#another old ask ooooops...

[jacksmusesdrv3]

I’m not sure if you’ve read the books but the way you talk about the kokichi siblings reminds me a bit of the madarai brothers from danganronpa 0

(So I know this is Danganronpa but, what is WITH this appearance?! They even acknowledge his weird build as an... actual thing, in text, not just image, are they going to explain why he looks so distorted and animalistic?! That sounds like a story in of itself...)

...Okay, months after this ask was stashed in drafts, I have actually read DR0 in its entirety and I see what you mean now! That syncronicity, I'm assuming it's like a monozygotic trait in DR verse or something. This just makes the idea of twin-talents research more curious if superpowered octuplets are running around, moreso if their bodies have some kind of... thing going on with them, too.

(Too bad they weren't enough to withstand Mukuro...)

That's not the only thing interesting about the Madarai either, but the position in the plot to antagonise the amnesiac mastermind is giving me the feeling of how Ouma behaves - though much more passive-aggressively - with Shuichi. It's especially interesting how involved (general) you are with Ryoko before she ends up triggering her old self again, it's the sort of energy that would parallel with Shuichi's 'relatability factor' as a similarly horrible trap for the reader

[btscontentenjoyer]

Ugh I just enjoy reading this so much even though it hurts. I suppose both of those things will only increase as the chapters go on...

"You thought it was so easy to hate him, but you didn’t realize that it was easy to love him too." I feel like this will be the problem now that they're going to be working together as exes too 😔

"A love like you will never know again." How many times did I say 'poor OC' in the last chapter 😔😔😔 I feel like the number will keep increasing.

"Jihyo looks warily at his hand on your body, but you’re too distracted by the scent of his cologne—of which he seems to have doused a generous amount today—to notice her darting eyes." Ooooop 👀👀👀

“Uh huh, I didn’t know that there are ladies—plural—that I needed to impress,” he retorted with an affectionate roll of the eyes before pulling you in for a thank you kiss. “I think the real question here is, does it work wonders on you?” See this is what I mean!!!! When you have memories like that attacking you from every direction, how do you move on??

"If neuroscientists could pick apart your brain right this instance, you alone could be the sole proof of how scents can trigger memories and emotions." Aaaah I was just thinking about that when she mentioned his scent lol. Reminded me of how we were sniffing vanilla and oranges in a cognitive psychology class to see if they triggered any memories.

"The four walls of your dorm room were your holy place, a little too small for your liking but there was joy and there was freedom. You had happiness in the shape of him, and nothing else seemed to matter other than the boy gazing at you with stars twinkling in his eyes, trying to make you laugh because he swears those melodious sounds could fill a gap in his heart." 🥺🥺🥺

"When he lets you go, Jin scans your face for a few seconds before he confidently announces. “Wow, you’re even more beautiful in person.” 😳😳😳 Well hello Jin.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s head in, shall we?” Jungkook asks flatly. His fingers are reaching for that familiar spot on your lower back to guide you toward the conference room when another hand beats him to it." It's good to see someone putting Jungkook through it a bit honestly and I'm sure there'll be more of that 🤭

"None of that makes it okay. But you’ve had time, nothing but time. You’ve had time to process it all. You’ve had time to fall back into old patterns of grieving the love you lost and you’ve had time to pick yourself back up again. Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line but you can honestly say that you have healed, at least to a certain extent." I'm glad to see OC saying that, but I guess the true test of that will be this whole thing of working with Jungkook.

"The man beside you lets out a confused Huh? to which you don’t answer. There’s not really one to give anyway. You can’t exactly tell him that the reason why Yoongi seems to dislike Jungkook is because on a celebratory night out, you accidentally let it slip that he was your ex, and recanted the story of how he broke your heart in such vivid detail that even Tolkien would commend you for." 🤭🤭🤭 Well then I can't wait for them to meet one day.

"You’ve reiterated the word “fine” more in the last 30 hours than you have in three weeks. Unsurprisingly, you’re ingenuine in every utterance." I wonder how many times her friends will have to call her out on it for her to admit she's having a hard time. I feel like they'll be pretty good at spotting it by now but she's also gotten good at hiding it 😔😔😔

"You know you’re competent, but having Jungkook’s eyes on you while you’re on the spot like this makes you feel as if your stomach is twisting in on itself. It happened back in music theory class a lot, and it’s happening again now. This is a sensation that you absolutely don’t miss." Aw I'm sad she feels this way, especially since I'm sure Jungkook thinks she's talented and competent.

"When Seokjin nods, you continue. “So I was thinking maybe we could incorporate all of that in a more… distinct way. An album that can be listened to in the original order and in reverse. You get a different experience either way you choose to go. We can start with something upbeat and end with a mellow ballad or vice versa.” Well damn now I wanna listen to this album.

"But then he grins, so wide that his eyes crinkle, and he shakes his finger at you like an old man. “I knew there was a reason why Yoongi couldn’t stop talking about you,” Oh I'm sure there's a reason alright...

“I do.” You hear Jungkook say in response to Seokjin. You’re glad that your face is hidden, because at this point, you’re positive that everyone would be able to see the red that tints your cheeks. “She’s brilliant.” Yeah I knew he thinks of her that way, I hope he shows her that more often.

“Have you noticed that Jihyo at the front desk looks at me weirdly?” Hmmmm

“Yup, she hates you,” Namjoon says like it’s a common fact." Lmaooooo way to not put it lightly Joon.

“Before, he was like this aloof, sort of closed off guy, which for some reason the ladies seem to dig. It took him a while to open up to me. But I don’t know. He’s been very… smiley since you started working here.” Namjoon purses his lips and looks away for a moment, searching for the right words in his head. “You guys know each other from college, right? I guess that’s why it looks like you have more of a connection. He’s attentive when you’re around. Can’t imagine that his former or not former sneaky link would like that very much.” 👀👀👀

“We don’t mind a little mess, right hyung?” Jungkook then hovers the phone near Namjoon’s face so the older man can chuck out a hum, before pressing the device against his ear again. “Besides, you hate going out in the rain.” I thought he was going to offer to drive her to the studio lol but I guess this works too.

"Though if you think about it, Jungkook hasn’t seen the inside of your place either. He’s been here before, but you didn’t invite him in, and you doubt he could see very well into the apartment from his place on the other side of the threshold with a door partially in his face." So she really doesn't remember that night when she was drunk then, I guess it's probably for the best...

"You’re very tempted to utter the sentence that every protagonist in a romance novel does—‘You remember?’. You stay silent though, choosing to send him a small appreciative smile as you sprinkle the cinnamon in." Well I'm endeared by every detail they remember about each other 🥺

"Judging by the looks of it, this is one of many things that you’re unfamiliar with when it comes to this current version of him. He just opens his laptop and gets right into it. Right, you remind yourself, he probably doesn’t care about that anymore." Aaaaw but he did appreciate the prints when he first saw them though.

"What’s worse is that after those layers of resentment peeled away, you just feel empty. When he left, all you had to fill the void he created was hatred, and rage. You relied on those negative feelings for years just so you wouldn’t have to truly deal with the destruction left in his wake." That's very very right. It's a lot easier when there's someone to blame and hate, even easier when that person just leaves your life with so much pain, no explanation and only your memories of them behind. I guess that's what Jungkook intended by doing it this way.

"For someone who’s now a hotshot producer working with some of the biggest stars out there, you have a hard time believing this is the sight that’s playing out before your eyes—said hotshot producer, here in your kitchen, sipping banana milk happily." Cute.

"He spent weeks working until midnight only to come home and slave over his schoolwork until the sun came up. Jungkook kept this routine going until he couldn’t anymore. One day, he collapsed in the middle of class. That call from the hospital was one of the scariest of your life. You begged him to let you help him after that, and he agreed, ever so reluctant. Though if he hadn’t been hooked up to an IV and you weren’t crying right there in the emergency room, you don’t think he would’ve compromised." They've gone through so much together 🥺🥺🥺 It must be really hard to just forget all of that and try to move on.

"Alas, those doe eyes have always been your downfall; no one should be surprised. However, you can actually blame it on the weather. Say it’s because of the rain, because of how your family raised you. Say it’s because you have a perfectly good couch, and you’re just preventing Jungkook from his potential untimely death." Mhmmm yeah, I'd believe her.

"Sometimes you take the hoodie out just to feel the material under your touch. Other times you hang it up next to your favorite sweaters, to see how Jungkook would fit into this new life of yours though it was only a hoodie; you doubt he even remembers ever owning it. On nights like this, you’d often fall asleep with that worn out dark gray hoodie the last thing on your mind. If you were lucky (or unlucky, rather), you would meet him in your dreams, where everything is perfect as can be. Where he never left, where you never got your heart broken." Honestly sometimes OC does such a good job of pretending she's moving on and doing okay that even I'm fooled for a second even though I can literally read her thoughts, but then paragraphs like this pack even more of a punch and make me so emotional. Poor OC 😭😭😭

"It takes him longer than usual to shower, mostly because he was too engrossed in the scent of you engulfing the entirety of him. There was a good few minutes where he just stood in the shower with the water still running, which he should feel bad about because he was wasting water but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from his mind." 🥺🥺🥺

"[00:39] Taebear 🐻: yeah well you once told me you hoped he’d choke on his own dick and die. you're getting sentimental [00:45] You: well i still hope he does that [00:45] You: *choke on his dick i mean [00:45] You: not [00:46] You: die" Lmaooo okaaaay, there's some progress.

"Jungkook is taking up your space again, as if how he’s been taunting your mind isn’t already enough. As if he’s ever not had a home up in the cluttered attic of your brain." 😔😔😔

"It’s a terrifying realization that dawns on you—that he continues to wield such power over you, and what’s worse is that you don’t think it would be the worst thing in the world. Even with the wisdom of hindsight, you’re still a willing participant in your own heartbreak." So many beautiful and yet heartbreaking lines...

our beloved summer | jjk (02)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, college au (in flashbacks), fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, jk is banana milk luver, oc is a chai tea enthusiast so if you’re anti chai this ain’t for you, oc is a quadruple texter extraordinaire, mentions of capitalism 😔, mentions of alcohol consumption, inaccuracies about music making but wbk

rating: PG-13

word count: 12k

note: thank you to my lovely lovely Jo @daechwitatamic​ for listening to me yap while i was going thru a slump with this chapter, it helped me get out of that funk that i cannot be more grateful to her <3 oh and i don’t claim the lyrics mentioned by any means btw

playlist | series masterpost | taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

‘Cause every time I’m with you, somehow I forget to breathe You got me like a rag doll, now I’m dancing on your string And I keep trying to figure out who you are to But maybe all that we are meant to be is beautifully unfinished

Beautifully Unfinished - Ella Henderson

Keep reading

[chappell-roans]

When I was 15 I started to write a real people fic but I stopped

I'm glad you saw the light <3

[binniesthighs]

can u do an enemy to lovers au with han jisung where they are in a hidden fwb relationship? thank u~ 🥺

I really look some creative liberties with this one HA but the product...hehe, I hope that you enjoy it love! I also kinda accidentally made it a period piece??? Like 50′s-60′s? Idk how this happened but the vibe and the music I was listening to while writing really put me in that mood haha

blue velvet | reader x jisung |

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ angst

Tags: stripper!jisung, stripper!reader, bi!jisung, enemies (competitors) to lovers, secret relationship, friends with benefits, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, degrading names, choking, spanking, v mild spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you slippity slap it friends), creampie, cum eating, scratching, oral (reader receiving) semi-public sex, hello yes this one is kinda filthy ooooops

Word count: 3.2k

Recommended listening: Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

Fuck. It’s hot in here. Too fucking hot.

Reconnaissance. That’s what you were doing. It was fucking disgusting. Everyone in the room was just as fake as the pleather belts that held their guts in. You had never seen anything more embarrassing in your whole life. Desperation was sweating off the walls and sunk into your skin. It made you feel sick.

You scoffed and took a long sip from your drink.

“One more?” An attentive maître d' asked you--if he could even been called that in a place like this.

You covered your hand over your glass. You refused to pay for any more of that cheap tasting shit.

Next to you a rapt group of men in suits wagged their tails at the view. She wasn’t even very pretty.

Rolling your eyes, you scoped out the rest of the room, adorned in red velvet and gold nearly everywhere. What was this? A high school musical? Even those had more class than this place.

You checked your sliver wristwatch lined by dainty diamonds. You always did like gifts. Too bad rarely anyone would get anything in return.

The girls on the stage twirled around, giving the audience the best view that they could, tiger-prowling to those waving bills in their grabby hands. They were tanned and fashioned into strappy and lacy pieces that looked like they all must have shared them. Pathetic.

“You come here often?”

He swirled some clear looking liquid in his crystal glass, the little string of olives clinking the side.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to them.” He head nodded to the same group of greasy businessmen. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time...and likely my last.”

“Huh. Tough critic.”

He didn’t look like the rest of them. Younger, reeking less of starved attention. He had golden blonde hair, and a silk white shirt unbuttoned far into a deep V. He was toned: the muscles on his arms were visible under the thin fabric and his abs made a show thanks to the abandonment of buttons. He wore dress pants perfectly fitted for his thighs. He was...attractive...but not your type.

“What’s not to like? Beautiful people, drinks to make you forget your mistakes? Not your scene?”

You rested your chin in your palm. “It’s my scene, but not this scene.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another swing, pivoting his body towards you, legs spread wide. “I think I know someone who can change you mind though.”

“In this place? Unlikely.”

“Come on...just stay a little bit longer and they’ll come out. They’re the last act of the night for a reason.” He signaled to the maître d' and whispered something into his ear. “Drinks on me. If you’ll stay?”

“Free drinks?” You put down your empty glass. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was thirty minutes till closing, and you had stayed much longer than you had liked. After all the drinks you had to pass the time, you were starting to feel a little buzz, but nothing much really phased you these days. You started to wonder if he had been pulling some kind of prank. Nothing you had seen was what he had hyped it up to be.

The lights dimmed behind you, making the room dark enough for the tiny white candles at the tables to provide the only light. Spotlights flashed on from behind you too, illuminating the U shaped stage. With the lights, the music faded into something much more sultry.

The first two girls stepped out, both of them wearing white sets that were nearly identical with sheer robes. Two others stepped out after them, this time wearing red and black. It was the same thing you had been seeing all night.

The spotlight tightened.

It was him.

He was wearing a button down and those same pants, everything seemed so tight on him, accentuating every curve of his body. Strangely, when he walked out, he was greeted with wolf-whistles and hoots. He winked back at his spectators, nearly falling out of their chairs to see him better. It was even stranger considering the audience was filled with men.

He walked around the girls on stage as if he was inspecting them, his eyes eating up every bit of their skin. He confidence was unparalleled. He would run his hands down their sides, digging his fingers into their hips. They circled around him until his body was covered with their hands, teasing the audience, just barely touching around his dick, which with his pants...there was little room for imagination.

Silent moans left his lips once they started undressing him giving him their full attention. The cheers grew even louder. Before long, he was nearly fully undressed swaying to the music. He wore nothing special, just some briefs, like any normal person would. It was...confusing.

He took turns “giving attention” to every girl, looking at them like he worshiped the ground the walked on. They would grind their bodies together, or he would pick them up in his arms, and they would wrap their long legs around him. He would pantomime fucking them from behind, screwing up his face as if he really was. Everyone went crazy for that.

It didn’t last for very long and the lights soon went all the way down, leaving the stage scattered with sweating bodies, panting as if they had just cum, entangling themselves all in eachother.

You were a bit unenthused, but it was different. There was something about him that was different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Were the drinks enough for you?” His voice called to you just as you were about to leave. This time, he returned wearing the same silk shirt.

“I hope that I didn’t make you pay for too many.” You pouted with faux empathy.

“And the show?” He grinned a little.

“Interesting. Considering a place like this.”

He laughed a little. “I help with...the imagination.”  

“So they pretend that you’re them. I’ll admit, it’s smart.”

“You’d be surprised, somedays I get more male customers compared to most of the girls here.” He bit his lip as if recalling a memory. “They pay well too, pay for whatever they aren’t getting at home. Who am I do deny them that when it’s my job?

“You sleep with them?”

“The ones I like.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Can be. In a good way.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So. Did I prove you wrong?”

“Hmmm. I could do better.”

He popped his brows up. “You could?”

He was intriguing. You decided to give him a bite. “I dance at La Rose Rouge.”

“You dance at that overpriced, snotty ass place?” His words turned poisonous.  What’s it like dancing for a guy who’s got a stick so far up his ass--”

“--The price is right, and you get what you pay for there...especially if its me.”

“How am I not surprised?”

“I need to go, I’ve seen all I could here.” You bowed at him a little.

“Wait.” He grabbed at your arm. “I’ve still got one more thing to show you. Follow me.”

 ╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your insides were on fire as he fucked into you. Every time that he thrust into you, he was relentless and unforgiving. He was going so fast you could barely catch your breath. You were bent over some dusty old sofa in an equally dusty dressing room. You would kill him if he left bruises on your hips from how hard he was holding you.

“fuck. shit.” He panted, then reached one of his hands around to rub at your sensitive sex, slick with your excitement.

He was so fucking cocky, but he knew what the hell he was doing. He bent over your back, sucking into your skin, wrapping his arms around you to tweak your nipples. He was wrecking you from the inside out, devouring you like he had never tasted anything like you.

He kicked your legs open even farther. “Fucking moan for me, slut.”

You had barely let him hear more than a few gasps, he didn’t deserve it. You wanted him to moan for you.

“Who are you calling slut?” You said with venom.

You shoved off of him, and he looked devastated. He was cute. He even frowned regretfully like he had done something wrong.

The metal of your rings dug into his neck when you grabbed it, squeezing as hard as you could. Your hot breath snuck into his ear, “No, you fucking moan for me...slut.”

You attacked his lips, tracing the insides of his mouth with your tongue. He moaned right into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass with his two hands. Your teeth bit his lip and pulled. His dick trembled between the two of you and he rutted against your stomach to get some kind of relief.

He took one of his hands to your hair before resting his glossy brown eyes on you. “I’d do anything for you.” His voice quivered. “You ruin me.”

“Get on the floor.” You commanded him, and he did as he was told without a question, laying his bare body on the cold concrete.

The chill of the stone stung your knees, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to see him unravel. You straddled down onto him, taking him in as you sunk down.

“oh shit,” slipped off your tongue without you having much control over it.

You rolled your core over him, back and forth, circling yourself and bouncing up and down as he rolled his eyes back, licking his lips while you did everything that you wanted. As you bounced he held on to your ass, digging his fingertips in. You had your eyes closed, so you didn’t see it when he rose is hand to slap you hard. It burned beautifully.

“—Jisung? Are you done yet? The rest of us are going out.” A female voice called, and rattled the locked door.

“FUCK OFF.” He groaned, and held onto your ass even tighter.

You let out a unamused tsk. “Jisung? That’s your real name?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead swiftly took you in his arms to lay you down. The chill of the floor startled you into wince, but it felt amazing compared to how hot you were. He entered you immediately again, then slung your legs over his shoulders. His blonde hair appeared to bounce a little with each thrust.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you dragged your nails down his arms, waterfalling pink, perfect, lines. His whole body seized at the sensation, sending him into a fury. He licked his hand from palm to fingers, not breaking your gaze as he used it to rub relentlessly at you.

You were on the edge.  

“Want my cum, you whore?”

You were close as well, and it clouded your senses--you felt yourself slipping into him after holding back for so long.

“ye-yes, I want it.”

He came in seconds, doubling over you when he did, panting like a dog, with you gasping just as hard from your own orgasm. He seemed to shake a little as he came down, nearly suffocating you with his body weight. You jiggled your hips just a little to get a rise out of him. You had guessed correctly, someone like him couldn’t take overstimulation.

“Fuck, wait, wait. I-I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed a little and stopped. “You’re no fun.”

“I thought I literally just proved to you that I’m loads of fun.”

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“You liked it?” He ran his hand through his sweaty roots.

“You made me cum, so...usually I have to fake it.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

“I’m honored.” He grinned a little pridefully.

You reached down to your hole to catch a few drops of his cum on your fingers, stretching it out a little and playing with it. He watched you as you did so, eyes wide. You stood to grab his jaw, sticking your fingers in his mouth which he eagerly sucked.

“Where have you been my whole life?” He looked up at you in wonder.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that...Jisung.”

He watched you then as you dressed, careful not to forget your gorgeous silver wristwatch.

“I won’t be coming back, so don’t expect that this will happen again.”

“Wait--” He stopped you before you grabbed the door handle. “You didn’t tell me your name--”

“--That’s something you don’t need to know.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darling, is there anything that I can get you?”

Your manager swept a caring hand to hold you by the small of your back.

“No, thank you though, love.” You shone brightly back to him.

“Just let me know? So far we’ve got a queue for you. Four gentlemen and three ladies. I expect that the tips tonight will be generous...it’s payday.”

You politely nodded. “Of course.”

“Have you been having a hard time with any of the new faces?”

You took a sip of your brandy. “Some of them have some mouth, but I’ll make them dignified. You can trust me.”

“I always do.” He gently kissed your cheek. “Ah, I forgot to mention, one of your customers brought you a gift. It’s in your dressing room; he wants you to wear it for your dance tonight.”

“I do love gifts.”

“Go get ready darling, you haven’t got much more time.”

Once you were in your dressing room, a medium sized white box waited for you on your vanity. There was no labels; no indication that it was from a luxurious brand. You opened it, and the shirt was wrapped in light pink tissue paper. It was too short to be a robe, but it was silk and white with buttons that looked more decorative rather than useful. You figured it must have been your customer’s: many of them got off to you wearing their clothes. It wasn’t your usual style, but you knew how to make anything work.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“And for our last act of the night: the wonderful, the illustrious...”

You walked out to the silent stage: meant only for you, the stage lights yellow, shrouding you in their brilliance. Your chest was bare, save for the silky shirt falling off your shoulders. They were cheering for you, throwing paper bills at you and calling your name, but you couldn’t hear them at all. You had never felt so whole in your life since being on the stage. It seemed like the rest of your days were just spent chasing some kind of feeling that merely resembled that.

Barefoot, you pranced along the stage, twirling like a ballerina even, letting the shirt billow up just so they could see your perky bottom. With all of their eyes on you, you felt like an absolute vision--like an ethereal being, desired, but impossibly attainable.

The jazz song played on by the live players, a muted trumpet and violins accompanied you. Your eyes swept across the blue velvet curtains of the booths, to every man and woman looking at you in awe. You let the shirt slip just a bit farther, revealing your back, winking. You never had to show them much. It was your charisma that they thirsted for--and that they could only get a small taste of.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darlin’ you’re a catch, an absolute catch.” Your manager snuck up behind you taking your makeup off to hand you the ridiculously fat stack of bills. “You keep us afloat baby, you know that I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed.

“Stop flattering me.” You remarked with a smirk. “I know.”

Your manager left, then the curtain to your room screeched again. He slowly stepped into the light, applauding slightly.

“He’s right you know? Even I can’t get enough of you.”

It was him, cocky smile, swept blonde hair and all.

“You again? I’m surprised that you even made it in here at all. Considering who you are.”

“What? The competition? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

You patted some serums into your face. “Better leave soon before they rid you of that handsome face of yours.”

“You saying that I’m handsome?” He snarked.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing you, I thought I made that clear? Isn’t that what you were doing when you came to my club?”

“Like what you saw?”

“I stand corrected.” He let up, advancing towards you at your vanity. “And you look just as stunning in my shirt as I thought you would.”

“Your...this is yours? How the hell did you mange that?”

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want it back then.”

“No...you can keep it...if you promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

He reached out for your hands, which you tentatively took. He swept you up, pulling you into his chest with eyes dipped in lust.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He spoke onto your lips with heated breath.

You would’ve been lying if you had said his lips didn’t look appetizing.

“One more time.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d want to fuck you again.”

“You haven’t been thinking of it too? My hands on your body...”He caressed your body down, “My lips on yours?” He pulled you in by the chin to carefully part your lips with his. “My dick filling you up?” He pulled you in closer to feel his pulsating dick. “You don’t think about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want me. All you have to do is say it and I’m yours.”

“You’re looking to get killed if they know you’ve touched me.”

“I’d happily die for you.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that...Jisung.”

His lips fell to your neck where he pressed slow kisses onto it. “Just say it...”

The cool of his saliva on your skin met the air, tingling. You couldn’t believe you found yourself considering...

“I know you want to...”

“This won’t be a common occurrence.” You got out, suppressing your moans.

“Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“And we’ll see about that.” He slyly grinned, meeting your lips once again.

He swept you up, and your legs naturally wrapped around him. He carried you out of the dressing room to the main hall, pulling you both into the nearest booth, drawing the blue velvet curtains behind him. His eyes devoured you, casting aside his silk shirt that loosely clung to you. You threw your weight onto the table, opening your legs for him, inviting him. He chuckled a little at the action.

“I can imagine you must’ve been thinking of this as well then.” He kissed down your stomach, removing what underwear you were barely wearing. He kissed and sucked at the skin in your inner thighs, kindling your excitement. Spit gathered on his tongue, which he let drip down to your sex which glistened for him.

Your core begged for that feeling once again, that feeling only he could give you: the one that made you feel alive, like you weren’t just chasing some impossibility.

He lapped at you slowly with his tongue, awakening your whole body.

“I fucking want you.”

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Bored again? I understand the feeling 😭 How about flowers and Malleus?

"I didn't know that you could make those." Your amused voice filled Malleus' ears, the cold chill of a clear autumn night whisked itself through the forest, crickets playing their songs as the fireflys light up before fading into the dark once again.

Malleus looked up with a small smile, purple and blue flowers intricately woven together in a fitting pattern, his hands tying together the endings.

"I would often make them with Lilia, as a fledgling, and then would only do so from time to time. I picked up the habit after bringing Silver in... He enjoyed them quite a bit." He continued, feeling you sit next to him as he finished it up, placing the flower crown on your head before turning to the small patch to his side.

"Oh, little Silver liked flower crowns? Any other tales?" You mused, a hand going to bring the flower crown to a more secure placement, before relaxing against Malleus' cold form.

"Well, he would often bring small creatures home after training, in got especially bad when his training didn't go well for him." He chuckled at the old memory, Silvers face appearing in his mind before fading into a more softer, and rounder version. Large eyes gazing in wonder at the world, small hands that would cling to the old Fae, a smile that had a tooth or two missing.

"Little chipmunks and hedgehogs were his favorites to nap with, and the birds were enough to wake him up whenever a sleeping spell occurred, so whenever he woke up he would have one placed on his head- it always made him so... Happy." He continued, pulling the small flowers against one another and tying the stems, your head now resting on his lap while he spoke on.

"I couldn't help it, the smile he would get whenever he woke up to something as simple as a crown made of flowers, it made my heart fill with such joy. And... " He trained off, continuing further, your eyes opening to look at his serene face.

"And?" You asked.

"And... I guess he also liked the fact that he was never alone. Someone watching over him, on his side, to cheer him on. It played a factor into that smile of his."

"Well, with someone as amazing as you, I'd smile to know you're on my side- caring for me." Your words were soft, admiring the prince before you, a tender look in your eyes.

But, what would you smile like if I told you I loved you, little Beastie of mine?

Tags: @ooooops-stuff

[ubelyptus]

soooooooooooo bb,,,...,.,,,strawberrry.

......I JUST FIND IT

  interestinggggggggg

how you Big mad cuz MY block game seeems 

skrong or summn

hanh???

oh.

well.

i never blockedt you 

on snapchat 

or whatsapp (you weren’t even muted),

yup, i still haven’t

but i didn’t have a properly working phone...

still......don’t

but either way you keep threatening to split on me 

like a weapon…fcking

manipulative as shit

it just seems to me that you just want to?

you never imprinted tho 

but she did 

so why should you?

i won’t ever, again, fight....

….with you.

my favorite accomplice

i wanted to learn with an open mind 

even after my phone died 

how to remain soft with you.  

even after being callled 

“old news" 

pffft

at least until

 i ‘m  eventually murdered by a cisgender man...

but

don’t fckn

pppppppop shit 

cuz like….. literally…..all i did was change my url.

shit, i Only blockedt you AFTER i saw you referencing gaslighting.

bc uhmm IIIIIIif that is about meeeeeeeeeeee 

ha!!!

 how fucking dare you.…..lyk....wuhh?

like when you said there is no difference between syn and alesia?????

HANH?

oh, but you think i blockedt you first bc i didn’t wanna get my feelings hurt?

….mhhhhhhh. ok.

seeems odd since you’re not liar 

right, eli????

but,,,,,so what’s this about the cozi password change? am i just shifting too rapidly between your and my reality???

bet.

no, i blocked you on things after THAT 

AND THAT WAS TODAY

oh, and didn’t your friend, my so-called “fighting buddy,” anan…

.just,,,,,fckn block me like i’m useless

trash

randomnly 

after all

i asked 

was that they 

not speak to me 

about you?

but YAAAAAAS  twas ONLY Me and simply Myself and just i 

who ain’t wanna get….hurt.

hanh?????

oh ,

obvi,

yeaaaaaaa

yeeeei

truuuu,

sooooo 

sssssorry,,,,but

calling me “old news” or saying i’m “old too” 

don’t forget your girl is 2 yrs older than you 

and then staying silent for these few days about changing passwords

that..... already did that, boo

at least i sent alesia third party emails thru the app, boo

she pushin 30 and can only talk you 

venuse....????. no....a 

talking and 

w a l k i ng tragedy

entyway don’t bring that up just to be loud and wrong about that too

you’re not always wrong tho, you know

you’d probably fuck up and slit my throat 

 powertripping

when i’m wrong about you

and you can only do that if you

 black and white 

me out 

to NEVER BE WRONG 

AND I DO 

ACTUALLLY HATE THAT ABOUT YOU!!!!! 

WHY CAN’T I EVER BE WRONG, ELI???? 

WHY????//

OH your emotions....? about your father that after 6 yrs you didn’t tell me about?

your reality? when you have a habit of projecting?

 and lowkey being dishonest 

to yourself first

 and then subsequently

 to me????

your time? when i’m mostly on yours?????

your efforts? like ripping up notes and telling me 

“my turn” to get fucked 

by you 

was over

when the only reason i was tiredt

was bc i crashed

too tiredt after explaining to You

that

  i‘m not even going to LET you play middleman

for a baby pushign 30????

oh. bet.

but since we’re being transparent:

here are receipts with timestamps:

http://microhealer.tumblr.com/tagged/hop-hop-hop-hop

http://microhealer.tumblr.com/tagged/hop+hop+bun

http://microhealer.tumblr.com/tagged/hop-hop-bunny

yea you must love dirty laundry

oh.

but that’s what i knew about you.

oh:

be yr own guest my love

i Knew you would ignore the “old news” message since that's literally when you started telling on yourself 

you do treat trans partners

 like side hoes, 

thasssa wholeBET 

and some change

 for you to create

cuz thassssssss 

how you feel about me fr fr

so that “like” is mine but

  i…..actually really Really love that you laughed tho.

bc i haven’t heard you fully belly laugh in a long time.

if ever iirh.

even after knowing you for 6+ years, 

your supposed “first friend “ in the DMV

the person i can trust my life with

the only

you’re my only...

 ,,,,,even after i spiraled 

and cut myself for the first time since middle school?

now my friends are fucking spotting you 

and talking to each other 

about you

oh, you didn’t know. 

but i got mehndi done today 

let a summer baby boy

love 

a cut up 

by me

body

 before noon

today 

thinking i’d see you and we could talk like,,,,

…..like real people do.

and you’d be distracted by the design and not zone in

 on the failed cuts

 on my wrist 

since i’m shit at not just repeatedly carving into 

white meat

 when i can only use a ceramic blade

i just didn’t WANT you to 

so i never “came home to [you]”

you said that on nov 4th/5th of last year

and

i’ve been looking up bpd all day

eventho i told you

  i don’t trust the internet 

sooooo you not telling me 

didn’t hel p

but it’snot at all your job to 

and i sitll

stilllstil stil stilllca’t see

....and i dind’t want you to see.

bc i’m not just a man.

i’m still femme

which you seem to love to forget

and still soft enough, i think.....

i hope…..or learning to be soft,,,,

where it won’t get me killed,,,,,

but where it still counts.

with…or without you.

either way i’m a man who loves you. a man whose phone died at 28% trying to get you to see that i was trying to be soft even after you called me

 “old news”

but,,,,,.....,,,compared to …..who?????? sh....oooo??????

your new girlfriend who is 1 or 2 years older than you?????

and can’t speak to me 

a man who is only barely out of 23???

and instead only whispers

 to you?????

bruh, she’s clearly not fond of me. 

and you’re not a liar , 

so don’t 

she had to tell you that she wasn’t the one putting out “aggy energy”

specifically

during yennayer which

i ruined

and im still sorru

but which means

she’s probably done it in your apartment on purpose already, boo

didn’t think of that, did you

lingustically.,,,,,nope.

oh, but there’s power in a whisper, darling.

i am just cardinal like you

i am air too.

  i should know 

bc i accidentally whistled....and,,,,,,

i only blockedt you so that you wouldn’t “hurt [your] own feelings”

 like you told anan you sometimes do.

sooooooooooooo yea... i

did it so you wouldn’t hurt you. 

as cardinal water/pisces moons 

are prone to do.

you can;t drain

and you can’t drown

 ain’t that how i affirmed you

i already hurt me 

when i dissociated 

and i’m STILL FUCKING sorry 

that there was blood that you had to see. 

i couldn’t stay in my body long enough to clean fast enough

but i still didn’t want you to hurt you bc of me.

like you did repeatedly

bc of bpd or bc of basically cishet or at least cis ~queer girls

or other partners 

like when you were with kat,

who’s still disgustingly attached to a messy white

and now a new black kid.....

or with shushoo.

and how you might with alesia.

no, correction: how you have with alesia. 

how you will continue to, if you’re not careful, with alesia.

you’re a lion facing a prince of a house kitten ,....,

.,, who is homeless.

do you feel good, big boss?

all i asked was for you to listen t

o how you were speaking to me 

on the phone 

at your place of work 

and when she’s there

possibly a place of worshiop

..... even after i told you 

that i was intentionally putting energy into Not fighting you

and you

  say you

"don’t wanna be a middle person" 

but you also….wanna cape for yet another fucking cis girl.

who isn’t even muslim this time. 

HOWtragic.

i couldn’t laugh

couldn’t ever laugh at sway

bc by whatever fortune if you do split or don’t 

 i still  love you

i love you too much

but in those moments after that phone call….

after my phone died…

and my body couldn’t move to charge it.

wouldn’t move….

and all i could do was cry during the adhan.

bc you’re tooo much like matt now

i wish i knew what it could feel like to

 hate someone 

who called you 

"OLD NEWS” 

compared to a bitch pushing 30 

youza WHOLE fuckn clown, dawg.

matt did this same shit

move me out for a new side bitch

yet anotehr cis

look at how cute trans love can be

oh

no

NO

no,

no

no

this is what you give me:

laughter.

BC what fucking luck.

BUT IT’S gotta be TROOF

  s ince you don’t lie?/?

shit I LAUGHED TOO:

it sounds like….

NEITHER OF US

KNEW WHAT COULD

HAVE BROUGHT US

HERE, ELI.

maybe you nursing poison in your own home

and telling me i’m making you feel unwelcomed

on a blog and not to my face did it

fuckingggggggggg. why’ald.

you think it’s too much sweat????? false. 

that apartment stayed cold.

too many tears?

 ok ok yea troof.

but too much love? forreal?

we?????

ooooop

hoooop!!!

oh, you speakin’ french now. our collective colonizers tongue in 20gayteeeeeeeen?????

CAN’T RELATE 

bc I’M TOOOOOO GAY

wow. we ruined it, fam???? fr fr?

nah, chosen fam.

you ruined us.

you ruined us over:

 a cis girl and

your own impatience

and your own anger.

and my slow brain and my slow body

//

i’m not sure she’d find you from maryland

if you dissociated bc your other semi

 but not 

girlfriend emotionally abused you

until people who didn’t know you were muslim

thought you were fucking drunk

and you fucking stilllllll 

work with her?????

why couldn’t you just wait until she found a new job???

ain’t she trying????

or izzzzzz she??????

hahhnh???

where was the damn rush?????

you’re like two goofy high schoool kids 

reaching for the quickest nuts every 6 hours

 like jesus fuck.

you’re irresponsible as shit telling me i’m a grown man making grown decisions and i see this 

?????

unREASONABLE, ELI.

this isn’t a situation of a kettle calling a pot black

 babe

bc i’m actually Black

and you’re not

but she’s black too.

what did i tell you:

"you datin’ two whole Niggas. if you fight me over her, you will lose either way.”

but instead you called me “obtuse”

SAT words for me

 but not for you…….what.,,,.,,,,,,,, fckn luck……..

what luck,,,,,that the one person who housed me consistently

and kept me alive

when i trusted no one

would call me "old news”

and let their cis girlfriend

 turn herself into your

personal "healing” …...

sibkid. \\\\

howTragic like all of CC’18

you know what happens when you slip and get sloppy and let a baby bitch be responsible for your healing?

she leaves. 

for a real bitch 

with microhealing abilities, 

GOOFY.

she worships a new goddess every friday?????

well, i know only of orixas 

and only of black power

 but from what i know of goddesses OFF of OUR continent…

soooon...

at least one of them WILL want a soul from her

just letting you know it might not have to be hers.

…..OH!

and when i chargedt and openedt my phone after days of wandering. ….the last messages from you are:

YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID “LEAVE [[[[MMMMMYYYYYYY]]]]]] KEYS”

like a fucking baby.

imagine that.

even to you, i’m still a whore.

out…the…bakc….dooor.

??????

i couldn’t even work a john when i wanted to

 if i was sad about you.

but imagine?????

  a cis-pixie woman older than you

letting you treat her like a child?????

then

imagine me feeling shamed into leaving

bc of pictures of your smiling face

after i cut myself and felt shame 

that

in your unwelcomed  to both me and you

BLOOD

 blood 

is what brings me back

 to life.

how.

fucking.

why’yald.

i blockedt you so that you didn’t lurk.

bc THat is what you do.

instead of speaking with me, 

you seem to have expected me

 to read your blog back 7 years.

and just know all of the fatherly things that trigger you.

like…even during the times when i was afraid of my own phone and laptop for 2 months bc of my sister, brother, and birth parents????

funny how i’m the youngest of us “grown folks” and yet still find that really 

FUCKING

immature.

of YOU

to do

you really never knew me, or did you…..??

you donated to me before you even knew me.

so i know your heart has parts made of gold.

but now you show off your crystals and your gold.~~~

yep.

here we are.

you’ve "only every seen [me] as a boy.”

ok. bet.

and unti this post:

i’ve hardly heard you refer to me as a man.

so:

ain’t you late?

ain’t you late, babe??

ain’t you late?

i’m a year younger than you.

which means if you grown

i musta BEEN a man too, boo.

but you’ll always be

 my favorite accomplice

 and always be my favorite friend too.

but you cannot think you can play me by calling me

 “old too” or “old news"

 for young fish who is basically femme trade

and thinking i won’t cut open a fool.

which coincidentally always happens to be me

she’s hardly out to anybody important and lying at work too.

i must be bigger fool.

bc you knew better and didn’t do better.

but i’m being immature.

  ok ...,.,,.,,

cute.

your pisces moon is keeping you from seeing clearly but that’s what young water seems…to do. to much light reflected; tho it is a fountain of youth.

she’s pushing 30 baby 

but true, you’re her boo.

yea, a childish boo.

you ever wonder why her playlist from you had more songs than ours did?

why she can never keep a man around for valentines day?

oh but don’t you love “patterns”, baby????

unless it’s her leaving shit around the apartment

or her triggering you

or her treating your dick like it’s foreign, 

even to you.

my gay ass was shookedt 

when you told me you voluntarily 

triggered yourself

 for her kitty too

but i AM 

a grown man

 who is “running” from….you

you think that statement is not…. dishonest??

you really think that statement is true???

—

i didn’t run. i just

needed space

and you afforded me none.

you couldn’’t afford it.

february is before march which is before april 

sooooooo it’s always a tight month ain’t it???????

oooooooh but you afforded her plenty.

she gets to take off her fucking pants while i try to figure out if i should move from a spot next to you….

on your fucking bed.

she took off her pants to climb near you before she could even say hi to 

nooonoo

ahh right

and THEN ME.

“Oh, you CAN stay”

that’s what She told me.

and you said nothing.

so i left….the room.

i never run.

you pushed me out with your captain save-a-cis silence.

it’s violence.

and

you’re still pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing 

until me…you know 

i, the "old news” 

just feels like he should just 

fucking fall 

onto the district streets

and she finds it

to her fucking fancy 

to fall

 into your lap

like a damn,,,,zel. 

distressedt.

with a roof over her head outside of your apartment too.

woooooooops!

yip, as she is probably prone to do.

her kind….isn’t new….boo.

her kind isn’t new to me

her kind isn’t new to you

you ever wonder why she feels so familiar to you?

she reminds Me of the girl who told you 

she could never marry you 

and is now trying to date someone just like you

so don’t be so unkind to me 

or to you 

or be so foolish

 as to believe i gave up on you

you gave up on me

and on top of that

you think i just...ran

ran….with what clothing?

the ones you packed up for me and left at the door 

that i was suppose to pick up 

and slide out the back….like a fucking whore?

you just tryna be

a cissie's bae

who stay clownin on trans folks now?

oooooooh issa bet, mo

. i mean.,,,.,,.mhhhh i guess?

—==—

but troooof, i don’t “need" anybody.

but i want you.

but you need her.

that’s how it work, don’t it?????

that’s why you risk job security every day.

and let her leave her panties on my clothes.

and let her tell me i "can stay" in …..A, not MY, spot next to you

in yo'bed?

what fucking fools. the two of you.

but “no one is forcing [me] to"

oh, baby you /are/ forcing me too

i look on your blog and then find out you’ve been feeling “unwelcome in [your] own home”

this whole fucking time

all the way since early november, innit?????

if i love you at all, 

what else am i to do?????????????

??????????????????????????/

know that you will self-destruct 

and just…wait for you to????????????????????

???????????????????????????????/

no

i didn’t run.

you just fucking pushed me.

and you’re still fucking pushing.

and you’ll keep pushing.

bc that is what you do.

embe…..@strawberreli 

se sá’m te konne nu’ou.

you like microblogging so much

so like it if you read this shit

[sunlitroom]

Gotham s4e03 - They Who Hide Behind Masks

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

Victor crashes a wedding. Crime is legal now. Oswald keeps you safe, not GCPD.  Babs is back. Tabitha is sceptical. Selina wants more!  Jim’s not handing the city over to Oswald. Falcone can raise an army – but might kill Jim on sight.  Ed is on ice.  Ra’s al Ghul is very dramatic.  Bruce must find his true north, which is lurking about on ledges.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

We open on a battlefield, and are informed that this is Arabia, 125 AD.  We see many corpses, one of which is Ra’s. A horseman, picking his way through bodies, dismounts and stares

It is you, at last

He carries him to a tent which contains the Lazarus Pool, and drops him in. After a wait, Ra’s emerges.  He doesn’t know how this has happened.  The man tells him the power is in the water – it imbues both life and destiny. Ra’s must find his heir as he found Ra’s.  Handing over a dagger he tells him to

Find him - be free

Ra’s takes the dagger and stares at it.

 Night-time at the docks, where Bruce is out at play on the rooftops, watching a shipment of Oswald’s being delivered.  It’s heavily guarded (4 armed men), so Bruce guesses it’s worth watching.  Alfred doesn’t want him to interfere, pointing out that his mask isn’t bullet-proof, but Bruce only flippantly says he’ll avoid being shot in the face.

Staring some more – he notices a thief approach the truck.  He points out that they are headed into a trap, and wades in to help – despite Alfred’s protestations. (How did Bruce know it was a trap?  Doesn’t seem like one)

We can see that the thief is Selina, creeping around to try and find the crate. She’s actually a little loud – would a thief prefer rubber-soled shoes?  Those boots are pretty clunky.

Bruce, in attempting to sneak up on the thief (Bruce doesn’t know it’s Selina) gets caught.  One of the men tells him it’s a bad idea to steal from Penguin, and they begin to fight.  In the process – bullets are sprayed absolutely everywhere.  I don’t know whether this is just to add more tension to the scene – or maybe to underline the recklessness/selfishness of some of Bruce’s actions right now.  He might be wearing bullet-proof armour, but the thief/Selina he was trying to help could easily have been killed.

 Is this Florida?  You know, would have made me so enormously happy if this little interlude of a trip to see Falcone in retirement in Florida could have just opened like this. 

Jim, sunglasses apparently his only concession to the weather, is here to see Falcone.  We get a look around the exterior of Falcone’s home, which looks very pretty and Spanish.  In the courtyard, a young woman in full formal riding gear is dismounting. There’s a weird close up of the horse’s eye - what was that about?  It was long enough for three full screencaps.  Look:

Does the horse know something we don’t? Sofia and Jim have a good stare at each other, just to make sure we know where the plotline is going.

I’m kind of surprised Jim was just able to wander in: I’d have thought a mafia don would have more security – even in retirement, but hey-ho.  Jim announces himself as ‘unexpected’ to a disapproving-looking butler

Jim and Sofia do some more staring – just in case anyone in the audience missed the earlier staring.

The weather looks kind of grey – I thought Florida would be sunnier than this?

Jim is led out to a table and chairs at a patio overlooking the sea, where Falcone is seated.  He greets him.

Carmine.

Falcone responds with a Jim – but also making a wtf face

(An aside – I can’t say I blame him.  Apart from the nerve of showing up in the first place – what’s with the first name terms? In fact – for the duration of this scene, Jim borders on insolent.  I have no idea what he was playing at)

There’s some brief small talk, which Falcone puts to an end by commenting that the state of their relationship is somewhat past that.

The woman in riding gear approaches.  She greets Falcone with a cheerful ‘morning, daddy’ and kiss on the cheek.  Her character is established by her comments on her horse: feisty as usual – but she whipped him into shape.

(An aside - Nothing smells or feels more gross than your hair after it’s been in a riding hat – especially in hot weather.  You want to wash it immediately.  In fact, full riding gear is pretty hot anyway.  In warm and humid weather, it’s downright unbearable.  Plus – and this is unavoidable – after riding, you smell a lot like horse. It’s not a bad smell, but it’s definitely horse.  Right now, breakfast smells are a distant memory at that table.)

(Just an additional aside – Her Majesty refuses to wear a riding hat, and wears a silk headscarf instead)

She asks who this is. On hearing this is Jim Gordon, her face hardens and falls – clearly aware that Jim killed Mario.  Falcone tells Jim Sofia is his only daughter. (Wouldn’t you just say daughter?  I wonder if this points to some sort of Selina revelation later)

Sofia asks what Jim is doing here.  Jim glances to Falcone – unsure how to proceed, but Falcone tells him that he has

No secrets from my children

Jim outlines the situation in Gotham: Oswald as taken over, and GCPD has turned its back on the law. However, some families still loyal to Falcone – and Jim needs his help

(An aside.  A lengthy aside.  First of all – how is this any better than the current situation?  Jim is essentially willing to start a gang war to get his way, which will result in instability, chaos, rivers of blood on the streets.  

Also – how is it much different?  Jim is weeping and rending his garments over GCPD’s willingness to collude with and turn a blind eye to crime – but he’s offering to do the same.  He’s come to a known criminal, he’s asking that criminal to incite criminal acts, and there is the tacit assurance that he – an officer of the law – will facilitate all this and turn a blind eye.

Lastly – how and why are there families still loyal to Falcone?  Gotham is lazy as hell with the mob stuff.  I have no real sense at all of what the situation is at any given time – just that it will conveniently be whatever it needs to be as the plot demands: Fish loyalists, Falcone loyalists, entire families gunned down by Barbara and Tabitha, other families (but who was left, exactly?) meek enough to go along with them afterwards……it’s a total mess.  None of it feels real, and – as such – there’s no tension around it.)

Falcone immediately calls bullshit on Jim  

Are you it’s sure not about you and your loss of power?

Ooooops.  Jim makes his voice more gravelly and goes for grandiose crusade language to hide the fact that Falcone has just called him out

This is bigger than me

Falcone admires his fight but refuses – he’s dying of some mysterious ailment – maybe just old age, or karma.  The doctors tell him the air in Florida is better for him.  

(An aside – did he learn about this in Gotham and then move?  If so – maybe the Court deliberately infected him with something in their zeal to purge the city.  If he only became ill in Florida – maybe Sofia is slowly poisoning him?)

Sofia pulls a carefully nonchalant considering face

I'll go back

Falcone tells her to hush – she’s not ready for Gotham

Sofia is pissed about being dismissed.  I’ve read a lot of other commentary comparing her with Oswald – and it’s a very Oswald series of faces she makes her.  Bubbling frustration and anger at being dismissed as a child, and as incapable – and then a stubborn look of ‘I’ll do it anyway, and prove you wrong’.  She’s even wearing a fussy little necktie.

Falcone – after giving Jim some unpalatable truthfulness, devolves back to hot air.  He would have done anything for the city once – like terrorising it, extorting money from it, corrupting its institutions – but Jim is on his own this time.  

Sofia has been carefully watching Jim’s face – and grins when she sees his disappointed expression. She’s going to play him, and it’s going to be so easy.

Bruce is being stitched up by an annoyed Alfred at Wayne Manor.  He promises to listen next time, and says it won’t happen again.  After Alfred has finished – Bruce immediately makes to go to the docks again to try and steal the ship’s manifest.  Alfred is incredulous – but Bruce refuses to give up the chance to investigate a real crime.  When he won’t be dissuaded, Alfred manages to convince him to try other kinds of mask – and take a different approach to obtaining it.

 Babs’ House of guns – where she’s having some sort of Tupperware party – but with weapons. Selina enters the room.

(An aside - is this really what you want, Selina?  Really really?  You were so fiercely independent before, and had your own code – but this is all fine?)

Barbara asks if Tabitha is going to show up at work ever – seeing as she’s getting half of the profits. Selina reminds her it’s a third – but Barbara says that depends on whether she obtained the crate

(An aside – yes, this is a shitty deal.  This isn’t the original plan at all – which, remember, only happened because Selina persuaded Tabitha to change her mind.  If Selina is continually going to have to prove herself to maintain what was a given at the outset, then she should just walk out now.)

Underlining the fact that Selina should walk, Barbara tells her to redeem herself by mopping floors, on which Selina tells her to mop her own damn floors.

(An aside – it’s interesting to remember the class dynamic here, too: street rat and society debutante.)

 At the club, where Oswald and Victor are congratulating themselves on another excellent night of business.  Victor casually mentions the attempted robbery – which makes Oswald explode, of course.  Victor tells him to relax – they didn’t succeed.  Victor is positively flirty with his slinky walk and facial expressions. Oswald continues to fulminate. This is an important auction – and he doesn’t want it jeopardised.  He tells Victor to take him to the warehouse.  Victor looks less than happy at the telling-off, but follows him regardless, flicking the light off behind him.

When the room is in darkness, an odd looking woman creeps in, carrying a very small blowtorch – and makes straight for Ed.

(An aside - Jesus-what is Oswald’s security?)

Back at the club again – where Oswald throws a tantrum when he sees the ice melted and Ed gone

(OK – that woman must be deceptively strong or have had a wheelbarrow stashed somewhere)

Victor is placid as ever

It kinda opens up the room

Oswald screams

I want them found!  I want them dead, and I want Ed back here!

Victor smiles and leaves – in many ways, Oswald is a dream employer for Victor. He also seems endlessly entertained by him.

Oswald looks again at the destroyed ice and lurches forward – grabbing the hat.  His face is twisted with fear and rage – which - given his hallucination – makes sense.  His worst fear is apparently on the loose again.

 We see a close-up of the woman who defrosted Ed.  She’s leaning over him, in an identical shot to the one where Ed was leaning over Oswald back in s2.  Ed is slurred and confused

(An aside – all these scenes reference the ones back in s2.  The tone is different, but the essentials are the same.  Rescued by an obsessive fan who ultimately has selfish aims: Ed wanted a murder mentor, Myrtle wants to be sidekick to a criminal genius who’ll also teach her.  Both are willing to be coercive to get their own way.  Myrtle didn’t actually manipulate the memory of Ed’s dead mother to get her way, though – so moral high ground to her)

Ed asks where he is, and looks round.  There’s pictures of Ed everywhere, newspaper clippings, and two mannequins wearing his clothes.

Ed is aghast – yeah, obsessive stalking sucks, Ed

He asks who she is. Apparently, she’s some old schoolmate who’s now his #1 fan.  

Ed decides he wants to leave immediately – but panics when he realises he can’t move, thinking he’s restrained.  However, Myrtle tells him that his muscles have simply atrophied from the ice (just gloss over the science, it’ll make your head hurt).

Ed frowns – the last thing he remembers is the docks.   He asks, growing horror on his face, how long he was in the ice.  Myrtle tells him it’s been 5 months, and that Oswald has been using him as a new take on an ice sculpture.

Ed is furious

That little freak!  He put me on display like some caged animal!

(An aside - I don’t really like or get how people are quite so fast and loose with the word ‘freak’ when it comes to Oswald)

Myrtle is smiling and beatific.  She’s going to nurse him back to health so he can reclaim throne.  There’s a caveat, though – she will be his sidekick!

Doesn't that sound wonderful, my love?

Ed looks sick - confined to bed while all his own shitty previous behaviour personified prances around him – his obsessiveness and unwanted declarations of love for Kristin, his coerciveness and selfishness with Oswald.

Bruce is at the docks, pretending to be a working class boy looking for his errant uncle on behalf of his worried aunt.  Bruce’s working class/street kid ensemble looks to be roughly on a par with how Niles Crane would envisage a street kid.  Wtf is that hat?

This bored me – so long story short, he gets on board, finds the manifest, notes the presence of a mysterious dagger, gets caught, slips up by using  the word ‘assumed’, and has to be rescued by Alfred, extolling the virtues of improvisational skills.

 The Iceberg Lounge. Babs wanders in to Oswald’s office, asking if he would sell her the dagger ahead of time.

(An aside – what’s with the bizarre behaviour this week?  Jim strolls up to Falcone unannounced, fairly insolent in his manner, asking a favour despite having killed his son.  Barbara was instrumental in a plot to drive Oswald mad, torture and murder him – and she seems to think he’s going to do her a favour?)

Oswald wants to know why the knife is so important.  He sees through her explanation of a client, and guesses it’s for her mysterious benefactor.

Assured of himself, he leans back in his chair, and says he’ll overlook her clumsy attempted theft if she tells him who that is.  She claims to know nothing about the theft.  Oswald is amused

My dear!

He tells her that she’s not become a better liar in the time she’s been away.  Rising from his seat and walking towards her, he tells her he’s not interested in profit.

Leaning over the arm of her chair he looms in on her

(An aside – I found this alarmingly hot)

He’ll sell her the knife early if she tells him who the benefactor is.

She refuses, and Oswald laughs

Wow – they’ve really got their hooks into you

Barbara looks bitter. Oswald tells her to bring her chequebook.

Barbara decides to leave.

Always a pleasure, Oswald

Os scowls once she’s gone, and quickly opens the crate to look at the knife.

(An aside – this scene is interesting for what it tells us about Barbara.  She really hates the fact that other people have figured out she’s not her own boss.  Oswald’s lack of interest in her is palpable: all he wants to know is who’s funding her and giving her orders.  Barbara is only a puppet.  Given her drive for absolute control last season, we can assume that this is wearing on her)

Back to Wayne Manor

(An aside - is it me or is this episode lurching from place to place?  It feels very disjointed)

There’s some pretty boring exposition.  Bruce and Alfred figure out with some of the easiest research ever that the knife belongs to Ra’s – which makes him roughly 2000 years old.  

Back to Jim in Florida. He’s drinking and talking on the phone with Harvey, who is apparently relieved that he struck out, since this avoids a gang war.  Jim petulantly tells him to

See how you like it with Penguin

(Harvey and Oswald don’t have your complicated sexual tension, Jim – so he probably finds it easier.)

As he ends the call, he hears a voice.

Mind if join you?

Sofia has decided to employ décolletage and a slightly toned-down manic pixie dream girl approach to play Jim.

They look over the sea. Sofia raises a glass to her father. Jim tells her he’s sorry about that – they have their differences, but he respects him

(An aside - But fucking why?!  Why, Jim? He is no different than any other criminal you despise.  And you know now he was involved in your father’s death.  He held your fiancée at gunpoint.  Wtf is this?)

Sofia finds this hard to swallow.  She tells Jim she had to schedule an appointment to see her father when she was young.  She knows who he is, and she’s not impressed with Jim’s respect.

She talks more.  She’s lived here since  she was 13 – as it was safer than Gotham.

(An aside – and it has cool alligators!  I like alligators)

She says the people are happy, and it’s sunny everyday (but not today – all the Florida stuff looks weirdly murky)

She also says she wasn’t alone – she had Mario.  Jim looks uncomfortable.

I know there's nothing I can say, but I am sorry

Sofia is stone-faced.

You're right – there is nothing you can say

She thinks for a moment, and continues, though – pointing out that Mario was infected, and Jim did what he had to do.  We end the scene with them both looking out to sea.

 Back at the Club, where Os and Victor are sitting in one of the booths.  Victor says this the word is this was an inside job.  Oswald wants the head of hiring killed, and comments nervily that there is a traitor amongst them.

 Seriously - another scene?! The last one must have lasted about five seconds. Calm down, Gotham

Ed’s house of karma – where he wakes to see acupuncture needles in his hand.  He panics.  Myrtle assures him that this is therapeutic.  She’s trying to help his muscles, and is all giddy – calling herself Riddlette.

Ed looks repulsed, and tells her rehashing someone else's idea isn't very original

(An aside - there is nothing new under the sun, Ed)

She pauses – and looks a little disgruntled.  We see mannequin Ed is reflected in the mirror – which is a nice touch.

It's an homage - and I thought you'd like it

He looks down, trying to swallow his distaste, before looking up and smiling fixedly

It’s very nice

She recovers her mood quickly.  

We’re going to have so much fun.  If only I was the criminal mastermind you were – we’d have been together sooner

Turns out she spent time to figure out Os’ schedule and come up with an exit strategy.  Although none of this should have been difficult – given that Oswald’s security seems to be awol.

Ed admits that it was impressive to be able to outwit Oswald – but quickly adds that yes, his plan would have taken less time.  Myrtle, avid, asks what his plan would have been – wanting an insight into his master villainy.

Ed opens his mouth, but can only stutter.  His eyes track – panicked.  He doesn’t know.  There’s an embarrassed pause.  Myrtle covers this by saying that she shouldn’t bombard him with silly questions, and brightly tells him the soup is ready.  Ed, meantime, looks panicked.

 New scene!  No – it’s the same scene.  We’re getting an extreme close-up of bloody acupuncture needles being dropped into a jar of water.  This is very Hannibal.  The music playing is Ed’s old ‘obsessing over Kristin’ theme. 

Myrtle is disappointed that Ed’s muscles still haven’t mended – but Ed snaps that acupuncture is snake oil.  Myrtle has a lightbulb moment – she should have been repairing his mind, not his muscles. If she does that, then his muscles will start to cooperate.  Ed, grudgingly, admits that this seems logical.  Myrtle suggests riddles.

Ed grabs at this idea, breathless, almost tearful with relief.  

Yes…riddles!  That will make me feel like myself again

(An aside.  Ed's sense of self is horribly fragile anyway - so this experience would all terrifying for him.   Not only has he lost his intelligence – central to his self-image – but someone else has adopted his identity.  He can see the clothes of his new and old personas on mannequins.  It must be pretty disorienting)  

Myrtle tries some riddles. They’re all very simple – but Ed can’t get any of them.  Myrtle frowns – suspecting that something is wrong with Ed’s brain.  He roars that his brain is fine – and she needs to bring him a riddle worthy of his name.

Jim and Sofia are bantering on the beach.  She asks if he’s even considered walking away from it all.  Jim responds with a sometimes.  It’s apparently ‘in his blood’ though – his father fought for the city and never took the easy way out.

(An aside – Hmmmm – I think we learned that Jim’s father eventually went against the Court, but was involved for quite a long time, and colluded with Falcone.  It’s interesting to learn how Jim has fashioned this into a narrative he can live with)

Sofia smiles and asks for his shoes.  Ugh – thank goodness this manic pixie dream girlishness will be short-lived.  She encourages him to come closer to the water. They look out, and Jim says he can’t remember the last time he just stood still.  They kiss, and look at each other afterwards – it’s hard to say – but Sofia’s look is possibly a little appraising.

 At Wayne Manor, Bruce is getting dressed.  Alfred tells him to adopt different personas to achieve his ends.  Right now – billionaire brat is most useful

(An aside – this is much more summarised than usual, because I found this episode pretty uneven and not particularly engaging)

 At the auction, Bruce is making a scene – outbidding everyone, and loudly declaring his love of art – trying to high five Alfred.  He loudly greets Oswald

Oswald, my friend!

Oswald is thrilled. He says he’s surprised to see Bruce. Bruce says that he should have fun like everyone else.  Oswald agrees, and tells him that his and his insanely large bank account are welcome. Spotting Babs, he grimaces and leaves.

(An aside – Oswald and Bruce’s interactions are fun)

Alfred points out that Ra’s will come after Bruce if he gets the knife.    This doesn’t make Bruce hesitate.

The bidding for the dagger begins.  Bruce forces the price upward and plays to the crowd.  Babs becomes increasingly frustrated, but matches the price – telling Bruce to back off, brat.  Bruce outdoes her by going to 2 million.  A delighted Oswald bangs the gavel down.  Babs looks very put-out.

A manically grinning Oswald bustles over to congratulate Bruce.  He just loves to see Barbara lose.  He offers friendly advice – Barbara is persistent, and will come for that knife.  He pats Bruce on the shoulder, and leaves.

Back at Myrtle’s apartment, Ed is still stumbling over basic riddles.  She eventually loses patience with him, and points out that they all came from a children’s book.  His ‘brilliant mind’ is as damaged as the rest of his body.  An angry Ed says his body is actually feeling fine now, and smacks her in the face with the book – knocking her out.

(An aside - like Ed with Oswald, there’s little patience when she figures out his mind is damaged, and he can’t be useful anymore.  We’ll never know if she would have continued trying, though)

 Selina is breaking into Wayne Manor to try and obtain the knife, still apparently determined to prove her worth.  Bruce, however, is waiting for this attempt.  Selina asks why he’s sitting at his desk in the dark, and they have a short argument.  She wants to know why he’s acting this way, and he wants to know why she’s Babs’ lackey now.  He assumes that Babs thought he’d just hand the knife over to Selina.  Selina admits this is the case, and basically expects him to hand it over to help her new career plan.  Bruce refuses, and she leaves.  As she does – he looks again at the knife.

GCPD, where we have a chirpy Jim.  He should just have one-night-stands more often if they improve his disposition this much.  Harvey introduces him to a new Detective – Harper – who’s just transferred, and who will almost certainly die before the season is out.  Sorry, Detective Harper.

One of the officers tells Jim he has a visitor.  Harvey’s eyes newly fall out of his head.  Jim turns and his face drops.  Apparently, what happens in Florida should stay in Florida.

Sofia’s not wearing perfect riding gear now, or the kind of white dress that’s only worn for strolls on the beach in perfume commercials.  She’s in a pinstripe suit, no shirt, and very pointed heels.

A visibly displeased Jim asks what she’s doing here.  She says she’s here to help – like he asked.  Well – she corrects – he didn’t directly ask, but men fail to see a simple solution even when directly presented.  He tersely tells her she shouldn’t have come back.  She smiles – and tells him she doesn’t need his permission, or her fathers.  She’s a Falcone, and this city is her birth right.  She’s ready now – what does Jim think she’s been doing in Florida for ten years?

Jim – typically – is more angered by the personal slight to his ego than the very real danger the city is now in thanks to his actions.  He says Sofia knew that she was going to do this all along, and everything she did was just sizing him up.   Sofia says that not everything was a ruse – but that she did have to know him better if they’d be working better.  Jim snarls that they’re not working together.   Sofia smiles – and tells him that he wanted a gangster, and he found one.

(An aside – She’s right. Jim really can have no complaint. His plan is stupid and wrongheaded, and he’s got what he wanted.  If he thinks Carmine would have been any more manageable, then he’s wrong.  As it is, though, this is now a venture almost entirely motivated by ego, spite, daddy issues, and insecurity from both of them. This can only end well, surely?

The luckless Myrtle is being interrogated by Oswald and Victor.  They learn that Ed’s brain seems diminished, and Oswald reiterates that he wants him found.  Glancing dismissively at Myrtle, he tells Victor that too many people have been stealing from him – and that Victor should make an example of her, and have fun in the process.  Victor smiles as he leaves.  ‘Adoringly’ seems too strong – but seriously – look at the screencap.

Victor tells Myrtle he loves her dress.  Myrtle thanks him, saying that she made it – before he shoots her in the head.

Ed on the street – massively conspicuous in his bright green suit.  He sees an Iceberg Lounge poster and his face contorts with rage.

 At Barbara’s house, we see her alone.  Someone approaches her, and there’s some brief fancy fighting before we see Ra’s – who seemingly is the one who rescued her and trained her.  She tells him Bruce has the knife.  Ra’s is fine with this – though.  He tells her he brought her back because she is a competent ally, and has done an admirable job.  This recognition/acknowledgment of her worth – as ever – pleases Barbara hugely.  She kisses a (vaguely surprised?) Ra’s.

General Observations

Well.  That… happened.

Not hugely engaged this week.  It felt very choppy – jumping from scene to scene constantly.  On top of that – some people’s behaviour and actions were mystifying: Jim towards Falcone, Barbara towards Oswald.  The better moments are the ones that had a little more meat to them in terms of characterisation – Ed’s panic at his loss of identity, Barbara’s bitterness over her lack of autonomy.

The best was probably Sofia Falcone.  Yes, she was established fairly quickly as a romantic interest for Jim – but we still got a much more fleshed out and complex character who has motivations beyond gazing at Jim.  From one episode alone, we know that:

She has a difficult relationship with her father that has only improved on his becoming ill – but there’s still resentment there

She was close to Mario, and may well be masking resentment towards Jim over his death.  If so, she’s controlled enough not to have lashed out

She moved to Florida at 13 for safety, but has spent the last ten years running the crime scene

She is confident in her own abilities

She was angered by being dismissed and treated like a child

She wants to prove her competence

She’s determined

She’s manipulative

She will use her sexuality to get what she wants

Compare that to what we learned about Lee when we met her: she’s a doctor and likes Jim.

So we have a female character with her own flaws and motivations from the outset.  She was well-acted and I’m interested to see where she goes.

Thoughts?

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 8:  Difficult Neighbors

You’d think the time in between fighting monsters would be chill, but no. We finish up in Holzog, gear up for Mornheim, and deal with the one thing worse than monsters: locals.

We get down to brass tacks with appraisin’ items and stocking up. Gral and Valeria find out what their violin strings and Eyegis do, though the rest of  us will have to find out later. Valeria makes some holy water and Shoshana brews up a couple of healing potions during our downtime.

We briefly debate whether to tell Quentin everything. We decide we’re for it; he’s working with the Cursebreakers, and they’re the organization that can best use the info we’ve found to connect the dots on how the Curse works and how to fight it.

“It’s still a hot take that the Curse had agenda, and now we know it has 4 agendas and 4 bodies, all under some powerful ward? They’ve got to know that.”

We go to the mining guild office where the Cursebreakers are. We are all visually searched. Witness Beatrice searches the ladies, which is a fairly chill affair since she can be pretty easily told to back off. Clem is fine; this is not her first strip-search or invasive interrogation, she tells us. What?

Gral has no such luck, and is being searched by Ser Quentin. “Well, sir Orc? Lose ‘em.” His hands are exceptionally cold. (Gral does want a professional to take a look, but. A little bedside manner, Q?)

While the girls are downstairs in Bea’s library, Valeria remembers: “Oh! We have thing for you!” We give her the Char Mender, and Bea totally forgets about strip searching us. Her eyes light up and she takes it to the cabinet of charred books.

We discover we have enough Char Mender to repair one book.  (We should have evolved it, maybe.)

Bea focuses on 3 rare tomes that she believes were the target of the arson. “And it was arson, unless fires start on one end of the library, and then when I go to put that one out, another fire starts on the other end.

The books we must choose between:

The Study of Fiends, a demonology study commissioned by the Church of Torme. Unfortunately, the results ended up being a little too much of a how-to for summoning demons, so they never completed the full publication run, and it’s an extremely rare book. It regards demons and how they operate, different individual demons and what offers they are likely to make, the types of deals they make with people, etc.

Songs of the Druids, a study of the druids of the Greatwood, regarding their methods and secrets. There’s a lot of legend and poetry rather than purely academic research, but it’s the closest thing anyone’s ever really made to a comprehensive collection of information about them.

The Grimscale Essays, a collection of essays on necromancy and the undead, recovered from a Draco-Aquilian necromancer’s tower. It is banned to use the knowledge in these essays, but it is a valuable collectors’ item and may offer insights on how the undead function.

Though our upcoming trek to Mornheim tempts us toward the necromancy book, we select Team Druid, to know about our potential allies. Bea sighs wistfully. “That book had some beautiful illustrations. I hope those get restored too”

“Also, If Morozov asks - he was less interested in that one, but I’m gonna say you made me do it OKAY BYEEEE”

After we’ve all got our pants on again, Ser Quentin has us tell him everything. We do, withholding nothing except our spaceship adventure. Unfortunately, he’s an Inquisitive Rogue, and nobody lies to him. We fail our deception checks hard, so Shoshana awkwardly tries to explain their adventure on a space ship without having any idea of what a space ship is. It’s pretty disjointed, but she musters the defense that talking about the Confusing Forbidden Knowledge could have been a good way to get More Cursed. Fair enough. He can tell that we’ve got nothing else to hide, anyway.

“If what you say is true, you slew these musicians, who were responsible for the mist in the valley. If so, I guess we’ll have to see what happens. In the meantime it is now vitally important that I take these notes on your travels, make my way to Hoska Castle, and report to the other Cursebreakers. There are records there I will need to consult. The ‘Key’ you mention – my order is one of seekers of knowledge. So you can understand why I’m a little concerned that this is the very instinct targeted by one of our adversaries.”

We look at the tapestry again, to see if we can figure out any clues about the Prisoners. The foreground one has its antler helmet and wolf skin cloak - clearly the entity we know as The Hunt. The other figures are indistinct; the artist didn’t bother to differentiate them in this crude medium. All we can tell is that they are bound in roots.

We show Quentin the Eyegis. “In my professional expertise, this shield...is creepy. You should go ask an expert in magical items.”

Darius is called over to look at the Mysterious Pamphlet from the glove box. “Don’t some members of your order have the ability to read all tongues?” Sure, but he didn’t take Eyes of the Rune Keeper as one of his invocations though. Ooooops. 

Daikon receives scritches! He finds a seed in Shosha’s hair from the woods, and eats it.

Valeria tells Quentin about us choosing the Druid Book for Bea, Luckily, she successfully Persuades. He sighs. “Considering what we have learned, it does make the most sense. You got this repair substance from Sturmhearst? We’ll see if we can get any more.”

Oh yeah, those guys. We warn him that being so close to the mists of the Key, what with them being seekers of knowledge, is probably Less Than Optimal.

Ser Quentin looks down his nose at us. “We have explicit instructions not to antagonize Sturmhearst, as they are a valuable ally and formidable foe. You understand that Ser Brigid has done this with the explicit intention of making us keep a close eye on them, yes?”

Oh, he has one more important question re: Sturmhearst. “You told them you were going to investigate the house? In that case, Darius, please send a request to the Baroness and her Condotierri.”

“In three days, a supply caravan will leave for Mornheim. Be there that morning and I will brief you. In the meantime the Fairgolds have interceded to have some rooms prepared at the Greencloak Inn, and I recommend you take up those rooms. Our offices are less than comfortable. If we need to reach out to you, I expect we’ll send Daikon."

After we leave the office, Clem goes back to Hammerstein and Sons to get that sword silvered. “It’ll be 150g to coat your greatsword in silver, but it’ll be hard to get it done in three days; an extra 50g will get you to the front of my queue,” says Bluma Hammerstein. 

Clara Sons, her partner (business partner? life partner? We Just Dont’ Know), interjects “Bluma does have an apprentice she’s training; perhaps she could-“

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to teach her the process. If you’re willing to let the kid work on your baby there, I can bypass the 50g.” 

“Is the kid proficient enough? I don’t wanna lose my ‘baby,’ as you call it.”

Bluma shrugs. “Ehhhhhhhhh? She’s very talented…yeah, sure, she’s a helluva hand with a whetstone, pretty good with a hammer, but this is a pretty complex process. Not gonna lie to ya: I think the kid can do it. And I’ll be there to supervise.”

Clem hands them her remaining bottle of High Elven vodka. If I give you this, will you be Extra Careful? They shake on it.

Clem also asks after a suit of splint mail. They have a Ventallan style one in the shop they could resize for her. Clara was refitting it for a Condotierri, but then he skipped out on paying, so they kept it. “It’ll cost 200g total. It’s quite a nice piece! I can get the black rook sigil off the shoulder for you.”

Clem’s about 40g short, and is thoroughly disappointed. Shoshana has come with, though, and has done all the shopping she needs to for her healing potions. And, because of the reward from Sturmhearst and Ser Quentin’s advance payment for the Mornheim expedition, still has more money in her pocket than she ever had as a poor villager.

“Here’s 50g,” she tells Clem. “Use it to not die; you can repay me by making sure I don’t die.”

Clem is ABSOLUTELY FLOORED. Why are you just giving me money??? It’s a pretty big thing for Clem. No one has ever given her money without expecting something in return???? What could Shoshana possibly mean by this huge gesture?????

Shoshana is like, no, we’re going to Mornheim, if we all die none of us can spend this cash.

“Oh, you’re going to MORNHEIM?!” Clara exclaims. “Here, why don’t I just inscribe a holy symbol of Lethe on that, free of charge.” She points to an absolutely destroyed chestpiece she has on her workbench. “That’s what’s coming back from Mornheim.”

Because Clem is an absurdly big lady, she needs a few parts taken from other pieces of armor around the shop to make it all fit. She has a Pretty Woman montage of coming out in different suits of armor for the armorsmiths and Shoshana. She ends up with kind of a hodgepodge of random armor. 

“What are your thoughts on asymmetrical shoulder pads? I’ve got one from an old elven regiment, but I’ve only got the left one.” It has a bit of filigree on it, but nothing as distinctive as a regimental insignia. Clem smiles nostalgically and says she’ll take it. 

Clara is momentarily distracted by Clem’s buff physique: “Nice shoulders.”

“Thanks, I made them myself?”

Anyway, we all agree that a clothing montage but with buff ladies in armor is The Future That Lesbians Want.

The Fairgolds want to party with us. Clem is like “are they paying?” No, so Clem’s out. 

Gral has his responsibility to perform the Death Song for his squadmates. We attend and listen to him sing their death songs to pay our respects. The DM is disappointed he doesn’t get to roll on the carousing table, but the mood is decidedly not carousing.

The next day, we wake and stretch. Clem is a little disturbed by the décor of the inn – it features elven helmets over the mantle, and the owner claims the original curtains were made of the green cloaks of elven officers. Clem was excited at first to hear about the Greencloak Inn, but less so now. The story is that rebels scared some elves out of their camp by imitating howls of wolves and owlbears, and then stole all their stuff. It’s just sort of awkward, even though Keva and Valdia are no longer enemies.

Shortly after the town gates open in the morning, a familiar cart pulls up, pulled by two large lizards. “Bjorn! Get us some rooms! Ingborg! See to the mounts! I require breakfast!”

Professor Lucinius Galvan enters the inn, looking a bit more tired and scarred than last time. “Bjorn, Ingborg, stay in the cart, you’ll scare the locals! Innkeep, I would like two rooms, one with the largest beds you have! Where might I find a library, or a local guide! Oh, perfect – wait, what do you mean there WAS a library?! OH HEY, KYR ARGENT! Bjorn, Ingborg, bring the luggage in!”

We greet Professor Galvan with open arms, mildly surprised he hasn’t been eaten. “Any luck on your expedition?”

“I found truly fascinating results! Also ghosts. I saw some skeletons, but only after Bjorn and Ingborg were done with them, so...fragments of skeletons.” 

“You’re certainly in capable hands with them,” Valeria accedes politely.

“I was able to dispatch the spectre who assaulted me. It was no match for good old Aquilian magic. The old spells still work! The good old ‘Scorpus Arcana,’ or ‘Magic Missile.’ They claim the new way’s more elegant, but is it really?”

Ooh, we ask him to tell us about the ghost.

“It was an Aquilian ghost! I attempted to ask it several questions, but it attempted to rip my face off. And truth be told, you don’t get a Ph.D. in archaeology without knowing when to abandon a line of inquiry!”

“I found the old Aquilian watchtower I was looking for! But the sigil for legion stationed here wasn’t for a standard flying legion. I’ve been trying to decipher exactly what their symbol means. I did find some records – inscriptions and pottery shards, describing how the Aquilians were working with locals. Very surprising! Especially with the Valdians’ reputation as - forgive me - rather backwards and uncooperative.”

The tower he’d found was clearly designed for both Aquilian (Aarakocra) AND terrestrial (human) soldiers and inhabitants! Elsewhere it wasn’t unheard of that they’d recruit locals, but the common narrative says that the locals were highly resistant to occupation. He’s been looking up stories about the original occupation from the perspective of the Valdians.

We tell him to go hit up Witness Beatrice if he’s looking for stories and knowledge. Also, Valeria takes the chance to talk to a proper magic practitioner. She says, “I found something interesting and, I wanted to ask you about it! Ser Quentin isn’t much for arcane artifacts, but you might be able to tell me what it does! And whether it’s going to multiply my eyes.”

“That’s a weird concern, but okay.” He examines the Eyegis. It behaves like a wizard’s familiar. One who is attuned to the shield can see through it so long as it is within a 120 foot range of the wielder. Valeria’s player LOVES it; Valeria accepts it warily.

Gral has already attached the strange violin strings to his lute and attuned (heh. TUNED), so he doesn’t need to Identify them. (He made a Deal with the Curse, the players find out, though he is not consciously aware of it.)

Valeria goes and introduces Lucinius to Bea, to make sure he doesn’t scare Bea. Bea is like “cool, a Professor!” Then she eeps and hides behind Valeria’s legs, because Valeria forgot to warn re: goliaths. Darius gives Valeria the stink eye for scaring Bea again.

Valeria makes sure to make her Holy Water out of water from the lake. Encouragingly, the Mist does not rise again during our time in Holzog.

We hang out with the Fairgolds. Flynn is a bit pompous, but likable once you get to know him. He and Fiona train every morning in the square. At night he’s busy telling stories and she’s busy drinking. There’s a portrait of them at their uncle’s inn of when they were younger. Flynn looks similar, but Fiona looks way different. Her hair is longer, and she’s not as muscled or scarred – she looks much more similar to her brother, and a lot happier. In the picture, she’s clutching a book. Shoshana, always interested in languages, learns a couple of Fiona’s hand signs over the next few days.

On Friday, we arrive at the Cursebreakers’ office early in the morning for a mission briefing. We approach to Morozov’s office. He hands us information packets, and begins his monologue:

“On my last expedition, as you may know, I was accompanied by squad of Elven veterans from an elite unit known as the Red Hand.” Clem nods intently. “They had worked with me on several other expeditions of a similar nature. Lady Aubrey von Mornheim, leader of the survivors of Mornheim, informed us of indications of some flavor of cult activity. We suspected perhaps a necromancer of some sort, but something odd happened as we neared the von Menzer family crypt, the resting place of noted mage Johann von Menzer, of Sturmhearst. Due to the patterns of undead activity, we believed this crypt was our goal.”

“We were attacked by an unusually large number of undead, working in concert. We were separated from one of their number, Sokolov.” Clem’s eyes widen as she seems to recognize the name, but she does not speak up. Quentin continues. “We were badly injured and I insisted we return to town. My companions refused to leave their comrade behind. I split with them and returned back to Mornheim to be in safety before the sun went down. They returned to Mornheim the next morning with Sokolov in tow, and immediately told me they’d no longer be in my service, effective immediately. I had to abandon the expedition.”

“Sokolov did not look especially well – not unusual for somebody trapped in that place. The strange thing is, and I mean no offense to your compatriots, Sgt. Haxan – I did use my contacts to have the Red Hand followed after they left service. I thought there was something off about them. Some left the wood, heading towards the Crownlands and old battlefields of the Ascension War. Some traveled as mercenaries, fighting for hire, never staying one place too long.”

He pulls out a map with pins stuck in it, red and black. “The red pins mark places that members of the Red Hand have stayed more than a single night. Black pins mark fresh instances of undead attacks.”

There is an obvious, recognizable correlation. “It’s not at every stop, but it always occurs about a week after they left. It’s not provable by any means; there’s no shortage of death in the Cursewood.”

Clem stands, her bulk becoming a menacing loom. “I’m sorry, are you implying that these men may have been behind these undead attacks?”

Ser Quentin is unmoved by her imposing presence. “I do not imply. I conclude, and I accuse. I am doing neither at this time. However, this obviously merits further investigation.”

“We learn nothing by sitting on our hands. Your mission is to enter the von Mentzer family crypt and find out what you can. If this is another one of these “prisoners,” I want to know everything you can find. A supply caravan leaves for mornheim tomorrow. I’ve hired the Fairgolds to help escort it – they will get the merchants there and back. You will not leave with the caravan. Stay in Mornheim and investigate as long as you feel able. You can reach out to me through any Cursebreaker outpost. Page 5 of your packet has names and addresses of those who can reach me. I will accompany you for the first leg of the journey, but part ways to go to Holska.”

“One more thing, Kyr Argent.” He hands her a sealed letter. “This is for the Lady Aubrey, please secure it among your belongings as you pack. It is a letter of introduction stating your mission and asking her to assist you.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” We hear armored boots click-clacking down the hallway. The door opens, we turn around, and the Baroness, somewhat disguised by a cloak, enters the room.

Valeria salutes.

“The Baroness would like to speak with you in private,” Quentin tells us. “Well, I’ll be here.”

The Baroness Francesca von Holzog appraises us with a calculating eye. “I take threats to Holzog very seriously.” Two knights enter behind her – one is a standard human Condotierri, while the other a is green skinned tiefling with solid red eyes and curling horns, wearing a black cape and fine armor with the Condotierri’s black rook sigil. “Now, allow me to introduce Captain Stefano Mozzeti, my cousin.”

He bows and says hello. The Baroness tells us, “He is the Captain of the Black Rook Condotierri, abd he would like to hear what you have to say as well. Ser Quentin has communicated a detailed report, and I have dispatched some of Mozzeti’s men to deal with Sturmhearst. They are an enemy I don’t enjoy making. Tell me what happened.”

Gral explains, rolling persuasion with Valeria helping. He reassures her that the musicians who were opening the portals are dead, and the mists should be gone for good.

“If a month passes and mists do not fill the valley, though they usually come once a week, we will see what we can do. The Condotierri are to search this house and burn any sheet music they find. Sturmhearst had already gone to the house, scattering like like pigeons when we kicked them out. I believe it would be unwise for them to have access to this music. If you truly have rid my barony of this threat, come to me in a month’s time and we will see if there is a reward for you.”

Captain Stefano looks Gral in the eye, as well as he can through Gral’s mask. “Orc, if those mists come back and my men die, you better be confident. If they die, and they were guarding that damned house in that damned hole, do not return to Holzog.”

“Yes, I would consider it a failure on my part,” Gral agrees.

“No, we would have….how you say, beef.”

Gral responds in his most diplomatic tone. “The Key works by getting agents. We want to stop it getting more agents in Sturmhearst, and you are doing that work to keep us safe.”

Still giving their best intimidating vibes, the Baroness and her cousin swoosh outtie. The Crown, everybody!

Clem rolls a few dice, as we return to Hammerstein and Sons later that day. 17! We find Bluma and Clara and a teenage girl. Clara has the armor, painted and dyed mainly a dark muted red-orange, with black trim, to make the cobbled-together set of armor a little more cohesive. She has drawn a little clementine tree on the pauldron. 

Bluma says “All right, Reyna, c’mon, give the drow lady her sword back.” 

The teen, hands shaking a little, gives Clem the greatsword, wrapped in cloth. “I silver-plated it for you, ma’am, Miss Bluma was watching me and I think I did a pretty good job.”

Bluma smiles. “The kid did fine. I got a dummy set up out back if you wanna test out the edge.” It’s kept its edge! Good rolls mean the trainee didn’t screw it up. At first glance, it still looks like dark elven steel. (This was NOT standard issue for the Red Hand, Clem stole it off some cultist during the war, probably.) She has to look very closely to see waves of silver worked in. There are no imperfections or nicks, and the edge is sharper since it’s freshly whetted. 

“We’ve got a patented technique here in Holzog, leads to that nice wavy pattern. Recommend us to your friends, here’s a card,” Bluma tells her.

Clem approaches the apprentice, Reyna, and tells her, “It looks perfect. You are a credit to your family and your community. I thank you.” Reyna immediately tears up. “Sorry, we shoulda warned ya,” Bluma whispers. “She’s from out in the woods. Don’t think her family made it. We haven’t been pressing. We’ve kinda taken her in.” We bid a fond goodbye to the nice lesbians, and head on out.

In the morning, we meet in town square. We’re traveling with a merchant named Feivel, his drivers and three carts. One is loaded with food, one with medicine and building supplies, and the third has smaller locked chests and has room for passengers. We get on the road! It should be 4 days of travel to Mornheim.

1st day: no incident. We stop in a small village and camp in the town square, since there’s no inn big enough. Flynn entertains some children, telling a story about fighting a “moss ogre,” and then they play moss ogre and he lets several children take him down with sticks. Fionna watches and laughs. Her laugh is a weird wheeze, like she can’t quite form the sounds.

The second day is less peaceful. Along the road, Valeria nat 20’s a perception check and hears a person running through the woods – panting breath, tearing frantically through the trees, stumbling over brush – some medium-sized humanoid running desperately. Behind her, there are sounds of heavy footsteps and ferocious growls as she bursts onto path. 

It’s a terrified-looking red-haired human teenager. “MONSTERS! HELP!” 

Valeria is ON IT, positioning her formidable self between the woods and the carts.

“They’re right behind me!” the girl says, gasping for breath as she reaches the wagons. “At least three of them! Big, with sharp teeth and long- long claws! I think there’s others with them. Bandits, maybe?”

Shoshana insight checks her, and she genuinely seems terrified. “Feivel, we got incoming!” the sorceress calls. The Fairgolds step up next to Valeria to defend the carts.

The sounds of monsters get closer, but Something Is Wrong. The sounds aren’t getting close as fast as we would have expected? And then we hear something behind us – something on the other side of the carts.

The ‘terrified’ girl has a gun to Feivel’s head, and a line of bandits step out from among the trees.

A sly-looking halfling speaks for the group: “Bonjour, madams et monsieurs, my name is Henri deCannes, and these are the Free Thieves of Valdia. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that we are robbing you today. I will not be so crass as to deny you your weapons, but you would please hand over all your valuables, if you will not mind. We will place all your weapons in this sack, and we shall put it in that tree. Then you can go get it, once we are gone.”

It’s right around here that we realize Ser Quentin is nowhere to be seen. Also his stuff is gone. Fuckin’ rogues with high Insight, amirite?

Shoshana raises her hand, like a kid in school. “Uh, we have like four knights with us?”

“Yes, that is why we are attempting to resolve this peacefully. Disarm, please.”

Shoshana places her staff primly across her knees, waiting to see what everyone else is going to do.

Flynn and Fiona are watching us, but like hell Fiona’s gonna disarm. It’s clear she’ll bust some heads first. No one else moves to give this guy their swords.

“My, so ferocious! And is that an orc with you! I must hear this story someday.” 

Gral snarks, “You don’t make a good first impression.”

“Oh? If I am befriending you, I am not robbing you. If I befriend and then rob you, I am betraying a friend, and that would be a sin.”

Clem and Val go for the Intimidate. Valeria, the minor corruption of the Hunt glistening on her fangs, hisses, “Go find someone else to rob, this one is Ours.”

Clem says, “Excuse me, Mr. ...?” 

“Henri deCannes, you may have seen my face on a wanted poster?”

“Henri, if I may offer some advice. I once tried to fight something much bigger than me, much as I am much bigger than you. Do you know what happened?” She leans in. “It nearly CRUSHED me under its foot. So I would much rather make friends.” She ends with the sort of smile that implies much, much danger.

He’s intimidated. Henri doesn’t want to fight her. But he’s not giving up, and tries to pull a few heartstrings.

“This Curse especially targets those who reside in the woods. We are especially prone to corruption. My people, the Free Thieves of Valdia - I have been called here to help them. We do not wish to be monsters, or savages taken by the curse.”

“You’d just be a different kind of savage, wouldn’t you?" growls Valeria.

“You wound me. My men, they would go to the towns, but they are not welcome there. They would leave Valdia, but that takes money. And time is running short.”

“Running short until what?”

“Until we lose our minds, madame! I want to get as many of my men out as I can.”

He asks where we’re headed. Shoshana cheekily tells him “Nunya.”

Gral speaks commandingly: “There is always another way. Forge new papers and live an honest life. You are not leading your men to safety, you are leading your men to pain. I would get out of our way now.”

Henri persists. “I will take those medicines, and nothing more. We have sick and injured. We will leave you your food and other supplies. We seek the price for a Galwan ship, or to pay for the false documents you suggest we get.”

Gral does some internal math. We have about 100g worth of medicine, but we’ve seen posters in town with this man’s face on them. His bounty is set at 400g. 

The bard proposes a solution: “I see you care very much for your men. This medicine will be yours if you come with us and turn yourself in. Surely, if you are so concerned for their welfare, you would be nobly self sacrificial enough to trade yourself for their well-being.”

Henri nods. His bandits make protestations, but he shouts “Non! The orc is correct. If I must sacrifice myself for the Free Thieves to prosper, so be it.” 

“Please hand your medicine to Anya here,” he tells the merchants. Valeria insight checks and rolls a 3, seeing that he is clearly honest about taking the bargain. 

“Dmitri, Dmitri! Those shackles of yours, please! Dmitri, a bandit, hands Val some halfling-sized shackles. Clem’s kinda disappointed that the wanted poster specified “alive,” but ah, well. 

Anya, the red-headed girl who tricked us, takes the crate of medicine and sprints back to bandits. 

“Non! Do not wait for me! Be free, free thieves of Valdia!” Henri cries, dramatically. Valeria moves to cuff him, and the shackles go straight through his arms. 

“Oh, and I am quite sorry, but...Ceci n’est pas Henri deCannes.” He vanishes, and the bandits sprint into the woods with the medicine. Trickster clerics, babyyyyy! 

Valeria is FRUSTRATED at having been tricked so easily. Gral commiserates: “I see I am a bit too trusting in my aim for diplomacy.”

WELL. That’s a story that will seem funny to us later. At least we have halfling-sized shackles now, signed on one cuff by one Henri DeCannes. Gral adds, using Minor Illusion, “is a buttface.” On the other side is a holy symbol of Guile.

So having been hustled, we hustle along. Morozov rejoins us. “You lost the medicine?”

“Yeah, we’re idiots.”

Morozov has no regrets about his vanishing act. “I couldn’t run the risk of losing the evidence from my investigations. Couldn’t let it be damaged by a stray pistol ball.”

We arrive at next town and see Wanted posters of Henri, Anya, and several bandits. The camp mood for that night is decidedly subdued.

In the morning, Ser Quentin heads off in a different direction. “Alas, this is where I must turn aside. Best of luck to you.”

“And you as well,” we tell him politely.

“I don’t need luck, but I’m not so foolish as to refuse it. Good luck in Mornheim.”

As we head out, we commiserate about how much of a dick Henri is. Flynn concurs. “No offense, but I think I’ll leave this one out of the next story. If you do go after him, though, invite me. I’ll have a few pointed comments to make,” he gripes, playing with the hilt of his sword.

On the third day of travel, we make good time towards the spot we’ll have to ford a river. Fiona scouts ahead, feeling restless. Flynn is unconcerned. “If she finds anything, just listen for- well, you’ll hear her, trust me.”

She comes back a couple of minutes later, seeming kind of put out. She shakes her head and signs rapidly to Flynn. “She says the bridge is out,” he tells us glumly.

Sure enough, the bridge is quite smashed up. What happened here?

One of the players make a joke - what, was there a troll under the bridge? And we all suddenly feel the chaotic energy in the air of on-the-spot worldbuilding.

“Well, there WAS a troll!” We turn, and there’s a friendly local yokel passin’ by, a cheerful dad-looking farmer. 

“Aw, sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, folks. Yee-ep, we had a troll! Fella named Trolskiv. A good one too, kept the bridge safe for us. Reasonable tolls, took payment in potataters. Real nice fella. But something got in his head, a while back. I think the ol’ Curse finally got to him, poor guy. 

“Anyhow, couple weeks ago, the Hedgehog Knight came through with his crew and put an end to all that. Had to be done. Poor Trolskiv didn’t stand a chance. Just a real shame, all round. Even more a shame that he threw the Hedgehog Knight at the bridge and broke it! 

Now, if you folks come by in the mornin’, we got a ferry comes across the river, that’ll get you across no problem. That’s what we’re doin’ these days ‘till we get the bridge fixed up. If yer gonna stay overnight, I’m sure you’re lookin’ for a place to stay. There’s an old farmhouse up the road, the family up and left a while back, tryin’ ta avoid the Curse. I’m sure no one would mind if you holed up there for the night!”

Shoshana rolls Insight: Nat 20. The guy hasn’t lied to us so far; everything he’s said has been 100% true. Yet... there’s something wrong. He’s got an agenda, somehow. Something is unsavory about this man.

We take a look at the bridge.There is in fact a sign on the bridge saying Troll, and a series of potential payment options. 5 potatoes per cart or for 3 people to cross. Nearby, the locals have constructed a modest grave for Trolskiv.

“Yep, it’s a shame,” the farmer continues, rambling like a proper small-town old boy. “One ‘a my sons went down south, there’s a troll couple work the bridge down the river. They got a youngling, ‘bout the age he’d be lookin’ to move out on his own. Once we get the bridge fixed up, we’re aimin’ on inviting him up here! It’s a good solid bridge with a nice den underneath, already all set up. We always said, it’s not a proper bridge without a troll under it. Important part of the local economy.”

Before this conversation, bridge trolls didn’t exist yet, but now the DM informs us that Shoshana knows all about bridge trolls. There’s plenty of stories about them in Valdia. Sometimes they’re bad guys, but mainly they’re responsible for guarding against bandits, maintaining the bridges, and collecting tolls from travelers passing through to help fund the town.

Valeria is so confused, because she’s used to Regular Trolls. They don’t take potatoes, they take your head off! Gral knows that the more mountain-dwelling orc clans have had skirmishes with the huge, vicious mountain trolls. Clem knows there are horrible ice trolls on the northern steppes of Keva.  They’re right there with Valeria.

(We decide that there’s definitely a Beggar Knight who’s a troll. Lost their bridge in a battle, wanders the woods as a knight errant. We name her Ser Unkig. She’s great.)

Valeria decides to get some more info from this nice fella. “We’ve been out on the road quite a bit. Usually there’s generally some sort of danger, being outside of a big town. What’s the local lay of the land?”

“Well, it was Trolskiv until about a week ago. We mostly hid in our houses when he was out and about, but he kept the other nasties away. Ended up bein’ pretty safe, unless he tore down your door. He got real big and mean at the end there.”

He leads us up a dirt path through some farmland, and points us to a small house in fairly good repair.  

“There’s the intact one. The folks livin’ there headed on out. Didn’t feel too comfortable with Trolskiv rampagin’ about, y’ understand, so they kind of up and left! Left their field, loaded up a wagon, took what they could and got out of here.”

Shoshana, her nat-20 insight still rattling around in her brain, is Very Nervous, and is nudging people and whispering that something is WRONG, she doesn’t TRUST this guy. Everyone else cannot figure out why she’s so squirrelly about some ordinary-ass dude who has been nothing but kind and pleasant.  

Valeria,to placate her, Detects Evil and detects nothing. Nothing around the farmhouse, either. There’s a barn, and enough floor room for all our people. Just walls and a roof, and what sparse wooden furniture the previous residents couldn’t carry. 

Weirdly, we’ve seen no villagers but him. We ask him about that.

“Aw, well, it’s really just me an’ my boys! Most folks live on the other side of the river, and my boys went down the river to get that troll.”

There ARE a few other houses; we could canvas around and corroborate his story. Valeria wants to trust him. Shoshana insists we knock on a couple of doors. The couple of neighbors we ask are very confused, agree with everything the farmer said, and give us literally no reason to be suspicious of anything. Everyone agrees Shoshana is probably paranoid. Shoshana is like “True, but we live in the Cursewood?!”

Still, the argument goes, “We can sleep in the farmhouse, or we can sleep outside. Outside is probably...not safer.” We settle in to the farmhouse. Shoshana insists on at least setting up a watch. She and Gral sit out on the porch, probably in cliche’d and picturesque rocking chairs, and wait.

In the moonlit darkness, the wind gently ruffles the long stalks of wheat. Especially in that one area, right over there.

Wait.

Shoshana rolls an excellent perception with her Curse-enhanced Darkvision, and picks up on a figure moving quietly through the wheat field - stalking, even, the DM would admit. The thing - no, now it’s things, plural, three of them - slip out from between the stalks and advance on the house.

Gral hits them with Faerie Fire, and Shoshana immediately blows her Horn of Silent Alarm to alert Clem. The rest of the house is woken by Clem surging out of her bedroll, screaming “AUUGH, FUCK.” Roll initiative!

(The DM lets us know that these creatures are called Blights. We disagree; they are clearly Wheat and Wheat Byproducts.)

As soon as the Faerie Fire hits, the Wheats abandon stealth and  break into dead run, charging up to hit Gral and Shoshana. One of them pushes itself down, seeming to merge into the floor, and vines burst out of the porch to make it difficult terrain. Shoshana’s claw-like fingers and Gral’s sickle make a decent harvest, but the wheat strikes back, twining long strands around them and restraining them. This gluten is intolerant! Shoshana retaliates with Burning Hands, catching them all in the flames but also wounding Gral.

Gral is informed he may Do The Thing, so long as he has his lute on his person. He manages to play some freaking weird melodies, and his body gets woobly, and he phases out of the grapple like a mirage. His strange woobliness allows him to avoid AOOs, so he slashes at them and then gets some distance.

Clem runs out on the porch but can’t quite reach the Wheats due to the viney ground. Clem has slept in armor, but Valeria naively has not. She casts shield of faith on herself as she runs, grabbing a trident, and busts out glowing onto the porch.

One of the scarecrows in the field turns and drops off its post. It looks up, its eyes glowing a terrifying red as it sprints forward on all fours. That same viney wheat has formed arms for it, with rusted metal shears as claws. It attacks Valeria, but misses.

Fiona awakens and busts on out, furious and holding both her hammers, unarmored. She crits the scarecrow, though she isn’t raging, and does 25 fucking damage, because barbarians. Flynn, right behind her, snaps his fingers and a pistol appears in his hands. He fires, and misses.

The Wheat holding Shoshana slams her brutally into the ground and begins to drag her away, back toward the wheat field. Shoshana NOPES hard, rolls good and squeezes out of its grasp.

Gral pops Shoshana’s kidnapper with a crossbow bolt and Psychic Blades for a nice chunk of damage, blowing through the thing’s chest. It crumbles to the ground, a mere pile of grain.

Clem whiffs, the wheat wafting aside in the breeze. Valeria tries to pitchfork a scarecrow with her trident, but also misses. The scarecrow turns to Fiona, and its eyes glow a demonic red. Fiona fails her save – her face freezes in fear, her muscles lock up, and she is paralyzed. Flynn is not happy about it. “FEAR NOT!” he shouts, stabbing the one fighting Clem and wreathing it in the vibrating energy of Booming Blade. “If it moves, it’ll suffer. Bring it down, Clementine!”

“I will!” she shouts. “On my turn!”

The Wheat grabs her, restraining her with amber waves of pain.

Shoshana twins her Chromatic Orb again and misses one, but the one on Gral dies in a blaze.

Gral throws a Dissonant Whispers at the last Blight. It saves, but takes some damage. Clem busts out of its wheaty clutches, its glutinous grasp. Fiona, paralyzed, gets hit twice by the scarecrow but regains her ability to act, slamming her hammers into its soft, wheaty body. Flynn takes down the last Blight with his blade. “Are there any more of them?”

Fiona makes a sound. AH YES RIGHT.

Shoshana barely hits, but it IS vulnerable to fire so it takes damage-and-a-half. Gral pins his Psychic Blades to another crossbow bolt – it’s resisting non-magic damage but psychic is another story. It dies.

“Okay, NOW I think that’s the last of them,” Flynn concedes.

Shoshana feels vindicated, but also pissy. “I feel like the farmer guy could have MENTIONED that shit!”

Valeria, meanwhile, thinks this all sounds very familiar. In Ser Balderich’s story about the Summer Palace, the rose garden sprang to life and attacked. 

Shoshana is ready to get up in the the old farmer’s grill, but his house is across that field. We don’t wanna go in the field at night. 

Flynn takes watch. “If anything moves…” he says ominously, flourishing his pistol, “…you’ll wake up.”

We get what rest we can, though no one sleeps well after that. 

In the morning, Shoshana marches over and bangs on the farmer’s door. “Hey. HEY. OPEN UP, YOU DICK, I HAVE A BONE TO PICK.” Nobody answers. She gets nosy and peeks through the windows. Empty. It looks lived-in, not abandoned, but there’s nobody there. The door is unlocked, so she goes on in to check it out. 

She rolls a good investigate check. Searching the house, she finds a couple things. Yes, it’s lived in, but relatively recently someone packed and left in a hurry. 

Second, and more importantly, she finds the floorboards all dug up in one of the interior closets. Coming out of the dirt there, and spreading out into the walls of the closet, there is a thick, sprawling growth of mushrooms and fungus. 

Shoshana immediately puts her scarf over her face and gets right the hell out of there. NOPE NOPE NOPE. MAYBE WE SHOULD BURN IT. 

Gral, outside the house, agrees. In the early days of the curse, before he went on the expedition, he saw creatures the orcs called “fungal zombies.” Fungus took took over what was near them, animated the bodies or other organic matter, and made them attack. Gral also knows that fire has historically been an excellent way to deal with THAT bullshit.”

Shoshana clears it with everybody that the plan is to burn this man’s house down. Then we burn the man’s house down. Other villagers come by to see what on earth is happening but it’s too late. They’re pretty upset and confused. But they look at how well armed we are, and decide not to question it. 

Shoshana does protest that we didn’t burn it down with the guy INSIDE, he LEFT, stop looking at us like that. And he was an EVIL MUSHROOM MAN.

One of the frightened villagers volunteers some information. “Come to think of it, the fellas who lived there, Lieb and his sons, they showed up just a bit before Trolskiv started goin’ bad. You don’t think he was involved in that?”

We don’t know. So he’s not from around here? 

“No, he’s a recent transplant from Bad Hersfeld. When Trolskiv went bad, everybody stayed in their houses and didn’t talk much. Didn’t know him all that well, but he seemed like a nice enough fella.”

We remember that the farmer, Lieb, sent his sons down the river to recruit a young bridge troll. Gral, knowing the destruction a violent troll can wreak, does not want this troll kid to be mushroomized. The Fairgolds are willing to check that out, if we finish escorting the carts to Mornheim. They’ll meet up with us there in a couple of days. 

“Fire is very effective,” Gral advises them. 

“Usually is,” says Flynn.

As they head off down the river, we can still hear them chatting. “Fiona, have you considered my idea of lighting your hammers on fire?” The hand sign she returns is one we all recognize. “Maybe I could figure out an ice thing with my blade. We could find a cool theme! You could dye your hair red-” Oh, she’s punched him. Another day in the life of the Knights Fairgold.

We take the ferry over the river without incident. It takes most of the rest of the day to reach Mornheim.

As we get close, the lush greenery of the forest along the road becomes thinner and more wiry, the trees less full of life. Animals look starved and diseased. The sound of carrion birds replaces twitter of songbirds. Everything has gone real fuckin’ Tim Burton. 

We see a sign that says Mornheim. “C’mon, the town isn’t far,” says Feivel. “We can still make it by nightfall.” We trudge ahead along the winding path. Eventually we come across rows of trees, still bearing a few apples but sickly and thin. The hills have clusters of graves on them. 

We crest a hill and see the town, a small cluster of buildings surrounded by a tall wall. In distance, we can make out several larger structures: a grand house on a high hill, and what looks like a cathedral. Heading downhill, there’s a sudden commotion inside a mausoleum to the left. 

Once it had been pleasantly situated in copse of trees; now they are cracked and broken, and we can hear shouts of battle. The door to the mausoleum is roughly wrenched open as we approach. A rotting zombie stumbles back outwards, and falls. A woman in a blue coat and tall leather hat, wielding a sharpened shovel, plants her shovel in its neck and stomps, decapitating it. “THE EXIT’S CLEAR, LET’S GO!”

There’s an answering whoosh of flame from somewhere inside the tomb. “THANKS!” the woman calls. Then she notices us: “Oh hey, Feivel. Just in time. Let’s get into town, I got your payment right here!”

A goblin in a brightly embroidered bolero jacket steps out of the mausoleum, wiping dust and soot off her slightly smoking hands. “You’re not the usual guards,” she comments.

“Nope!” Valeria agrees. “Oh, would you be lady Aubrey? Ser Quentin sent us, he said to give you this.” She hands the human woman Ser Quentin’s letter.

The woman slits it open with a thin knife. She is, in every aspect, the Graverobber from Darkest Dungeon. She carries a sturdy pick, a sharpened shovel, and a whole bunch of daggers. She reads Ser Quentin’s letter as we walk through the graveyard, casually, as if she hasn’t just run out of a tomb of exploding zombies.

“So!” she says to us. “Letter says you’re idiots. Well, it says you’re here to investigate and get to the bottom of stuff, so…idiots.”

“Honestly, knowing Ser Quentin, we’re just surprised and gratified he didn’t say it explicitly,” Shoshana quips. 

“Aw, Q’s a big softie once you get to know him,” Aubrey tells us, smiling. We’ve reached the town walls, and she shouts up to a couple of guards. “Open up!” The gate grinds open slowly, and Feivel hurriedly rushes his carts inside.

Now that we’re in safe territory, Lady Aubrey turns to inspect us properly. “Can I get your names?”

The DM confirms that Clem is no longer using her uniform, with its Red Hand insignia, as armor, so Aubrey doesn’t recognize it. “Sergeant Clementine Haxan,” she introduces herself.

“Sergeant, eh? Part of the Czar’s forces?”

“Indeed. I was stationed with the Red Hand.”

Aubrey squints at her. “I don’t know anything about the Red Hand, but last group Q brought… these folks wouldn’t wear red gloves, would they?”

“They sure do?”

Aubrey’s tone grows more hostile as she eyes Clem suspiciously. “You here to bring more trouble to my town, then? We’ve had enough of elven soldiers here.”

“Just the opposite. We’re here to help.”

“Yeah, that’s what the first ones said. The ones still here have been no end of trouble to me and mine.”

Clem is shocked. We’d thought all of the Red Hand had left Mornheim! “What do you mean, the ones still here?!”

Aubrey points outside the wall, where the undead roam. “Livin’ out there. The undead sure seem to listen to them. We’ve had to cut our expeditions short, which means I can’t pay for Mercedes and the other mercs to protect the town, or for Feivel to get supplies.

“You’re gonna go out there, fine. But if you die, do me the favor and have the courtesy to stay that way. Anyway, Aubrey von Mornheim, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to town! Hope you survive it.”

[harrystormauthor]

September 18, 2019

 “Captain Steve January has assured me that the phone call today wasn’t “a threat.”

Well, well, today Bernadette Feazell received a call from Steve January in the Sheriff’s department. January says that the Internal Affairs Complaints I sent cannot be answered because there is a “conflict of interest,” in other words their case against me takes precedence over my Return Receipt Requested request for an investigation of the Sheriff and the handling of the Lillie Hefele murder, since Johnny Ash is now Sheriff’s big contributor, and Sheriff took David Johnson OFF the case.  OH, January says that Johnson isn’t “part of their cold case squad”, okay, so what’s the point of it all?  Johnson actually did some interviews.  OOOoops?

No, he wouldn’t tell me what they were looking at me about, told me they wanted to talk to me “in person,” however.

Right?

Unfortunately, if you look at the date below, June 18th., the 30 day “Answer” is way overdue and I guess it took them this long to figure out how NOT TO DO what the law states.

I told January it isn’t my fault if they don’t read the law, I always send it.

SO, Is Sheriff trying to silence Harry because of moving his dead brother’s body and other things?

Hmmm.

Bring it Sheriff’s department, Harry/Bern wants to go to trial, and will be more than happy to sit in jail.

However, that won’t stop another complaint under the WHISTLE BLOWER’S STATUTE going out today.

See what happens when a 70 year old woman says a Sheriff moved his brother’s body?

Here’s the 911 tape just in case you missed it.

https://lakewacotriplemurder.files.wordpress.com/2017/08/mike-mcnamara-1.wav

Worst kept secret in the entire damned down.

What idiots.

Harry

Return Receipt Requested, Sheriff’s office is way past the date, took them this long to try to figure out how to protect the Sheriff and NOT comply with the State of Texas Law. Idiots.

On Tuesday, June 18, 2019, 11:10:31 AM CDT, Bernadette Feazell <bfeazell@yahoo.com> wrote:

Sheriff’s Department Internal Affairs

McLennan County

901 Washington Avenue

Waco, Texas 76701

Dear Internal Affairs,

Last year in August I went to see David Johnson at the Sheriff’s department.  I notified David Kilcrease also I wanted to come in and asked them to please tape record me.

It is important to note here that David Johnson taped me that day.

By the time I went to the S.O I already knew that Montea Stewart, Richard Mills, Jay Justice, and Julissa West had also been to the Sheriff’s department about the phone calls and threats they were receiving and the bribe that Richard Mills received by phone and subsequent information pertaining to Abel Reyna and clear bribery not to mention campaign finance report violations by Reyna and also the Sheriff.

I complained because Sherre Johnston, the woman who, if nothing else did the 911 call the day the Sheriff’s brother died, and got several DWI’s etc. had threatened me in writing.

A text containing a tombstone with my name on it, probably/possibly from Felipe Reyna was also a threat, and I had a written threat from Johnny Ash saying something about “Hurting” one of my family members.

I them gave David Johnson a cold case from Ft. Worth.

Report No: 80064819 Victim: Gloria “Lillie” Hefele, 40 years old Location: 3900 Samson Park

I know that David Johnson actually worked the case because I was contacted by a person Johnson had interviewed and became very excited that indeed my friend’s murder would be solved.

Nothing has been done on the threats to me.

It seems to me that David Johnson, who was not only excited about the murder, AND actively worked on it, was taken off the case by our own Sheriff because the main suspect in the case is one “Johnny Ash”.

I believe it is the same “Ash” that is listed on a recent invitation by our Sheriff as a “host.”

I am hereby asking and demanding a full investigation of this matter and will remind you that under Texas Law, you are bound by , to turn this matter over to the District Attorney’s Office and/or the Attorney General’s immediately.

http://www.co.mclennan.tx.us/282/District-Attorney

https://www2.texasattorneygeneral.gov/og/complaints-enforcement

https://www.texasattorneygeneral.gov/divisions/law-enforcement/criminal-investigations

We have timelines, evidence, and people willing and wanting to talk to law enforcement, however, they like me believe that law enforcement needs an investigation.

Yours truly,

Bernadette Feazell

bfeazell@yahoo.com

1520A Murifield Bend Rd.

Hutto, Texas

78634

CC:  Barry Johnson

219 N 6th St #200, Waco, TX 76701

SHERIFF HAS “CASE” ON HARRY STORM September 18, 2019  "Captain Steve January has assured me that the phone call today wasn't "a threat."

[onceuponaprincessworld]

Captain Swan Fanfiction One-Shots Recs part 2

So a couple of weeks ago I made a rec list with captain swan one-shots, but I left some great ones out, because that list was enormous. 

So here you go part 2. Let me know what you think.

Lonely Hearts Club,  @niniadepapa

In which Killian finds a strange message written over a table at Granny’s, feels like answering, and everything goes down from there.

Marked,  lantanapetals

soulmate tattoo au.

When They Were Seven,  @effulgentcolors

They are seven and they are tired of people not taking them seriously. They also cannot wait to spend their anniversary in Disneyland.

Not A Babysitter, @effulgentcolors

“i asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again”.

Put the Needle on the Record,  @always-a-slut-for-pirates

After being convinced to join the University’s radio station, a bold Emma asks a bashful Killian to mentor her to be an on-air DJ.

Tis The Season For Love, @cutieodonoghue

cs modern au in which emma and killian were kind of, sort of, high school sweethearts, and now they’re older and single just in time for mary margaret’s annual christmas party.

Echoes of Scars and the Unbeaten Road, @cutieodonoghue

Killian Jones is tall, dark, and mysterious. He rides a motorcycle, smokes, and is covered in tattoos. Emma Swan, guarded by armor of her own design, moves into town to start new. It might take a miracle for these two broken people to find home again. (cs modern au)

An activity to be held at a public place, @lenfaz

You bought me at a charity auction and you’re probably a serial killer

My Favorite Part of the Day, @lenfaz

You run a coffee shop and say I’m your best customer, when a bad blizzard hits, I’m crazy enough to brave the storm to get my coffee, and you persuade me to stay for my safety.

Zemblanity,  @lenfaz

William Boyd coined the term zemblanity to mean somewhat the opposite of serendipity: “making unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries occurring by design”. A zemblanity is, effectively, an “unpleasant unsurprise”. It derives from Novaya Zemlya (or Nova Zembla), a cold, barren land with many features opposite to the lush Sri Lanka (Serendip). Soulmates gone wrong AU.

Love has a quiet voice, @icapturedkindness

Emma’ four year old Henry gets quite smitten by the new florist Killian Jones. With each visit to the florist for flower lessons, is it really Henry who is practically in love with the guy or his stubborn mother?

The Set Up (Should’ve Known Better), @amagicalship

CS AU where Tink and Liam are a couple and they want to set up Killian (Liam’s brother) and Emma (Tink’s friend/coworker). Let’s just say things don’t always go as planned. A continuation of “Feed My Love,” but you don’t have to have read that one first.

Letters from War,  @captainswanluver

Killian Jones is serving in Afghanistan when his mate, Neal, is killed in the line of duty. He promises Neal he will deliver a letter to his widow, Emma, in person. But Killian and Emma soon find themselves corresponding with each other in letters of their own.

Royal Pain,  @captainswanluver

Prince Killian is the bad boy heir to the throne of Hollindale and a PR nightmare. Enter Emma Swan, the PR specialist his father has hired to improve his image.

Love at Comic Con,  @captainswanluver

Emma Swan and Killian Jones are the stars of the hit TV show “The Pirate and the Princess” and their incredible chemistry has helped make their fictional couple wildly popular. For the sake of the show, they’ve managed to bury their attraction and feelings for each other. But when they attend Comic Con together, those long suppressed feelings and attraction bubble to the surface.

Fckng Dave,  @tnlph

A fluffy bedshare fic!

She means it, she does,  @saramck

emma just wanted to quietly enjoy tequila and loneliness on valentine’s day. killian just wanted a beer and some solitude. they most definitely didn’t want to see each other.

[a (very) belated exes on valentine’s day fic, with a splash of national margarita day.]

What’s the Opposite of Fake Dating?,  @charmingturkeysandwich

Drunk and married in Vegas is another plot I love, so I added that one in here, too! Basically, Emma & Killian get married but then worry their families won’t approve, so they pretend to their families that they just met.

I Told You So,  @ charmingturkeysandwich

I had a one night stand with you months ago and never thought I would see you again but ooooops here you are at the same party I’ve brought my son to and why are you messaging me from across the room?

Just one rose,   twistedroses

A modern CS AU, the Bachelor Style. After being reluctantly signed up for the show, Killian Jones gets himself into something more than he bargained for with Emma Swan as the Bachelorette.

Gorgeous,   @seriouslyhooked

AU where Emma is famous  actress and Killian is one of  her bodyguards.

Soulmarked,   @phiralovesloki

Emma Swan just wants to be loved for who she is, and not because someone feels obligated to love her. It’s just her luck that she has a soulmate somewhere out there, while she’s already in love with someone else.

Let Us Start From Here,  @whisperofgrace

Bookstore AU. Both single parents, Killian and Emma see each other again for the first time since their first date.

Fools Like Me,  @mryddinwilt

So have this friends to lovers/secret relationship/fake relationship fic.

Proverbs to Live By,  @a-fictional-life

She had sworn to hate him. So why did they keep falling into bed together? And why did it feel so right?

Shut Up and Dance With Me,  @passing-fanciful

The weather outside is frightful, leaving Emma and Killian trapped alone together in David’s New Hampshire cabin with a lot of unresolved feelings and no place to go.

Rack ‘em Up, @always-a-slut-for-pirates

Emma and Killian are professional pool players that both live in Boston and frequent the same pool hall. Emma had always found him insufferable. But when fate forces her to get to know the man behind the cocky attitude she starts to question everything she thought she knew.

[a-windsor]

First Lines Fic Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors! 

Tagged a million years ago by @freaoscanlin​

Officially “published” fics only, no prompt fills, for ease of posting.

1. Mine (Nyssara, Season 4 fix it)

Merlyn’s mistake is to house them in adjacent cells.

2. Christmas in Paradise (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

“Did- was that an elf that just jumped off the stairs behind you?” Laurel asks, craning her neck as if that will help her see through the webcam and Sara.

3. An Inevitable Something (Nyssara, Legends Season 2 time period)

Sara forgets what Nyssa smells like.

4. Survivors (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

Damian’s shoulders are squared, chin high, eyes forward. 

5. One Day (Nyssara, Legends-era angst)

“Maybe you should try to date?” Felicity offers too casually, sipping on her soda and pointedly not looking at Nyssa. 

6. Ours, (Bering&Wells, sequel to Delivered)

"You are very spoiled," Helena tells three-and-a-half-year-old Max as he takes another leap, swinging happily between his aunts, little hands clinging tightly. 

7. (First) American Christmas (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

“Alright, Damian, have your pick.”

8. Stays and Leaves (Arrow, Lance sisters fic)

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

9. Home (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

“Ta-er al-Asfer,” the old woman greets with a half bow. “Your trip went well?”

10. Whirlwind (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

Laurel is just trying to enjoy the herbal tea Felicity pushed into her hand after a long night on patrol.

11. Honor (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

Laurel and Sin are kind of… buddies?

12. Blood Loss and Bendy Straws (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

“Didn’t you think?” Sara had asked. “Didn’t you think about what would happen to me and Damian?”

13. Impulse (Nyssara, Exile!verse)

Nyssa remembers.

14. Exile (Nyssara, Season 3 fix it fic, the beginning of, obvs, Exile!verse)

Sara hears the boots hit the roof and turns around in surprise to see Nyssa.

15. Twenty-One (Calzona, Thing!verse)

When the black limo screeches to a halt alongside the curb, Caroline’s first instinct is to jump back three feet.

16. We Three Things (Calzona, Thing!verse)

 “Soy oveja, baa,”    Teo declares, shaking his little butt with its tiny tail. [I’m a sheep.](AWW, Mateíto)

17. Stumbling Along (Calzona, Thing!verse)

“Esto?” [This?]

18. Delivered (Bering&Wells, ooooops Pete has a baby)

“Mykes. Help.”

19. Thirteen (Calzona, Thing!verse)

“Happy anniversary!”

20. All Hallows Things (Calzona, Thing!verse)

“I’m objecting. I just want there to be a record somewhere that I tried to save them from this humiliation.”

So...... That’s a lot of dialogue! I mean, who doesn’t love a good In Media Res beginning? And my writing is usually super dialogue heavy and centric, so it probably helps set people up with their expectations.

I’m not going to tag anyone and make them do something, but to help her get back on the writing horse - @kaleidoscopes-and-carousels