#college of grotesque arts

[maniculum]

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Two

For new people, I'm doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

If you find this interesting at all, I'm going to do, like, fifty more of these posts. So, you know, follow to see that.

Before I get started on this week’s stuff, I want to address a worldbuilding thing that occurred to me after I established the existence of the Caretakers (which was mostly done to handwave why everything isn’t covered in filth and the critters haven’t all died off): if the Caretakers are still active, why are the critters able to just roam around and establish themselves in whatever room they want? Why aren’t the Caretakers maintaining cages & pens and corralling escaped critters? 

The answer is that the Caretakers used to do these things autonomously, but this caused problems: the wizards would relocate a specimen, and the Caretakers would decide it had “escaped” and bring it back to its original location. Remembering to update the Caretakers every time they moved something around turned out to be too much of a pain, so their behavior was altered to only go after escaped critters if given a specific order or in extraordinary circumstances. (Like the critter attacking them, in which case they subdue it and put it wherever they “think” it’s supposed to be.) They also kind of do repairs, but it’s very low on their priority list and they rarely get around to it — the reason that a lot of the furniture is still present, albeit broken and rotting, is because the Caretakers will periodically restore it with fabricate or other spells if they don’t have anything else in their queue. As for cages, at least on the first floor, there aren’t any left. Caretaker One’s task of “feed metal to the fish” is higher-priority than “fix stuff”, and the cages were scavenged for this purpose pretty early on. (The create food & water effect apparently doesn’t put as much metal content into the fish food as the wizards wanted, and giving them scrap-metal supplements was supposed to be a temporary fix. If you really want to screw with your players, by the way, you could have Caretaker One come through their campsite on any night they spend on the first floor and “scavenge” any metal equipment they have laying around.)

We should also establish that the doors throughout the dungeon are rarely that securely shut, and unlocked unless otherwise noted. There are frequently large holes in them. The critters aren’t really confined anywhere, and if they do get stuck, they can escape when a Caretaker inevitably comes through the door on its rounds. I should start mentioning the doors when I do room descriptions. Or just make a Doors Table. Hm. I’ll come back to that.

Anyway, the new content is below the cut. You’ll note that the passages Appendix A likes to generate got a little out of hand in this section — good thing I already established that the ridiculous and labyrinthine layout is a feature, not a bug.

Room 1.8: f.16v

This room has a set of stairs down to the second level in the northwest corner. In the southwest corner, there’s a large metal lever mounted on the wall that looks rusted but still operative. Pulling this lever produces a grinding noise from elsewhere in the dungeon. The actual effect is that it opens a sturdy metal door in the passage to the north (the one marked “S” on the map) — this door has no handle or lock, and can’t really be opened otherwise unless the PCs want to try and bust it down. Pulling the lever again closes it. (This is my response to the incredibly pointless secret door Appendix A wanted me to put there — the door and the trigger are both obviously visible, because why would you bother to hide them?)

In this room, you will also find a cat. Yep. Just a regular-ass cat. How, you may ask, did a completely normal cat get down here? Listen. How do cats get anywhere? No, it isn’t anyone’s lost pet — it’s a feral cat that slipped down here and then stuck around because the Caretakers recognize it as an Animal and keep feeding it. (That should keep your players busy for, like, a half-hour minimum. Longer if you keep emphasizing how completely normal this cat is.)

The cat is in this room because it’s hunting mathagats. A mathagat is a creature roughly the size and shape of an earthworm, with wings and a goat’s head. They travel in… swarms? herds? clews? flocks? ... bunches, and feed on the small plants & fungi that grow on the dungeon architecture. Like algae-eater fish. There are a bunch here, grazing on a patch of some sort of mold on the east wall. I’m not going to give these guys stats, because, like… why would you? They’re not aggressive, and will fly away rather than fight. If the PCs want to catch one or smoosh one or something, just have them make a (difficult) Dexterity check. They might be able to do one point of damage with their wee little horns.

Room 1.9: f.17r

This room is fairly clear of clutter, but a few small bits of wood on the floor indicate that there used to be something here. 

The only obvious feature of this room is the presence of a long-tailed stabbybird. It’s investigating the crevices between the stones on the south wall when the PCs enter, but it seems pretty territorial and has an immediate violent reaction when the PCs open the door. A long-tailed stabbybird looks a bit like a wingless ostrich, with green feathers on the body rather than black and white, a longer beak, two weird floppy red ears, and a very, very long tail. Its tongue has sharp “teeth” along the sides, and it can stick it out rapidly to stab prey. They’re not hugely mobile, with stubby little legs, and rely on their long neck & very long prehensile tail to access stuff out of their reach — none of them have managed to exit the dungeon, so PCs won’t be familiar. This one is also suffering from Bonus Face Syndrome, and is contagious (see Room 1.3). But seriously, look how long this thing’s tail is.

Yeah. There’s a reason I just cut it off for that first image. Anyway, since I’ve made it violent, I better provide stats. As before, feel free to adjust the stats or multiply the number of creatures... Hm. Hold on. I just realized that this is the second of two aggressive monsters I’ve made and they both have Bonus Face Syndrome. Canon: In the later stages, sufferers of BFS become unusually aggressive and violent. Anyway, stats:

Long-tailed Stabbybird: CR 5, XP 1600; N Medium Magical Beast; Init +1; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +13

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (+0 Dex, +7 natural); hp 60 (7d10+21); Fort +8, Ref +5, Will +5

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft.; Melee tongue +11 (2d6+4/19-20,x3) , tail +6 (1d8+4);

Space 5 ft.; Reach 15 ft. (tail only); Special Attacks Constrict (2d6+4), Trip (tail), Grab (tail)

STATISTICS: Str 19, Dex 10, Con 16, Int 2, Wis 16, Cha 10; Base Atk +7; CMB +11 (+19 grapple, +13 trip); CMD 21 (23 against trip); Feats Greater Grapple, Improved Critical (tongue), Improved Grapple, Improved Natural Attack (tongue), Improved Trip, Lunge; Skills Perception +13; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Constrict (Ex): A Long-tailed Stabbybird can crush an opponent, dealing 2d6+4 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

Trip (Ex): A Long-tailed Stabbybird can attempt to trip its opponent as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity if it hits with its tail attack(s). If the attempt fails, the creature is not tripped in return.

Grab (Ex): If a Long-tailed Stabbybird hits with its tail attack(s), it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. Grab can only be used against targets of a size Large or smaller.

The stabbybird doesn’t use its legs unless necessary, preferring to lunge and stab with its tongue while trying to entangle & crush opponents with its long, prehensile tail. It will flee if it’s clear it’s losing the fight; it’s large enough to push the doors open if the PCs haven’t specifically taken measures to keep it from doing so. If the stabbybird is defeated or driven off and the south wall investigated, PCs may find that the crevices between the stones have been chipped away and widened. It is possible, if PCs either employ diplomacy or try to remove one of the stones from the wall, to find out what’s back there.

Behind the wall is a colony of burrowing elvets. They’re about the size of a thumb, covered in gray fur, and humanoid other than their bifurcate feet. The colony contains a few dozen of them. These aren’t creations of the wizards — like the unicorn in Room 1.5, they’re extraplanar beings that were originally brought here for study. Unlike the unicorn, they escaped. They’ve built a network of burrows behind this wall, and have been living here ever since. (They’re longer-lived than humans, but it’s still been a few generations.) They’re not exactly thrilled with their circumstances, as they have to live by scavenging and avoiding the various beaſts. (The Caretakers don’t recognize them as Things To Feed.) If the PCs can figure out a better situation for them, they might go along with it and even owe them a favor. Stats for these guys are below. Note that the alignment is listed as “LB” — this is how I handle the fae. Their morality system is somewhat alien to human perception, so, inspired by TVTropes’s “Blue-and-Orange Morality”, I list them as “Lawful Blue”. (If you’re wondering, eldritch abominations are “Chaotic Orange”.)

Burrowing Elvet: CR 1, XP 400; LB Fine Fey; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +1

DEFENSE: AC 21, touch 21, flat-footed 18 (+8 size, +3 Dex); hp 3 (2d6-4); Saves Fort -2, Ref +6, Will +4

OFFENSE: Speed 5 ft., climb 5 ft., burrow 5 ft.;  Melee dagger +5 (1d1-4/19-20,x2); Space 0 ft.; Reach 0 ft.; Spell-Like Abilities: At Will: Hide from Animals, Pass without Trace

STATISTICS: Str 2, Dex 16, Con 6, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 12; Base Atk +1; CMB -11; CMD 2; Feats Stealthy; Skills Diplomacy +6, Escape Artist +10, Handle Animal +3, Stealth +10, Survival +3, Use Magic Device +6; Languages Sylvan; Special Qualities Fey Traits

Room 1.10: f.17v

This is a large room, high-ceilinged (let’s say 50ft again) with a single door on the west wall.

There is no stone floor here — it’s open earth in which more Squirrel Oaks are growing, with oak squirrels inhabiting them. (Also various weeds have colonized the ground — feel free to add a few with medical use or other value if your players might be interested in that.) This room is something of an indoor grove, with more-or-less-normal animals inhabiting it. The animals were originally brought in as lab animals, food, or material for hybrid creation — or possibly found their way in from outside — but have since multiplied and run wild. 

There is a burrow beneath one of the oaks that contains a colony of rabbits, and a dog seems to have taken up residence in this room. The dog enjoys chasing the rabbits and squirrels. The rabbits are entirely normal, but if the PCs have any way of checking, there’s something a little magical about the dog. (If the conversation with Orm goes well, the PCs might be aware that Orm is fond of this dog and calls him Rover. If I were going back and editing previous entries, I’d add a percentage chance that Rover is present in Orm’s “hermitage”, Room 1.4.) Rover  is actually a descendant of one of the most benign experiments the wizards conducted, i.e., the Immortal Dog Project. (Even probably-evil wizards like dogs and lament their comparatively short lifespans.) Any dogs still inhabiting the dungeon are likewise descended from this experiment, which didn’t successfully make them immortal, but they do live for something like a hundred years. Some of these dogs have made their way to the outside world and interbred with their non-magical cousins, but probably not many people have noticed that some of Ller Tul’s strays seem to live an unusually long time. Rover in particular is of no identifiable breed, but is about the size of a small terrier.

There is also a flock of entirely normal birds, and a flight of less-normal giant butterflies. The butterflies (black with white spots and red stripes) are only different from their mundane counterparts in that they have a wingspan of something like a foot and a half. The birds (black-feathered, blue wings, utterly mundane) apparently eat them.

Appendix A wants me to put some treasure in this room, so: an extremely careful search will reveal a spot in the southwest corner where the soil is heaped a little higher than usual, though still overgrown with plant life. Digging in this location will reveal a few pottery jars filled with assorted coins — these are not original to the dungeon, but were stashed here by earlier explorers who didn’t want to lug them around and intended to come back for them on the way out. Judging by the plant growth over top of them, whoever put them here isn’t likely to come back at this point.

Room 1.11: f.18r

Appendix A thinks there should be a trap around here somewhere, and I’ve decided to put it on the door to this room rather than in the nearby passage it suggested. If the door is opened without the trap being disabled, the trap will summon several dragonflies to attack the opener. They’re just regular dragonflies, though, so this isn’t much of a threat. Gods only know why this trap is even here. If the trap is identified before the door is opened, examination shows that it only goes off if you don’t knock first.

This room was apparently a latrine at one point; or at least that’s the most obvious explanation for the big hole in the floor in the northwest corner. A fountain of some sort occupies the northeast corner, and seems to be still running, if not very well. (Note: there is a sort of plumbing system that connects all of the dungeon's water features together; a really dedicated (and very small) individual could probably travel around the dungeon that way.)

The fountain contains a few eel wyverns, which are pretty much what they sound like. They’re colorful, coming in shades of red and blue, but unlike their kin the toy wyvern from Room 1.2, aren’t considered particularly decorative (and haven’t been attested outside of this dungeon). Wyvern only in the roughest of outlines, these creatures are scaleless, legless, snub-nosed, and about the length of a human forearm. Eel wyverns can fly — their wings repel water like a duck’s — but it’s a clumsy sort of flight, and they spend most of their time in water by preference. They’re not aggressive if not provoked, but just in case, here are some stats. They’re still pretty harmless, aside from being venomous.

Eel Wyvern: CR 1, XP 400; N Diminutive Dragon (aquatic); Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +5

DEFENSE: AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14 (+4 size, +3 Dex); hp 16 (2d12+3); Saves Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +3; +4 vs. poison

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft., swim 10 ft., fly 10 ft.; Melee bite +3 (1d2-3 plus poison); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Poison, Amphibious

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 16, Con 9, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 4; Base Atk +2; CMB -5; CMD 8; Feats Toughness; Skills Fly +8, Perception +5, Stealth +8; Special Qualities Dragon Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Poison (Ex): An Eel Wyvern's bite attack will inflict a poison on its victims that has a Fortitude save DC of 11, a frequency of 1/round for 6 rounds, causes 1d2 Con damage, and takes two saves to cure.

Amphibious (Ex):  An Eel Wyvern has the aquatic subtype, but they can survive indefinitely on land.

I had moved on to the next room when it occurred to me that some players are going to want to search the latrine. Figuring I should put something there for those troubled souls, I considered what this abandoned latrine would be like. It’s not going to still be full of waste — the kind of people who made magical constructs to clean up after the animals would surely have those same constructs empty the latrines — so there should be something else. So: the original wooden seat having fallen apart, the latrine is currently just a hole in the floor that, theoretically, someone could fit through. It’s, let’s say, 30ft deep — if you’re a wizard making a latrine, you might go a little overboard in getting the waste as far away from you as possible, and the Caretakers can empty it with telekinesis, so there’s no downside in making it deep. It’s not designed for someone to go down there, so anyone investigating will need to make Climb checks or fall.

Down at the bottom is a chamber roughly 10ft across. Over to the side, out of sight of anyone looking down from the top, is a skeleton. This poor fellow — let’s name him Ralph — was an explorer much like the PCs, who decided to investigate the latrine, fell in, and wasn’t able to get back out (either he died from the fall or he’s just not a good enough climber). Give him some randomly-generated gear appropriate for the PCs’ level. A lot of it will have decayed — and anything metal has probably been telekinetically retrieved by Caretaker One to feed the fish in Room 1.7 — but there should be a non-metal magic item or two that has preserved itself against time to reward the PCs for checking such a ridiculous place. And maybe some precious stones or somesuch.

Room 1.12: f.18v

This room is dominated by a 20ft-diameter circular basin set into the center of the floor. It seems to be at least 30ft deep — probably deeper, but the bottom is covered in a thick layer of silt and plant matter. The stone walls have a lot of built-in shelves, counters, and compartments that probably used to be covered with cabinet doors. (This used to be a lab for experimenting with aquatic creatures.)

Right now, the inhabitants of the basin / tank / aquarium / whatever are some more eel wyverns (see Room 1.11), a school of entirely ordinary green fish, and a number of small flying insects. Not counting the plant matter and whatever tiny critters live in the silt at the bottom. 

This room is also occupied by a few giant rats — dungeon classic, that. One of them seems to be trying to catch the fish. 

A few bluebirds are hanging out on the shelves and ex-cabinets near the ceiling, keeping out of the rats’ way.

Room 1.13: f.19r

Much of the northern portion of this room is taken up by an artificial pond.

Appendix A thinks there should be a monster here, so this room contains a few very aggressive and territorial geese. Mundane geese, just angry ones. Not that that’s hugely out of the ordinary for geese. For extra fun, you may decide that one or more of these geese are actually the Horrible Goose. (Link goes to a post by @prokopetz; I believe there are other posts on putting the Horrible Goose in D&D as well, but this is the one that sticks in my head because I like how it describes the goose as having "limited ontological inertia".)

Room 1.14: f.19v

This is more of an unusual spot in the passageway than a proper room — a 10ft-by-20ft area off of the passage is an overgrown space that was probably once an herb garden of some sort. 

The area that used to be a garden is currently home to some mundane snails, hedgehogs, and mice. The hedgehogs are exceptionally adorable.

If the PCs haven’t already encountered it — I’m planning to put it on the random encounter table for this level — this is where they find the spotted boar. The spotted boar has the same stats as a mundane boar; its only unusual feature is its dramatically spotted pattern. This might be the result of magic, but might also just be from selective breeding — there are spotted pigs, after all. It is a foul-tempered beaſt and should be given a wide berth.

And that’s Week Two done. Having a lot of fun with this, but still struggling to keep the word count under control. See y’all next time, I guess.

[daydreamycrustacean]

Something I had to do for class. Posting it even though I had to rush the lines and the coloring to make it to the deadline, so it doesnt look as good as I wanted...

[ahhnini]

oh im obsessed w frat rafe tarot reader i need more

omg tysm!! <3 this was sent a while ago, but I appreciate the kind words still!! here’s more about tarot!reader!reader (still don’t know what to call her😔) this was also supposed to be just headcanons but I got carried away. hope you enjoy!! <3

the world - frat!rafe cameron x tarot card!reader! reader

warnings - cw slight verbal harassment from frat boys, suggestive at the end

texts between rafe and reader / the star

ೃ༄ her dorm room is definitely filled with her little trinkets! from crystals, calico critters, to pieces of lace, she’s got it! she’s definitely the type of person to just pull out anything from her bag if anyone needs it.

ೃ༄ don’t forget her collection of her favorite tarot decks on her bookshelf! they’re her favorite because she loves the art, but also because some have been gifted to her from her friends from home! (they miss her dearly)

ೃ༄ adding onto that, she prefers pulling her daily card from one of these decks versus digitally, as it tends to resonate more (she only looks digitally if she doesn’t want to get out of bed)

ೃ༄ her nails are always painted. she figured if she was going to be doing readings for people, she couldn’t let them look at her bare nails. however, no acrylics, she’s tried them before, but unfortunately it became difficult to pull cards out with them :(

ೃ༄ despite what people think, she’s very intelligent! she’s a business major at her school, and she’s (almost) the top of her class.

ೃ༄ her outfits alwaysss give, and she always wears her signature red platform loafers. just one class for her? she’s putting them on. running errands? strutting in them.

ೃ༄ her niche is baking, she hasn’t baked for anyone at school, except rafe! he said to start up a bake sale at their college, but she said that she only bakes for her friends. that made rafe feel fuzzy inside.

ೃ༄ however, during her third year of college, things got rough :( the school had only let freshmen and sophomores live in the dorms, and reader hadn’t been able to make any friends except rafe. rent was dangerously high around town, so she spent most of her nights in her own shop, curled up on one of her beanbags.

ೃ༄ when rafe saw you, sleeping an inch of the floor through one of the windows of the building, he immediately rushed to you, entering the security code for the door and waking you up. it startled you, of course, you had thought someone was breaking in.

ೃ༄ once rafe reassured you, he ran to the cafe across the street for some bagels and coffee, and sat you up on your beanbag. from there forward, you’d told him everything, and he listened. you’d always be there to give him advice, so he felt a little guilty about not knowing your current situation.

ೃ༄ little did you know this conversation would take a turn of events you’d never expect.

ೃ༄ he smiles brightly as you both stand in front of his frat house, a small “ta-da” coming from his mouth. the hand around your suitcase clutched tighter as you try and stop yourself from nervously chuckling. he grabs your free hand, dragging you up the steps of the manor. he knocks on the front door, and you look at the ground, the clacking of your loafers becoming echoed.

ೃ༄ you put up a small smile when the frat president opens the door, he nods and introduces himself as jay before welcoming you and rafe in.

ೃ༄ it had been cleaner than you’d expected, minus some empty water bottles strewn across the floor. you didn’t know why, but from all the rumors you’ve heard, you were expecting something a bit more…grotesque.

ೃ༄ you make your way up the grand stairs, rafe carrying your suitcase, mumbling about how you have more trinkets in there than clothes. he shows you his room, and it was the complete opposite of your previous dorm. it was minimalist, barely any decor, and filled with monochrome black and white. bleh. the only pop of color that he had were the crystals he’d bought from you, which shine on his windowsill. “how do you live like this?” you ask, dropping to your knees and opening up your suitcase. he shrugs, “just like it like this,” you dramatically shiver your shoulders and he scoffs.

ೃ༄ your nerves didn’t calm down at all when rafe showed you around the house, and it had to be the time when most of the boys got back from their classes. although jay stated that rafe’s friend was going to be staying, he failed to mention said friend was a lady. especially the one whos reputation was said to be very antisocial around campus.

ೃ༄ some ogled, it was a given, some already gave you their numbers, adding a note to “call them if you get stuck in the washing machine” (ew) (and you swore you could’ve seen them with their girlfriends around town). nevertheless, rafe shut them all down, wrapping a protective arm around you.

ೃ༄ once dinner came around, you were amazed at the en suite buffet the house offered, sitting across rafe with your hefty plate of food.

ೃ༄ once night rolled around, you quickly realized that you and rafe had to sleep in the same bed, as there were no spares. you’d been fine with it, and rafe said he was fine with it, but you doubted that claim when he kept moving around throughout the night.

ೃ༄ eventually, he’d found a comfortable spot, spooning you, and you tried your best to not be bothered by his hardness pressing up against you as you drifted to sleep.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Unnecessarily Convoluted Analysis of TWST Dorm Architecture

Putting that Art History degree to use 💪 I am getting my Masters in art history, so I am like semi qualified?? to do this. Tried my best with some of the dorms since some don't have an explicit cultural/architectural parallel irl. And obviously lots of liberties taken since I'm sure the people at Disney were not going for historical accuracy

Masterlist here

Much of this analysis can from my Spolia fic (Malleus x Light Fae MC)

Diasmonia: Early Gothic

Gothic- but early gothic. It's got a few flying buttresses, indicative of technology in later gothic movements- but in combination to the lower ceilings (lower than later gothic), fewer levels (celestory, triforium, doric columns, and shorter windows makes me think it's early gothic (more towards Norman architecture/Sens Cathedral), because it's a lot simpler and less technologically developed than high gothic (larger windows, rose windows, higher and pointier style, flying buttresses, more decorative stuff like Corinthian columns and stained glass). Still, I think the Fae would be been more concerned with its structural integrity against the waves of time- therefore gargoyles become a very prominent symbol in protecting this eternity and preservation of architecture since it basically prevents rain/weather from eating away at the building.

There's some interesting symbolism with Malleus' fixation with gargoyles, but I'm sure you can make that connection on your own based on what's out in Chapter 7 and how he reacts to both Lilia's and MC'S impending goodbyes.

Gothic was actually a term used by the French to demean the style, since it was seen as more 'savage' and 'lower' than classical architecture- which is symmetrical, solid, and values very literal and realistic (albeit idealized) characterization. Gothic architecture in contrast is a lot more airy, focuses on light and windows, and values more allegorical representations, which is why it resonated so well with the religious ruler and monarchies because they were able to not-so-subtly point to their influence and power in every single way without it being in your face all the time.

Because of this very stank contrast, it was labeled as "gothic" because people were criticizing it to be "savage" and "unkept". The goths were painted this way because they were mainly responsible for Rome's downfall, leading to the dark ages. Regardless of the French ruthlessly roasting the goths, this type of design flourished after the dark ages because technology was beginning to be advanced once more, and materials were more readily available.

My theory would be that the fae began to first develop this architecture because they had the advantage of magic, but then the humans were influenced by it- which leads them to high gothic (Noble Bell College), as well as Baroque and Rococo architecture (like the Pomefiore dorm). The Fae kept their style of early gothic since they didn't really see a point in changing much- maybe just more decorative gargoyles called grotesque as a symbol of the Fae's gratitude in their protection against time.

Also the hallways have what are almost like ribbed vaults which was one of the primary and first symbols of gothic architecture because they allowed more weight to be distributed to the vaults, and therefore allow for bigger windows.

Another distict characteristics in gothic architecture are clearly defined elevations.

Traditionally, they will have the celestial at the top, then gallery, then the main arcade (especially as we get into the later gothic periods and buildings get even taller and taller). Of course Disney isn't completely accurate with these things, but it seems that they're sort of going for that vibe, as many things end up being as our contemporary notions of historical design often creates a vague iconography of things that is often a copy of a copy of a copy of the original medium.

However I do think the intention to mimic the original design is still there overall, and combined with many of the other elements such as the prevalence of pointed arches that are a symbol of gothic architecture, and the sheer number of windows that were allowed originally due to the technological advances of the gothic era (and of course Malleus' own obsession with gargoyles), I think it would make sense to categorize this is like "gothic adjacent".

If I were to redesign the diasmonia dorm however, I would definitely begin by fixing the exterior- but I think they were referencing Malificent's tower in the Disney movie than any sort of historical accuracy lol. You win some, you lose some.

Pomefiore: Rococo with a touch of Art Noveau

Very obviously modeled after French Rococo architecture- the illustration of the hallways of Pomefiore dorm are almost exactly like the Palace of Versailles

It is definitely a toned down version- but pretty spot on, right? When I first saw the Pomefiore dorm I immediately Googled a picture of the Palace of Versailles cause I knew I saw it somewhere. Autistic spidey senses at it again.

Honestly wish they went more all out with the chandeliers, and had painted ceilings on the dorm colors- but I feel like they got the general vibes right. It feels closer to Romanesque with its simplicity but it still holds an aura of decadence and frivolity that I like. Very rich, extravagant like it's members (maybe not so much Epel lol)

Elements of Art noveau in the furniture (the peacock chair) and the embroidery of the uniforms.

Also, the peacock chair sort of reminds me of James McNeill Whistler's Peacock Room. He was an American impressionist that was sort of the forefront of art nouveau, since impressionism was one of the mainstream movements that really began the explosion of Japanese inspired design that is also used in Art Nouveau aesthetic.

(Vil would definitely have this room if he could)

The carpet in the room reminds me of William Morris' designs, and just art nouveau in general.

As far as I can tell, the exterior is based on a variety of German castle styles from 13th century Romanesque styles, to 18th century Neo-Gothic styles. Which is coincidentally what a lot of the castles on Disneyland are based off of.

Everything is very florial, Corinthian, and extravagant. I love it. It's very baroque, I dig it.

Scarabia

Please don't come for me I'm not as well versed in Non-Asian and Non-Western architecture except for religious architecture in Turkey and Jerusalem so I'm gonna try my best with this one

So I think it mixes a lot of the icons we think of in association to Arabic architecture like domes, pointed/ogee (rounded, then pointed)/multifoil (multiple curves) arches, and ornate floral designs that derive from the use of calligraphy in Islamic structures (as iconography, or pictures depicting the faces and bodies of religious figures were not allowed).

And I think all those tiny buildings resemble Minarets, or tall towers built adjacent to mosques where the muezzin can issue the call to prayer. But the artists were probably like "hm. Not enough. How do we make it more arabic??" And of course the contemporary orientalist perspectives that dominate the artistic realm made they go "quick just add a bunch of domes"

I think Kalim's room and the lounge in particular best shows the general "airiness" that parallels Islamic acthicture (ie the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque on UAE)

Open air courtyards are also a characteristic element of Islam architecture, which you can see with the areal view of the dorm, and also makes sense with Kalim's unique magic.

Jali window designs (the intricate gold metal covers on the arches) are also popular on Islamic architecture

The Haga Sophia in particular has been described to have a dome "suspended by the heavens", as the section connecting the building and the dome is made entirely of arches that allows the sunlight from the heavens to pour inside the building. Though the haga Sophia is a very special case, as it was occupied by varying religions with different architectural styles at certain periods- I think it's also a good representation of our contemporary prototype of Arabian architecture that makes up the final design of the dorm.

Ignihyde: Classical Greek

Looks like it's modeled after the Parthenon, which was built during the Classical period on Greece where Athens was flourishing as a center of mathematics, technology, and architecture. These are sentiments which becomes reflected in the Renaissance afterwards, such as symmetry and a very systemic way of approaching things. I think it fits perfectly with this dorm, since they're the "tech geeks" of NRC

It's got your pediment, your doric columns (would have preferred ionic columns but whatever Disney), your arcades. Pretty straight forward unlike the actual movie it's based off of lol (Hercules has so so many mythological inconsistencies. Like why are you talking about Achilles in the movie??? Trojan was hasn't even happened babe stop manifesting that shit)

I think the symmetry and order of Classical Greek design goes well with the overall futuristic look Ignihyde and the Island of Woe are going for. Pretty clever, Disney.

Heartslabyul: Tudor Revival Style

Though Alice in Wonderland is set in the later 19th century, I think the Tudorian Revival style than began in the beginning of the 20th century just shortly later fits best.

Turdorian revival style is characterized through half timbering, which is like the timber panels you see on the surface of the building; oriel windows (windows that jut out); mock battlements; and courtyards.

The Tudorian revival style also takes elements from Elizabethan era architecture and perpendicular gothic architecture, hence the long gallery and the tudorian four point arch)

The glass panes in the lounge leaves me to believe it's sort of like a glass house where part of the house is sort of like a greenhouse. This is characteristic of Victorian glasshouses that rose with the availability of timber, paint, and brick and the popularity of botany in the Victorian era propelled by botanical imports from British colonies. Architecrs like Joseph Paxton were also known for his opus magnum- the Crystal Palace, which held the Great Exhibition of 1851 (kind of like a world expo with the theme of industry and art) also popularize the movement- and was a significant sign of wealth, as glass and window taxes were especially high. But in the later century when iron and steel frame construction was advanced, people could be built out of iron and window panes, so they could be assembled easily, and also afforded by middle class citizens.

So it's basically a mix of Elizabethan and Victorian revival styles (tudorian and gothic), which is in theme with the Victorian period the original media is set in, albeit taking inspiration from styles little later in the period.

Savanaclaw:

Again- I am blind when it comes to Non-Asian/Non-Western architecture- but this one was kinda confusing cause it really doesn't have any architectural cohesivity??? Like it's just got a general "jungle vibe" which I'm not surprised at because Disney is infamous for glossing over non-white cultures and kind of just simplifying them into a "general vibe" which wow yikes my guy

Kind of reminds me of Mese Verde, which are structures made directly within a cliffside, or the Great Mosque of Djenné and the African Heritage house in Kenya which have very smoothed, natural designs that blend into the environment

What I could gather from my research and my juicy autistic brain, savannas are regularly subjected to wild fires- so a lot of the heavy, rocky architecture and interior style makes sense, opposed to one made of wood (which are mostly in the inside of the structure, besides the roof which I imagine is less likely to catch on fire). Much of the building seems also to be directly carved within natural rock formations- a very functional use of the resources around you- very savannaclaw!

The textiles in each of the dorm members' rooms resemble Kente fabric, a style of hand weaving from Ghana, originally reserved for royalty but now commonly worn for ceremonial occasions and such. Also unlike other African textiles styles, it's strictly a male practice. I think it would make sense for Sunset Savanna, a place where women are highly respected and perhaps take on more political and military positions- leaving largely men to the practice of textile making (both are honorable acts- not comparing the two). There aren't distinguished aesthetic styles of textiles that differentiate each weaving from another- rather, it is divided by technique and region- so this is not like a definite connection, just thought it was interesting to includle

Textiles seem to occupy the only decorative role in the entire dorm- so perhaps there is significant cultural significance? Maybe there is a certain region that's known for their practices? Or is weaving a symbol of adulthood or growth and therefore is why they're hung up in each of the dorm member's rooms with the exception of Ruggie, who may not have had the socioeconomic privilege of making one? Or does the practice vary across species? Much to speculate 🤔

Octavinelle: Art Deco and Art Nouveau

Saved this one for last because oh boy I don't even know where to start with this. Obviously the design is very creative and I love it, but there's a lot less historical elements I can use to analyze the style, kind of like the Savanah claw exterior.

But it leans towards the art deco style, which is most fitting for the business dorm I think.

Elements of Art deco like geometric aspects of design, thematic and aesthetic consistency, and decorative/geometric windows are seen throughout the dorm interior and exterior

But I think the art nouveau elements are also there too, with the cheeky sea-themed elements that use natural shapes and icons into the architecture, design, and surfaces of the dorm.

Otherwise, not much else to say about this dorm 🤷 it's not really based in anything historical but there are bits and pieces of art nouveau and art deco in there, but I definitely wish they would lean more into the art deco elements since I think it would go well with the general themes of the dorm values.

So uh, yeah. Told you it would be convoluted.

Feel free to add and or correct!

[yuurei20]

Silver Info Compilation part 7: Silver and Malleus

While Silver is quieter in general than Sebek he seems equally devoted to Malleus, with voice lines like, “I hope to attend a Night Raven College ceremony alongside Malleus”, “I’ve no desire to reflect poorly on Malleus”, “I train myself ardently to better protect Malleus and his entourage” and “The stronger I get, the better I can protect Malleus. That is why I seek as much power as I can get.”

When Malleus compliments Kalim and Deuce during New Years he says that one might say they have “taken on the mien of a true guardian”, and when Sebek responds with poorly Silver responds that his envy his “understandable”.

Silver worries about performing poorly in a class and being an embarrassment to Malleus in a vignette, and explains to Idia that he “cannot let anything happen to Malleus”.

Idia comments that maybe Silver’s loyalty is just a result of scared to defy Malleus, and Silver responds, “I will do anything for the man I have pledged my loyalty to.”

Vil has learned how to take advantage of Silver’s loyalty to Malleus manipulate him, namedropping Malleus to pressure Silver into participating in a Film Club project (“Does he mean to say that I will sully Malleus’ good name if I refuse?…I cannot bring shame upon Malleus”) and to get Silver to join his group during Beanfest.

During Spectral Soiree Cater encourages Silver to share his woes with himself and Jamil, with the ulterior motive of picking up “some secret intel on Malleus Draconia”.

While just as loyal to Malleus as Sebek Silver and Sebek differ in opinion on how strict they ought to be with guarding him: Silver tells Malleus that if he ever finds Sebek's presence stifling he should tell him “as clearly as possible”, while Sebek insists he wouldn’t dream of stifling their liege.

Silver expresses exasperation of Sebek’s insistence to do things like handle clothing stains on Malleus’ behalf despite Malleus being perfectly capable of such simple feats of magic.

In a vignette Silver explains to Kalim that he and Sebek got into an argument over the strictness of their patrols, with Sebek accusing him of negligence toward Malleus.

Silver is distraught by the thought that he has hurt Malleus by failing to understand his feelings, saying that he couldn’t even eat his favorite risotto at lunch, as “Whenever I lifted my spoon, I would think of Malleus and stop.”

(After Kalim reveals that he “would be completely lost” without Jamil, however, Silver decides that being overprotective must be avoided at all costs.)

In a vignette Malleus invites Silver out to introduce him to the school’s gargoyles as a part of his Gargoyle Study Club activities, but is consistently disappointed in Silver’s inability to tell the difference between a gargoyle and a grotesque, and his presumption that gargoyles are generally monsters.

After receiving a lecture Silver tells Malleus that he feels they have grown closer, and he wishes to gift Malleus with a gargoyle for his room.

The vignette ends with Malleus beginning a new lesson on gargoyles to teach Silver “at greater length.”Silver losing track of Malleus is a common theme repeated in Phantom Bride and at least one vignette, but in the main story we see that it is not exactly Silver’s fault: it seems there are times when Malleus actively runs away from him and Sebek, leaving Silver to take the blame.Malleus says there “is something to be said” for the level of perseverance that drives Silver to train hard every morning.

The two characters have interesting overlap through lines about things that do not betray you: hard work for Silver, stars for Malleus.

・Silver Info Compilation Part 1: Humor ・Silver Info Compilation Part 2: Sleeping ・Silver Info Compilation part 3: Animals, Art and Floyd ・Silver Info Compilation part 4: Appearance and Emotions ・Silver Info Compilation part 5: Sebek (pt1) ・Silver Info Compilation part 6: Silver and Sebek (pt2)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The arranged verse hurts so good omg, the balance in angst and more peaceful moments is just perfect 🤌

"Why the checkerboard motifs?" Bruce asked, frowning at the lunch you'd neglected in favor of creating your references.

"What's life but one big game?" you counter shrugging. You don't feel like baring your soul. Or explaining.

"Hn."

Bruce walked closer to the table you were staging things on and watched- he'd learned you didn't mind being watched as long as you weren't interrupted. And as he watched you with your wooden figures, he had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Have you never taken any Live model drawing-"

"God no," you snort. "People naked? In a room of nuns and unmarried ladies? The horror."

"Even in college?"

"I studied art history not Art," you remind. "I took classes on different things when my parents permitted but not anything too... well interesting."

"God forbid you see a bare chest."

"Outside of fashion week? On the off chance, I see something remotely scintillating? Nonsense."

"That explains the anatomy but not-"

"Creative liberties mostly. Sometimes I like to twist things to see how far I can contort it before it becomes grotesque."

"Hn."

He watched wondering what the bits of ugly fabric was for- this was a bigger piece. Spread on multiple canvases. One scene flowing into the next. It blurred and warped like he was seeing it out a car window. Dabbling with impressionism? Venting your confusion?

Answers that weren't answered. Self-taught techniques and a vast knowledge of past painters and their works.

It tracked but still left him with no good picture of your internal landscape. Your own mythology and symbolism known only to yourself. He knew what the flowers were SUPPOSED to mean. He know what a lot of things were SUPPOSED to mean but what they meant to you he couldn't say.

Annoying. It left him annoyed. Batman could have gotten it out of you. But now he couldn't get any more than straight forward information. And he hated it.

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

Weekly Tag Wednesday! Hi everyone!

thanks for tagging me +hey lovelies @creepkinginc @lingy910y @energievie and @spookygingerr

Name: gigi 🐇

When is your birthday: August 23rd

Where do you call home? Brooklyn baby! i think after 7 years i can call myself a new yorker, right? probably not

How many pets do you have? None!

What do you do for work? I'm an architect but I recently quit my shitty job so I'm currently self unemployed doing freelance work and looking for a new firm which is a pretty fun way to spend the summer tbh.

also im applying to a bunch of random design related jobs that seem interesting 'cause why not, and one of the exciting ones was designing book covers for a publishing house here in nyc which would be super fun bc i already kind of do that as a hobby right here with all of you!

Do you believe in aliens? in a sense

Do you believe in ghosts? no but stick me in a dark old place by myself and watch my tune change on a dime

Favorite subject in school? art/history/english/physics/statistics (i loved school)

What are you currently reading? braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer! its amazing and i think everyone should read it and investigate their relationship with ecology but nonfiction takes so long for me to read im ready to close it, appreciate it, and then eat a fiction novel whole in a grotesque act of laziness

What are you currently watching? i just finished rewatching the bear to prepare for season three tonight!

What kind of laptop do you have (+ describe it to me): macbook pro, looks brand new bc im very careful with it after it replaced my college studio laptop that went though hell and back

What kind of phone do you have (+ describe it to me): iphone with a plain pink silicone case

No-show socks, ankle socks, or crew socks? ankle and cute crew socks i hate no show socks

What kind of headphones do you use? airpod max noise canceling i love them so much

How do you consume caffeine? coffee, matcha, and recently iced teas

And finally, what are you wearing today? a denim skirt i have had since i was literally 14 bc i'm the slow fashion final boss, a white cotton spaghetti strap blouse with a blue scarf holding my hair back and im barefoot rn bc im at home but i was wearing white fila sneakers (with ankle socks)

tagging (or saying hello):

@jrooc @mmmichyyy @atthedugouts @gallawitchxx

@softmick @heymrspatel @mickeym4ndy @ian-galagher

@blue-disco-lights @iansw0rld @suzy-queued @mickittotheman

@mybrainismelted @em-harlsnow @howlinchickhowl @sirrudo

@deathclassic @doshiart @metalheadmickey

[postmortiem]

𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 ℂ𝕆ℕ𝔻𝕀𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊 / 𝔸𝔻𝔻𝕀ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊 .

Tw for addiction, mental illness, substance abuse, ask to tag

You ever ask yourself  " Hey, why the hell is Kiki like that ? "  ?  Yeah, me too. But I came to bring you the answers TONIGHT ! For free ! If you have read my badly written backstory for her, you have a vague idea. I will go a little more in-depth with this post.

Kiki spent around 10 years at Otto's Oddities, starting working there in her early 20s  &  was introduced to much stress, manipulation  &  the struggle to be seen  &  meet her boss' expectations. They were the only people running the shop so she felt like her own subsistence was on the table at all times. Which was, to be fair. Luring in visitors with success was only met with coming up with more obscene  &  grotesque items in their shop. Lots of creativity.

I took inspiration of Salvador Dalí  ( which I wrote a very extensive essay about for my college of further education in arts in the past ) . To not get too heavily into the topic, parts of his deal were that he tried to make himself develop mental illnesses, such as depression, to expand his creativity  &  art. Otto, Kiki's former boss/owner tried exactly that with her. She was his little guinea pig, testing out substances to first make her stay awake for vastly longer than usual  &  eventually drifting off to more harsher drugs meant for boosting her imagination  ( so she could come up with better stuff to sell customers ) . A little list of substances  &  herbs are down below, she still takes these to this day. The chamber in her mask's beak is for holding exactly that.

Unsurprisingly, Kiki became addicted over time  &  reliant on Otto  ( he knew the mixture  &  of course did not share the recipe with her to keep her obedient  &  disciplined ) . After the main backstory, she spent probably months figuring out the combination most similar to his.

Part of her ingame questline would be to make her overcome her addictions, because as much as it is practical in combat, it drains Kiki, obviously. Being dependent on that stuff obviously is not good or healthy. She calls it her medicine, like Otto did. Kiki is very vocal about how her medication is similar to everyone's morning coffee. Mind-altering, but becoming necessary for living. Getting her clean is also the last obstacle to cut ties with her past  &  Otto ; letting her finally heal completely.

[trashlama]

YAN!FUTURE!DONNIE X READER!!

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Heeeeeeyyyyy guess whose back!

This is a part of I guess this series of one shots I got going on. →This post can explain more←

This is the image I used for Donnie in this one. ↓

Art isn't mine but the design is radical!

Sorry this took so long. Honestly I almost didn't post it cause I didn't like how it came out. Like I kept trying to fix it to how I like it buuutt, this was the best that I could do. I might try rewriting it or somethin'. I was just trying to change it up buuutt, I suck. Did my best with the proof reading. Probably could have tried to proof read it more.

Honestly this fic is pretty dark. Originally was darker.

Please no minors, 18+ only!(There's no smut or anything sexual, just a lot of technically triggering elements)

The meme in this fic is not mine I just found them on Pinterest and they were too good.

Read the creator's notes below for more!

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Humming computer fans and diligent typing filled the silent void in the poorly lit room. If not for the obscured ominous glow of the various monitors littering the labatory you would've believed you had gone completely blind. Having already lost the vision on your right to the slimy pink tentacle bastards who transformed your planet into the living Hell on Earth.

Guess religion was right about something. At The End of Days the devil came for the damned. And in spite of your mother's faithful beliefs, there was never a savior to come swop away the righteous to the selective pearly gates of the Heaven she had mindlessly prayed to. She was wrong. Her savior locked her out.

There would be no salvation. Not for anyone.

Instead for the first thirteen years after the Krrang's invasion you suffered. Everyone suffered.

Shit hit the fan and it splattered like a chocolate pie in bad clown gag.

Overnight the world you had grown up in changed for the worse. Blind to the way society crumbled and turned into a Mad Max film. Unaware of the great loss. Naive and young you weren't prepared for the grotesque violence that replaced your boring mundane life that you had taken for granted.

How you wish there was a way to go back.

Return to days where your only worries were filling out job applications to move out of your mother's abode and getting into a good college. Begging whatever deities listened to accept you to one of the variety of schools you had applied for. Preferably one more than five hundred miles away from the run-down neighborhood in the Bronx you lived in. You've always wanted to travel the country and college opened up that opportunity to do so. Had everything gone according to plan you would've started your first semester that following fall.

Though it wasn't meant to be. Instead you spent that lonely winter, grieving

" (Y/n) "

At the call of your name the chain that hung from around your neck clanked as a single (e/c) orb snapped out of its routine day-dreams to look towards the owner of the tired deep voice that had called to you. It was Donatello. Said ninja turtle kneeling at your side next to the cot you both shared.

Within the nest of sheets you retracted from the curled position you had been laying in on top of the bed spread. A multi-paterned stitched quilt gifted by one of the softshell turtle's brothers— you forget who; rested at your feet, unused. Protecting thin (skin tone) skin from the piercing cold was a worn pair of faded PJs that consisted of a dark green long sleeve with fluffy grey plaid bottoms. The odd attire didn't bother you in the slightest. When living in the apocalypse fashion hardly matters. If it was usable it was wearable.

Despite of your efforts to block the aged mutant out by focusing your lone (e/c) gaze on soothing else. The Large cold hand of Donatello's petting the top of your head was all your traumatized receptors could focus on. Three lengthy jade digits combing rouge strands of unkept (h/l) (h/c) hair away from their position in your face. Wandering fingertips skimmed over your missing right eye. Playing with the white medical eye patch that kept the old wound hidden. Had this been seven months ago you would've already been trying to bite the technological General's scared appendage off. Though now at this point you just let the mutant do whatever. You didn't care.

The same regard was held when the purple clad turtle observed you. Anything and everything that flashed across your face was cataloged by your analyzing capter's dark narrowed stare. A common occurrence that never faltered in its repetitiveness.

Exhaustion dominated the aged jade complexion of Donatello's. His expression would be read bored if not for the controlled obsession that lurked in pools of night.

You always did like his eyes. Even when they were hidden behind the dual frames perched on his snout. One half a traditional prescription lens the other a crimson infrared optic that provided extra assistance to the current wearer. Like a moth to the flame you were drawn to the night sky he held in those dark pools.

"You're wasting the food Mikey brought you" the softshell flatly chastised. Those same magnetic dark eyes that had been locked with yours turned away momentarily to retrieve something from beside him. The tattered greyish purple cloak he wore tied loosely around his sturdy shoulders draped forward revealing the silver cybertronic mechanical substitute for his left arm. A necessary loss for the cause he dutifully worked for.

You hadn't respond to his comment.

For a moment you began to sink back into your land of memories if it had not been for the scrapping metal of the fork against the plate that was now in the purple bandana wearing turtle's grasp. Stabbing at the rations that the commissary passed out earlier that day. At least you're assuming it's day. It's hard to tell when you never leave the underground base, let alone the prison of Donatello's lab that doubled as his quarters.

Back in reality something moist pressed against your bottom lip.

"Eat."

Robotically you obeyed.

You learned a long time ago that starving doesn't work. It was this or the feeding tub. At least this didn't hurt your throat. The ache in your esophagus from the experience lasted for weeks after. Bile threatening to rise if you focused any longer on the nightmarish memory.

Up till the plate was cleared the mutant continued to feed you. Picking at the dish's portions until there was nothing left. After which the adult ninja turtle placed the cutlery to the side before taking a corner of his faded cloak to wipe away the food residue left around your mouth. Repeating the same method with the plastic cup that sat precariously on the table to the other side of you next to the cement wall.

For a moment his calculative narrowed gaze stared at you before deciding something.

"...I have to go work on the faulty pump in the filter for the hydroponic system in the Agriculture Unit later...." Thick brows frowed together in an unsure manner upon his purple-clad forehead as he continued. ".....would you be interested in joining me for the endeavor?" The aged ninja finally prompted.

You didn't respond.

Had this been seven months ago you would've replied with an immediate yes. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Back then you would've thought somebody, anybody, would help you.

But if that were the case you would've been free already.

It wasn't necessarily a secret that you belonged to the purple bandana wearing brainiac. On the contrary it was a well known fact amongst the inhabitants of the base. It was just an unspoken topic. An issue that the Commander and the rest of the generals much rather sweep under the rug than to confront.

You learned it the hard way.

You had managed to get away somehow after Donatello first claimed you. Before the chained leash that pooled around you became a permanent fixture. In its place there had been a small amount of leeway the softshell gifted you. A fragile trust you didn't bother to strengthen prior to your attempt two months into your captivity. Maybe things would've been different.

You had told Donnie you were just gonna go to the commissary and get them some lunch. Claimed you were trying to be a nice, good partner. You didn't want to disturb the important work you were so proud of him for. Like a termite at Home Depo he ate it up. A bashful smile stretched across his jade complexion that was burnt red.

Playing the serpent who tricked Adam, you slithered from the technological garden of paradise. Departing with a false display of affection. Pride filled you from the phenomenal performance you gave.

Taking flight to the wind you ran down the Resistance headquarters hallways. Without meaning too you lost yourself around the twist and turns of unfamiliar corridors. Your limited vision and even less knowledge of the section's layout not being of much aid to your mission. Especially since prior to your imprisonment you hadn't ventured to this area since it was restricted to Resistance officers way above your ranking.

Though your plan was to run into someone. Anyone who could help you. You were gonna rat out that purple techno creep. He needed to pay. You were fed up with this stupid apocalypse.

Eventually after sprinting down the halls for God knows how long. You found your self face first into the plastron of General Michelangelo.

"Wwhooo! Slow down little missy! You're gonna give this old man a scare!" The greying box turtle joked even though you weren't very much younger than him. Catching your charging figure easily between rough moss palms. Out of breath you began spewing your story. Begging the mystic mutant to help you get away from his crazy purple coded brother.

"Oooohh, so yoouurr (Y/n)..." The youngest general gathered. Aged face scrunching up in a contemplative way, as if he was thinking. For a moment you had thought maybe the mutant turtle knew who you were cause somebody had reported your missing presence. Realized that you had been stolen by one of the very leaders they worked under. Unfortunately that was not the case.

"Yes! I'm (Y/n)! Your brother Donatello, he—"

"Said that if you got lost to return you to him!~"

What.

It was too late to retreat. You didn't even have the chance to react before the orange clad General had you on the ground. Wind punched from your lungs by the sudden force. Mouth mimicking a fish out of water as you gasped for much needed air. Next thing you knew your hands were bound behind your back by the same orange bandana wearing mutant you sought aid from. Kicking and screaming as the moss green Hamato sibling dragged you back to where you had started.

Entering the lab Michaelangelo greeted his flabbergasted older brother. Sporting a wide cheshire grin as he released his grip on you to only then in the same motion push your unbalanced wobbly stature forward caching yourself on Donatello's chest. Leaving shortly after with some sort of fucked up quip you couldn't hear past the pounding in your ears. Heart jackhammering painfully against your ribs. The beat too powerful for any other sound to break it's dominating rythem.

Were you about to have a heart attack?A stroke? You couldn't tell. You didn't think people your age had them.

Once left alone the white hot fury you had expected never came. No beating. Nor any dismemberment of a limb. There were no threats made for your dire transgression. No shouts or screams of possessive anger. Only unnerving still silence.

Somehow that was worse.

You lied. You tried to leave. You made a scene with his younger brother only for said orange clad sibling to drag you back like the dog who got out.

The first ten–fifteen minutes you both just stood there. There were no excuses nor pleading from your part. Just utter overwhelming suffocating quite. The jade and purple tattooed complexion of the General's who stood before you was drained to match snow. Face displaying a composed, conserved expression to anyone who was looking in from the outside.

Unfortunately for you it was always Donatello's dark eyes that gave everything away.

Hurt. He was undeniably wounded by the injury. You broke the thin veil of trust he gave you. You could have done whatever you wanted. As long as you didn't stray far from him. Stayed and supported him. It was all he wanted.

The softshell was so happy when you forged that lie believing the act to be true. Believing that you cared about his health and work. Being kind and supportive enough to trek and retrieve both of your guys' lunch. Except upon his younger mutant brother's arrival the fantasy he was living in was broken. It was all a lie. You deceived him. Betrayed the tempered trust that two of you shared. A thin string you willing snipped.

Saltwater streaks poured down in silent bunches as the aged ninja turtle lowered his head. He really thought you had loved him as you whispered sweet claims from soft deceiving lips that kissed his heated cheek a farewell. Departing with that smile that made his heart race. Donatello was hurt. And so the turtle did the only thing that would hurt you just as much as you had hurt him.

Had you known what he was going to do maybe you would've fought harder than you had.

No words were exchanged as the mutant scientist tied your jittery limbs to your paralyzed figure. Plastic white ties zipped painfully tight around (skinned tone) appendages. Though fear hadn't taken it's full course until the softshell began to secure a thick fabric around your head, blinding you. Finding the immediate endless world of black frightening.

"Please— don't do this— I-I'm sorry!" You plead as large cold hands slide a set of what you assume are noise canceling buds into your ears. You couldn't catch your breath. Your heart wouldn't still itself as it fought for space within your ribcage. "Please! I— mphmfh!"was all you could cry before lastly a gag was stuffed into your teriffied jaws. Based on the texture of the rough fabric you deduced it was most likely an old gym sock from the clothing bin. The worn garment scratched at the roof of your mouth making you taste cooper.

Donnatello hadn't planned to use this method this early on but, this was a lesson that needed to be learned. He was going to deprive you of your senses. Leave you lost just as he would've been without you. Maybe then you'd understand.

For some time you were just scared shitless. Frightful of the purple coded general's unknown intentions. Was he gonna torture you? Kill you and keep the body? The imaginary list was much more scary than the actual first quarter of the punishment . Thankfully nothing happened. The turtle left you be. Probably just watching you from his typical spinny chair from in front of the large monitor dominating the room. The motherfucker probably felt like Batman or some shit sipping on his coffee as you the Joker— fucked around in the holding tube.

When the endless darkness started to pick at your already aggravated anxiety you had tried to force yourself asleep to escape the void. However you found the effort quickly fruitless. Trapped without sound or any background stimulation aside from the limited range of touch at your disposal made the task feel impossible. Dissolving lines between real and what was not becoming harder to differentiate with every passing unknown second.

Attempts to keep your sanity felt futile in spite of efforts to keep the screws forming coming loose. Clawed (skin tone) palms and curling toes only did so much. When all else failed you felt only one thing could be done. You need to feel something. Anything. You couldn't do this anymore. The scratches in your palms did not suffice.

Doing what you felt was your only choice in your spiralling panic. You began to throw yourself around across the lab's tile floor. Using your upper body and knees you inch worm around the room. Purposely banging yourself into anything and everything so you may injure yourself. Feeding your starved receptors with whatever painful sensations you could produce.

Donatello was quick to remove the suppressors once you really started injuring yourself. Most likely calling it when the various wounds littered your (s/c) skin began to form. Following the path you had squirmed eyes like La Brea tar pits found speckles of crimson decorating a variety of the objects in his workspace. As if a baby crawled around repainting his lab with dots of red.

What a pain. Couldn't you have just accepted the punishment like an adult? Now he was gonna have to clean up this mess later. But alas just as many great minds of science had taught him. There was always a price to be paid for results. Maybe he should've just thrown you into solitary or made a modification or two to your Achilles tendons.... Next time.

Cold hands without delay discarded the ear buds and spit soaked sock. Your chest was still rising too fast. You were gonna puke if you stayed any longer in the dark. Though once the blind fold was discarded the softshell turtle's concerned expression was the first thing you saw. The sight of another instantly calming the bees stabbing your stomach lining. A flash of worry glimmered in those pools of ink. Only for the emotion to be consumed by the sticky black tar that lurked beneath.

"Did you learn your lesson?" The purple tattooed turtle questioned softly as he scooped your zip tied bound form into his mix matched arms. Combination of flesh and steel cradling you as he maneuvered towards his cot. Donatello was aware that you have one too but, recently the color coded general had been considereing just having you sleep with him. It'd save him space.

"I doubt it." he chided with a small grin that didn't match his eyes as he laid you down. Tucking you into his barely used sheets.

You didn't bother to request for him to remove the plastic bonds as exhaustion dragged you into the realm of slumber. Senses finally relaxing thanks to some stimulation. Allowing the phantom hand caresse the curve of your cheek as you drifted away.

When you awoke your injuries were bandaged and the plastic that had restrained you was gone. In the zip ties stead was a steel collar and chain hooped around the deadbolt installed in the cool tiled floor of the purple brainiac's lab. The same device you wore to this present day.

"(Y/n).... (Y/n)..."

"(Y/n)....."

"(Y/n)"

Oh no you got lost in your memories again didn't you? Based on the softshell's expression, your answer would be yes.

"(Y/n)... I think you should come with me when I go to the farming unit. I think it'd be good for you ....and maybe we'll even see Leon and Casey Jr. " Donnie soothed. His large cold hand returning at some point continued to comb the wild flyaways that tried to elude his threading jade fingers.

You didn't care. You bobbed your head. Listening but, not particularly agreeing nor disagreeing to anything as you went along with the general's wishes.

°°°°°°

In the hallway you and Donatello walked side by side. Your collar and chain were gone. Left behind in the lab due to the bondage being bolted to the floor. Not very mobile. Which in turn left you shackle free for the trip. Seven months ago you would've already tried to attack the turtle like the wild dog you were. You had been.

Now the tamed rescue, you leapt and barked without hesitation when commanded.

Like a good pup you didn't stray from your master's side.

Traversing through the base with the lumbering mutant was a quiet affair. No one bothered the two of you as the purple clad genuis led the way.

Here and there the technological general would make small talk by commenting about certain functions found throughout the headquarters along the short journey. Explaining uses of faculties and tech that had been constructed long before you ever stepped foot in the Resistance headquarters.

Long before you ever met the softshell who kept you prisoner in his room. Like a toy a spoiled child didn't want to share.

Pushing open the floppy doors to the Ag unit; bright UV rays burned your sensitive retinas that grew unconditioned to direct sunlight due to the dark room you were trapped in on a daily. Although unlike you, Donatello's dark narrowed stare remained unfazed by the bright light. Not even a stinge of discomfort upon disciplined matured features.

Artificial warmth even if false still felt soothing on your cold (skin tone) skin.

How you missed the real thing.

Missed the stupid picnics your mother would force you on. Laying under shady emerald trees in the smothering New York summer heat under a bright blue sky. Pouting as you watched your mother and brother played on the playground. You used to think those family outings were a waste of your time when you could be hanging with your friends or studying. Be anywhere but with them. How foolish you were.

A small frown laced your lips as you recalled the more peaceful days.

"(Y/n) this way" Donatello's voice called from in front of you. At some point having grabbed your hand to pull you closer to his tall stature as he escorted the two of you through the rows of growing produce. The tips of his long purple bandana tickled your nose but you made no complaints.

"Donnie over here!"

Onwards he directed you along.

Off in the near distance was the blue clad Commander. On his shelled back was a raven haired child that looked no more than nine.

"Oi! Casey Jr can you please be un bueno niño(a good little boy)!" The leader begged as the afro mentioned brown-eyed boy tugged at the long tied strands to his azure mask. Tighting the fabric painfully around his head. Giggling at his guardian's torment. "Nah! This is so much fun el anciano(old man) " Casey cheered, showing off a wide chipped tooth grin. A recent cosmetic development much to Leo's jargon.

Back and forth the two went as you and Donatello approached the comedic duo. The softshell grown a small grin on his normally uninterested expression.

" Thank Gram Gram you're here Donnie! The pump to the filter finally said capoot! And—"

"Yeah I know that's why I'm here." The jade colored turtle cut off his Commander.

Leonardo didn't mind his brother's injection. Smile still present upon olive skin.

"Alright-o dear brother-o! I'll leave you to it."

As the two siblings continued to chat over the needed maintenance, the raven haired boy leaning over the lumbering leader's shoulder stared straight at you. Eyes like teddy bear plushies bore into your being as they watched. Wide and impressionable. Brown judging spheres.

You could feel the bugs scuttling under your skin again.

"(Y/n)..., (Y/n) are you listening?"

Breaking from the losing staring competition you were having with the nine year old. Knowing dark eyes like night drew your attention back to the mutant who was cradling your hand between his own odd pair.

Once the scientist was sure he had all of you here he repeated his directions. " (Y/n) I want you to hangout out here for a little while I work. The pump requires more attention than I had initially thought..." Jade eyelids closed for a moment as the mutant exhaled his stored breath. " ...if you need me you can ask Leo. He had said he and Casey had some things to do here for a bit anyways so he doesn't mind watching you."

You didn't care. It was just nice being outside that damn lab in general.

With the nod of your head Donatello allowed your smaller hand free from his mix matched grasp. " I'll be back soon. If you get too hot tell Leo and he'll take you inside to cool down." The turtle further explained. It was like he wasn't sure if he could depart from you. Even if he was only temporarily leaving you under his twin's supervision. He still didn't like the idea of not having you beside him as he worked. However the space in the room with the filter was limited. Although Donnatello would prefer to have you in sight. Genius does take a little finesse and he always performed best with space.

With one more glance the softshell turtle turned and left. Walking towards the small building far off in the corner of the massive underground green house.

Once gone you were left standing there. Unmoving like a puppet without it's puppeteer.

You guess you stood there for too long cause at some point the Leonardo approached and rested his palm on your clothed shoulder. Probably making sure you're still there before his olive palm spirited away.

Hands very much like Donatello's. Too much like Donnie's. The touch made you shutter. You hated it. You hated the jade turtle who did this to you.

Based on the Commander's look you could tell he wanted to ask if you were good. Though the question would be pointless when the answer was as obvious as the dirt that coated the thin fabric of your eggshell colored slip-on flats.

"Sensei why is that weird girl that General Donnie brought only got one eye? Is she a pirate?" Casey Jr inquired not aware of the offensive statement he constructed.

The blue clad leader flicked his retainee's forehead. Lightly punishing the child as he chastised the raven haired boy for the rude question. "Casey Jr that's not how we talk about people. Especially ladies. If you have a question you ask them politely. " The retainer informed. Dark onyx eyes too similar to that of his brainac twin's slid back to your cemented figure.

You were waiting.

With an awkward grin Leo proposed that you join him and Casey Jr on their check up on the Agricultural workers. You didn't respond, just nodding to whatever the aged ninja turtle had suggested.

Around the large farming area that had to be as big, if not bigger than old New York City's Grand Central Station. The red eared slider led you and Casey Jr around as he performed leader duties. The task not being that tedious if it wasn't for the raven haired kinder who wouldn't leave you be. The orphan kept asking too many personal questions for your taste. None of which you responded too. Though that didn't mean it stopped the nine year old from chatting your ear off.

For what felt like forever Casey Jr went on about, everything. There wasn't a single topic he stuck to. Bouncing from asking about how you knew General Donnie to do you always wear pajamas? What was your favorite food? Do you have any parents? What's your favorite game in the rec room?

The kid was gonna be the death of you if not the UVs that were starting to roast you. The faded winter sleeping attire you wore not necessarily the best outfit to be clothed in while under the artificial rays. Though you didn't complain. Didn't want to miss this opportunity to be outside of the technological General's lab.

You weren't ready to go back to the darkness. Not yet.

A single (E/c) colored orb found itself focused on the sudden opportunity presented.

You didn't have to go back as long as you did this right. You could be free. You couldn't fuck this up again. Not again. The anxiety of the looming punishment sat in the back of your mind. Giggling. A child-like tone mocking you for your thoughts of freedom. Reminding you if you escaped something worse could happen. Would happen.

Blood trickled down the (skin tone) surface of your chin. You had accidentally chewed your bottom lip to ground beef with your nervous tick, again.

Using the right sleeve of your pajama shirt you wiped away the oozing crimson fluid.

"Are you okay (Y/n)?" Casey's high but worried voice broke you from your scheming thoughts.

Looking down at Casey Jr's baby checks that had been holding a wide chipped smile instead thinned out into a tight frown. Wide brown orbs innocently peered up at you with concern.

For a moment you didn't reply.

Looking past the apocalyptic born child observing the interaction between Leo and the worker he spoke to. Gageing how much longer you had before the Commander returned from the discussion.

" I'm fine... but, ....do you think you could help me with something Casey? "

°°°°°°°

When his softshell twin asked him if he could watch (Y/n) while he worked on the hydroponic filter pump. The red eared slider was not gonna lie, he was not looking forward to the task. Already having his own gremlin running a muck the last thing the blue clad Commander wanted was a creepy-ass robot following them around.

However whenever it came to Donnie and (Y/n) being involved in the same situation there was hardly room for argument. Leo was the leader of the Resistance he swore that he'd do his best to help end this apocalypse and to do so he needed a functional base. That entailed having a controlled food supply, functioning weaponry, dormitories, facilities— the works. If anything was to go down. The blue bandana wearing mutant only has one reliable individual who could repair, design, modify— you name it. In less time than a whole team of engineers and mechanics he could whip up— combined. Only Donnie could do it. It's cause of the afro mentioned scientist and his inventions that the Krrang hadn't taken them out yet. The aged blue bandana wearing turtle wasn't actually sure how long they could fend off the pink tentacle armada without his softshell twin.

The thought keeps him on edge sometimes— what if the turtle passed or chose not to use his gift the way he does. They'd be screwed in the long run. The turtle imagines it would be similar to that of ant colony walking into a spider's nest. The carnage would be unsalvageable. They'd have to use the last resort.

He couldn't afford for shit to go sideways.

And sometimes if that meant sacrifices... for the greater good so be it. It was something the mutant leader wasn't proud of.

Leo isn't even really sure when the purple clad mutant even met (Y/n) or how. Donnie kept mostly to himself. Never straying far from his lab and a working coffee machine. So the fact the caffine addicted nerd met someone, let alone a girl. Truly made the phenomenon a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes.

He knew what he was doing when Donnie made his ultimatums. It was (Y/n) or no base. The softshell mutant was aware the kind of game he was playing. How it would affect everyone. So many would be lost because the adult ninja turtle wanted to throw a tantrum. Leonardo was ashamed but, it was necessary. He had to give in to the mad scientist's demands. The olive skinned mutant would like to say he had no choice— But he did. And he chose to keep the Resistance alive rather than allowing you to be free. He couldn't. Donnie wanted you and so you were the purple clad General's. There was no room for negotiations. The softshell was always stubborn like that. He played the odds in his favor. He'd let the whole base crumble if it meant he couldn't have you.

And for the last year, that was that.

Leonardo knew that Donatello was keeping you in his lab and that at some point over the last twelve months the workspace began to double as the jade turtle's quarters as well.

Only discovering the new development when visiting his purple color coded brother one day. The blue bandana wearing leader doesn't remember what he had gone to his sibling's work space for but, once inside he found the usual cluttered layout. However off closer to the far wall in the direct line of sight was the (Blonde/Brunette/Raven or Scarlet Haired/ Etc) tribute his brother had demanded for.

This had been when the (e/c) eyed woman still had her own bed. Though at some point after your escape attempt that had been thwarted by Mikey. He remembered because of the presence of the steel restraints that you typically wore when in Donnie's laboratory.

In the corner you were laying down. Hands obviously bound behind your back. The (h/c) haired captive probably scratched her neck raw again. His theory only confirmed upon closer inspection. Beneath the steel collar a dressing of white gauze. Though that wasn't the only injury. Like a Christmas present you were wrapped almost head to toe in the cotton bandages. Most likely caused by other attempts to break free from your bonds which backfired. Resulting in Donnie just further inhibiting your mobility.

Sometimes he doesn't understand why the softshell turtle did what he does. If he loved you, why did he let you hurt yourself like this? The technological General's plan was to rid you of your will. Like the mustang in stables he was gonna break that need to be free. You would be his. The aged purple coded mutant wouldn't accept anything less.

It was creepy how his sciencey twin doted on his feral captive. How even when discussing the condition of the base the crippled mutant still gravitates towards your curled up figure. In spite your attempts to chomp off his jade digits the Donnie still continued to glide his fingers through (h/c) strands. The action was bizarre to the red eared slider. He couldn't relate but if this kept the softshell from throwing the headquarters into the destructive hands of the Krrang. So be it.

Which brings Leo back to the current task at hand. Watching both Casey Jr and his brother's captive as he did his patrols of the agricultural production. He needed to start getting a feel of the ratio amount of crops so he knew how to plan for the Resistance's future. Winter was gonna be coming soon and scavenging in the snow was not an easy feat. Especially with pink tentacle freaks and the assimilated around every lurking corner up on the surface.

Leo was sure that this was gonna be a pain in the shell however to his surprise he found some entertainment out of the one sided conversation Casey Jr was having with you.

Regardless of the lack of your response, the raven haired boy kept bombarding you with rounds of endless questioning. Like twenty-one questions but, with more like five hundred-fifty-five questions. It was hilarious. Many times as he was communicating with his subordinates he would over hear Casey Jr spout something random. Comedic prompting caused the mutant leader to muffle his chuckles on a few occasions. The action earned him a raised brow or two from a couple of agricultural workers.

Everything was fun and games, until it wasn't.

Leo had been strolling down one of the many select rows of dirt walkways onto the next location he needed a report from. He had been listening to his live comedy show when he noticed the lack of quips from his adolescent charge. That's when he peeked over his broad shoulder, only to find nothing but the dirt path beneath his feet. Casey Jr and (Y/n) nowhere to be found.

That's when suddenly shit turned into a real life Lou Jitsu movie with a plot twist that kept the viewer at the edge of their seat. Except for Leo this wasn't a Lou Jitsu movie. He fucked up. Shit wasn't just gonna line up and all his problems would be solved. No. Hot Soup he had to solve this himself. The Resistance Commander gripped the inside pockets of his loose fitted beige pants. A small amount of anxiety rose at the possible implication of the duo's absence meant.

Now the blue clad mutant was aware he was the sharpest tool in the shed but he knew some things. For example, you wanted to leave. Casey Jr knew how to leave the base. Leo taught him in case of emergency if the red eared slider himself or someone else wasn't present to assist the child. Said afro mentioned charge wanted you to respond to his pestering. And the Resistance leader was distracted by the comedic routine and his patrols to notice the disappearance of the two-man comedic troupe he had been chaperoning.

The grown ninja turtle knew what you were doing. If his hypothesis was correct—

You were trying to use Casey Jr to escape.

The blue bandana wearing turtle internally scolded himself for his stupidity. He knew you wanted to escape. He shouldn't have let his guard down just because of your meek unresponsive domineer and his humorous charge.

Donatello was gonna kill him if he didn't find you before the purple clad mutant was finished repairing the pump. Which at this point was any minute.

Taking a deep breath of air Leonardo calmed his startled nerves. The mutated Commander had no reason to stress. He could handle this easily. Reminding himself that he taught Casey Jr how to flee from the base. If that truly was the case this retrieval should be a walk in the park.

Cursing his luck under his breath the olive skinned turtle dashed off in the suspected direction that you and Casey had traveled. Unaware of inky orbs following his brother's retreating figure. Ignorant to the irritated displeasure that burned within the tary pits.

°°°°°°°°

As a kid your mother the ever devoted follower— used to warn you about making deals with demons and wicked imps. They'd offer whatever you wished for just a simple price before snatching away your soul. Never would you ever reach the kingdom in the clouds with her and your brother Ethan(I know so creative). Now adult, you knew that stuff was a crock of shit— but as a starry-eyed child with all the hopes and no crushed self esteem, you believed it. Though now as you traversed through disgusting sewer waste you can honestly say that it was a possibility. How else did you end up in this mess? You rolled the dice with the jade devil and now you couldn't pay.

"(Y/n)? .....Were you even listening?"

Without even realizing it you drifted off into your thoughts again an occurrence that only seemed to become more frequent the longer you stayed in that base. In that lab. With the purple bandana wearing turtle who betrayed your trust.

Hopefully after this you wouldn't have to worry about that mutated swindler ever again.

"Sorry.. I was just thinking about something...could you repeat what you said again?" You asked glancing down at your miniature guide, a tight smile presented on your (skin tone) face. It's been a while since you had to play nice.

It was selfish but, you had no other choice. You'd never have this opportunity again. You only had one way out. No one else was gonna help you. Push came to shove you were willing to do whatever it took to flee from the purple clad demon who wouldn't leave you be.

" Dios miós! I-iii aaasked why you're tryinna' to leave this base? Isn't everyone like, tryinna' to get in the base not out? " The doomsday child inquired. Emphasizing his question with a dramatic arched brow and one big questioning eye. The expression very animated. The kid likely picked up the look from a old salvaged comic from the Resistance headquarters' communal library.

Not prepared for the sudden insightful line questioning from the nine year old who up until now had been just asking whatever seemed to pop into his head.

With a forced grin you replied. "You wish." Teasing the now pouting child before continuing. "Though if you must know. I'm gonna go see some family." You lied releasing a tired exhale as your sole (e/c) orb looked around the seemingly empty canels that Casey was accompanying you through. Claiming that he only knew the way based on the look of the surroundings. How he tells the difference between one gross wall from another gross wall slightly boggled your head. Though if it got you out of this cement prison you didn't care.

For a moment as the two of you walked side by side the raven haired child peered up at you with a squinting gaze as he absorbed your answer. Another cartoonish action that made the corner of your lip slightly curl.

"Hmmmm... Alrighty! I can understand wanting to see your family. I lost my mother when I was young but, Leo and his brothers always make me feel right at home!" The young child perked as he grinned up at you with that wide chipped grin of his.

You missed this type of interaction. No fighting or an obsessive purple bandana wearing turtle lurking. Just two normal people just having a plain conversation. No commands or shifty deals. Just one person leading the other to the long awaiting freedom you've desired.

These interactions with the teddy bear brown eyed boy become more challenging with each quip the child spoke. Insects were drilling into the flesh under your skin again. Burrowing into the empty casket of your missing soul. Thriving on what is left of your sanity as they scuttled around in the memories you didn't want to face.

Somehow peering down at the chubby cheeks and scruffy black hair of Casey Jr's that didn't resemble Ethan in any way— still made you think of your deceased younger sibling.

He had been only eight years old he was the first to go out of your happy family trio. It had happened when the Krrang had first opened their portal. Neither one of you were prepared for the earthquake like shake before the ceiling of your mother's apartment collapsed and crushed the two of you under crumbling rubble. When you came to after pushing crumbled drywall from on top of yourself and searching for your younger sibling. All you found when you searched through broken pieces of your childhood home was blood. You couldn't lift the interior support beam off of where you had presumed Ethan was. The steel was far too heavy and your palms were too coated in the surrounding sediment to be able to lift the remaining pieces. You couldn't do anything. Unable to fulfill the role of the older sibling.

For hours you bawled as you had tried to wait for your mother's return. She had been at work when the Krrang attacked. You never did find out what became of her. You always did hope that she got away and somehow was doing well. Even if the reality is she most likely got assimilated or killed. You still always prayed she was doing good.

You just wanted to see them again. Go back in time and re-live the moments you carelessly spent. Fights and words you wish could be taken back. Reclaim wasted opportunities that you'll never have again. How you wish you could tell them you loved them both one last time.

"(Y/n) were here."

At the sound of Casey Jr's squeaky voice your lone (e/c) orb found presented before it was a waterfall of sludge that spilled over into a thirty-five foot drop. Leading down into what appeared into a bay of the same icky substance rushing past your soaked flats. An

With a cheeky grin the raven haired boy pointed down into the pool below. "This is it, the end of the line for me!" The boy quipped before continuing. "I can't go any further with you but, if you keep following that tunnel down there you should be out of the sewers in no time!" Casey finished with a smirk arms crossed over his tiny chest as he explained the directions. Obviously proud himself for remembering his Sensei's words.

" Thanks... " You grinned awkwardly. Not particularly fond of the idea of swimming through god knows what.

"Goodbye Casey, ...thank you for showing me the out." A small smile grew on your face as you looked back at the nine year old only to see the cause of your nightmares standing silently in the background. Glowing optic reflecting in the shadows like a beast prowling the jungle.

Suddenly the spacious catacomb you've been traversing through didn't have enough air. Your chest clenched tight around the squishy organs encased in your ribs.

"(Y/n) are you alrig—"

"Casey Jr stay back!"

It was Leonardo, already at his charge's side holding back the nine year old from advancing any further into the situation that no longer included them. Donatello already approaching forward with the same air of confidence he always carried. Expression studious and sharp. Although the purple tattooed turtle did not display it— he was fucking furious.

"I should've known you would do this to me, (Y/n). " The General dryly chuckled as he edged closer. Every bold step forward the purple bandana wearing ninja took, the closer your shaking legs stumbled towards the slimy edge of the trash filled waterfall. In his three fingered grip a pair of steel cuffs. The kind you see in the movies except from the look of the bulky things. The ones dangling from Donatello's right hand were real.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck— Things were moving too fast. Your rampaging pumping muscle was going to explode. Panicked breaths filled the range of sound your anxiety allowed at you honed in on the jade demon in front of you.

" I should've never made that deal with you... you lied to me. You knew that my mother was dead— YOU KNEW!" You cried as your lone (e/c) eye flashed back and forth between the cracking edge you stood on and the softshell who stood before you. "You fucking lied to me! You played me just so I would stay! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Panting you learned forward, (skin tone) palms resting on your knees. Never breaking eye contact with the aged turtle who although appeared collected was everything but. Narrowed black eyes filled with so much anger. Though still allowed you continue.

"I... -pant-....will never.. -pant- ..fucking love you. You were a mistake. Any feelings I ever had for you were a mistake. I wish I never had met you. I wish I fucking died when you rescued me on your stupid scrap run those months ago..." Straighten your stature you gave the infuriated jade turtle one last look as you smugly looked him dead in the eye.

"I wish whatever fucked up God had chose to taken General Raph, ....had instead killed you..." You calmly stated. Laughing as you continued. Silent tears finally falling out of your last good eye. " Hahahaha— the only reason— you are soooo important enough to still be alive is because your older brother decided to give his life for all of you sick fucks! I pity his sacrifice— maybe at least if he was still here he would know how to handle shit instead of giving into an overgrown spoiled brat like you!"

Silence. No one made a peep. The only sound that broke through the thick tension in the tunnel was the rushing sound of the sewers water that at this point has successfully drenched the legs of your muck covered plaid bottoms.

In the background the fearless blue bandana wearing Commander's emotions were all laid out on his nonexistent sleeve. He was hurt, pissed, and over all he just looked disturbed with the overall conversation.

Meanwhile Casey Jr shielded his face into his Sensei's plastron. Quite sobs choking the boy as his tiny hands griped onto his Commander's beige pant leg like his life depended on it. Terrified of the situation that didn't make sense to the child. The sight made your heart ache just a little bit.

Donatello didn't say anything. He didn't do anything just bore holes into your soul. You had opened your mouth to continue berating the purple clad asshole who's kept you in his fuckin' lab for the last year. Forced you to sleep next to him. Locked you up like a dog when you tried to run away.

However the jade mutant beat you to the punch.

"Shut up. Don't you dare even say another fucking word. "The aged ninja seethed, closing the space between the two of you in a blink of an eye. His left metal palm shooting to grasp your according bicep, tightening his grip around the tender flesh.

" I don't ever want to ever hear you mention Raph's name ever again. You don't fucking deserve to say it. You're so ungrateful and pathetic it just makes everyone around you laugh at your stupidity. Are you really trying to leave the base? Me? For what? Just so you can go fucking kill yourself out there? I saved you. I'm supporting the human race even when all the facts say I shouldn't. That I should've given up on this stupid apocalypse alooong time ago but, I didn't. I had wanted to when we had crossed paths for the first time. When I rescued you, I changed my mind. Why can't you just be grateful!?!?" Donatello cried as he pushed you from the tunnels edge into the roaring murky waters below.

°°°°°

Beep...beep...beepbeepbeep

There she is.

The softshell will admit he lost a bit of his composure back there. He shouldn't have pushed you from that high of a point but, you just made him so mad. How dare you bring up Raph. You weren't there. You don't know what it was like on that battlefield. There was no winning, only retreat. You don't realize how much he wishes everyday that the one who had perished was himself not Raph. You don't realize. You're always so naive. That's why Donatello was here to keep you safe. It was for your own good.

There.

In the shallow waters was your water logged figure. Obviously you were out cold based off small rise and fall of your chest.

With a sigh, Donatello slid the projected screen from the monitor on his cybertronic arm. Deactivating the tracker that was implanted in your abdomen. Lucky for him had installed this little insurance a long time ago after one of your many fits just for this type of emergency. Finding the gadget handy in locating you both times. Not having to rely on his red eared slider twin's amazing capabilities.

Trekking into the shallow water the purple clad turtle reached down and retrieved your knocked out figure. Not caring particularly much about the condition of his loose dark purple pants that soaked up the surrounding water fairly quickly.

With a strong exhale of air the technological general retreated back to his base chastising you under his breath along the way. Once there the softshell would insure that you wouldn't have another opportunity like this again.

Like a true scientist Donatello learns from his mistakes and he'll keep trying until one of his punishments clicks. It's not like you won't give the techno demon the opportunity to do so. Not that Donatello minds.

After all where would science be without trial and error?

¶¶Creator's notes¶¶

Wazzup!

You guys made this far so you deserve the scoup on the next one-shot will be...

Drum roll🥁🥁

Yan!Future!Raph x Reader 🎉🎉

I don't have a picture for Future Raph but, if you guys have any good pictures saved hit me up I'm always open.

I have some ideas on how I want to do it. Though I could also turn it into a post movie sort of deal. Where it takes place after the events of the ROTTMNT movie. Thouughhh it's up to you guys. One person has already voted for some future Raph so we'll see what I come up with.

[j0kers-light]

Heyo!!! So I’m recently on a joker kick, so here’s a little thought I was having. Maybe joker with a reader who is an artist, and one day paints him! I have drawn joker before and everytime I draw him I find the scars so comforting to draw for some reason!

Love the series btw!!!

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

Lol I've been on a Joker kick for two years now. I LOVE THIS THOUGHT! Thank you for loving my series, in return I give you a little head canon! (that almost turned into a oneshot:)

I hope you enjoy anon!

You were big on the Gotham City art scene with your giant portraits, famously painted in black and white with intricate detail.

The only color it held would be splattered on last minute without abandon. It was different, bold, and it paid the bills with money to spare. For three years now you turned your bottled up emotions into a living.

An original Y/L?N would take a week or two to paint before the buyer would select their splatter color.

Critics said you 'ruined works of art' whereas others stated the angry marks you left behind were your version of a signature.

Joker saw your work and instantly fell in love. There was so much pain and turmoil in the flecks of paint. He had to have one.

So he sorta kinda stole a piece until it was stolen from him. So Mac did his thing and tracked it down... right to your front door.

You were so happy to reunite with one of your original pieces! If not for your devoted fans and their detective-like skills, you would have never seen it again.

It was a self portrait (or at least what you wanted yourself to look like) with crimson red paint streaked across your throat.

Safe to say the critics hated this piece, deeming it too dark and grotesque to be considered art. Funny how it was auctioned off for a quarter of a million dollars...

Moving on! It went missing right before the final bid only this time you would never part with it again! These days you kept it in your personal living room as a reminder of how far you became as an artist.

It was a slow month in terms of commissions. You had just finished up a fun piece for a local celebrity and you were still picking pink and gold paint off of your skin.

You had some downtime so you found your trusty sketchbook and let the open window carry the sounds of Gotham’s busy streets into your apartment as you doodled some new ideas.

A series of knocks on your front door made you wary. Not too many visitors came by if it wasn't more art supplies being delivered.

So sat your book down and slowly walked towards the door only for it to be kicked in— followed by three men you never wanted to see walk in.

One man was blond, like any college frat boy blowing through daddy's money, who scanned your apartment in unveiled disgust.

The second male was a strong and burly that reminded you of a character from the game Call of Duty. He stayed near the door and you had no doubt he was the one who kicked it in....

But the last guy, there was no mistaking who he was.

The Joker was in your apartment and he had his eyes set on your beloved art piece.

Neither of them acknowledged your presence. The Joker picked up your self portrait and sighed. "Come to Papa..."

He nodded at his two henchmen as they prepared to leave. "Let's go."

You were flabbergasted. How this man bust up in your place, take your ish, and then leave?! Like? Rude.

"Um? Excuse you!?" You said.

All three men froze and stared at you; however, each one held a different emotion. Indifference, annoyance, and oddly... intrigue.

The latter belonged to Joker. He handed the blond the painting and sauntered closer to you. "Why.... hellooo beautiful. You. You must be the artist."

Not too many people knew what you looked like since your work and media appearances were all handled by your manager and dear friend, Cindy. You weren't offended by Joker's comment but you weren't about to let him take your work— no matter how dangerous he was.

You huffed and crossed your arms, "And if I am? Its rude to break into people's homes and take their stuff."

There was a calm before the storm then Joker burst out laughing. You looked on in confusion as he doubled over and slapped his knees as if what you said was really that funny.

His two henchmen weren't phased in the slightest. You eyed them briefly as Joker closed the distance and held a knife to your throat. You had little time to react before the cold metal touched your skin.

"Shhh shhh. I'd hate to make a ah.. mess. Do we have a prob-lem doll?" He squeezed your face tighter in his grip. The texture of his leather gloves made you wince.

"OW! Yes... we.. do! You're not taking my work!"

He blocked your poor excuse at kneeing him in the groin and tutted his lips. "Yeah? Well let's see. Why don't weee.. make a uh, deal? so we all end up happy, hmm?"

Did he hear how insane that sounded? You didn't have to make deals with criminals over your property!

You glanced around the room and noticed all three men's body language was relaxed. It wasn't fair how they had the advantage here.

You could talk a mad trash and hold your own in any normal brawl but Joker was a different level of crazy. You couldn’t take him on. He was too unpredictable and you knew both men blocking the only exit could fight too.

It would be a mess for sure if you resisted. You had no other choice but to strike a deal.

“Fine. You want my work so badly? I’ll paint you. I will paint a piece for you, I mean.” You tried not to stare at his scars but they were so intricate. The artist in you screamed at the chance to draw him.

You wanted to sketch Joker’s scars out with charcoal, outline them with ink, and master their design with any available media you had. You were itching to get started.

The Joker noticed your sudden antsy behavior and read into it wrong.

“Wanna know how I got ‘em?” He craned his neck so you could see his scars better.

“Yes.”

Oh.

He wasn’t expecting such an honest response from you. He stuttered and lowered the knife from your neck in shock. He thought you would create some distance after he let you go, but in fact, you moved in closer to him.

“May I touch them? FOR RESEARCH! To s-study them! I need to get a feel of what I’m… I swear there’s a reason..”

Mac and Frost shared a quick look (none one touched Joker's scars and lived to tell the tale) but much to their horror, their boss agreed.

Joker looked unsure as your hands hesitated, but slowly but surely came up to touch his face.

Time stood still for Joker as this beautiful stranger mapped out all the lines in his skin. He took in your hooded eyes, the slope of your lips, and the way air escaped between them as you discovered each crevice and outline. In contrast to his own, your skin was smooth and a warm brown, a hue he wanted to discover more of.

Your hands felt too good on him. He craved more contact. Joker wanted so much more but you pulled your hands back the moment your thumb slipped into his mouth.

Did he... lick it? Lawd harmacy..

That was enough art study. You had to part ways before you turned into a whore.

You backed away just for safe measure.

You cleared your throat, “I’ll um.. wow. Um I’ll start licking your face, I MEAN PAINTING YOUF FACE!” If your skin complexion allowed, you would be redder than a tomato. Why did you say that out loud? And why wasn't he saying anything back?!

“Um y-you can come by next week or so. I should be done then. Oh, and um what color do you—"

“Green.” Joker muttered. He already knew what you were asking. The accent color you splattered on the finished piece. Your signature in the art world.

He picked green since he didn’t know your favorite color yet. He didn't know why but he wanted to know.. amongst other things about you.

“C-Cool. I’ll use green. Usually a commission comes with a deposit but um since you’re sparing my life, I guess that’s enough payment.” You looked away and locked eyes with your sketchbook.

Without a single word you crossed the room and began sketching out samples of Joker’s mouth before you forgot. Not like you ever could.

By the time you looked up, he and his men were gone.

You could call it an obsession the way you strived to perfect Joker’s smile.

The apartment was littered with your many demo sketches before you finally went with your gut and put a paintbrush to the easel. For the next week, you barely slept and only ate enough to keep yourself alive so you could complete The Joker's commission. Your life was kinda on the line here so it had to be perfect.

And you finished right in the nick of time.

Joker came alone this time and he strolled into your apartment as if he owned it. You had yet to get the lock fixed after his henchmen kicked it open but regardless. Joker did not have any manners. Or a sense of personal space.

You were standing back to gauge where you wanted to begin flinging paint when his voice startled you.

“Leave it as is.”

You jumped in fright and Joker steadied you with a firm grip to your waist. You didn’t know that he brought you flush to his chest until you felt his breath hit your neck. You didn't question how he got inside or how you failed to hear him in the first place.

Joker was so warm, it erased all conscious thought from your mind. It sounded insane, but you felt safe in Joker's arms and the relative ease that you relaxed into his hold terrified you more.

The two of you stared at your art in silence even as your heart hammered out of your chest. Was this seriously happening? What did he say?

Oh right. Leave it as is.

You took in your final painting and you had to admit. He was right. It was perfect as is, no color required. There was no pain to purge onto this canvas; a first in your collection. You couldn't bring yourself to tarnish the mysterious beauty you painted in black and white.

As Joker’s scars grazed your skin, burning a clean path up to your neck, the both of you knew..

This wouldn't be the last time you painted Joker.

I feel awful that I didn't find any credit for this beautiful fanart.

[maniculum]

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week One

For new people, I'm doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project are here.

Note: I'm working slightly ahead because the 7th is a Saturday. And we put out podcast episodes on Saturdays. I'd prefer to space out content a little more, so these will be published on Thursday nights.

So, first off, I’ve decided to embrace the ethos of “weird old D&D stuff is Fine, Actually” by using Appendix A of the AD&D Dungeon Masters [sic] Guide to generate the layout. (I think I might have mentioned that in the intro post, but I’m reiterating.) I am, however, making some sanity-check changes, to wit:

I’m ignoring the “passage width” table, because it kind of blurs the line between “passage” and “room”. I started out with it, and then the first passage generated was 50ft wide by 60ft long (leading to a single 30x30 chamber), which is absurd, so I decided to just make them all 10ft wide. The passages generated are confusing enough without also making them huge.

When I get the “zero exits but check for secret doors every 10ft” option for a room, I will generate exactly one secret door. The method this check points to has a 25% chance of a secret door, so that gets kind of excessive for large rooms.

I reserve the right to place fewer exits than the table suggests if it makes the map excessively complicated.

Once I get seven rooms in the week’s section, all outstanding passages are either removed or connected to something nearby.

Any stairs generated only go to the level directly below.

Very small chambers with a lot of exits may not be keyed because I’ve decided they’re not so much an individual room as a somewhat wide intersection.

No stuff in the passages, because I don’t want to key them. Instead I’ll have a random encounter table for PCs in the passages. The table will be different for each level of the dungeon and I’ll post it at the end of the month. 10% chance of random encounter every time the PCs enter a new passage or go around a turn.

I’m using the “room contents” table, but taking everything strictly as a suggestion; if it doesn’t fit what I decide goes in the room, I ignore it.

General discretion as suggested in the appendix itself — passages that lead off the map are pruned off, if something overlaps with a previous item I either adjust the dimensions or reroll, &c.

This still generates a ridiculous labyrinthine construction, so I’ve decided that’s intentional on the designers’ part. The whole thing was carved out with magic, so they didn’t need to worry about the expense or labor of carving pointless passages. They’re wizards, so they’ve got a certain affinity for eccentricity & obscurity in the design of their lairs. They were paranoid that someone from outside might come in and shut them down, so making the place hard for outsiders to navigate was intentional. Also, they had all those weird critters down there, and the labyrinth approach makes it harder for them to find their way out if they escape their cages. All of this is, I’ve decided, why the big spiral staircase from the surface stops at level one. You’d think it would make sense for it to connect all the levels together there, but the wizards who did the architecture didn’t want the place to be easy to enter or exit, so instead the staircases to lower levels are just kind of scattered around, and only go down one floor at a time. Also, you may recall from the previous post, the wizards themselves had those limited-teleportation keyrings so they could go straight from their tower to their laboratory — the place being difficult to navigate doesn’t inconvenience them as much as it does everyone else.

Also, a note on room numbering: I’m starting over the numbering on each level so that the room for the day is always the same number as the day of the month. So each room will be numbered something like “1.23”, i.e., “first level, room 23”. Basically they’re all marked with the date rather than being numbered 1-365.

Final note: I’ve put a basic scale and compass on this one; those apply to all future maps in this project.

That being said, let’s get started. All actual content under the cut.

Also, for some reason my scanner, even when set on “color”, insists on reading these as black and white, which results in not only washing out the paper color, but also making the pencil almost illegible since it’s not dark enough. So I’m using a cell phone photo, which doesn’t look quite as clean, but is honestly the better option in my opinion. If I polish this stuff up after the year is done, I’ll do a clean version on the computer. 

Room 1.1: f.13r

(Starting on folio 13r because the pages before that were the calendar where I got the wizard images for the previous post.)

This page has a lot going on, and we’re not going to try and incorporate everything. That’ll be a general theme — I’ll pick a couple things off each page to actually put in the room. This one is particularly busy, though: we’ve got King David with a harp, Mary breastfeeding Jesus, a woman with fancy hair, someone holding what appears to be a bagpipe with a face, a monkey scolding an owl, a cat eating a mouse, a grotesque doing the “he scream at own ass” pose, an unfinished doodle of an animal face, another monkey looking angrily at the edge of the page, a squirrel-like critter with a distressed expression and a tail that looks vaguely like a very long oak leaf, and a stag curled up licking his feet. Again, if you want to see all this for yourself, the digitized Luttrell Psalter can be found here. I’ll just be using excerpts of the marginalia I’ve decided to include, so as to avoid drowning everyone in giant images.

The original contents of this room are unclear: there are a couple piles of rotten wood that might have been furniture of some sort. There must have previously been cabinets or something built into the walls, because there are sizable recesses around the upper part of the room. The door on the far wall is stone and largely intact; one of the bottom corners is broken off, leaving a gap that, say, a monkey or a squirrel could fit through. There may or may not have ever been a door in the right-hand wall — it’s just an open passage now, anyway.  The whole place is filthy, because beaſts live here and do not use chamberpots. Actually, screw that, because that’s going to be the case everywhere since this dungeon is full of beaſts, and I don’t think a cabal of wizards would have wanted to put up with that. There is very little waste here, as if someone or something periodically cleans the place. (Inquiries using speak with animals or similar get vague references to “the caretakers”. Ditto if anyone asks how the animals are getting food.)

This room does contain a monkey (yes, I recognize that this drawing doesn’t have a tail; the other one on the page does, and I’ve decided to make it a monkey rather than a chimp because they’re smaller) hanging out in the recesses that used to be cabinets: the wizards kept them as experimental subjects, and they’ve established a self-sustaining population in the dungeon in the centuries since. They’re bad-tempered and seem like they might be a little smarter than one would expect. This one in particular has an ongoing project of training the owls who roost in the stairwell. (I’ve Decided there are owls in the stairwell. They are able to enter and leave through a hole in the roof of the building that blocks off the stairs.) If the PCs try to mess with the monkey, it will scream and summon 2d4 angry owls. Anyone who communicates with the monkey will get very surly responses. If they manage to befriend it, they instead will get Owl Facts. The monkey is uninterested in the goings-on deeper in the dungeon.

Hidden behind a loose stone in one of those cabinet recesses is the monkey’s greatest treasure: the Bagpipe of Soothing the Savage Beaſt. This appears much like a regular bagpipe, except it has a realistic figure of a crowned head at the intersection between the bag and the pipe. Once per day, when played,  it produces an effect similar to hypnotism, but longer-lasting — 2d4 minutes instead of 2d4 rounds. The suggestibility of hypnotized creatures is also increased. This effect does not function on anything with Int 10 or higher. The bagpipe originated as an experiment of Januaria’s intended to help train the various beaſts and make them easier to control — it kind of works, which is why the monkey is using it to train owls.

A pile of rotting wood in the northeast corner is inhabited by a family of oak squirrels. These are one of the grotesques created by the wizards that have escaped the dungeon and bred true outside of it, so the PCs may recognize them if they have sufficient ranks in Knowledge(nature). Oak squirrels are skittish rodents that are, yes, a cross between a squirrel and an oak tree. They are part plant and can photosynthesize through their long, flat, oak-leaf-esque tails. These haven’t managed to get out of the dungeon. Oak squirrels qualify as both an Animal and a Plant; speak with animals and speak with plants both work on them. (I know I should probably dub these Magical Beasts or Aberrations, but I feel like they don’t really have any inherent magic and aren’t weird enough to be aberrations. They’re just plant/animals that happen to be magical in origin.) They have a 50% chance to resist any spell that targets just animals or just plants, though they can voluntarily choose to be affected by them. Otherwise, they have the same stats as a normal squirrel.

How do the oak squirrels photosynthesize underground? Glad you asked. Because of the sheer number of plant/animal hybrid grotesques in this manuscript, and plant imagery in general, indicating that this will keep coming up, I am Declaring that all the rooms down here have a permanent daylight effect built into the ceiling that waxes and wanes with the actual day/night cycle, unless otherwise noted. (Just the rooms, not the passages — specifically, there’s a block of stone in the center of each room’s ceiling with a permanent daylight effect cast on it.) It was more expensive than the traditional everburning torches, but invaluable when you need to care for plants underground in a world where you can’t just go out and buy a grow light at the Home Depot.

Dammit, this is getting long again. Gotta keep a handle on that.

Room 1.2: f.13v

This room has a high ceiling (let’s say 50ft; it is hereby Declared that the stairs you came down were at least 60ft) and smells strongly of compost.

In the center of the room is what appears to be an actual oak tree, if one somewhat constrained by the dimensions of the room — taking roots and branches into account, it more or less fills the available space. (It is also hereby Declared that there is 50ft of space between floors so these roots have somewhere to go.) This is the Squirrel Oak, origin of the oak squirrels, an experimental plant/animal hybrid lifecycle. (Acorns from the squirrel oak hatch like eggs into oak squirrels. The squirrels, in turn, lay eggs that grow like acorns. Yes, squirrels that lay eggs, hush.) Since oak squirrels are now known outside the dungeon, there are also other squirrel oaks out there now, and it’s possible that PCs with Knowledge(nature) are aware of them. (Or maybe not; maybe nobody has figured out the lifecycle.) Anyway, there are more oak squirrels around here. There may also be a number of squirrel bones, though, because: 

Nesting in the branches of the squirrel oak, one may find a toy wyvern. (That's "toy" as in "toy poodle".) This is a regular wyvern, but smaller — the adults are roughly the size of a bat — and of roughly animal intelligence. It also comes in a variety of vivid colors. These creatures have also escaped into the wild, and have kind of an “exotic pet” status. A captive one is valuable. They’re aggressive, though — most owners have them de-stingered, a practice that has caused some ethical debates. If the PCs hang around, get too close, or make a lot of noise, it might attack. This one still has its stinger.

I got stuck trying to figure out what to do with this next thing, because I like how pathetic it looks, but ended up drawing a blank. I’m also hesitant to include too many grotesques with human features in this, since that gets a bit dark in implication. So it’s appearing only in this image:

Room 1.3: f.14r

This room has a secret door hidden on the north wall; it opens if you press the right stone and leads to Room 1.4. A heap of rotten wood and animal bones lies against the western wall. This is the lair of a goldgaiter, which is the arbitrary name I’m assigning to this critter:

Appendix A thinks this room should have “a monster” in it, so I have decided the goldgaiter is a Dangerous Beaſt and liable to attack intruders. I’ll go ahead and give it some Pathfinder 1e stats, but you should feel free to adjust them to an appropriate challenge for your party. Or just add more of them to the room until it’s challenging enough.

Goldgaiter: CR 3, XP 800; N Small Magical Beast; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent, Darkvision 60ft, Perception +0.

DEFENSE: AC 18, touch 14, flat-footed 15 (+1 size, +3 Dex, +4 natural); hp 38 (5d10+10); Saves Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +1.

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft.; Melee bite +7 (1d6+1 plus 1d3 bleed); Special Attacks Attach (bite), Blood Drain (1d2 Con), Bleed (1d3).

STATISTICS: Str 12, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +5; CMB +5 (grapple +7); CMD 18 (20 against grappling) Feats Improved Grapple, Improved Natural Armor, Improved Natural Attack (bite); Skills Acrobatics +11; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Attach (Ex): When a Goldgaiter hits with its Bite attack, it automatically initiates a grapple. The Goldgaiter is considered grappling, but the target is not. The target can attack or grapple the creature as normal, or break the attach with a successful grapple or Escape Artist check.

Blood Drain (Ex): A Goldgaiter drains blood at the end of its turn if it grapples a foe, inflicting 1d2 constitution damage.

Bleed (Ex): When a Goldgaiter hits a target with its bite attack(s), it causes wounds that continue to bleed, dealing 1d3 damage each round at the start of the affected creature's turn.  This bleeding can be stopped by a successful DC 15 Heal skill check or through the application of any magical healing.

[Side note: I swear to Cthulhu that there used to be a common “abbreviated stat block” format in 3e that was, like, a paragraph instead of a whole page long. But I cannot for the life of me find this format by Googling. Any of y’all know anything? Point me to it?]

The goldgaiter has not made its way outside the dungeon, so PCs will be unfamiliar with it. It is equipped with a leech-like mouth and a tongue covered in small but sharp teeth. In combat, its approach is to attach to its opponents with this mouth and begin draining their blood (with the aid of some anticoagulant saliva). It uses its long, bifurcated tail to twist around its target and make it difficult to escape this treatment. Its name comes from the color pattern on its scales, which are blue on its head, red on its body (fading to pink on its photosynthetic tail), and gold on its legs.

Goldgaiters, which are going on the random encounter table for this level, have a habit of burrowing into whatever burrow-able material is available, leaving only their tail exposed to photosynthesize. This one (or these, if you put more than one in this room) has gradually constructed a heap of rotten wood and the bones of its prey for this purpose. Elsewhere in the dungeon, they may be found crammed behind missing bits of wall or floor.

This goldgaiter in particular (or these) is suffering from a magical disease endemic to this dungeon. It doesn’t really have a proper name, so let’s call it Bonus Face Syndrome. Apparently a magical effect gone rogue, originating as an effort to easily produce multi-headed creatures, BFS causes an extra face to gradually develop on the sufferer’s flesh at a random location. Any PC who comes into physical contact with the goldgaiter (or other creature suffering BFS) runs the risk of contracting it.

Bonus Face Syndrome: disease, contact; Save Fort DC 13; Onset 1d4 days; Frequency 1d4 days; Effect 1 Con damage; Cure 2 consecutive saves. Special: After 3 failed saves, the bonus face develops the capacity for speech and jabbers nonsense syllables at random intervals. This makes it impossible for the sufferer to sleep through the night, and hinders any attempts at stealth. If the sufferer is doing anything that requires silence, roll a d12. On a 1, the face starts talking gibberish at an inconvenient volume. The failure range increases by 1 with each failed save after the face develops speech — e.g., after an additional 3 failed saves, the face speaks on a 1-4.

Room 1.4: f.14v

This room is much tidier than the others you’ve seen, set up to be a simple but comfortable dwelling space. There appear to have formerly been six pillars in this room, but two have broken. Bits of the stone pillars have been cleared over to a pile in the southwest corner, except for one that appears to have been smoothed out somehow to serve as a simple seat. It sits next to the base of another broken pillar that has likewise been smoothed out on top, just tall enough to serve as a small writing desk. The “desk” is occupied by a stack of parchment, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink. Nearby is what appears to be a “bed” made of oak leaves. The floor in the northeast corner has been dug up somehow and has a pair of squirrel oak saplings growing in it. 

This is the home of the hermit Orm, member of an obscure order of druids who make their homes in ruins. Several years ago, he came down here with a large supply of parchment, ink, and pens, in order to meditate and write his manifesto. (Yes, he paid the Gatekeepers’ toll and even bought some supplies from them, though that cleaned out the majority of his cash.) Orm is almost certainly present when the PCs enter — he rarely leaves this room. He lives primarily on sustenance created by his druidic magic, occasionally supplemented by acorns from the squirrel oak. A few oak squirrels may be present in his room — he kind of likes them — but the only animal guaranteed to be with him is the monkey Hawise, Orm’s animal companion. (Hawise is another descendant of the lab monkeys from back in the day.)

Orm is a low-to-mid-level druid, and doesn’t appreciate having his solitude interrupted. He will not immediately resort to violence, but will strongly encourage the PCs to leave. If the PCs are able to make decent diplomatic inroads without offending him too much (hard to do, since Orm was already kind of a misanthrope before he spent several years isolating himself and forgetting how to deal with people), he may offer to share some knowledge of the dungeon with them if they’ll leave him alone. He hasn’t mapped the place or anything, but he goes on a walkabout every few months and does some limited exploration. Conscious of the danger throughout this complex, and more interested in his meditation than the precise layout of the dungeon, he hasn’t made any real effort to explore the whole thing, and hasn’t been to the lowest levels.

The first information he’ll volunteer is the existence of the unicorn in Room 1.5 — he feels bad about it being trapped there, but isn’t sure how to free it. Although, in his words, “unicorns are all self-righteous jerks anyway”, so maybe he didn’t try that hard.

The passage leading north from this room leads to an apparent dead end. Obviously there’s a secret door here, because why would you build a passage that goes nowhere and not put a secret door in? Orm also figured that one out, found the hidden catch that makes the wall at the end of the passage slide away, and has stored his earthly possessions in the little 10x10 chamber at the end of the passage as an extra security precaution. (He also carefully restored the original trap, which had rusted to uselessness when he found it — put in a blade-based trap of appropriate difficulty for your PCs — because f*ck you for trying to steal from him, that’s why.) Stored in here is a large quantity of parchment, ink, and spare pens; some dungeoneering equipment purchased from the Gatekeepers; a bag of various coins totalling roughly 50gp; and several parchment scraps found elsewhere in the dungeon that detail experiment logs.

Room 1.5: f.15r

Had some difficulty with this one. I can’t just ignore that there’s a unicorn at the bottom of the page, but this isn’t a space where a unicorn could really make its home. It wouldn’t be here voluntarily, so the wizards must have put it here. I debated having a dead unicorn here, but checking around, it looks like D&D unicorns live for up to 1,000 years, and presumably it’s being fed the same way everything else is, so there’s no reason it would have died of natural causes, so I’d have to figure out what killed it, and that would be a bit depressing, right? It’s not that far from the stairs up, so why would it not have left? It’s not like the Gatekeepers could feasibly stop it, and if they did, it would be because they were interested in selling the horn rather than keeping it contained. Orm probably would have done something about it, even. (I added a short paragraph to his entry for that reason.) So… I had to come up with something.

This oval-shaped room is built around a 10ft-by-20ft magical stasis field with four tarnished, rune-covered metal pillars at the corners. Inside the stasis field is a unicorn; this is Gray Cloud. The pillars are magically reinforced, and would take some serious work to break, but this would disrupt the stasis enough for Gray Cloud to escape. There’s also something built into the west wall: a collection of rusted & broken metal levers, dozens of stones with runic carvings that can be depressed into the wall like buttons, and a crystal ball set in the center. This was formerly the control system, but it’s long since broken down. As a safety precaution, it was built with a failsafe — when the control system ceased working, it didn’t dissipate the stasis field, but rather made it impossible to deactivate the stasis field. Someone with extensive knowledge of magical devices might be able to repair it enough to get the stasis field to drop; someone with extremely extensive knowledge and the ability to make replacement parts might be able to get it fully functional again. This was once a device that allowed Januaria to summon extraplanar creatures and lock them in stasis for study.

If released, Gray Cloud is actually pretty unpleasant to deal with. As you might expect from a creature that has a built-in virginity detector, unicorns are extremely judgmental towards anyone who doesn’t meet their high standards of moral purity. The fact that he’s apparently lost a few centuries while locked in stasis does not put him in a better mood. He’ll insist on the PCs trying to repair the control device and send him back to his home plane. Failing that, he will demand they escort him out of the dungeon. If they push matters, he may deign to admit he owes them a favor, and maybe figure out a way they could contact him to call it in. (Unicorns are dicks.)

Room 1.6: f.15v

This large square room has a heavy iron door on the north wall. The door has no handle or lock. It automatically opens with the touch of a Caretaker, and otherwise refuses to open under any circumstances. The east wall is occupied by an elaborate trellis for a strange, bluish vine; the south wall features a large bin of what appears to be scrap metal. (Searching the bin will reveal a number of rusted bits of armor & weaponry, some miscellaneous coinage, and a random magical weapon if you’re feeling generous — the original contents of the bin have long since run out, and the current contents are scavenged from elsewhere in the dungeon, including from the bodies of past explorers.) If the PCs enter this room during the day, Caretaker One is present, standing still in the middle of the room; at night, it is wandering through the dungeon performing its duties. 

Most of the marginalia on this page is human or human-ish, and as previously mentioned, I’m trying to minimize the number of part-human hybrids in this dungeon. So I’ve decided this is one of the Caretakers, constructs that were built to feed the animals, clean up their waste, and water the plants, because the wizards didn’t want to bother with that sort of thing and it gets a bit dangerous for human staff. (Not that the wizards were hugely concerned about the value of human life — they just figured out early on that replacing staff was a pain.) We’ll see how many of these I end up actually including, but I’m going to go with the general idea that they’re all slightly different because the wizards kept experimenting with new designs.

The Caretakers are mindless, golem-like creatures. They have a sort of function that allows them to understand the needs of the critters and plants under their charge — they “know” any information that could be gained by using speak with animals and speak with plants, though they never actually speak. They don’t really bother to protect the critters from threats (like adventurers) because that wasn’t built into them — otherwise they’d now be constantly trying to stop the beasts of the dungeon from preying on each other. They make daily rounds of the floors on which they are situated, cleaning things up, providing all the animals with food and water, and caring for any plants. (The waste from the animals is composted and used to feed the plants.) They’re not meant to be aggressive, but if the PCs interfere with them excessively or get in the way of their duties, they may attack. (So I’m going to provide stats for this one.)

If I go back and polish this thing up after it’s done, there will have to be a note on each room detailing the (small) chance that the PCs encounter a Caretaker and what it’s doing there. Plus a note that if the PCs spend the night in the dungeon, a Caretaker will inevitably pass through their camp during the night. (I’ve decided they’re nocturnal because the wizards would want the Caretakers to be active while the wizards slept, so the constructs won’t get in the way of the experiments.)

 This one looks like a brass statue from the waist up, draped with a reddish garment that it’s apparently managed to maintain and keep intact these past centuries, and a snake carved from some sort of strange bluish wood from the waist down. Large leaves sprout from its wooden “tail”; like many of the hybrid creatures around here, it is able to collect additional energy from photosynthesis. There are no obvious joints; it moves fluidly. It has a number of spells it can cast in order to aid in its duties. It’s not supposed to be aggressive, but will react badly if the PCs try and hinder it from performing its duties or interfere with it excessively. For this reason, I’m going to go ahead and give it stats too. It doesn’t really have a name, so we’ll just call it Caretaker One.

Caretaker One: CR 9, XP 6400; N Medium Construct; Init +6; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft,  Perception +0

DEFENSE:  AC 30, touch 16, flat-footed 24 (+6 Dex, +14 natural); hp 86 (12d10+20); Saves Fort +4, Ref +10, Will +4 Special DR 5/-

OFFENSE: Speed 60 ft.; Melee 2 fists +18 (3d6+6 plus Paralysis), tail lash +13 (1d6+6)

Spell-Like Abilities (Save DC 10+spell level); At Will: Mending, Prestidigitation, Create Water, Daze Monster, Deep Slumber, Create Food & Water, Minor Creation; 3/day: Hold Monster, Fabricate, Telekinesis; Special Attacks Paralysis (1d8 rounds, DC 12), Constrict (3d6+6).

STATISTICS: Str 22, Dex 23, Con -, Int -, Wis 10, Cha 1; Base Atk +12; CMB +18; CMD 34; Special Qualities Construct Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Paralyze (Su):  When Caretaker One hits a target with its attack(s), the victim is rendered immobile for 1d8 rounds.  The target is allowed a DC 12 fortitude save to negate the paralysis effect.  Paralyzed creatures cannot move, speak, or take any physical actions. The creature is rooted to the spot, frozen and helpless.

Constrict (Ex): Caretaker One can crush an opponent, dealing 3d6+6 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

In combat, Caretaker One defaults to using abilities that help control unruly beasts: daze monster, deep slumber, and hold monster. If these are ineffectual, it will start using its fists, which carry a paralysis effect. It attempts to use nonlethal damage — this is supposed to be a way to subdue an escaped monster — but switches to lethal damage if reduced below half health. When below half health, it also begins employing its tail to try and constrict opponents. It may, in addition, choose to use telekinesis as a combat maneuver at this point to keep its opponents off-balance. If, at any point, all of its opponents are unconscious, paralyzed, or otherwise helpless, it uses its telekinesis (or just drags them, if its telekinesis has been used up for the day) to Room 1.4. (Since there’s already a humanoid there, this is the Humanoid Room by its logic, so that’s where other humanoids go when they’ve been subdued.)  It’s not actually interested in combat, just in self-defense and removing any obstacle to performing its duties, so if the PCs retreat, it won’t follow, and will “forget” about them as soon as they’re out of sight.

Room 1.7: f.16r

This room has a large basin set in the floor that takes up the east half of the room and goes down some 20ft. The northwest corner contains a large bin that seems to be full of irregular golden rings. The rings are roughly the weight of a gold piece, and carry the same value. There are 1d12 x 100 currently present — previous adventurers have found this room and taken the ones there, but the bin is gradually refilled over time.

The basin turns out to be an aquarium of sorts. It contains a school of gold-ringed fish. These fish are blue, about eight inches in length, and have been magically engineered to have an inherent alchemical ability. If fed base metal with the rest of their food, they will gradually convert that metal into (fairly impure) gold, forming the rings along their length, which are eventually shed. This was an experiment in establishing an extra revenue stream that was never properly brought to fruition — it takes too long to be an efficient way of making money. It was still kept hidden here just in case the wizards figured out how to make it work.

And… that’s Week One! That was fun, but I’ve got to get my verbose tendencies under control because these are too long and it’s going to take over too much of my time if I keep this up. If only I could accidentally generate this much extra text when I’m working on my dissertation, right?

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Pamela Paresky

Published: Oct 9, 2024

Jews across the world have the sense that the “universal collective” to which we thought we finally belonged has thrown us out and turned its back.

Ever since witnessing an ecstatic pro-Hamas celebration in Time Square just 24 hours after the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust, I thought nothing could surprise me. Then to commemorate the one-year anniversary of those atrocities, the Guardian published an essay by Naomi Klein titled, “How Israel has made trauma a weapon of war.”

“What is the line between commemorating trauma and cynically exploiting it?” Klein asks. “Between memorialization and weaponization? What does it mean to perform collective grief when the collective is not universal, but rather tightly bound by ethnicity?”

As someone who encountered gruesome videos of Hamas’s “cynical exploitation” and “weaponization” of Israelis’ trauma exactly a year ago, watched as terrorists referred to terrified Israelis in the South — those who just happened to be most likely to oppose “settlements” — as settlers and dogs, and heard firsthand from people who witnessed livestreams of family and friends held at gunpoint, most of them murdered or taken hostage, I found the premise grotesque.

It was particularly appalling because beyond the therapeutic effect of creating artwork, the cri de cœur that motivated the art installations from Tel Aviv to American college campuses, “kidnapped” posters across the globe, the Nova Exhibition, online maps of the massacres, and documentaries about October 7, is the denials of the trauma itself. And the feeling that since that horrific day, we have been abandoned. That we are profoundly alone. That every day in Israel is October 7th.

Given the depth of depravity of what happened that day, some Jews initially believed the world would finally stand with Israel. I didn’t. But I did think that everyone would at least condemn the atrocities. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Israel has faced obscene denialism and false accusations while young people across the globe celebrate monstrous barbarism and valorize those who perpetrated it. Jews across the world have the sense that the “universal collective” to which we thought we finally belonged has thrown us out and turned its back.

Where is the world’s outrage? Where is the world’s empathy? Where are the calls for Hamas to return our stolen souls? Where is the Red Cross? Where are the organizations and so-called allies with whom we stood, we marched, we campaigned? It’s #MeToo unless you’re a Jew.

American college students have borne the brunt of the rise in antisemitism. Days after the massacres, rapes, and kidnappings, when antisemitic student groups like Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) used images of motorized hang-gliders to advertise their anti-Israel demonstrations, I wanted to believe that they didn’t know what really happened. When they used the same image to advertise celebrations of their “resistance” and “martyrs,” marking the one-year anniversary, they no longer had an excuse. “Happy October 7th everyone!” at least one school’s SJP posted on Instagram. They all refer to the massacres by the name the terrorists use for it, “Al Aqsa Flood.” To mark the anniversary, the openly pro-Hamas student group “Within Our Lifetime” (WOL) organized demonstrations, calling them “Students Flood NYC for Gaza.”

Last semester, Columbia University student activist Khymani James publicly declared, “Zionists don’t deserve to live,” and “be grateful that I’m not just going out and murdering Zionists.” His anti-Zionist student group, Columbia University Apartheid Divest (CUAD) issued an apology for his remarks. This year, the group apologized to him for its “so-called apology,” which, they declared, “does not represent Khymani or CUAD’s values or political lines.”

That was apparent when CUAD celebrated a recent terrorist attack at a light rail station in Tel Aviv/Jaffa. Terrorists murdered 7, including the young mother of a baby, and wounded at least 16. The group referred to the horrors as a “bold attack” and a “significant act of resistance” that “reached deep into the heart of settler-colonial territory, further destabilizing the Zionist regime’s claims to security…”

Almost a year after going to the October 8 Times Square demonstration, I went back to the scene of the crime. This time, there were signs glorifying not just Hamas, but Hezbollah. There were also more activists, more keffiyehs, more police, and more of the same familiar chants calling for the eradication of Israel and the destruction of the Jewish people.

“There is only one solution: intifada revolution.” (Bonus points for harking back to the Nazi “final solution.”) “Palestine,” if they got their way, would extend “from the river to the sea,” making everything within Israel’s current borders as Jew-free as the Palestinian territories. If you thought they wanted an end to the shootings, stabbings, beheadings, suicide bombings, rapes, tortures, kidnappings, burning people alive…etc., you’re sadly mistaken. “Globalize the intifada.” “Long live the intifada.”

To hear the media tell it, though, especially when demonstrators add “ceasefire now” to their chant list, they’re “anti-war activists.”

This year, while students across the country attempted to hold anniversary vigils for the victims of October 7, terrorist-sympathizers celebrated the same events within earshot. As if that weren’t enough, anti-Zionist posters now include images of red anemones, the symbol of Israel’s South — where the atrocities happened. This is especially galling because survivors of October 7 see the red anemone as a symbol of their connection to the land. Many now have tattoos of the flower to remind themselves of resilience, possibility, and hope.

Relatedly, a chant that stood out to me as I left the Times Square anniversary celebration is “Hey hey, ho ho; Zionism has got to go.” Maybe because it seems banal compared to the others, it doesn’t get much attention. But in some ways, it’s more illuminating. We all know that for terrorists and their supporters, intimidation, harassment, and unimaginable violence is their love language. “From the river to the sea” is a threat. “Intifada” is a call to arms. But “Zionism has got to go” is something else.

Our connection to our ancient, biblical, historical, and permanent home is intolerable to those who hate the Jews. Perhaps that’s why student-jihadis now appropriate not just the date of the worst massacre of Jews in most generations’ living memory, but’ symbols too: In addition to red anemones, there seems to have been a proliferation of Anti-Zionist charms and t-shirts sporting maps of Israel.

That our connection to the land predates the birth of Mohammed, that we are the prototypical indigenous people and our presence in the land has been continuous, that we acquired the land through purchases and other legal means, that the majority of Israelis have relatives who were ethnically cleansed from Arab countries, that the only non-colonial, non-imperial sovereign power that has ever existed in that land was, and is, Jewish, and that the State of Israel came about in exactly the same way as countries that don’t face delegitimization campaigns, all puts the lie to the antisemitic conspiracy theory that Jews are “white settler-colonialist” robbers and thieves sent from Europe who stole land rightfully owned by ethnic Palestinians in 1948 — a time when there was no such designated ethnic group.

The Zionist-hating chant illustrates how antisemitic terrorists intend to take more from us than our land. They want to rob us of our hopes and dreams, too.

Maybe that’s why we always end up singing Hatikva when confronted by those who wish to destroy us — as if to say, “you might take our ability to live in peace today, but we won’t let you take our hopes and dreams.” As long as the heart within the Jewish soul yearns, and toward the East, an eye looks to Zion, our hope is not yet lost. Our hope is two thousand years old: To be a free people in our land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem.

A day before Klein’s poisonous piece, the New York Times published a fawning article about a student-founder of WOL, one of the anti-Zionist organizations behind many of the activities that make campuses hostile to Jews. “Pro-Palestinian Group Is Relentless in Its Criticism of Israel, and It Isn’t Backing Down,” the headline reads. The goal of WOL, to be clear, is to destroy Israel“ within our lifetime.” Calling that “criticism of Israel” is like referring to the defacing of priceless artwork as “criticism of Monet.”

WOL “has galvanized pro-Palestinian activists who are calling for the end of Israel,” the subtitle reads, “and [are] facing accusations of antisemitism.” The message seems to be: Let’s be reasonable. They don’t hate Jews. They just want to destroy the home of more than half of them — the one country where Jews aren’t a minority. Can you believe they’re accused of being anti-Jewish? The poor dears.

In the past year, I noticed a chant I don’t remember hearing before. It’s in Arabic, and it means “from water to water, Palestine will be Arab.” Anyone who thought this would finally put an end to the nonsensical claim that “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” wasn’t about the destruction of Israel might be right. It seems we’re all on the same page now: It is a call for the annihilation of Israel.

But get with the program; calling for the destruction of Israel is now merely “criticism.” To quote from Dr. Strangelove: Our source is the New York Times. 

[pomegranate-belle]

Ok ok ok thinking about Muse again. I just think it’s so fascinating/funny/morbid to look at the gulf between what he says or idealizes — this desire to be considered a great artist, these high ideals about art itself, that everything should be sacrificed in the name of his art… Vs the art he actually makes, which is just hamfisted metaphor and weak messaging wrapped around a core that’s entirely empty. Because he has NOTHING TO SAY as an artist! He’s gotta ape Social Justice 101 messages to try and give himself a pretense of having something going on creatively, but the man truly has nada.

And it’s almost more fucked up that way, because here’s a serial killer that goes around murdering people to make the most mediocre godawful art in existence. Like, at least Poison Ivy turns oil execs into trees out of genuine ecoterrorist sentiment, lol — Muse doesn’t care about anything except his own image, so any “art” he attempts is always gonna be shallow and self-serving, relying only on its grotesque nature for shock value. I mean, obvs there would never be any kind of art worth murdering a bunch of people for, but it’s just adding insult to injury that the end result is so bad. He’s like a supervillain version of the smug annoying guy in my college writing classes.

[robsheridan]

Getting psyched for the Big Game with my favorite sports movie, 1981’s CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK. A schlocky low-budget grindhouse splatterfest, the film is impossible to track down but cherished by aficionados of tasteless cinema. Although it contains no sex scenes, it received an X rating for “senseless, prolonged nudity and graphic violence” thanks largely to its notorious “cheerleader blood orgy” scene, which at 27 grueling minutes accounts for nearly a third of the entire film.

In CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK, radioactive waste from a secretive government facility leaks into the farm of cattle destined for leather, and a football made from the mutated cows finds its way to the local college football team. At first the mysterious football seems to give the players power and stamina on the field. But what follows is anger, violent rage, and an intense hunger for raw bloody meat. When gobbling beef before each game is no longer enough, the gruesome killings begin; students begin disappearing, and mangled bodies turn up around the stadium, the flesh chewed off them.

Consuming human flesh begins to change the players, mutating them one by one into savage creatures who yearn only for blood. Their coach, greedy for the wins his newly supercharged players are bringing, tries to conceal the dark secret of the team and even helps lure unsuspecting students into the locker room to become pre-game snacks. The big game against their rival team proceeds as planned despite the growing body count, and all hell breaks loose on the field. The rage and bloodlust of the now monstrous players can no longer be contained, nor can the sickness afflicting them, which spreads rapidly to the other team — and the cheerleaders.

A fight between the rival cheer squads quickly descends into a cannibalistic orgy of gore. In a trance-like state, drunk on an abundance of nubile flesh, the possessed women tear each other apart and writhe in their blood and guts, consuming their bodies layer by layer until the locker room is a formless heap of meat and bone.

Meanwhile, the violence on the field has continued, the teams of deranged mutants engaged in a twisted "game," savagely competing to devour each other all through the night until only the strongest cannibal remains.

The film’s final scene sees the sun rising on a field of grotesque death, with only a few mindless cannibal monsters still alive, wandering around seeking new blood. But a bizarre post-credits scene returns to the radioactive farmlands of the opening shot, where humanoid mutant cows are seen emerging ominously from the glowing green ooze that created them. A planned sequel of mutant cow creatures seeking revenge on the humans for slaughtering their kind was supposedly filmed but never completed.

Auteur underground horror director Ron Sharletan, fresh off the success of 1977’s DRIVE-THRU OF DEATH, described CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK as “a commentary on the corruption of school sports and the toxic American obsession with zero-sum victory at all costs.” Upon receiving an X rating from the MPAA for the film’s “excessive graphic violence and nudity,” Sharletan refused to edit the film despite the rating meaning near-certain commercial failure for the film. “Art is not defined by censors,” Sharletan said in a statement, “and my vision will not be sacrificed on the altar of mass market puritanism.” Thus, the film had an almost non-existent theatrical release, and only found its niche audience years later on VHS.

Critical reviews were unkind, with many reviewers walking out of press screenings during the film’s notoriously graphic 27-minute “cheerleader blood orgy.” Gene Siskel wrote: “I’m envious of my colleagues who made the wise decision to abandon this cinematic atrocity, because having enduring the full length of the film, I can assure you dear reader that there is no merit to be found on the other side.”

Peter Travers called the film “regressive, exploitative trash” and Sports Illustrated’s review said “such excessive violence and sexism make a mockery of the beautiful game of football.”

Little is known about why the planned sequel fell apart before completion, but one crew member described it as “a drug-addled trainwreck” and “the worst filming experience of my life.” The never-seen footage from the sequel has become a “holy grail” for underground cinema aficionados.

Official CANNIBAL QUARTERBACK t-shirts now available at Glitch Goods!

------

NOTE: This film does not actually exist outside of my imagination. This alternate history horror story is part of my NightmAIres series exploring media and events that never existed, conceived by me and visualized with synthography. Some other entries in this series include Cyborg Slaves of Satan, The Macy's Thanksgiving Day "Blood Parade", World Without Christmas, Rankin/Bass' 1967 Krampus TV Special, Children of Irradiated Skies, Jodorowsky's Frasier, David Lynch's Perfect Strangers.

[brybryby]

I completely agree that Miles Upshore is queer, and Waylon is on the spectrum as well! If you have your friends analysis still plzzzzz link! I crave the content!!!

HI HI THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! 💜

I wish I had his analysis still!!! aarrrrgh it's been so long ;-; But I can try to relay some of the points he made (and add some of my own)!

This gets pretty lengthy so be prepared :')

I also added external links but they’re only there if you want to read more about the point I’m making! Feel free to skip them!

also // TW for mentions of SA

Miles

Story-wise, my friend found it interesting that Miles was the perfect host for the Walrider. Wernicke and Alan Turing were friends/lovers who worked on the technology that culminated into Project Walrider, so there's already a sense that the Walrider was founded on Wernicke and Turing's love for each other.

So, before I move on, I'll talk a bit about Alan Turing. In college, I had professors praise him for being the “Founder of Modern Computing”, cracking Nazi code, and also for being an advocate for gay rights.

More details here:

Out of every prominent scientist during the Cold War Era, Alan Turing was selected to play a role in Outlast's stories. And he didn't just happen to be openly gay—JT Petty purposefully made this significant to Wernicke's character. Not to mention, Wernicke made allusions to Frankenstein, allowing us to inspect the parallels between Wernicke & the Walrider with Frankenstein & Frankenstein's monster. When it comes to gothic & queer literature, Frankenstein is on the forefront of it, and I'm confident that JT Petty would be familiar with that (since he's a writer who's well-versed in horror/gothic art).

With Frankenstein, there's this idea to create life without heterosexual means (under the impression of cis-heteronormativity). Frankenstein's monster was also a sexualized creature—supposedly a representation of the “ideal man”—described as “beautiful”. Additionally, the novel was a critique of patriarchal norms through elements of sexualities. These aren't too different from Wernicke & the Walrider. The Walrider is arguably created through homosexual means in its abstract (Wernicke & Turing). This particular version of the Walrider that possesses Billy & Miles is stated to be the “masterpiece” by Simon Peacock—its appearance is also fairly sexual. And similarly, Outlast critiques patriarchal norms through its grotesque visuals of “masculinity”.

Frankenstein queer analysis:

Frankenstein sexual suppression analysis:

With all these story elements, there's certainly a queerness about the Walrider AND Outlast, which the devs openly embrace.

There's also many parallels between Frankenstein's monster and Miles. In the United States (and westernized countries in general), there are societal standards that function around cis-heteronormativity. Think of the traditional American nuclear family: A husband/father who's the breadwinner and patriarch, a loving wife/mother who cooks and stays at home to take care of the kids—they're mostly white, Christian, and American citizens. [WARNING: TRIALS SPOILERS AHEAD] The ideal American man is further illustrated in Officer Coyle's dialogue: “If only they were upstanding citizens like myself. Pay your taxes, do your job, fuck your wife, put a little something in the plate at service. America don't ask much.” Miles is arguably the antithesis of this, which is likely the reason he doesn't have any close friends/family—he was likely rejected by society. Frankenstein's monster follows a similar arc: he is also rejected by society and seeks refuge in seclusion. (The concept of “rejection by society” is inherent in queerness.)

With these parallels, it makes sense for Miles to be the ideal host for the Walrider. Additionally, Miles embodies queerness that isn't strictly homosexual—I mean his whole background/lifestyle is already, by definition, “queer”—but questions regarding his sexuality arise when inspecting other details of his character.

My friend pointed out the whole “Manhandler Hairspray for the Active Man” detail in Miles' apartment. There are a lot of homosexual undertones in the label, and it's hard not to think otherwise. “Manhandler” and “Active” are terms which indicate the “top” role in gay culture. I mean, it's possible that Miles is just embodying the “metrosexual” identity (basically straight men who embody characteristics associated with homosexuality) but metrosexuality is rooted in consumerism, which doesn't exactly align with Miles' character since he is openly critical of capitalism. I think the hairspray hints at queerness (or at least gender non-conformity).

Article on “metrosexuality”:

https://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/22/style/metrosexuals-come-out.html

The most revolutionary detail that my friend pointed out was the fact that Miles went out of his way to roast the ever-living shit out of everyone he came across at Mount Massive, begging the question: why is he so fixated on the appearances of other men? This could stem from his own insecurities of being rejected by society or insecurities of his own vanity (considering the hairspray he uses and the fact that he goes jogging…and if he's just trying to be healthy through exercise then he needs to explain his self-destructive alcoholism…idk…jogging for mental health? It’s open to interpretation…WAIT I mean he could just be keep up his physical fitness also with all the investigating he has to do anyways fjshshkdhd). It was just interesting that Miles was so fixated on physical appearances that it makes me wonder if he'd make similar comments about women—I don't believe he would and I'll explain below.

I know that we need to take Red Barrels' tweets with a grain of salt—they're known for deleting tweets that detail misinformation about the protagonists—but I find this tweet particularly interesting. I may be looking too much into it, especially since it's just a tweet and not presented in the games/comics, but it certainly is reflective of Red Barrels' values of respecting women and not viewing women as sexual objects, along with the notion of dismantling cis-heteropatriarchy/chivalry. It certainly doesn't mean he's not straight, but he doesn't particularly view women as sexual objects either (and I know that straight men are capable of not viewing women as sexual objects). Food for thought.

Some extra stuff:

Anti-conservatism and punk ideology (which Miles explicitly embodies) are pillars of queer culture in the political sphere.

The Germanic folklore, which the Walrider is based off of, exhibits notions of sexuality (though, probably not in the best light).

[TRIALS SPOILER] Wernicke’s dream therapy is associated with Dr. Easterman’s queerness—Easterman would be distracted by Wernicke’s handsomeness (and they both explicitly critique heterosexual relationships). Again, this supports the Walrider’s themes of sexuality.

Waylon

As for WAYLON, even though there isn't concrete evidence in the games to intentionally indicate queerness, that isn't to say he is entirely heterosexual (because assuming he's heterosexual is yet another product of the “ideal American man” image in a cis-heteronormative society, and Outlast's narratives are about dismantling this notion). In fact, now that you bring it up, I agree that Waylon can be considered on the queer spectrum/under the queer umbrella.

Regarding the “dismantling the ideal American man in a cis-heteronormative society” concept…the devs, artists, writer(s), actors, and contributors to the games' development are not only open/accepting of things outside of society's norms/expectations, but many are social activists. Chimwemwe Miller (VA for Chris Walker) is outspoken about being Black, Black history, and racism—he also narrated an audiobook which discussed racism, colonialism, & imperialism. Erika Rosenbaum (VA for Lynn Langermann) organized provisions for refugees and is active in environmental causes and feminism—she also spoke out during the #MeToo movement. Shawn Baichoo (VA for Miles, Waylon, & Blake) is also vocal about feminism/racism and was a huge advocate for his character Wrench's bisexuality from Watch Dogs 2, which became confirmed in a later installment of the Watch Dogs franchise.

I bring this up because Red Barrels actually entertains the idea of Waylon x Eddie (in the hypothetical that Eddie wasn't an antagonist like he was in the game…so like, erasing his problematic features baha…this deserves an analysis of its own) without mentioning sexuality or anything like that. Obviously, this can be seen as a way to entertain the fanbase, but I think it's worth mentioning that Waylon isn't opposed to homosexuality. After all, Waylon never makes homophobic remarks in his notes nor comments on male sexuality—he's just fearful of being assaulted (as anyone would be, regardless of gender/sexuality). He would, in fact, engage in a homosexual relationship according to this hypothetical.

(Note: the term “insane” is a harmful descriptor in this context, which is why I wrote “wasn’t an antagonist like he was in the game”)

So yea! I definitely think there's queerness with Waylon's character. And I don't exactly mean this to be “representation” because there's a lot of responsibility that comes with that, but ultimately I think it adds to what the franchise and the devs are trying to do—normalize queerness and dismantle the notion of the “ideal American man in a cis-heteronormative society” (and if you've studied socioeconomics/social theory, you know that this notion is a product of capitalism, which is another important theme in the franchise).

Here are some resources about the intersectionalities of cis-heteropatriarchy, capitalism, & queerness if you'd like to read more about it :)

(this one below is quite lengthy, but goes VERY DEEP)

All in all, my interpretation is that the franchise operates on the idea that “queerness” is normal or innate, but social structures are what label it otherwise. I've seen a lot of discussion surrounding Outlast characters' queerness, and it's interesting to me that the antagonists' sexualities get more attention amongst casual players than the protagonists' sexualities (and I think I can understand why, it's just a lot to unpack).

Just as many of the antagonists can be read as queer, the protagonists should arguably be read through the same lens. I truly do think Miles and Waylon (and even Lynn and Blake!) deserve to be inspected under queer lens. Doing so aligns with the franchise's philosophy/narratives. Also the idea of “queer characters taking down capitalism” is super empowering (and actually very identifiable hehe).

(Sorry, I think I projected a lot of my own personal values and biases into this post LOL hhhjdsfh feel free to critique anything I've written!)

This is my first time inspecting Waylon through a queer lens, so thank you for the ask!! I had a lot of fun writing this up :D

[mybeingthere]

Jesse Harrod has an MFA from the department of Fiber & Material Studies from the School of The Art Institute of Chicago and a BFA from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University. She is currently the Head of Fibers & Material Studies at Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia.

Jesse Harrod is an artist whose practice explores embodiment, gender, and sexual identity. Working with multiple media forms and materials, Harrod’s work builds on herstories of 1970s feminist art to offer queer imaginations of the body, from the abject and the grotesque to the humorous.