himself, the very thought sounding insecure. - Maybe it's ... it's from Roman! He loves to do things and show and ... and ... ”

His own body propelled him forward involuntarily. Wobbling, heavy, steps more noisy than he wanted, but to be honest, his desires were focused on something else right now.

Logan looked up, half flushed, half smiling. An expression that totally faded as met with the one wearing the purple bandana, replaced by one of guilt, like a child caught in the midst of his prank. Virgil stared at the papers, recognized the capital letters for laughter, the ideas written in the margins, the light wrinkled in the paper’s conner, his handwriting ...

His hands sweated cold.

- Virgil, it was not my intention ...

Virgil always had two strategies for every difficult situation he faced in life: Flight or Fight. So his muscles tensed, his hand closed with a strong grip, he flexed his legs.

And then dashed off to his room.

[~*~]

He first thought of tossing himself out of the window, then thought of tossing Logan out of the window, then thought of tossing the story out the window, and finally thought of tossing the window out the window, but none of these options seemed like could solve his problem.

He had already wondered what he was going to do when they found out, of course. Everyone who kept a secret had already taken some part of their lives to figure out what to would do when their secret stopped to be, well ... secret

But right now all the plans, the lines, the movements ... everything (everything!) was gone from his mind. It was blank, like a cloud crumbling with its hands up in the act of surrender. Virgil sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands, feeling how sweaty and trembling they were.

Logan. Where would he be now? What would you be doing? Was he telling everyone? Was he showing his stories? All? Had he found others on the Mast? Had he thrown them into the sea? Was he thinking of throwing he into the sea? No, wait, this is too extreme, it wouldn't happen. But he might find it weird, oh gosh, he could think that Virgil was a freak, that was easier than the ‘tossing in the ocean’ thing, but not better. He would look at him strange and-

The one in purple took his pillow and hid his face in it, hugging the object with all the strength he could muster. Stayed like that for a while.

When he finally stopped, he was panting, his heart pounding, however now he had something to focus beyond his own thoughts. He looked up and stared at himself in the small mirror on his desk. He was a mess. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath.

One, two, three, four...five... six... seven...

Eight.

Expires.

Inspires.

One, two, three, four...five... six... seven...

Eight.

Expires.

He faced himself once more in the mirror.

- You are not a freak. - His voice was low and he stared at himself determinedly. - You're not a stranger and even less your likes. If it makes you, no, if makes me happy, then everything is fine. Everything is okay, ok?

A knock sounded on the door.

- Virgil? It's Logan. - Short break. - I'm coming in.

There was no time to hide under the bed so, yes, when the one who wear glasses opened the door Virgil was still there. Kind of weird pose and staring at the wall, but technically, he was there.

Logan hesitated a little, maybe he should have waited longer? Have waited for him to calm down or come talk about this with him or...? He shook his head. No. He was there now and the subject seemed to be of a great importance to Virgil, so they would talk about it.

He sat on the bed, still not receiving a look from the other, until a small sheaf of papers was handed to him, a little over than five pages long, with ideas written in the margins. The purple lover caught, staring at it because it was a little easier than facing the most rational of the group.

- First I would like to apologize. - Logan began, sounding like he'd trained his lines. - You hurried out of the Mast and these papers ended up falling, and I got them in the intention to return to you, however I was led by curiosity and ended up reading. I shouldn't have messed with your things, and ... it seems that this particular thing matters a lot to you. - 'Hot' was a euphemism, Virgil felt his face in embers. - But I would like to add that your writing is really very engaging! - The one who was listening widened his eyes. Ok. He definitely didn't expect that. His attention was captured enough to raise his gaze, something that excited the wearer of glasses. - You have a great grammar mastery along with a wide vocabulary and you know how to use it to your advantage, managing to turn a daily plot into a light and fun reading.

Virgil couldn't hide the little corner smile. Logan was not someone who gave unsubstantiated praise or just for speaking, when he said it, it was sincerely. Their eyes met and before they knew it ended up questioning:

- Did you like it?

- Indeed. It was a very nice read. You should not hide it or be afraid of what others will find. Of course, there is always the possibility that someone doesn't like it, but I assure you that would be exceptions.

Wait...

- Do you think I ran away because of this?

Now Logan seemed a little groundless, as if he had broken his train of thought. He blinked a few times. Was there ... Was there a point he didn't understand? Something that he didn't realize?? His answer came out with a slight tone of doubt.

- Yes.

Oh. Ooh.

Virgil didn't know where it came from, but he suddenly felt angry that Logan didn't realize the ‘thing’ yet, and before he could even think about that, his mouth dumped it all at once:

- No. That was not it! It was for the content, for the plot: tickling! - The word tasted different when it came out loud, not whispered in the silents night. - The whole story revolves around this: tickling. Because I like it and I like write about it. It's catchy! The laughter of the people, the feeling of security, the contact, the trust, the smiles ... It's ... it's ...

- Lovely? - It was a complement more than a suggestion, a smile spreading across Logan’s face without asking permission.

Virgil felt wich even his neck was dyed red, but he could not help but return the gesture. It was... well, a good relief to tell this to someone, especially Logan, someone who he had often trusted his life along the trip and the battles. His gaze walked over Logan's face for a moment, searching for any trace of bad feelings.

Did not find.

- Yes.

Silence.

- Don't you think it's weird?

- Not really. I can fully understand why you enjoy it so much. It's your liking, if it doesn't hurt anyone, there's no point in not enjoying it.

Silence. Virgil felt a strange urge to laugh. Maybe it was the relief.

- It’s, indeed, - Logan completed. - lovely.

- Don’t say it. - Virgil grunted, still smiling, hiding his face in his hands. A poke at his side almost made him fell off the bed, a squeal escaping his lips as he pushed away. The one who wore purple stared at the other, anticipation almost lighting the room as bright his gaze.

- Virgil. - The tone made a shiver run down his spine and a slightly more uncontrollable smile spread across his face. It only served to increase the certainty in Logan's voice. - I'll tickle you. Get ready.

And then he ‘attacked’.

Virgil was definitely not prepared. Not when his fingers met his ribs, kneading them into circular patterns that immediately spilled a waterfall of giggles and squeals through his mouth, the sensations making him feel about to jump from his skin. His hands broke to grasp Logan's, gripping his wrists but making no effort to move them.

- Nohohohohohoho! Wa-wahahahahahahahait! - His nose was wrinkled and his eyes closed tightly, as if he might lessen the sensation for not seeing them. Virgil fell back on the mattress and Logan took advantage of the moment of distraction to get straight to the new unprotected spot: the belly, wasting no time in scribbling its full length, eventually increasing the squirming and streams of laughter from the first.

- Did you know that tickling sensations are a way twich the human body warns the brain that some area with important organs is being attacked? - The bespectacled’s voice was calm and methodical as it began to loosen fast grips, one hand concentrating on the sides of the other, as if it were not turning one of the quietest of the group into a pool of squeaky giggles, and the other hand quietly moving toward his belly button, bringing out more hysterical laughter and causing him to shrink more and more into himself, stucking the fingers rather than actually protecting himself. - Laughter and involuntary muscle impulses, more known as squirming, are the brain's way of defending itself, the because still a mystery. However, one thing we know… - Logan changed his method, starting to make circular movements around Virgil’s belly (giggle) button, dragging his fingers with unbearably light tickles, getting closer and closer to the center.

- Lohohohohohohohohohohoho, stohohohohp! I´ll- I´ll ehehehehehehehehehend withihihihihihihihihihihi - The one with the glasses went down a few millimeters, attacking the waist a little more vigorously, seeking Virgil to unfold and achieving the desired result successfully. - NahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaha !!

- ...is that, depending on the touch and the place, sounds other than laughter can be observed, such as...

The tickling stopped, Virgil still laughing helplessly on the bed, squirming with the tiniest gust of wind.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

It was a trap, he was sure of it, yet he dared to open his eyes, catching a glimpse of Logan's slightly mischievous grin before focusing on the finger that twitched a few inches away from his umbiculous.

- Logan! Loghahahahahahan.- Laughter simply floated without permission from his lips, much higher than usual, the writer could feel his belly quivering with anticipation. Attempting to bite his lower lip to cover the smile and perhaps stop the laughter.Logan moved the only (damn) finger closer. Virgil squeaked and failed on every attempt. - Ple-pleasehehehehehehehehehe, I-Ihihihihihihihihihihi-

The finger struck quickly against his navel, scratching, scribbling and poking without the slightest mercy and completely taking away his chance to finish the sentence.

Virgil snorted. Literally snorted.

His eyes widened and his hands made way to cover his mouth, but their attention was captured by the unbearable tickling, letting them sway from side to side, trying to stop the tickling but to no avail.

- LohohOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOGAH !!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHhahahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!! - The laughter came out shaking his whole body. Loud, carefree, frantic laughter. He flinched quickly, his head swaying from side to side as if to deny his fate, even though the huge, bright smile that seemed to light up the entire room, coupled with that warm, pleasant feeling in his chest, said the complete opposite. The remaining hand attacked his sides and ribs without any pattern or order, causing Virgil to practically jump with each touch, the laughter shifting from the high to the low tones.

- But, dear Virgil, I still have other sounds to show you! - His fingers drifted to his neck, pausing for a few sips of air, a pause filled with giggles. The ringing changed to the chin, pulling out a quick yelp. - Snorts, squeals, giggle, laugh, yelps…

The tickling lasted a few more minutes, until his laughter became breathless, so Logan ceased the attack. Virgil immediately rubbed his palms over his neck, trying to remove all the remaining sensations and to make sure that his face had not melted with all the blush nor broken with the size his smile was, I mean, is.

- Are you alright?

The one who wore purple opened one watery, twinkling eye, staring at him, his mouth pronouncing before he could think of the real weight of his words:

- J-just those sounds? I thought as an explorer you hated to be content with few results.

A different look passed and settled on the other's face, then expanding and taking over the Logan's, once kindly, expression. It caused a sudden electricity sensation in the air, his whole body crawling and laughter beginning to fill his throat with euphoria.

- I understand.

In the blink of an eye Logan's hands found his armpits. Virgil felt his breath and the world stop for a long second… and then his fingers twitched.

Virgil literally screamed.

- NononoNOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! LO-LOHOHOHOHOHO- I´M SORRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY. - His head was thrown back with the force of laughter, his body squirming for an escape route, even though no matter how much he moved, the sensations followed. His mind was blank, unable to really focus on anything but the poking, scratching, tickling that made eveen his nerves laugh and made him unable to form any words, coherent or not. His heels sank into the mattress, lifting his torso for a moment, until the tickles floated lightly at the base of his back, causing his body to fall back onto the bed. - NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAI-

It took a few minutes before the tears began to wash down his cheeks and the laughter became silent. Logan immediately stopped at this point.

- As you can see we also have as examples the scream and the belly laughte. r- The smile was noticeable in his tone. - I think these are enough examples.

- Yehehehes. You got ihihihihit.

- Did I go too far?

Virgil shook his head, wiping tears, the remaining laughter finally stopping. He heard the door slam shut and when he opened his eyes Logan was no longer there. Tried to replay his memories in order to have done something wrong or what else might have bothered the other as his breathing returned to normal frequency.

When he managed to sit on the bed, preparing to leave, Logan returned with a glass of water in his hand, handing it over to the other, who had not realized how thirsty he was until that moment. He took the glass and drank its contents in a few sips, the room surprised with the sudden silence.

For some people cloudy days, days that could mean a storm or a sunny day, were signs of foreboding, but Virgil didn't see them that way. Sometimes a cloudy day is just exactly what it is: a day for changes.

- Thank you. - They both knew what the thanks really meant.

And, perhaps, for others, those who did not live sailing and exploring the seven seas, cloudy days could mean something else. Perhaps it could be known as a day to enjoy a good hot drink, a comfortable and safe place, good company, or the warmth which human being can provide. The confidence this can bring.

- You could had kept your secret when I - Logan waved his hand, as if to ward off a fly or a slightly annoying memory - didn't realize it at first.

Virgil shrugged and looked away, tapping the empty space beside him on the mattress, an invitation that was not declined by the other. He grabbed a book under his bed, the one with pages that talked about the secrets after the End of the World and the stars, and offered it to the most racional of the crew.

- It's cloudy outside, we can catch the flu if we get in the evening wind. Want to read?

And so it was. Days of change, days of strengthening ties, days of sharing memories ...

- It's a good option. Thank you.

It was a cloudy day, pleasantly cloudy.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 115:  A Secret Plan

She was having a bad day. He could tell that just by the way she moved. In fact, that was nearly the only way to tell that she'd had a bad day because they rarely spoke to one another. What was odd to him was why she was having the bad day. It should have been a good day. He'd forgotten, last night, to lock her into her cell. It was purely by accident, but by the time he'd realized it, it had been too late in the night and he hadn't wanted to disturb her sleep, so he'd left the lock open. A trial run, he considered it. If she was to be here forever, perhaps having a bit of freedom to roam about wasn't the worst thing he could grant to her, so long as she could handle the privilege of it.

She could. Naturally. He'd come to find that the woman could handle just about anything that was tossed her way with impressive determination and grace. He'd let her have her freedom that night, and the next morning breakfast had shown up right on time. They ate in silence, a sort of unspoken truce between them. He pretended not to notice that she ate next to the fire instead of the kitchen, and she didn't disturb him as he ate. It wasn't ideal, but it worked well enough that it wasn't worth it to fight that battle with her. She was bold. It was the same boldness that he knew would one day be responsible for the windows opening again, or her attempt at least. He didn't understand strength like hers, but he could respect it, especially after all she was doing.

She worked like a madwoman. Funny, all his previous maids had been housekeepers and peasants, they'd all had some kind of idea of what hard work was, what it meant to be a caretaker, and yet this little princess, who he was certain had never lifted a finger before her arrival, worked harder than any of them. She was on a mission, it seemed, to purge his home of dust and dirt and clutter, and to make it into an actual home. For what purpose, he didn't know. He used only a handful of rooms, why she was so determined to keep the rest of them clean was a mystery. But she did it. In fact, she was so busy throughout the day that at night as she slept he'd had to cast a spell on all the fireplaces in the castle to light themselves when she entered a room just so that she didn't come to him and ask him to do it all the time as she moved about.

Somehow, without talking about it, they'd developed a familiar routine that kept them both amicable, but also busy. In the mornings, after breakfast, they separated until teatime. He went to work in his Tower, but kept track of her throughout the castle. At first, he'd done it to make sure she was working. Now he did it just to see what she was up to and where. She kept a tight schedule for herself, he'd noticed; one that didn't require him, thankfully. If she'd finished a book in the night, the first thing she did was exchange it so she had something to do while laundry was drying or water was boiling, and then the real work began.

Her average was about two rooms a day; sometimes if the rooms were bigger it was less, if they were smaller it was more. She was methodical about it. She would clean one room from morning until tea time, then fix them their tea, which they both now shared in the Great Room with minimal or no conversation, then back to work she went, cleaning out another room before she had to make dinner. If there was time in between, he might find her reading somewhere or doing some dusting as she hummed to herself. She fit his laundry in there somewhere before he saw her again for dinner, and that was their night. They ate, then she read by the fire as he spun at his wheel. When she was tired, she left for bed. When he was ready to work again, he went to the Tower or, if she was too distracting, he went to his bedroom, closed the door, and spun there, knowing that she wouldn't dare enter.

He hated to admit it, but they'd fallen into a comfortable schedule the two of them. It was a good way of life, one that worked for both of them, but didn't really require they go above and beyond to interact and that was just fine for him. Though he did wish she wasn't so distracting. He did wish that he hated the way the fire cast shadows over her as she read, or despised the company she afforded him during meals, or wasn't as interested in what she was doing throughout the day so he had to stop and use his cauldron and crystal ball to watch. He wished he could look into her mind and figure out why it was teatime and, instead of acting as she normally did, she was unhappy. Or worse yet…his suspicion about why she was upset was correct, and he wished that he didn't understand why.

There was another tear in her dress this afternoon. The frock was dull with fresh dust, missing another jewel, smelled musty. She didn't wash it as often as she should; probably because she had nothing else to put on. He knew what had happened, of course, he'd been watching her when it had, curious if she would get her morning room done in time for tea. Without her knowledge, he'd looked on as she'd pulled back the curtains in the room, unleashing a cloud of dust that caused her to sputter and fall and rip her dress…and then cry. That was when he'd looked away. She'd needed a moment to herself, and he felt like he was invading watching her like that. When she'd first served tea today, he'd thought she'd managed to pull herself together, but it was obvious to him that she hadn't. It upset her. He wished he could understand how she could cope so well with being captive, but a simple trip and some dust could knock her to her knees and bring her to tears. He wished so many things when it came to her.

"Servanthood not everything you hoped it would be?" he questioned, his voice higher than he'd expected it to be. She'd laughed at his jokes before. She'd smiled at his voices before. Perhaps it was enough to shake her from her stupor? Or maybe her fall had been worse than he'd thought and he should check her for injuries.

She didn't laugh. She didn't smile. Just looked wide-eyed and confused at him while his cheeks felt hot and he was grateful no one could see him blush anymore.

"You look as though you lost a fight with a dusty curtain," he added by way of explanation.

Still, no chuckle or smirk came to her. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. She seemed to be even more upset than she had been before as her fingers tugged and pulled at the skirt of her dress.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she whispered, sitting back and looking away from him.

He didn't like that. He didn't like any of this. He didn't like feeling how much space was between them, he didn't like when she didn't smile, he didn't like the way she picked at her dress, or how it looked, or how he felt, or wondering why she wasn't happy, or thinking he knew, or wanting to fix it! The list went on and on.

He had to do something. The time had come to do something. Fortunately, he had figured out a way to do it so long as she wasn't too stubborn! Watching her there now as he drained his tea, he had the feeling that she might have reached a state where she wouldn't mind a little assistance. But he'd have to be quick about it. He knew her schedule and he knew the moment he set his cup down he'd have five, maybe ten, minutes before she was cleaned up and off to her next task. So he hurried…

He finished his tea and set the cup aside for her to wash, then strode out of the room. He didn't return to his Tower. He would in a few moments, but for now he went to the floor she was currently working on, to the next of the rooms that she would clean until it sparkled.

The question was how to give her something without her knowing that he'd done it. The answer he'd figured out a while ago was not to give it at all, but rather to let her find it.

In his mind, he recalled a memory he had of her from those times he'd watched her in the cauldron. In the memory, she sat behind a pile of books with her hair pulled back. She wore a blue dress. It had been intricate, there was lace on the bodice, a pattern he couldn't quite remember and he was certain there was a skirt with it, he just hadn't seen as she'd been sitting down. It didn't matter. He didn't want to recreate the dress, just the color and cut of the bodice. He wanted something familiar, something that she might look upon and remind her of home so that she'd be so entranced she'd have to put it on. He could have put a compulsion spell on it to do that for him, and he wasn't above doing that if necessary, but he wanted to try without first. He wanted to see what would happen.

Time ticked on. He had only a few moments left and with that time he worked his magic, spun a dress out of thin air the color of the sky with an undershirt white as snow and blue shoes to match. It was a simple dress; more than a peasant's scraps but less than what she wore now. He had no doubt it would fit her; magic was funny like that. But he did wonder if it was enough to make her put it on. He hid the clothes inside the closet of the room, next to some of the old moth-eaten ones that belonged to the previous owner of the room she'd be coming to any minute, then used his magic to take himself up to the Tower so that they wouldn't cross paths.

He hadn't run there, but he felt as though he had. His heart pounded inside his chest as he bolted for the cauldron and summoned the image of the room. His trap good and set, there was plenty to do, but he couldn't take his eyes off the cauldron, couldn't stop his curiosity. The moment she walked into the room, he forgot to breathe. He knew her schedule. He knew how she did things and moved about the room to clean, but when he saw her open the curtains first instead of last he began to hope that she might any second open that closet and see what he'd left her. But instead, she followed her routine perfectly, aside from those curtains. She stripped the bed, setting the sheets and blankets aside for the wash, she righted the furniture, arranging it so that it looked welcoming and inviting, then she did the dusting. The scrubbing of the floor was the last thing she'd do, right before…

He bit himself as she opened the closet doors. He didn't know what he'd expected, perhaps that she might open the closet and be awestruck by his experiment? That her eyes would water and she'd gasp with delight or wonder, that she'd smile again?! All he knew was that he felt disappointed the moment she opened the closet and nothing special happened. She rifled, just as she always rifled, preparing to air everything out and wash what she could.

And then there it was. The reaction he wanted. Her eyes didn't fill with tears, she didn't drop and shatter a teacup dramatically, and her eyes didn't go wide. But he saw her open her mouth in what had to be a gasp. She seemed to slow as she looked over what she'd found before her, looked suspiciously at the new garment surrounded by the old.

"Take it…" he muttered as she reached out to run her hands over it. And that was when the spell was broken. It was his own words that had done it, that made him pause to consider what he was doing and what he was planning on doing. He was watching her. In the midst of all the work he had to do, he'd just spent damn near an hour watching his maid clean a room and find a dress. And what was he going to do now that she'd found it? Was he going to watch her try it on? He could barely stand to watch her when she'd gotten upset of the curtains, was he really the kind of man to sit there and watch her undress and dress?

It was almost painful to wave his hand over the cauldron and watch her vanish. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see. Not to infringe upon her privacy, it made his stomach turn to know some wizards used their magic for those purposes. Dark One or not, he had some honor to him. But he did want to know if she was going to take it or not. He wanted to know how it fit, how it looked. He wanted to see her smile again.

And on that note, he turned away. He went to his worktable and began doing what he did best: magic. He rolled his eyes at his behavior, at the way he felt like she'd gotten him all twisted up inside and the way he kept thinking that he'd have to be surprised. His excitement over that was nearly enough to make him go back and start watching again. Damn thoughts…he practically threw the knife he was using onto the table as he rubbed his head. There was no way to win this. If he sat here and continued to work, it was because he wanted to be surprised by her. If he got up and went to the cauldron to watch it was to find out if he'd made her day better. No matter what he did he would lose…

So he wouldn't do either.

He knew her schedule. She had a few hours before she was done with her work and began to prepare dinner. He could remove temptation entirely just by going downstairs and sitting at his wheel and spinning. He could empty his mind, get these thoughts, the excitement, the panic he felt out, and just exist without her for a few hours. Yes, that was the best thing he could do now. Something for himself.

But his plan backfired. He expected to be alone in the Great Room, with her off cleaning or wearing her new dress or doing whatever it was she did…reading perhaps. But he was halfway to the wheel when he realized the fireplace was lit and sensed movement in the chair beside it. Unpredictable as ever, it appeared she'd had the same thought that he had and quit work early. And he should have commented on that. He should have made some statement about not paying her to sit there and read the book, but he felt himself break out into a cold sweat when he realized…

She was wearing the dress.

Cora would have turned for him to see it. She would have squared her shoulders and drawn his attention to her with a smile. Belle didn't need all that. She didn't need to stand and she didn't need to twirl. She just had to sit there, wearing a simple blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes; a ray of blue light against his red chair. He'd had an idea of how she might look in it from the memory he had. But it paled in comparison. His idea was nothing compared to how she looked. She was so beautiful she made his mouth go dry. It fit her just the way he wanted it to and yet not the way he'd needed it to. It followed her curves a little too perfectly, though her shoulders were now covered it dipped just a little lower than her gown had in the front and the parting of the blouse led his eyes down to the lace that held the bodice together, and he realized that with one pull of that string he could-

He jumped when the clock chimed. But he didn't need to worry that she'd noticed, it was the first time he realized that she'd been staring at him all the while he'd stared at her and she'd jumped too. And as she looked around, doing her best to get her bearings back, he took advantage of the opportunity to pretend as though nothing had happened, and went to sit by his spinning wheel. He wouldn't say anything to her. He couldn't. For the first time in a long while, he didn't trust what would come out of his mouth. Spinning was the proper outlet. It always had been. Temptingly beautiful as she was, he needed to get back to his work, and so did she.

But work for her meant dinner, and it was still too early. Whether he wanted to or not, as the wheel rotated before him, he found himself looking back at her as she wiggled deeper into his chair and pulled her book back onto her lap.

She was smiling again.

It made him smile too.

He wasn't being as careful with her as he'd planned.

[justlookfrightened]

Houston Chronicles, Part 16

Read the beginning here. Read the last installment here.

Bitty woke up to sunlight filtering in through the blinds in his bedroom.

Dang it. He was late. Did he turn off his alarm last night? Sleep through it?

He started to sit up, wondering why no one had called when he wasn’t at the bakery, when he remembered.

Jack. Jack had come over after he got back to Houston. Bitty had called Thelma and claimed a personal emergency. The bakery was fine.

Bitty lay back down and stretched, remembering what had happened when they went to bed. He hadn’t been planning on sleeping with Jack last night, but Jack had looked so sad, and Bitty had wanted him so much. Then when Jack kissed him like that -- it had been years since Bitty felt so aroused. Jack clearly still knew what did it for Bitty, from manhandling him into the bedroom to the little striptease he’d done. It might have been five years, but Jack was, if anything, more solid than he’d been before. Bitty knew his body hadn’t held up as well, no matter how many times a week he tried to sneak a workout in, but Jack didn’t seem to mind.

Were they going to do this now? They still had to talk about it, but Bitty thought maybe they should. He had a stable foundation -- more stable than he any of the time they were dating before -- and Jack seemed more self-aware as well. At least he’d acknowledged that coming over so late would be inconvenient for Bitty.

It wasn’t something he could do all the time, but Jack had been upset after the game last night. Fucking Kent Parson.

Jack hadn’t said anything about needing to be somewhere this morning; where was he?

Bitty finally reached to the side table for his phone. It was 8:23 a.m., later than Bitty usually slept even on his days off now. There were no messages from Jack.

Jack’s side of the bed was empty and the sheets were cool to the touch. Bitty peered at the chair in the corner where Jack had draped his clothes; it was empty. There was no scent of coffee or noise coming from the rest of the apartment, either.

Bitty stood up and stumbled towards the bathroom, scratching idly at the dried mess on his chest. After he peed, he wet a washcloth to wipe it off, then washed his hands before wandering out to the living area. It would be like Jack to leave a note instead of texting.

But there was nothing there except the two mugs half-full of cold tea still sitting on the table. If it wasn’t for that -- and the spunk on his chest and the used condom in the bedroom wastebasket -- there would be no sign Jack had been there at all.

Well. Maybe his manners hadn’t improved in the past half-decade. Or maybe Jack regretted having sex with Bitty as soon as it happened. Maybe he didn’t know how to say that, and he’d snuck out as soon as Bitty fell asleep.

Fuck.

Bitty took a breath, reminded himself that he didn’t know why Jack left without saying anything, and took a shower. He called the bakery, told Thelma that he had dealt with the emergency and would be in soon. Then he made himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich for breakfast, wrapped it in a napkin, and headed out to Dolly.

He thought about texting Jack to check in. What if Jack regretted it so much he had a panic attack over it? But a text from Bitty probably wouldn’t help. Maybe Jack was just exhausted and wanted to sleep in his own bed, and he didn’t want to say no when Bitty asked him to stay. Bitty didn’t want to wake him.

Bitty didn’t want to text him and have Jack respond that it was all a mistake.

He would wait for Jack to text. At least until finished work today. He would let Jack tell him what it meant. Or at least why he left. Or whether he still wanted to be in contact with Bitty at all.

He had a bakery to run and an assistant bakery manager to relieve.

When he arrived at Bits and Pieces, he found everything well in hand. Thelma’s usual morning shift was about to end, but they were low on mini-pies and muffins, and Bitty had planned to make lavender tea cookies for the afternoon.

“You deal with those,” Thelma said. “I didn’t know how long you’d need me, so my schedule is clear for the next hour at least.”

“You’re a treasure,” Bitty said. “Quinn’s in front?”

“Yes,” Thelma said. “Came in about five minutes late.”

Which was fifteen minutes before Bitty really needed him -- he’d learned early to build in a little downtime at the beginning of shifts -- but he said, “Okay. I’ll talk to him before he leaves.”

Then he set his phone down in the office, turned the music up in the kitchen, and started rolling out dough for the mini-pies.

Once the pies -- maple-apple and pecan -- were in the oven, he did two dozen each of oat bran and chocolate-cranberry mini-muffins. Then he dropped the tea cookies onto baking sheets, took the muffins out and put the cookies in, and checked the pies, which had a few minutes yet.

With five minutes before anything else needed to happen, he went to check his phone.

There was a text from Jeni.

You recover from the game last night? We’re heading to El Barco tonight if you want to join us

Bitty tapped the phone to his upper lip.

If Jack wanted to get together and hash things out (or, if Bitty was honest, fall into bed again), Bitty wanted to be available, and if Jack never wanted to see him again, Bitty wasn’t sure he was up to go to the restaurant he took Jack to.

But if the situation was something in the middle, it would be good to be with friends instead of stewing by himself.

Can I let you know? he texted.

Got a hot date? Jeni asked.

Ha. Then the answer would be no, Bitty typed. Things just up in the air

By noon, when Denise came in and Thelma went home, Jack still hadn’t texted or called, and Bitty was beginning to think he wasn’t going to. He went from annoyed to angry to worried to guilt-ridden and back again pretty much every hour, but he tried to keep a pleasant demeanor for customers and staff.

When Denise was finally leaving, she said, “Get some rest tonight, Eric. You look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” he said, making a face. “I’ll try.”

Then he turned the lock in the door behind her, picked up his phone, and sent the text he had spent all day composing in his head.

Please text me and let me know what’s going on. Whatever it is is okay, but I’m worried at not hearing from you.

Then he let himself out the back, got into Dolly, and drove to the bank to make the deposit and then home.

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

Read the next installment

[lackedflaw]

overture

odasaku-centric 1,998 w

a.n: yes, this is supposed to be a five-hundred words drabble chronicling odasaku’s stay in koi. no, i don’t know what hit me ;;

he opens his eyes and everything is too bright.

ears ringing, head pounding, eyelids feeling like they weigh a ton each. his first instinct is to raise a hand to obstruct the sunlight from coming into his eyes, blinking the pain away until he’s able to make out the green of the trees and blue of the sky. 

then he hears the muffled screams, coming from somewhere in front of him. sakunosuke rises to his feet, struggling to stave off the oncoming wave of nausea by propping both hands on his knees, vision still adjusting as he looks for the source of the noise. it takes him a few seconds to realize that he is standing on a parking lot somewhere, another few to spot a white van parked not far from him as the source of the screams.

sakura? and yuu… and kousuke. what’s going on?

adrenaline takes over before any rational thoughts does; sakunosuke doesn’t even know why he springs straight into action and sprints towards the van at the sight, stumbling on his own foot once or twice in the process. he does know that there's an inexplicable sense of urgency that tells him to run as fast as he can, to not stop until he has all five of them safe in his arms- to tell them that he's there, it's going to be okay, they're going to be——

the explosion that occurs right after sends him flying thirty meters backwards, hot air hitting his face without mercy as he crashes upon the gravel. sakunosuke briefly registers the pain blooming all over his body, ignores the sting of scrapes and cuts on his skin as he stares at the burning car before him, throat burning from the cry of anguish that doesn’t sound anything like his voice.

he thrashes wildly on his bed and his head knocks against the headboard, jolting him awake.

he opens his eyes and darkness is the first thing that greets him. 

breathing comes in mouthful of air and painful inhales, memories of the black smoke from his dreams constricting against his lungs. yet the throbbing pain upon his joints feels like a fleeting sensation, almost like a mere ghost, now that he’s back in the comfort of his apartment in koi. for a moment everything is disoriented, mind still hazy from the sudden shift to consciousness.

sakunosuke attempts to sit up straight, hands grasping on the front side of his abdomen only to release a relieved sigh when his fingertips comes in contact with a damp t-shirt. there’s no trace of gravel- only the crumpled surface of his bed sheets and his own perspiration making his shirt cling onto him like a second skin.

nightmare. it’s just a nightmare- an extremely realistic one at that, too.

heaves a sigh, fingers brushing his own bangs off of his forehead. the frequency between one terror-filled night to another is getting shorter and shorter for his liking. sakunosuke steps out of his bed and discards the shirt he's wearing, crumpling it into a ball before throwing the gray cloth into the laundry basket. the fact that it was about his children this time isn’t helping at all. could it be because he's been missing them more lately?

azure shifts to the digital clock on his nightstand, red lines making out the shape of ‘03:56 AM’ jarring amidst the darkness. it’s too early to get up and make coffee, yet too late to fall back to sleep when he has work in three hours. maybe getting fresh air would do him good...

and by fresh air, he meant retrieving a cigarette pack and ashtray that he swore off not to touch a couple of months ago from his socks compartment.

the sky is still a dark shade of blue when he slides open the door to the balcony. sakunosuke leans against the railing as he plucks a cigarette from its container and clamp it between his lips, taking notice of that the streets down under isn’t as quiet as he thought it would be. but then again it’s only natural with the belladonna district only a short walk away. 

an idea to grab his coat and walk around the said district crosses his mind. being a member of the port mafia granted him access to a lot of places that most people rarely think of going into in yokohama. he can’t help but wonder if the nightlife district in koi is similar to the ones they have back home. 

although he wouldn’t be surprised if they end up kicking him out, now that he’s a detective for the local police force.

taking a drag of his cigarette, he lets his mind wander off to the distance, relishing the pleasant burn that trails down in his throat. the night air is cool, yet not particularly harsh upon the bare skin of his abdomen. he waits for a few seconds to exhale—just to get that little kick before releasing the smoke through his mouth. a little bit of nicotine never fails to soothe his jotting nerves, even after the most horrifying of nightmares or traumatizing event. 

ah, right- he forgot to check on his roommate. hopefully he didn’t wake micah up with his little incident from before. he has been nothing but accommodating throughout they time cohabiting together, even with that one awkward first dinner where sakunosuke took the initiative to cook spicy curry for both of them. it was sakunosuke’s first time sharing something so personal as a living space with someone else other than his mentor and micah’s presence feels almost natural around him, although he probably still needs to work on his own conversing skills with the latter.

to think about it… how long has it been since he arrived in koi? sakunosuke had lost track of the time. with the abrupt change happening in his lifestyle, he didn’t have the luxury of sitting around idly on the living room, having to go job hunting and get accustomed to the odd city he finds himself stranded in. it was fortunate that he managed to land a job in a cafe despite not having any prior experience in the hospitality or the restaurant business. 

he doesn’t suppress the smile that quirks the corner of his lips when he recalls his  former? boss’ words to him after their first encounter in the cafe. ‘it suits you’ chuuya had said when he served his tea to him. those three words—although simple ( and funny, coming from a port mafia executive )—left a lasting impression more than saku think it could. who would’ve known someone like him could also play the role of an ordinary barista? a child groomed since young to be a deadly assassin only to join the mafia afterwards, now playing house by making tea and serving cakes? makes him think that maybe, the black of his blood and gushing red on his hands can really be a thing of his past. that maybe, he can redeem himself completely.

then there’s the girl he met by the river after causing her to drop her crepe. the girl with large round eyes, yet no trace of the innocence most kids her age usually possess. what was her name again… kyouka? kyouka izumi? looking at her almost makes him feel like he’s seeing a reflection of his past self--except more hopeful, and loved. they have only met once but sakunosuke is sincere when he hopes that she could lead a better life than he did. 

his eyes drift towards a small potted flower near him as he releases another puff of smoke. it comes as a surprise to him that the begonia flowers he purchased from oichi’s workplace hasn’t wilted yet. sakunosuke has never been a potted flowers type of person before, as he considers them too beautiful- too fragile for someone like him to touch, but he didn’t put much thought into buying it since he wanted to congratulate the oichi for landing a job there. there's just something about her that makes him want to stay close, to make sure that her well-being is taken care of. is this what one would call as platonic affection?

speaking of affection… two brunettes are the first that come to mind.

first is dazai. his friend, who also happens to be one of the port mafia executives—or at least former, according to dazai himself. out of the other familiar faces he had encountered throughout the city, dazai was the one he didn’t see coming at all. it’s almost as if he’s a completely different person now... the way he’s dressed, the way the baby fats are gone and replaced by strong lines and sharp edges, shoulder much broader and nearly a head taller than the last time he had seen him. his gaze is also no longer hollow but melancholic, almost—for the lack of a better word—soft. dazai said it has been years since their last meeting that night in lupin, so sakunosuke supposes that not even a human conundrum like him can escape from time’s grasp.  

and ango. ango, ango, ango——

something stings inside his chest at the thought of the bespectacled man. sakunosuke used to think that he is the farthest thing from emotional, knows that rationality should precede any form of sentimental value, and yet he still finds himself upset at ango’s condition when he, from all people should know how disconcerting it is to lose a chunk of one’s memories. the city did it to him- to them. it’s unfair to blame one person for something he cannot help at all.

but that’s what ango has been capable of doing from the start, right? bringing out a side of him that even sakunosuke doesn’t know exist for the better or worse, knowing where to hit and where to stroke gently, his limit and what he’s capable of.

and subsequently spurred saku to take that trust fall years ago. 

“i want to take you around the streets of rome."

a shadow of a smile creeps up to his lips as he thumbs the ghost of a kiss upon his knuckle. although koi is not rome, they can make do with what they have now. like they usually do.

the sky has turned into a splash of indigo and coral by the time sakunosuke is done with his third stick. he takes one last drag—the longest one he had that morning—before extinguishing it on the ashtray and disposing the leftovers to the nearest trash bin. it’s a routine that he finds himself still unable to give up, rooting from the guilt of breaking a promise he made years ago with a certain someone. although they aren’t physically there to reprimand him, sakunosuke prefers to think that they’re always with him, in his heart.

gathering the pack and ashtray in his hand, he steps back inside the apartment before closing the sliding door behind him. the sun peeking behind the clouds illuminating the outlines of their apartment with a soft glow, providing sakunosuke with a better lighting to navigate around than an hour before. he quickly slips the two items back in it’s hiding spot and makes a beeline to his bathroom.

but not before something out of place catches his eyes in the full-bodied mirror of the closet door, causing him to retrace his steps back until he sees his full reflection upon it. 

a scar that can only be described as coming from a gunshot wound, not bigger than the size of a dime yet prominent on the smooth expanse of his skin, sitting on the lower right side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart. sakunosuke instinctively raise a hand to touch the uneven skin, mirror reflecting his furrowed eyebrows back at him. the scar doesn’t feel new- but not faded enough to come from his assassin days. how come he just noticed this now?

where did this one come from?

[the-gay-in-the-way]

I Dream of a Life Worth Living, Part one

(Hey!)

(I’m back with more things!)

(Isn’t that exciting?)

(Anyways, this is the start of an AU, of sorts, to my other series of fics.)

(If you don’t know(Which might very well be the case since I never really mentioned it or anything...)all of the other fics I’ve written here took place in the same little universe.)

(That universe is called the Chronicles of an Anxious Protector universe.)

(AKA, the CAP Universe.)

(And this story takes place in a parallel universe that has some serious differences that all stem from a single change of events.)

(All of the rules of the universe, like the Realms and how Manifesters and Sides work, are the same though.)

(And this universe has been lovingly dubbed the What is Your Life Like? Universe.)

(Or(In my own mind.)the Cry-a-Lot Universe.)

(Now, with that little introduction out of the way, let’s get started!)

(Thanks for reading, if you do, and I hope you enjoy the new series as much as the old one.)

Patton was lying in a clearing, looking up at the most beautiful sky he'd ever seen.

The sound of a waterfall and leaves being moved by a gentle breeze soothed him like a lullaby.

He'd never felt as peaceful as he did in that moment.

"Hey, Patty?"

The moral side smiled instinctively at the voice coming from somewhere outside of his vision.

"Yeah, V̸͉̳̰̹͖̘̦̓̂́͑̅͜i̶̢̛̘̥͈̱̤̤̅̅̄̾r̶̹̟̥̻͚̹̊̉̐̑̐͌͋g̴̝̹͙̯̻̩̠͐̅̊̿͘͜i̸̭̲̰͖͒͋͑̐͒l̶̪͉͇͑͆̿͂̋̓͜͝͝ ?"

There was a moment of quiet.

Then the voice returned.

And It's words made Patton go cold.

"Would you care if I disappeared?"

----------------------

"GAH!"

Patton flailed with a shout, his sheets and some of his pillows going flying from the violent gesture.

He took heaving breathes as he stilled and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart.

It was difficult to do by himself though.

Usually V̸̺̰̲̟̱̲̥̲̍͌̄͘͘ͅi̶̡̩͔̯̹͆́͌̚͜r̴͍̩̍̅̎͂̚̕͝ĝ̶̢̫̯̳̫̖i̴̞̹̙̭̺͆̎͘͜͝l̴̮̅͑͌̽̈̊̑̚ͅ would-

He gasped.

That...

That thought didn't make any sense.

He rarely had nightmares.

And, whenever he did, he always just calmed down by himself.

That's how it had always been.

The moral side let out a shaky sigh.

A hand reached up and covered his mouth.

He looked up at the tiny glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

Logan hated those stars because they didn't match any actual star configurations.

Roman didn't understand why he didn't make any actual shapes with them.

And Patton himself...

He wasn't really sure why he wanted them.

It was because of his dreams, he knew.

But those dreams, as pleasant as they started out, were never really good.

He shouldn't want them to transfer into real life somehow.

But he did.

For a reason he couldn't truly comprehend, Patton was attached to those dreams.

And the starry sky that was always in them.

It had taken him four days to get all of the glow stars in the right configuration.

But it was never completely accurate.

In fact...

He stood now, on his bed with shaky legs, and reached up to them.

He'd noticed some differences again.

Carefully, he pulled a few of the stars down.

They came off of the ceiling easily.

With a twitch of his hand, the glue on each star was renewed before he put them all up in their new locations.

Then, when he was satisfied with their placement, he fell back onto his bed.

It was important.

The starry sky from his dreams.

He didn't know why.

But it was.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on his door and Patton startled.

"Hey, Padre? Are you awake?"

'Hey, Patty?'

The father figure shivered.

"Yeah, Ro. I'm up. I'll be down in a bit."

"Oh! Excellent! I'll see you soon then!"

And Roman left with the sound of, almost violently loud, footsteps fading down the hall.

Patton sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

He hated it when the others tried to wake him up.

They always did it in the worst way possible and it always left him in the worst of moods.

It was better if V̷̯̙̆̐̽̌́̐͐͐͠i̶̧̧̟̺͕̮͚̠̰̮͂̔̌͗͊̊͘͜͝r̴̫̒̌̕ģ̷͈̖͙̠̹͌̆͝į̶̙͈̝͖̣̍͗̔͂̓l̶̲̹̖͋͛͠ -

There was a hole in his wall and his hand hurt.

"ow..."

He pulled his hand, gently, from the hole in the wall, and cradled it to his chest with a hiss.

He hadn't meant to do that.

The moral side took a deep breath and sighed again.

This was getting ridiculous.

Maybe he should just talk to Roman about the dreams.

They were obviously starting to get to him.

It would probably be better if he had the creative side get rid of them.

Seriously, it was for the best.

'Would you care if I disappeared?'

His jaw clenched.

Then he slid off of his bed, sat down on the floor, and pulled a first aid kit out from under his bed.

Just a little longer.

He could handle the dream for just a little longer.

He'd been dealing with them for years now, just fine.

The others didn't need to get involved.

It was fine.

So long as he continued to believe that, he'd be fine.

(I kind of enjoyed using the glitched text in this.)

(It was fun trying to make it shaped the way I wanted it while also trying to make sure it was visibly unique each time.)

(Anyways, here’s the general taglist.)

@a-snoway-afternoon @ashrain5 @virgilscat @gumdrop2113 @chelama

(Hey guys, how are you?)

(Sorry I write and tag you so frequently.)

(Especially on those marathon days when I post several things all at once.)

(Go here for the next part.)

(A Bed of Links:)

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Cerillen

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerillen/pseuds/Cerillen

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPz4p5XdoRESDKZeMDnWXFQ

Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/cerillen

Discord: https://discord.gg/FsUhc5f

[anonplusultra-blog]

@galpaladinsoftherealm

In the night

“She should be fine, it just takes time for her blood to filter the venom. You should take her somewhere more comfortable, somewhere we can talk.”

“I guess we have to go to my hide out on the Elven forest, we are half way there and, it will give us privacy.”

“So we would keep going down this same road then, I’m fine with that snowflake”.

They both shared a look, as if another conversation was taking place between the lines. Maybe if the poison was not affecting me, I might had picked up on said subtext.

They lift me up, my legs were weak, but I could stand on my own, I had to try, Skye kept her arm around me to help me keep my balance. Evie prepared her staff to fly, Skye had a raised brow and her usual panache, “We won’t fit on the broom if you sit like ‘that’”, she pointed at the elemental’s behind, “We have to do it...”, she guided my body as a dance instructor would making me lift my leg with her own and her arm, “the fun way.”

So we ended up the three of us mounted on the broom the way I first thought was the right way, one leg on each side. I knew this way was not wrong as Evie made it seem.

The broom commenced its flight. The usual vibration caused by magic flowing through the metallic body of the staff were now...more notorious. I could felt every single grain of magic vibrate also thru me, entering my skin by my… I guess this is why she was not so adamant about me riding the broom like this, this was addictive.

My body tightly pressed between the winter witch and the voluptuous assassin made things better somehow. It was not just feeling their bodies brushing against mine, nor Skye’s breasts softly resting on me, it was maybe that same feeling you get when you hold your breath for a bit too long or wrap yourself on a sheet to become a pastry cone, or, simply being inside a box.

The energy vibrations were not enough to get me to that ecstasy Evie had driven me last night, but it was very pleasant, no wonder the assassin was calling it the fun way. Its interesting how such a small part of one body, smaller than the brain, can have so much power over one self control. Last time we rode on the broom, my eyes were admiring the landscape from above; now, all I wanted to see was Evie’s face enjoying this as much I was, yet all I could grasp of her was her lips and that low breathing calm rhythm. I dared also to look back at Skye, her dark skin, elven features, those lips, her breasts firmly against the back of my neck.

Was this heat normal, was it common for people to desire a stranger as much as I wanted Skye? Is it still love if its for more than one person?

But the pleasure was accumulating on me, building up as we fly thru the night. All I can think of is Skye’s hands on my rib cage, hugging me tight, so close to touching my breast and temping me to force her hands lower to where my aching want was wetting me. I wished to have more room and to be able to maneuver and kiss Evie...or Skye. I waned to be touched by them, by both.

I remembered how casual the two women were a few moments ago and my aroused mind could only imagine them sharing intimate kisses, touching each others beautiful bodies, driven each other to a pleasure beyond words could explain...and then- We touched the ground, my eyes were open again, the broom stopped vibrating, I felt frustrated, I wanted it to happen, I need this now.

Maybe it was the excitement of the chase or the fact that we might have prevented a war, but I felt so energetic, a bit tired because of the poison but, I it was almost off my system now.

I got off the broom, no need for help, observed my surroundings, high mountains on the horizon, the biggest trees I had ever seen their tops blocking the moonlight, a smell of grass and life very distinct and unique, enormous mushrooms growing as tall as men on the trees and rocks; truly an enchanted forest.

“Oh my, Evie, look at your kitty cat, her trousers are a mess” a fake gasp and a mockery to pretend shock from the purple haired woman. My trousers were indeed wet on the crotch and it was all her fault. “I think this calls for a hot bath” again the two taller women shared a look, there had to be something else going on here.

We got in the hide out, a stone walled house, a lot less welcoming that the farms but still enough comfort to live in. Furniture made from old magic trees with intricate designs, a stove, bookshelves containing old books in a language I do not know the name of, a room full of food in form of magic paper.

I kept exploring the place while Evie prepared a bath for me, I took off my clothes and put on a bath robe just to avoid getting a cold, or that is what Skye said it was for, she was wearing one as well, although, it barely covered her body the intended way yet she looked like she was comfortable in it.

Evie called from down the hall, the bath was ready. The water was hot, it made my skin turn pink, I kinda like this feeling, its an unusual feeling, most of the time I bathe on cold water except on winter. The soapy water did the usual cleansing and relaxed my tired body. Until this moment of solitude I realized just how much stress I had gone thru today: the long travel on broom to the Magistrate district, packing up to travel away, chasing the assassin and the poison. My eyes got watery and heavy, I could fallen a sleep right there if I wasn’t afraid of drowning.

I got out of the water, got as dry as I could with the towels Evie had prepared for me, they were warm and puffy. I kept my hair dry, I don’t enjoy sleeping with my hair dam on a pillow.

Out of the bath room I could hear Evie and Skye having a conversation, but I was too tired to join them at the kitchen. Instead I found my way to the master bedroom...well the room with the bed, it was quite humble looking, no window, no door, just a bed big enough for two on a wooden base. Still enough comfort for my weary being at the time.

I was awoken by the sound of boots stomping on the floor followed by a body heavily and ungracefully collapsing next to me. I instinctively jumped off the bed with a shriek, uncalled it seemed when I saw it was Evie. She was wearing her black and blue outfit, except the boots that were tossed some where in the room.

“Not, so, loud please, my head is killing me kitty cat.”

“You are the one who pulled me off slumber by surprise in the middle of the night!” I was moody, and how not be?

“It is past noon you sloth”

“What do you…? It’s dark still...”

“Well there are no windows in this hideout”

“I-I… it’s not my fault I was poisoned by your friend, y-you should be glad I didn’t sleep ‘till death!” And then I realized it, Evie went out all night, with her, where? “Speaking of which, where is Skye?”

“Oh, she is back at the Citadel delivering the woman to her client we-”

“No, what? Why?!”

“Please not so loud, I told you my head is about to explode,” she massaged her skull a bit theatrical, “well, last night we talk about a plan to comprise both sides, I would cover up the breach in security and she would deliver her alive to her client. We wanted to take you with us but you sleep like a rock. Oh kitty you should have seen it, espionage, infiltration, violence, red eyes glowing in the dark…oh if only there was a chronicler to write down those events”.

“Why didn’t you woke me up? I could have helped you it it means it will aid stopping the war”

“Oh but we did, we called your name, we tickled your feet,...” a smile as she pouts, “we even tried to woke you as a fabled princess by a kiss, but you just smiled, eyes closed, still in the land of dreams”.

“Both of you?”

“Yes, of course. Not at the same time, one a time. Maybe tonight when she is back from the citadel we could have some more fun with her, you know, before we head back to the farm, Skye really likes you Maeve.”

I blushed. She said that so nonchalantly, as if it was normal. I only heard of royals from the desert having more than one spouse… Am I the prince or the princess?

“Well we don’t have to, it can be just the two of us kitty. Sorry if I misread your emotions, I just felt as...”

I crawled back on the bed to her.

“Only if this time you are the princesses...”

Author’s note: jebaited no frick fracking.  I made so many versions of this chapter, this was the most vanilla one, but I also felt it worked better. Next up is Prompt seven: Au

“But… what about promt six?”

>→ get out

[jetfuel-cantmeltsteelbeams]

Tili Tili Bom (Amelie)

Timeline: New Court - Daniel Nightengale Chronicles

Location: Amelie Smithe-Nightengale’s personal residence

Characters: Braxis Draekmol, Amelie Smithe-Nightengale, Daniel Nightengale, Sythe Luce

Summary: Daniel stalks Amelie, haunting her nightmares and driving her to paint his features. From memory, she recalls an old Russian lullaby Sythe used to sing to her; Braxis uses his interpreting skills to translate. 

Rolling over onto his side, Braxis Draco shifted beneath the covers. Once settled, he reached over to sling an arm over Amelie’s hip and get comfortable enough to-

He frowned. Parting his eyes, the dragon felt around at the sheets that had been thrown off and left cold in the dark room. With a loud sigh, he rose up to glance around- not surprised at all that the horrifyingly pink room held him as it’s only occupant.

Slinging on a pair of flower power pajama pants, Braxis shuffled to the bedroom door and out into the hall. It was only a few steps till he reached her study; the only room with the light still burning.

His face twisted as his eyes adjusted to find his little brunette painting in the far corner, splatters of paint covering her forearms as she attacked the canvas with a fever. She hadn’t even thrown her usual apron on to protect the white tank top and shorts she’d fallen asleep in- even her hair was held up in a bun by two loosely placed brushes that, judging by the white and blue streaks, had already been used.

Rubbing at the ache beside his left eye, Braxis managed to step into the room before he heard it. A mumbling under her breath as her hands struck life into the canvas.

“... ichit nochnaya ptitsa... O-on uzhe probralsya v dom. K tem... komu ne spitsya.”

His frown deepened, head tilting as he listened harder to her muttered words. Is that… Slavic? Over the centuries of his life, Braxis had heard his share of languages. Studied them for a while, as a side hobby to keep himself sane amongst his siblings. But his European was definitely rusty.

He watched her back as she swiped one hand down her cheek, no doubt coloring it with whatever paint had been on it seconds before. “On idet... on uzhe blizko…”

Definitely European. Possibly… Russian?

“Tili-tili-bom, Krichit no… nochnaya ptitsa. On uzhe probralsya- on uzhe probralysa…”

“Mija.” The chill that dropped down his spine when he recognized the language, translated her words, cemented his feet to the ground. The force he’d put behind his voice had probably been too much, would startle her-

Good. She had no business singing songs like that.

Amelie’s eyes flashed wide when she turned, but softened as soon as she saw who’d called for her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

She probably doesn’t even know the translation, he told himself. She’d probably heard it somewhere and liked the tune. Mimicked the sound of the dialect.

“Come back to bed with me.” He didn’t want her in this room anymore, for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself. He didn’t want to think on it either. “You can finish your painting in the morning.”

But she glanced back at the canvas, still obstructing his view of what exactly had drawn her out of their bed in the middle of the night to paint. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted. “I’ve been having these awful nightmares, and I just thought painting would help, but...”

Steeling himself, Braxis had to force one foot in front of the other just to walk further into the room. “You should have woken me up, mija. I would have-”

Ice choked his throat, cutting his words off at the tip of his tongue. Two eyes rimmed with red stared back at him with crystal clarity. From an outsider’s perspective, it had to be some of her finest work. The detail, shading and contrast- it was all perfect.

But from where he stood, sending the entire estate up in flames just to bury that canvas in ash wouldn’t be enough to ease the chill that settled in his bones. In his life, he’d only felt fear like this a handful of times- and only when staring into the face of death.

“Mija. Is that your father?”

She shook her head, a few strands of brown coming free of it’s loose bun to fall on her shoulders. “Da’ didn’t have freckles. Maman showed us pictures she had. I don’t know who I painted-”

“What were you singing just now?”

“Why are you-”

“Amelie, what were you singing?” He never used her name, not when they were alone. But he needed an answer, and he needed it now. Before he looked away from the painting, before he gave in to the fear pressing in on his chest.

“It’s an old song Papa used to sing.”

It took a few tries to swallow, but Braxis managed. “Do you know the translation?”

“No, but the song has been stuck in my head for a few days now. Where are you going?”

Braxis moved. His feet carried him to her bedroom, barely wasting time to turn on the lights before tearing her closet open and dragging out her duffel.

From the door, he heard the confusion in her voice. “What are you doing?”

“We’re leaving. Now. You have five minutes to pack anything we can’t buy.”

“My paintings-”

“I’ll come back for them later. Five minutes, Amelie. No more.” His first lie to her. He wouldn’t be coming back here, not as long as that fucking painting hung like a noose in this house. 

All it took was one look when he turned to face her, and the goddess hurried into action, stuffing as much as she could into the purple bag he’d tossed onto her bed.

Tili Tili Bom Close your eyes quickly, Someone's walking by the window And knocking at the door.

Tili Tili Bom Can you hear the birds through the night? He's already made his way into the house For those who cannot sleep.

Hear his steps, He's already Close.

[libraryscarf]

those who bleed and those who burn

(ao3)

this doesn't belong to the same AU as the rest of the snapshots in this series, but I decided to post it anyway. this is an AU based on Marissa Meyer's "Fairest"--an interlude story in the Lunar Chronicles told from the villain's viewpoint.

so what I'm saying is basically.......if Yato were Levana :')

Held against the coals his skin hissed and swelled and split.

“Come over here, little brother. I want to show you something.”

The thick, charred smell of flesh choked him, he couldn’t breathe, and he was on fire, and his face bubbled and broke open.

“Yes, good job little brother. Are you having fun?”

He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and bleeding from the smoke. And he could only wait, wishing for his red, ruined body to give up and let him go, to leave the fire...to find someplace cool and quiet...

And then he woke up.

“Bad dream?”

Fujisaki sat at the foot of Yato’s bed, wrapped in a soft white robe and smiling angelically down at him. Yato called up his glamour instantly, though his skin was plastered to the sheets with sweat and the ashy, burnt taste of his own flesh wouldn’t leave his mouth.

“You should be up by now,” Fujisaki said gently. “People are arriving for the funeral. It is such a shame…”

He glamoured a fat teardrop to roll down his face, and it trembled like a star at the bottom of his chin. The tear was disturbingly at odds with the smile on his lips.

“I’m up,” Yato said, glaring back.

Fujisaki was the only person alive who didn’t react to the scorching ice of Yato’s stare.

His eyes were blue--not his real eyes, of course, but the ones he chose to wear. They were the kind of blue that hurt to look at.

The kind of blue that burned.

No matter how much his glamour changed, Yato kept the eyes.

: : :

Endless sympathies. Endless shoulder pats. Endless tears, most of them faked.

Yato knew no one actually cared who had died, even though the funeral was for the rulers of their kingdom.

He didn’t much care either.

The unsorry words kept eating at him.  “We’re so sorry for your loss.” “They will never be forgotten.” “This is truly a dark day for Luna...”

It began to sicken him.

Yato stopped making eye contact with the well-wishers. He was getting tired of their invasive closeness, the staring.

Someone stopped in front of him, and once again, he didn’t look up. He fastened his eyes on the pair of plain shoes facing him.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you,” said a quiet voice. This voice, unlike the others, quivered with what seemed to be real feeling. Yato glanced up before he could stop himself.

The voice belonged to a young woman, whose face he was sure he had seen somewhere before. The memory skittered around his periphery like an insect.

“Your name?” he asked.

She clutched her hands close to her stomach, caught off-guard by his sharp question.

“Hiyori Iki, Your Highness. My husband had the honor to serve in the castle guard for many years, until…” She swallowed, and Yato caught the glimmer of moisture before her eyes turned down.

“Until recently.”

Iki...yes, he remembered that name. The guard who had been executed for protecting a maid: one of Fujisaki’s favorites, if Yato remembered correctly. He had been forced to pull out all his fingernails, then slit his own throat in front of the gathered courtiers in the throne room.

Even Yato hadn’t been able to watch that one all the way through.

“Then I think you can imagine, after all,” he said in return, surprising himself with the gentleness of his voice.

Hiyori looked him in the eyes for a long while, as though gauging his sincerity. He waited for the instant she would shy away from his stare.

Instead, she gave him a soft smile.

That was her only answer before she moved past him, down the line.

: : :

“Who was that you were so captivated by?”

Fujisaki caught Yato’s elbow as he fled the crowded ballroom.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Of course you do.”

Fujisaki grinned, and Yato recoiled in disgust as his brother’s glamour shaped itself into the appearance of Hiyori Iki.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

Fujisaki’s voice was mousy and high-pitched--a disgraceful mockery of her words that made Yato’s blood pound with rage.

“Really, a guard’s widow...and not even one of the pretty ones,” Fujisaki purred, still inhabiting Hiyori’s appearance while scraping his eyes lewdly over Yato’s body. “However, it’s good to see you even have that ability. I was beginning to harbor doubts.”

His eyes found their mark.

“Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten. But your...imperfections are all above the waist, aren’t they?”

Yato shrank against the wall.

“Stop it.”

Fujisaki gave a ringing laugh, and dropped Hiyori’s glamour to appear as himself again. This did not give Yato very much comfort.

“Well, little brother, if you want to toy with her, you have only to ask.”

Fujisaki gave Yato’s chin a playful tweak as he strode past, disappearing around the corner of the next corridor.

Yato slumped against the wall, pressing his aching forehead into the cool stone. No, he thought, he didn’t want her.

He didn’t want anything but quiet.

: : :

Yato shut the door behind her. Either he didn’t notice the way Hiyori’s eyes nervously flickered toward it as her only escape route was cut off, or he chose to be ignorant.

“You love me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. He knew she did.

Hiyori’s shoulders tightened.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She refused to look at him.

Yato exhaled slowly through his nose. He reached for her mind, slipping himself between the cracks in her armor.

Tell me the truth.

“Yes…” she breathed. “Yes, I do...love you.”

Yato sighed. The relief of hearing it lifted a hollow burden off his chest that he felt as though he’d been carrying for weeks.

But then she gave a quiet sob, and his heart froze.

“But I don’t want you to love me,” she said miserably.

Yato rushed to hold her, clutching her upper arms, careful his grip wasn’t hard enough to bruise.

“Don’t be silly. You’re still telling me the truth, right?”

Hiyori nodded weakly, still unable to look at him.

“Of course you want this,” he said, hating how his voice pleaded. How it was weak.

Her arms felt tiny in his hands, and Yato wondered frantically if she’d lost weight. That thought was immediately chased out of his head by her head shaking “no.”

“I don’t. I don’t want this. I can’t...please…”

His grip was getting steadily tighter.

“Why not? Hiyori, you do want this. I can give you everything. You and your son--”

Hiyori threw her chin up and stared him fiercely in the eye. Yato let go of her arms and took a shocked step backward.

“He’s why I can’t! The life of a child here, in this court...around your brother! I meant to leave with him as soon as the mourning period for the king and queen was over…”

Yato gaped at her, unable to believe he was hearing this.

“You what?”

Hiyori dragged her fingers through her hair, and the look on her face scared him. He had seen it on his own...on the faces of the women his brother had tortured…

“I was going to leave. We were going to leave, forever. But I...I couldn’t...I…”

Yato didn’t need to hear.

“If you want to toy with her, you have only to ask.”

Fujisaki had made this happen. It was the only gift he had ever given his brother. It was the only thing Yato had ever truly wanted.

His teeth bared.

“You want to stay now, though.”

He was angry. Angry at Fujisaki. Furious at himself. But Hiyori was here, and--

Couldn’t she see that he could protect her?

Her hands crept up to cover her mouth, and frustrated sobs hiccuped out of her. Each one drove a poisoned needle through Yato’s heart.

“Why couldn’t I leave?” she asked, collapsing in on herself. “I wanted to. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t--because every time I tried, it hurt...it hurt Yukine so much. He screamed...he tore at his skin…”

Yato shut his eyes.

Hiyori slumped to her knees, and Yato sank to the floor in front of her.

“You can stay here,” he said, reaching for her again. Her mind was soft, and it was easy to reach through her defenses, to convince her how right he was. How much he loved her.

How much she wanted it.

“You can stay here, and it will all be fine.”

: : :

Before he saw her so often, it had been easier for Yato to keep himself together.

Before there was the chance of running into her around every corner in the palace. Before she began taking care to avoid him--or, if he was impossible to avoid, to put him off with smiles and politeness. Before he saw her playing with her son in the nursery, and smiling like he’d never been able to make her smile.

His gut twisted in jealousy.

“Hiyori.”

She was kneeling in front of Yukine and wiping something off his face as Yato walked up to them. The glint of anxiety in her eyes didn’t escape him.

“Go now--go play with Hiiro,” she told the little boy quietly, who trotted off back to the nursery after casting a question-filled glance at Yato.

Hiyori stood.

“Your Highness?”

Yato flinched. Her formality was a rejection in itself.

“Hiyori. Please.”

The anxiety in her eyes darkened into fear. Yato’s skin prickled with frustration. Why couldn’t she understand?

He would never hurt her, never.

If she couldn’t understand that, then he’d help her.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” she murmured, just as he reached out for her mind. He stopped, and arranged his face into innocence.

“Do you think you’re helping me?” Hiyori asked, without anger. There was something in her voice besides fear, and Yato struggled for a moment to name it. Was it…

Pity.

“You’re imagining things,” he said hoarsely. She smiled.

“Yato. How long are you going to play this game? How long are you going to keep hoping I’ll change my mind?”

“It’s not a game. You love me, and soon you’ll see how important that is.”

She shook her head. Her face seemed to drain of life, and even the glint of fear in her eyes was chased out.

“It’s too late,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

The worst part was that it sounded like she actually was sorry. Yato hardened himself.

Hiyori was just confused.

She couldn’t just break his heart like this.

“It’s not over.” He reached out, pulling her closer to him.

He also reached into her mind, filling it with the warmth she had always given him.

“It isn’t over, because I love you.”

He barely met any resistance from her, and Yato hated his brother just a little bit more.

“I love you now, and you love me, and we’re happy.”

His arms tightened. He pushed her to respond. You are so happy right now.

“We’re happy. Right?”

Hiyori melted into his chest, her arms wrapping around him. She nodded.

: : :

It was close to four in the morning when he heard the footsteps. Yato lay perfectly still, his arm tucking Hiyori close to his side.

Breathe in.

A thump outside. A quickly muffled shout. Hiyori stirred.

Breathe out.

The door was thrown open so quickly it crashed against the wall and swung back. The man in the doorway propped it open. All Yato could see was the intruder’s helmet.

“Wh...what?” Hiyori sat up next to him. Yato let his arm fall from around her shoulders. Quietly, he slipped the idea into her head to stand up.

Hiyori stood.

“What is this?” she asked, her sleepy eyes blinking in the light from the hallway. She turned her head to look down at him. “Yato…?”

Yato caught the guard’s eye. Kazuma waited.

Then, Yato nodded, and Kazuma unsheathed a knife. Yato threw himself off the opposite side of the bed.

The rest he tried not to hear.

: : :

He crouched, shivering next to the bed, making sure to keep a grip on Hiyori’s consciousnesses with his glamour. Even if she wanted to run, her body would be frozen in place.

He trusted Kazuma to make it quick.

“I’m so sorry,” Kazuma’s voice murmured. And then, silence.

Then a scream.

Yato shot up from his crouch, electrified by the horror pounding through Hiyori’s mind. He retracted his will from her at once, dizzy with vicarious fear and agony.

“I-I don’t know--what did I...?!” Kazuma backed away, dropping the stained knife on the carpet. Yato’s eyes followed it. Light from the hallway splashed over the dripping, scarlet blade.

For a dead second, everything was quiet again.

Hiyori stood perfectly still. A coin-sized circle of darkness blossomed on her white nightdress, above her ribs. A second dark flower spread open over her heart. A third, in the middle of her stomach.

Her shocked, glossy eyes flickered between Kazuma’s face and Yato’s.

Then, she crashed to the floor. Her hands scrabbled, slipping in blood as she tried to press them against the wounds to staunch the bleeding. She stole rough, tortured breaths, and Yato felt sickness lurch in his throat.

Dumbstruck, Yato looked down to her, then back up to Kazuma. He was still backing away, as though only just realizing what he had done.

A harsh, sobbing whimper sucked all his attention back to Hiyori.

“Yato…?”

One hand was fisting over the wound in her stomach.

The other reached feebly toward him, and Yato’s fingers twitched.

It flopped to the floor again: a doll’s broken limb.

Yato’s eyes twitched back to Kazuma, and red erupted across his vision.

: : :

He was drowning.

He had already drowned.

He could smell nothing, could breathe nothing but the thick, coppery rust that filled the air.

He was alone.

In the dark, and alone, and drowning.

: : :

“What happened to him?”

Yato’s ears were ringing, but voices started to curl through the fog surrounding him. Footsteps. Panicked, gasping voices.

“He killed the queen.”

“But…”

“Remove the body.”

Shuffling, grunting. A heavy object being dragged, and then a gentle thump, like limp knuckles against the ground.

A horrified whisper: “Did...the king do this to his own thaumaturge?!”

A hissed reprimand:  “Do you want to die?!”

Yato closed their voices out of his mind, trying to claw his way back to oblivion. He felt a burning ache deep in his throat. It hurt too much to think about.

Surfacing from the cloudy depths of a nightmare, Yato’s body finally forced him into an awareness of himself and his surroundings. His arms and his back pounded with soreness. His throat was hot and gravelly, and he found he could only take short, shallow breaths. His lungs burned.

Yato’s eyelids twitched. His face was buried in something soft, and the lingering smell of flowers whispered through the air’s stench. Something rhythmically rattled in his ears: a soft, broken noise that sounded like a lost child.

He stiffened. The sound was him.

“Your Highness?”

A hand timidly tapped his shoulder, and his aching arms tightened. He was clutching something against him. Something soft and cold, that smelled faintly like flowers.

[melting-for-you]

alt!

Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!

     Gregor from the Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins. This guy. This freaking kid. His blog’s at @no-warrior-here in case anybody wants it and. Let me just talk about this guy and his series for a little bit here. (I’ll also put a drabble under a cut because yes)

     I hardly ever write canon muses, but this guy was just too interesting and deep and just… Emotional. Honestly, his entire series was easily my favorite set of books I read growing up; even after ten years it still hits me hard. It’s powerful, it’s intense, it’s dark, and it doesn’t romanticize literally anything. Are there talking animals? Sure. But I bet you’ll cry over at least one of them. Is it in a fantastical world deep below New York City? Yep. But it’s a dark, cruel, unforgiving world full of gray morality and suffering. Does the main character have a ‘special skill?’ Yeah. But it’s one that leaves this kid deeply unsettled and quite literally afraid of himself. Are there awesome combat sequences? Oh yeah– but the results are bloody, frightening, and undeniably tragic. It touches on a lot of very heavy themes and morals as well, though I’ll leave that up to personal interpretation. There’s light parts too of course– but it reaches into so many deep themes that I could honestly spend hours rambling about it all.

     Anybody who likes suffering extreme emotional distress should read these books, okay. They’re freaking powerful.

     I write Gregor as post story, just because I think the development he went through is so intensely interesting, but I honestly just love writing this kid in general. If there’s ever a phrase to define him, it’s ‘tries too hard.’ All the boy wants is to keep his family safe and make sure they have a happy life and just. Gah. He’s so good and cares so much. But at the same time he’s also so stubborn and reckless and… Gosh dangit I could just talk and talk here.

     Alright, drabble time! I’ll set it in his main verse and offshoot– in which he’s actually moved to Amity Park of all places. Because reasons.

     When Gregor had heard of the past coming back to haunt you, he was sure it usually wasn’t meant so literally.

     ‘We hunt you to the last rat.’

     It had been years since he heard those words last… Until just the other day. A gnawer– a giant rat from the Underland– had returned from beyond the grave to exact vengeance… And it was one of the first he’d ever met, as it happened. The fiendish ghost would definitely have killed him if it wasn’t for Phantom’s interference…

     Phantom, the strange ghost boy who seemed almost like a guardian to this city. The unappreciated hero who the media seemed to assume was evil, though Gregor’d never seen him do anything but good. The friendly kid he’d helped patch up in the nurse’s office after school…

     ‘Did you meet anyone nice at school today, Gregor?’

     His mom always asked that, but he had a feeling she meant classmates. And he’d definitely made a couple friends, that was for sure. But he could never tell them the truth. Then again… Could he really afford to trust the ghost kid, either?

     The boy absentmindedly rubbed one hand over the long sleeve of his band hoodie, not even realizing he was tracing scars. It was such a strange thing… He wasn’t in the Underland anymore, but he didn’t really feel like a part of the Overland, either. He was trapped in between, someone who didn’t quite belong to either world.

     His thoughts drifted from the gnawer, to his other old enemies… Just how many others were out there? What would they do when they found him? How did you defeat something that was already dead?

     A gruff, tired sigh… ‘I really need to stop worrying so much about the future.’ If it came down to it, he’d have to hope that Phantom could handle it. The guy obviously fought a lot of ghosts… He had to know what he was doing by now, right..?

     For now… Maybe he would be better off just paying attention to the sheet of homework on his desk. Gregor could worry about the future when it came…

     Which, unfortunately, could be sooner than anyone hoped.