#despite the dollhouse having nowhere to put it

[tj-crochets]

I can’t remember and tumblr’s search function is being less than definitive. Did I ever show y’all the no-longer-hypothetical dollhouse?

[delirious-donna]

There’s A Girl In My Tub [Part Two]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento walks in on a woman he doesn't know neck-deep in his bath. What is he meant to do now?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: reader described as having hair that can be put in a ponytail, SFW

Part One | Series Masterlist | Part Three

The mistake was clear from the second he lunged inside the bathroom. Where he had presumed to find his younger sister submerged in his tub, sat a woman he did not know splashing and spluttering from both the shock of being jump scared and the bubbles that shot up your nose.

Kento wasn’t sure what his predominant emotion was, whether it be complete mortification for interrupting someone bathing or indignant anger at the complete stranger using his apartment like some kind of luxury hotel.

“Who the fuck are you?” The stranger half yelled, half spluttered.

Realisation dawned on him like icy dread spider walking up his spine. What had meant to be a practical joke was no longer looking so funny.

“You’re not Karin…” He said matter-of-factly.

At this point, he was simply stating the obvious. What he found interesting was the comprehension that he could see illuminated in your eyes. You might not be Karin, but you knew who she was. The connection between the two of you was what he needed to establish next, or well… after he found out your name.

“I’m Nanami Kento, and you’re in my bath. Who are you?”

His eyebrow cocked in a mixture of continued annoyance and the first hint of curiosity. Given that you were familiar with his sister meant you weren’t some crazy intruder, not that he thought that in the first place given your luggage in his room and the fact that you couldn’t have gained access without a keycard and code.

You offered your name in no more than a timid squeak, and he didn’t recognise it. He huffed a tired exhale and turned towards the door to give you a modicum of privacy. His mouth opened to speak, but you beat him to the punch, silencing him effectively with your more confident tone.

“Look, can we not hash this out whilst I am naked in your bath? Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you in the living area,” you enthused, hands gesticulating wildly. It sent a flurry of bubbles into the air which Kento watched before giving a curt nod of agreement and stalking out without uttering another word.

He needed a drink in the worst possible way, even if it was only early afternoon. It was going to be entirely necessary to indulge in his top-shelf liquor to help with his current predicament.

Once more, he glanced at the haphazardly packed case open on his bed. This time studying the contents a little more closely. Perhaps he should have considered doing this earlier, as one glance was enough to confirm that even the style of clothing was so unlike his sister, not to mention the stuffed animal, which he guessed resembled a bunny rabbit despite its ragged appearance. Karin hadn’t been one for stuffed toys, preferring dolls and the pretty furniture to fill ornate dollhouses growing up.

Speaking of his dearly beloved sibling, Kento fished his phone from his pocket as he made his way back to the kitchen. He cradled it between his ear and shoulder whilst selecting a crystal tumbler and a bottle of scotch. The ringing went to voicemail. Of course, it did.

“Karin, call me. I don’t appreciate surprises, and you owe me an explanation.” He kept it short and sweet, his specialty. He pushed the phone across the kitchen island and turned to lean his back against the pantry door.

What the hell was going on? He mused silently, swirling the dark amber contents of his glass before bringing it to his lips and swallowing a healthy mouthful. The liquor coated his teeth and burned his throat as it slid into his mostly empty stomach.

Everything had happened in such a rush that he couldn’t even picture your face as he waited. He hadn’t thought to get a good look at you, not when the circumstances were so intimate–vulnerable even. Not for the first time today, his palm scrubbed down his face. What must you think of him? You were this–he floundered for a moment in thinking of how to accurately describe you–young woman, naked and trapped in a room with one exit. An exit that he had blocked with his body.

He groaned, pressing the cool crystal tumbler to his temple and rolling it across his forehead. This was exactly the type of situation you saw in horror movies, except he wasn’t some crazed killer on the hunt for young virgins or any young women for that matter, but he would understand if you were fearful of him. It would only be logical.

As if summoned by thought alone, the soft pad of your socks alerted Kento that you had finished with the bath. He glanced sideways, eyeing the simple black leggings and an oversized sweater emblazoned with the logo of Karin’s college, and some pieces of the puzzle fell neatly into place.

Your hair was mostly dry except for the ends that had been splashed by the unexpected dunking they had received, the strands tied loosely into a ponytail that softened the stern expression plastered across your features.

Standing with the kitchen island between you as if it afforded you some semblance of protection, Kento tried not to smile when you folded your arms across your chest and tilted your chin in his direction. The sleeves of your sweater engulfed your arms so completely that only the tips of your fingers showed. He admired your courage in the face of a stranger, a male one at that, and one that could likely impose his height and weight against you if he so inclined. Sure, he admired it, but it was also incredibly dumb.

“Did you enjoy your soak?” He asked, taking another sip of scotch to hide the quirk of his lips.

Your eyes narrowed. Damn, he hadn’t felt amusement like this in the longest time. Some would claim that he didn’t have a funny bone in his body, but they were wrong. Kento simply didn’t entertain cheap humour, and this situation was far from bargain basement.

“I was. That is until this massive oaf leapt inside screaming like a maniac and scaring the life out of me.”

That was enough to wipe the smile from his face. Kento straightened and set his tumbler down. He ran a hand through his hair and endeavoured to end this charade right here and now. To hell with the fact that you amused him, he didn’t know you from Adam.

“How do you know Karin? And I am not an oaf, for the record,” he added with what sounded even to him as a touch of petulance.

You rolled your eyes. “She’s my friend, maybe even best friend, actually. We go to the same college, different majors though. How do you know her? Are you her dad or something?”

It was Kento’s turn to narrow his eyes. He could see it for what it was, a direct jab at him, but you didn’t truly believe he could possibly be her father, or at least he hoped not!

You picked at your nails whilst the silence lingered on. He debated whether to rise above your petty attempts at riling him, but something stopped him. Kento was the level-headed one, always reasonable, however, something about you crept beneath his skin.

“Can’t be that much of a best friend if you don’t even know that she has a brother… that would be me, by the way. Hi. I’m the brother, and this is my apartment. I do hope this is some kind of elaborate joke.”

Sure enough, his aim was true. Your face crumpled at the truth he laid out so cruelly. Instead of feeling some sense of triumph for gaining the upper hand, he resigned to the guilt settling heavily in his chest. He almost rubbed at his heart but stopped at the last second.

Why did he care? That’s what he really wanted to know. Yes, you were cute. He was a man after all, he could appreciate your soft feminine features, but he was hardly known as a man who sought out the company of the opposite sex often.

Kento pinched the bridge of the nose. It was upsetting to watch you fold in upon yourself like this, your shoulders hunched inward and your head bowed low. He cared, and that was surprising. He wished for that spark of confidence to ignite again, longing to kick himself for being the one to douse it in the first place.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That was cruel of me, but you did call me her dad!” He tried to rationalise his outburst, and he was glad when your head snapped up to scrutinise him. “We’ve started on the wrong foot. Can you blame me for acting a little irrational? I’ve never found an intruder in my home before, let alone a naked one in my bath. Why are you here?”

Without a word, you stretched out a hand for his near-empty glass, swallowing down the remnants in one gulp. You hissed through your teeth, dancing on the spot whilst the potent alcohol slid into your belly to warm you. Kento cocked his eyebrow but chose to remain silent.

He had so many questions. Why you were here in his home was curiously not at the top of the pile, but it seemed inappropriate to be querying your age and probing your interests at this point in the conversation. Not to mention, you were his sister’s friend, nothing more.

Nothing more, Kento.

“Well, your darling sister told me this was her place, and that it was empty right now. Clearly, neither part was true, and I will be taking that up with her as soon as she answers her damn phone!”

“Hm, so Karin is avoiding your calls too. Curious.”

You blew out a long breath, the strands of hair framing your face dancing around and… Kento glanced away, refusing to acknowledge the desire to fix them behind your ear.

“Aren’t you on spring break? Why aren’t you shacked up in some overly loud and raucous resort? I’m certain that’s where Karin will be right about now.” Kento rolled his eyes at even thinking about it. He well remembered his years in college and how he loathed this time of year. It was his idea of hell.

Scrunching your nose in distaste, you walked around the edge of the kitchen island and hopped up to sit yourself closer to him. Again, he cursed your trust. He could be lying to you. He could have nefarious intent. So why did it make him want to protect you all the more?

“No thanks. I’d rather catch up on some classes and prepare for the new semester, but…” You trailed off, eyes lowering to your fingers which continued to fidget incessantly–an annoying habit he noted.

“But what?” Kento got the sense that he wasn’t going to like your answer much. He braced for it, both palms flush on the marble countertop and coaxing you into maintaining his steady eye contact.

“I don’t have anywhere else I can go. My parents are renovating, and I can’t afford to rent a place for two weeks, at least not somewhere actually habitable.”

Kento froze as the weight of your words washed over him. There was a chance that Karin was truly being a good friend since she had been aware of the business trip he was meant to be on right now. It would be so like her to help out a friend in need.

Was he meant to toss you out on your ass? He was within his rights, of course, but could his conscience allow it? It was obvious you weren’t lying or exaggerating to gain his favour, you looked just as uncomfortable telling him the truth as he did hearing it. This whole situation was a mess, and he didn’t see a clear way out of it.

Well, shit…

[ssahotchnerr]

Can I request a fic based on these thought ❤️Aaron would 100% be the kind of dad that would spend all night building a barbie house or dolls house and would also very willingly sit and play barbie’s with his daughters.

well worth it

YOU'RE SO RIGHT THAT'S TOO CUTE cw; girl dad!aaron, bau!fem!reader, fluff <3

growing impatient and nearly beginning to doze off without him, you exited your bedroom in search of aaron. you've waited all day to be cozied up with him, and you simply couldn't wait any longer.

you've been comfortably waiting for over an hour; having gone through your full night routine, getting into bed, reading a few chapters of your current read. aaron even came in to change into his pajamas at one point, but trailed out again.

"hey you," you peeked your head into the living room, finding aaron laying stomach-down on the plush carpet. "you coming to bed? it's getting late."

"in a minute." aaron mumbled gently in response, his voice vaguely muffled into whatever it was he had in front of him. "as soon as i finish up here."

you ventured further into the room in curiosity, the closer proximity allowing you to see your daughter's new dollhouse set before him.

your nose crinkled lightly in amusement, a small smile forming on your face. and as if aaron could sense it - he peered up at you, a matching smile on his own lips as he saw your tickled expression, his brown eyes aglow.

"i promised i would have it ready in the morning." aaron admitted with a soft chuckle as he sat up, you scrambling down on the carpet to join him. "it's done, there's just so many damn stickers that have to be in certain spots." he grabbed the instruction pamphlet, studying it for a moment. "wallpaper for every room, that was a pain. things like a bath rug for the bathroom. even some go on the furniture - they're tiny, tiny stickers..."

as he trailed on and on, listing all the details, you fell quiet the more you followed along to his words, your eyes analyzing his face in slight astonishment.

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly again, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically as he tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper creating a fluttering sound as it fell. he grasped onto the sticker sheet once more, his lips drawing into a frustrated line as he struggled to peel one off - his large hands all to blame.

"it still surprises me out of nowhere sometimes, despite how much time has passed." you shook your head slightly in content, swiping the sheet from his hands. you easily removed the sticker, handing it to him. "you're listing off the necessities for a dollhouse. for our daughter. there was a time where the most i heard you talk was while giving a profile, and just, here we are now. i dunno, does that make sense?"

"completely." aaron agreed as his smile retook form on his face, placing the sticker where it belonged. "happens to me every day. how lucky i am to have you. never thought i'd be dad to another, yet alone a girl dad at that."

"it suits you." you grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "want some help? anything to get you to bed sooner."

aaron looked at the instructions again, a soft hum leaving his mouth as he thought. "again, it's pretty much finished foundation wise. but if you wanna start setting the furniture inside, be my guest darling."

side by side, the two of you worked together, rather giddily at that. quiet quips, playful comments how your own home could use these and whatnot (aaron groaned at your suggestion of wallpaper). warm but soft laughter, to prevent waking up jack and your little girl. you continued to help aaron peel the stickers as needed, and he, the notorious stickler, double checked you were putting items in the correct places 'according to the instructions'. you both knew once your daughter had her hands on her dollhouse, would nothing remain where it belonged, but that didn't stop him from teasing you; "did you put it in the-" "aaron, yes!"

finally, once in bed with aaron at your backside this time, one of his arms draped securely around your waist, you fell asleep with the heartwarming thought that your daughter's very first request in the morning - after her initial excitement - would be for aaron to play dolls with her. and of course, would he comply (just for a bit, and as long as she finished breakfast first). five minutes would surely turn into ten, fifteen, twenty depending on how early she awoke.

such brought up the potential risk of aaron being late to work, but if it allowed just a few more smiles to come from baby girl, it was well worth it.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 24 - ao3 -

The Cloud Recesses was calm and serene, tranquil and undisturbed. But unlike its usual tranquility, Lan Qiren felt that it was the calm of the moment before a firework exploded, the air thick and heavy with the impending eruption of an oncoming storm.

Lan Qiren’s brother continued to neglect his work to court He Kexin, who seemed to have improved her opinion of him somewhat during the time that Lan Qiren was gone, though whether it was the earnestness of his passionate pursuit, flattery at the idea of a man gone mad for her, or just that she’d become resigned to the idea for the moment, it wasn’t clear. What was clear to anyone with eyes was that her regard for him, although apparently now genuine, was nowhere near as fanatical as his. Lan Qiren suspected that they had started sleeping together, which seemed like a mistake on her part.

Still, brother or no, this was not a matter in which he was qualified to intervene.

Lan Qiren returned to his usual life, although he again temporarily delayed his planned departure in order to assist with sect matters – whatever his relationship with his brother, Lan Qiren loved his sect very much, and he, at least, would not so easily allow it to slip into disarray through neglect. No one asked him about the matter of He Kexin; his teachers pretended his unjust punishment had not happened but avoided his eyes for several weeks, and his peers had mostly moved on with their lives.

(His brother pretended he didn’t exist, but Lan Qiren didn’t hold it against him. Rumor had it that Wen Ruohan had either threatened or actually hit him or both to make clear how much he disapproved of what happened to Lan Qiren, and whether or not that was true, Lan Qiren enjoyed the thought too much to quibble over how his brother wanted to salvage his dignity.)

Lan Yueheng passed along news – not gossip, he said self-righteously, just news, as if Lan Qiren would somehow miss the fact that ever since he’d paired up with that pretty storehouse clerk of his, Lan Yueheng had belatedly discovered the joys of gossip and taken to it like a fish to water – but there wasn’t much of it, not even with his beloved Zhang Xin’s prodigious capacity for romantic stories and ability to embroider just about any situation into something resembling one. Cangse Sanren wrote Lan Qiren several letters, but once she’d been assured of his health and wellbeing, they largely shifted over to complaining about the Jin sect, where she was now residing, and occasionally included lurid descriptions of Wei Changze specifically meant to shock his conscience.

How are you even seeing him, Lan Qiren wrote back. Aren’t you in Lanling? He’s a servant in Yunmeng. Doesn’t he have a job?

Jiang Fengmian has ascended to the position of sect leader, she wrote back. He has to visit the other sects relatively often, and the Jiang sect has always been close to the Jin sect. Why shouldn’t they visit?

Lan Qiren thought about his brother and shook his head. Was irresponsibility in the rainwater this year?

I trust you’ve made your view on the matter clear to Jiang Fengmian.

Of course, she replied. He seems to live in hope that one day I’ll change my mind.

You’ve never changed your mind about anything.

So I’ve told him. Really, the fact that he doesn’t realize that is yet another reason why we wouldn’t be a good pair – putting aside his role, which I don’t want to share. Can you imagine me as mistress of the Lotus Pier? I’d be awful at it.

Lan Qiren imagined it, and shuddered.

Anyway, I’m like you – I want to travel! There’s so much to see out there. What a pity it would be to be trapped inside all day, like a caged lark singing only for a select few.

You could always invite others to come share their stories with you instead, he replied, thinking of Wen Ruohan sitting alone in the room he had designed for Lan Qiren like a dollhouse, waiting for a maid to help him vent his emotions over Lao Nie and Lan Qiren both. The rumors from Qishan said he’d recently taken on a concubine and that she was pregnant; Madame Wen was apparently furious over it. Bring the world to you, if you can’t go to them. That’s what sect leaders generally do, to my understanding: feathering their nest to make it bright and pleasing to their eyes because they cannot leave lest it fall apart. That’s a way of living, too.

I suppose, she replied, fearless and carefree as ever. But not for me!

There was Lao Nie, too.

He visited the Cloud Recesses a month or so after Lan Qiren’s visit to the Nightless City, belatedly concerned about Lan Qiren’s well-being – “I didn’t hear about it,” he said, looking shamefaced. “I had other matters on my mind…I’ll talk to your brother, though. I can’t believe he would order something so disproportionate. Is he here?”

“He is not,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh. Those who said you couldn’t change a man’s essential nature were not wrong, he thought, already forgiving Lao Nie despite his lack of actual apology.

Lan Qiren had always liked people whose spirits were bold and relentless, uncompromising and unbending just like him; there was really no other way to explain his truly inexplicable fondness for Cangse Sanren and Lan Yueheng and even Wen Ruohan, except maybe to say that he found himself compelled to love where he was loved in return. Lao Nie was like two drops of water with the rest of them, forging his own path in the world, wholly and truly himself – even if he left chaos in his wake, why should Lan Qiren expect more of him than to be exactly what he was?

“He’s out night-hunting,” he added. “Down in the south. There were tales of some very unusual beasts roaming there.”

He Kexin had expressed a mild interest in response to a storyteller’s tale, and naturally Lan Qiren’s brother whisked her away at once, her and all her friends that he always seemed to be paying for. Lan Qiren had thought that she kept them around her as a means of holding his brother off, but Zhang Xin had opined over a shared cup of tea that she thought He Kexin was treating the great and powerful Qingheng-jun as a convenient purse, that treating her friends to his largesse was the point and not the defense. 

Zhang Xin liked to hold forth on her views, forthright and unstoppable and loud, and Lan Qiren could see why Lan Yueheng constantly looked so infatuated whenever he gazed upon her – she was not dissimilar to one of the explosions he created in his alchemy laboratory. They were very well matched, and Lan Qiren deeply pitied whichever teacher got stuck with their eventual offspring, which he foresaw as being the least Lan sect juniors to have ever graced their ranks.

“Gone? I’ll see him when he comes back, then,” Lao Nie said, entirely unperturbed by such concerns. “Let me tell you about my son instead! He’s wonderful – a big, fat baby.”

Lan Qiren crossed his arms. “We can talk about your baby later. What about your wife?”

“A goddess!”

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way, Lan Qiren mused. “Lao Nie,” he said. “What about Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Hanhan? He’s doing well, too.”

Lan Qiren resisted the urge to strangle Lao Nie.

“Oh,” Lao Nie said, apparently figuring something out based on Lan Qiren’s sour expression. “You mean the fact that he’s angry at me?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “He’s very angry at you. Do you know why?”

“I’ve tried talking with him about it,” Lao Nie complained. “I don’t know why he’s being so stiff all of a sudden…it’s not like he doesn’t know what I’m like.”

This, Lan Qiren supposed, was definitely true.

“He thought of you as his,” Lan Qiren said. “Didn’t you know?”

Lao Nie shrugged, careless as a boar in full charge, heedless of the damage wrought around him as he moved through the world, none of which could penetrate his thick hide. “Of course. But being his doesn’t make me any less my own, and I can belong to others, too. Who’s he to tell me not to give myself where I will? Does he have dominion over me?”

“He doesn’t want dominion over you,” Lan Qiren said, and Lao Nie looked at him skeptically – which was fair enough. Wen Ruohan was possessed of a strong desire for domination, whether of people, places, or things; he truly believed all good things in the world ought to belong to him, and Lan Qiren only hoped that he never shifted over to thinking that he was actually the rightful owner of all things, for that path led inexorably to the reign of the tyrant. “Truly! Not over you, or any of the people close to his heart. If he wanted merely to possess you, he might as well try to snatch you off to his sect and give you his surname.”

“Not with the sort of relationship we have,” Lao Nie said, a smug smirk curling his lips. “If you know what I mean.”

Lan Qiren sighed. Truly, it was a pity to have reached the age in which everyone around him seemed to think of nothing but sex; he couldn’t wait until they were all too old for such things. Surely it couldn’t be that long…?

“You know what I mean,” he said patiently. “He’s not after Sect Leader Nie, not making some powerplay or attempting to seduce you in order to win your talents over. He likes you, Lao Nie, and all he expects from you is that you like him back.”

“I do!” Lao Nie protested. “I really do. He’s my darling Hanhan, isn’t he? He’s the one setting up walls between us, all because he’s gotten his feathers in a twist over something that’s really nothing. If it’s my time that he’s worried about splitting, what’s the surprise? My sect will always come first, as will his for him. I don’t even have a wife anymore!”

“You – don’t?” Lan Qiren stared, expression blanking out in his shock: this was not a piece of news that had reached his ears. He put down his teacup. “Lao Nie, if something happened –”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Lao Nie said dismissively. “She’s a goddess, like I told you! She’s off and around, coming and going, everywhere and nowhere at once – how could my Nie sect hope to contain such a creature?”

“But…you married her?”

“So? Does that mean I need to live with her?”

Lan Qiren was truly taken aback. He had never heard of such an unorthodox arrangement. “You have a son together! Who is raising him?”

“Me, of course! With the aid of plenty of servants, naturally. I wouldn’t dream of tying her down…ah, Qiren, don’t look so shocked. We’re all our own people, with our own wants and desires. Sometimes those desires pair well, and you can live together happily and well for the rest of your lives; sometimes they don’t. If you fall for someone whose desires don’t line up to your own, you can still pursue something with them. That you wouldn’t match well in what’s considered the orothodox fashion is no reason not to match at all, not if there can be an unorthodox arrangement that causes no one any harm.”

“Are we still talking about your ‘goddess’ wife?” Lan Qiren asked. “Or Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie smiled ruefully. That sharp cleverness that was always with him lingered in his eyes, having been hidden beneath his distraction and his infatuation and his deliberately careless manner. “I tried to tell him,” he said. “From the very beginning…I was the one doing the pursuing, you know. He didn’t even want me at the start. The stupid fool, he thought he’d be better off alone, alone with the cold delights of political power and the miserable fascinations of that Fire Palace of his, leaving no room in his heart for any human warmth at all. You know what they all say about him: that he lost something when he passed the boundaries of his first human lifetime, his cultivation so high as to make him closer to a god than a man.”

Lan Qiren had heard that, too. At the beginning, he’d seen what people meant, but later, once he got closer, he didn’t see it at all.

“Before I convinced him to have me, he was far worse,” Lao Nie said bluntly. “If you think he was bad when you were younger, you have no idea – forget putting you in a dollhouse and dressing you up to suit his whims over your complaints; if he’d wanted you alongside him back then, he wouldn’t have hesitated to carve out your soul and turn you into a heartless puppet instead. It wouldn’t have satisfied him, of course, and eventually he would have discarded you, never knowing why he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.”

“Know your own mind,” Lan Qiren quoted. “What he would have wanted was the heart, sincerely given, and yet that was the first part thrown away…but such a realization would be too late and too bad for the victim, even if he later regretted.”

“He didn’t regret much, when I first got to know him,” Lao Nie said. “Nothing but trouble, down to his bones; that’s what he was, and what he still is, really. Lucky for him, I like a bit of trouble.”

That was an understatement. Lao Nie liked a lot of trouble, the more the better; it was really no wonder that he’d attached himself to Wen Ruohan.

“I pursued him,” Lao Nie said, picking up the thread from where he’d left off. “I dug out all the human parts of him that I could from underneath that stiff and stern human mask of his, and in the end he wanted me, too. But throughout it all I told him, I told him, that I wasn’t free for the keeping – that I knew myself, with my nose for trouble and wickedness, that I’d never be satisfied with just the one. That the only one who’d ever have all of me was my saber, and only because she doesn’t want anything in return but blood. He liked that, once. He thought it was a good thing.”

Yes, Lan Qiren could see that. Especially in the beginning, Wen Ruohan would not have wanted someone who gave him everything; he was like a wild cat, standoffish with those that longed for him and close to those that rejected him. One of the most powerful cultivators, sect leader of the most powerful sect – if he wanted someone who would simper and flirt and yield for him, he could have a dozen at the blink of an eye.

Someone like Lao Nie, who had a firm sense of identity and neither needed nor wanted anything from the outside world, who was always truly fundamentally himself, was far more his style.

So was someone like Lan Qiren, for that matter. Uncompromising and strict, mind preoccupied with his idiosyncratic obsessions – Wen Ruohan had thought him interesting, for whatever reason, and in time had grown jealous of those other thoughts, longing to be counted among them.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his temples. “He always seemed to enjoy you going off with others,” he noted, wondering if Lao Nie had more insight into the matter. “Why is this different? He got married, too.”

“Hanhan’s tastes are changing as he remembers more of what it means to be human,” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, accepting more tea when Lan Qiren poured it out for him. “I only excavated the surface, the rough parts of him that suited my interests, and he was content with our relationship being friendly and casual. But for you he brought out his soft underbelly and the hint of civilization that he used to have, remembering what he used to be and the things he used to want…I see he even gave you some of his paintings.”

Lan Qiren looked where Lao Nie was looking and saw the two paintings on his wall by the mysterious artist. “His paintings..? He painted these? It doesn’t feel anything like him!”

“Trust me, his qi is unmistakable to one who’s known it as intimately as I have. It’s definitely him – though I’d say these paintings are nearly a century old. Can we say that we are the same people we were between yesterday and today? Even the course of the mighty river can shift over time.”

Lan Qiren was stuck looking at the paintings. Free, he’d said to Wen Ruohan, all unknowing. The person who painted these was free and happy. Their soul is like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. 

For all the power and might that Wen Ruohan could bring to bear these days, Lan Qiren wouldn’t use any of those terms to describe him as he was now.

“He’ll forgive me,” Lao Nie said confidently, putting his cup down. “Give him time to remember why he liked me so much, remember all the warnings I gave him, and he’ll get over it. Maybe we’ll be a little less close than before, maybe there’ll be more anger and jealousy between us - at any rate, I haven’t pushed him so far to the brink that he would try to kill me to keep anyone else from having me, at least not yet. He’s just disappointed, that’s all. He’d only just realized that he wanted more when he realized he couldn’t get it.”

Lan Qiren nodded slowly. He thought that Lao Nie was right, although he also thought it was stupid of him to knowingly play with fire in such a brazen manner – Wen Ruohan really wouldn’t hesitate to murder a fellow sect leader, even one in another Great Sect, if he was determined enough, and he was smart and twisted enough to think of a way to get away with it, too.

Still, just as Lan Qiren had gotten over his feelings about Wen Ruohan’s inclination towards seeing torture and pain as entertainment, realizing that if he wanted him then he had to accept him as he was rather than rejecting him for it, Wen Ruohan would do the same for Lao Nie. He would remember what Lao Nie was like, what he’d always been like, and he would teach himself to appreciate those traits that he had once thought preferable, even as he resented them.

They’d get over this. Lan Qiren was sure of it.

What would come of it in the future, though...

“Anyway, I’ve dithered for long enough,” Lao Nie said. “I really only swung by briefly to say hello. I’m due at the Jin sect before the week’s out, and that means I have to go at once. Anything you want me to pass along to your lady-love rogue cultivator?”

“Leave Cangse Sanren alone, that’s what you can do for me,” Lan Qiren said. “Also, we’re still not lovers, nor will we ever be. Not everyone’s you!”

“No, they’re not,” Lao Nie said, grinning at him. “And that’s the way I like it – the richer the variety of the world, the more interesting people I can meet and be friends with, just like you.”

Lan Qiren was so overwhelmed by the compliment – he of course considered Lao Nie a friend of his, having as he did so many acquaintances and so few true friends, but he hadn’t realized that Lao Nie saw him as a genuine friend in return – that it didn’t even occur to him until it was too late that he hadn’t brought up the matter of his brother and He Kexin, nor told Lao Nie that he needed to stop his reckless encouragement of that relationship.

He’d tried to put that whole thing out of mind, Lan Qiren thought to himself with a sigh, and he’d succeeded – too well.

Whatever. His brother wouldn’t listen to their own sect elders, even as their exhortations shifted from encouragement to censure and their suggestions to leave it alone got more and more pointed, their interventions less and less subtle. Why would he listen to Lao Nie? 

He’d just go his own way and do what he wanted, no matter what.

Lan Qiren ought to learn from his example and put the whole thing aside, accepting the facts just as they were. He’d finally given up on the idea that he could help his sect through this moment of disaster - there would simply be nothing for it; they would have to stumble along without him or else force his brother to actually do his job, but in any event, it wasn’t his problem.

He was going to go - he was going to finally make his way out of the sect for his long-planned travel, and when he did, he wouldn’t need to worry about his brother, or He Kexin, or any of it.

Only a few more months from the date he’d informed the sect elders of, he thought, and this time he would stick to it, not delay. A few more months...he could even count the time in days, if he wished. 

His brother (and He Kexin) would return from their night-hunt in a few days, likely straight into the various elders’ less-than-subtle plans to find them and scold them over the whole thing. 

Lan Qiren would give his brother ten days after he returned - the same ten days his brother had given him - before he formally informed him that he was leaving.

It wouldn’t be long now.

[ardenatkins]

PANIC 04. TWENTY QUESTIONS

TAGGING : @marlo-reyes, @camdenclaymore

LOCATION : the dollhouse

NOTES : blasting every emo song in my arsenal rn

Going into the challenge, once the whole premise had been explained, Arden was confident she could get through it relatively unscathed. After all she was still relatively under the radar despite  the awards and titles she had won. And she tried her best to stay in her lane and not ask for more than what she had so that she didn’t get into problems she couldn’t get herself out of, like her parents before her. Meaning she truly believed she didn’t have many bombshells that would interest anyone, especially not the one percent. That was her first mistake. Believing that they  had better things to do with their time than humiliate some girl who wasn’t anywhere near their leagues just for sport. 

The questions were all pretty invasive. All ranging between random topics like pageants like if she had ever done favors for any judges to win, to her dating history and if she had dated her last boyfriend simply for clout. And the time in which they were asked wasn’t consistent. So that by the time the next question was asked she was left questioning if she was doing the right thing or not.

Why did your dad run off on your family?

"Why? It's not because of anything we did if that's what you're trying to imply. He left because he was a cowardly piece of shit who used anyone he could, including his own family, until there was nothing left for him to use and disappeared before he had to face any consequences for his own actions." She said with a roll of her eyes. Not interested in making excuses for someone who made it clear he didn’t care what happened to her. 

Do any of your greaser connections know how much money your dad stole from them? 

"I don't think so. But if they do they haven't come to collect. And if they want to, they know how to find me." She responded in a stoic voice, her expression straight and devoid of much emotion. Part of it of course was her attempting to put up a strong act, to show that she meant business and couldn't be taken advantage of. While part of it was also acceptance over her parent's dealings. An acceptance that had come over years of trying to dodge whoever came looking for repayment and growing tired of looking over her shoulder because of her parents' mistakes. Unlike her dad she knew she wasn't tough shit or believe she was untouchable, she knew eventually the past would catch up and she had just readied up for when it did.  

See, her dad had been a low ranking greaser back in his hay-day. A complete bum who used his affiliation to be something that he wasn’t. He had been a rat and absolutely irresponsible and definitely hadn’t given her a good impression of what a greaser was. If anything he was exactly the reason she had kept her head down around greasers and tried her best not to ruffle any feathers. But as luck would have it Cam swooped into her life out of nowhere and completely threw a wrench in that plan by quickly cementing his place as one of her best friends. And not long after Marlo had started checking in on her. Until eventually she found herself being looked after by more and more of them. So her opinion and fear of them wasn’t what it used to be. But it also meant that she admittedly tried not to let her guard down completely around them.

What have you been doing on the side to raise enough money to pay for all these debts? 

She clenched her jaw, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she contemplated answering the question or not. She was a bit of a busy body and had started working the moment she was legally able to so she had a lot of jobs under her belt. But she knew those weren't the jobs they wanted her to respond with. No. After being named Rosewood royalty? After being regarded as the future of Rosewood? By this point in her challenge she understood what the endgame was. The judges obviously wanted her to embarrass herself. To smear her own reputation so badly that no one would take her seriously or respect her again. But her own reputation was nothing above her need to move on to the next round. So she sucked up her own pride for a shot at a better life for her family.

"Different part time jobs. I make some decent money from pageants when I win. And…. once in a while I sell feet pics on the internet to make some extra cash." The blonde grimaced, wondering how people were going to regard her from here on out. Catching a glimpse of Marlo chuckling away on screen, someone who constantly got himself in goofy situations, was bad enough. She could only imagine the laughing stock she would be to all the pageant moms who already thought of her as trash. Or to all the people who had been vocally against her becoming one of the faces of the town. She could already hear them all already claiming they were right about her and had an idea it wouldn’t be long until they tried to take everything she had fought so hard for back.

In the police report for your family's trailer fire it seems that you corroborated the claims that the fire was caused because of the actions of your neighbor Marlo Reyes. Why is that? 

"I never agreed to shit!" She shouted up towards the ceiling, unsure where exactly her voice was being picked up from but wanting to make sure that she was heard loud and clear. There was no indication of how they took that answer, nothing but dead silence for a couple of seconds. Until she looked over at the screen and realized by the expression on his face that Marlo had been shocked. Obviously he was trying to brace himself and act tough through the pain but they'd been a presence in each other's lives long enough that she thought she had a good idea of when he was trying to be all showy to overcompensate in front of others.

By now it was clear that she had lost that round so there wasn't reason for Arden to elaborate on her answer, other than trying to explain what had really happened. She owed Marlo that much. He was involved in a lot of bad shit and that particular night she might have let herself get swayed by comments made by their neighbors. But Arden knew he wouldn't drag anyone not involved in his business down with him if he could help it. If anything when everything was said and done he had been one of the only people to even attempt to offer help and continue to check in with her after the fire. He was a decent guy, she knew that, even if no one else did. Even if he didn't. "Look, I don't really remember what I said or did that night. But I do remember getting taken in for questioning literally after just having watched my mom and grandma get taken on stretchers to the hospital, fighting for their lives. I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind. So maybe in my shock, with people in my ear, as I tried to process that I might be all alone in the world, they got me to agree to something that benefited them in the end. Yet another story to use in their crusade against the south side, you know."

More time passed. What felt like hours. All the could do was make herself small and wait, sitting in a corner of the room. Not fighting or wasting her energy in being angry, just waiting. Waiting to be released from the prison she was in. But the tension was no doubt getting to her. To the point that she felt like she was going to reach a breaking point any moment now. And the next question was sure to be the straw the broke the camel’s back.

Do you wish your mother would have died in that trailer fire?

For once that night Arden was finally stunned silent by a question. Every fibre in her being was trying to stop her from answering, trying to make her see past her tunnel vision on the prize for winning Panic. The truth wasn't something she had really let herself think about or even admit to. No, because the truth was more fucked up than anything else she had admitted that night and would probably make her look like the worst daughter, maybe even one of the worst people in Rosewood. But desperation made people do horrible shit and Arden was also probably one of the most desperate people in Rosewood. She constantly felt like she was falling in a bottomless pit and at this point it seemed the only way out for her now was winning some kind of lottery, or in this case Panic. Being a good person or doing the right thing wasn’t something she could consider anymore at this point.

It was almost ironic, the way she swore she would never become like her parents; two addicts who gambled away everything they had and almost broke their family up in the process. How she had never fully trusted or forgave her mom even after her dad left and she had recovered. Yet, here she was being a hypocrite and putting everything on the line for a gamble that might not even play out in the end. Still, one she had to take. 

Tears ran down her cheeks and she quickly turned her gaze down so she could hide her face in shame at what she was about to say. "...sometimes. When i'm really pissed off at the world and my life. Or I see her in pain and suffering while she still fights to recover. Or I have to sort through all the medical bills that never end. Or when it first hit me that I became the head of the household when I was still just a teenager. Yeah, sometimes I wonder if life would have been any easier that way…"

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 24

Bio dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Oh dear, oh dear Lila what a shame this is

First< Previous > Next

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

The next couple of days are... awkward. Dick keeps calling which is nice, they even go for dinner one day dragging Tim along. Tim seems fine, tired but that's hardly unusual. Jason had just straight up disappeared, but Dick had assured them he would be coming to the Wayne Gala that weekend. Speaking of which they had been invited, well they were already going because of MDC stuff but now they were also invited as civilians. The news would have been happy if Damian hadn't stormed out the room when it was mentioned. The next day and the day after that hadn’t improved anything, Damian was completely ignoring them and they weren't the only ones to notice.

“What did you do to upset Dami so much?!” Lila announces rather loudly to the entire cafeteria, “I told you, you were going too far,”

“Lila, and I mean this sincerely, fuck off,” Marion says flatly, he hears Marinette cover a laugh despite swatting at him lightly.

“How dare you?! I’m just trying to look out for him,” Lila sniffles, basking under the attention of her large audience, looking between the girl and Damian. Marion catches Damian's eye, raising a brow basically saying you’re going to let this slide? Apparently he was as Damian looks away from them, and if anything was going to give Lila more believability it’s that.

“Marion are you alright?” Rose asks gently, having tiptoed after Lila with the rest of the class. Had he been looking so downcast she actually noticed?

“I’m fi-” Whatever assurance he was about to give is mute as he feels tears sliding down his cheeks, “Fuck-I just-”

He tries to wipe away the tears, very aware of everyone watching him. It’s starting to get hard to breath when he feels gentle arms wrap around him. It’s Rose. Rose is actually hugging him! It’s been so long he forgot what her hugs felt like. Well if she was trying to stop him from crying that certainly didn’t help matters. He tries to take a calming breath but it comes out more like a sob and soon enough he can’t hold it back anymore. A fine place to break down Mari, really, truly a testament to your skill.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this here,” Lila scoffs, Marion can feel the arms around him tighten, “After all the work I put in for this trip-”

“LILA WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” Alya’s scream makes them all jump back, Marion turning to face the absolutely seething girl, “This is the first time in YEARS we’ve been allowed to feel emotions! So just leave it alone, they’re allowed to be sad!”

“Well-I-its-they-” Lila splutters looking completely blindsided that one of her puppets broke off its strings, clearly she hasn't been paying attention the last few weeks, funny when you save someone's life they tend to listen and care about what you say a bit more. And if that leads to noticing a few more jibes in their direction... well that's just a happy coincidence.

“What is your problem!? You’ve been nothing but nasty to them since we got here!” Well a bit longer than that but good on you for noticing Alya.

“Oh, it’s just been so hard for me!” Lila exclaims, crocodile tears coming in as Marion still tries to wipe off his own, the genuine article at that, “If you had heard some of the things they’ve said to me-”

Lila jumps as Damian appears next to her. He doesn't look at or acknowledge the twins. In fact, he still looks rather pissed but at least some of its directed at Lila this time. He silently hands his phone over to Alya with some hesitation, Lila's eyes go wide. As quickly as he had come he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd that had formed around them.

“What’s-”

“Give it!” Lila screeches, lunging for the phone. Alya jerks back in surprise, Lila’s nails tearing down her arm. Ugly red marks that had broken the skin and gone in deep.

“What the hell!” Alya shouts through tears, clutching her bloody arm as the class crowd around her.

Instead of apologizing Lila tries to snatch the phone in the moment of distraction, but Alix is a hair quicker. She presses play despite Lila shouting threats that made the rest of the class go pale. The recording plays everyone is glued to it. The class becoming increasingly more hysterical. Marinette doesn't wait for it to finish, she gently guides Marion out of the room slipping through the crowd. They hide in an empty classroom, far enough away they can’t hear the outcry that follows.

“Do you think that’s really it, it’s done?” Marion whispers, Marinette is wiping his face with a handkerchief he had always made fun of her for carrying.

“Maybe, I honestly can’t bring myself to care anymore,” Marinette rests her forehead against his, her standing as he sits on a desk, “I thought I’d feel more…”

“Victorious?”

“Yeah,”

“I don’t think there are any winners here,” He can hear someone shouting their names down the hall, voice wobbly with tears, he doesn't care about any apology the can muster, “How lame did I look crying?”

“In front of the whole school like that?”

“Yeah,”

“I’d say it was pretty brave,” She pulls him into a hug, squeezing tight.

“He was just ignoring us,” Marion admits quietly, Lila hadn’t made him cry in a long time, but Damian? Damian did.

“I know,” Marinette pats his head, the same way she would tease him as Chat Noir, “But he did something in the end didn’t he?”

“Oh, gee look at this lame-ass, better make him stop before people associate him with me’,” Marion does an impression not remotely close to Damian, Marinette pinches him.

“That’s not what he was thinking and you know it,”

“Yeah,” Marion sighs, he can hear doors opening and closing now, apologies cast out through the school in hopes they’ll hear them, “What do we do now?”

“Jump out the window?”

So they did end up jumping out the window. Something Alfred had somehow known they were planning because he was waiting right there to pick them up. The debated on actually going to the manor, but their phones were lighting up with messages and the hotel was not an option. The Manor was silent when they arrived. And it remained silent for most of their stay.

Dick had apparently set himself a mission of making them feel at home, whatever that meant, and was nowhere to be seen. He seemed like the only one actually happy to have them join the ragtag family so without him it was likely the others were just avoiding them. That was fine, really, Alfred set them up with a movie and ice cream that they used to ignore everything else.

Dick was their saving grace and the bane of their existence. When he came back he had apparently made the decision they would be staying at the manor for the rest of the trip, despite it only meant to be a few more days(it wasn't for them but he didn’t know that yet). Alfred had apparently told him what happened and he had brought it upon himself to bring their friends, actual friends not classmates to the manor. This was a blessing and a curse as all they seemed to want to do was fill them in on what had happened.

They listened and ate ice cream together. And yeah Marion kind of wished he could have seen Lila as every lie was torn down but Chloe rejoiced in relaying her reactions with great detail. She had of course tried to lie and turn it all on the twins, them trying to frame her. However, with blood running down Alya's arm that warranted a trip to the hospital it was met with a cold shoulder. Their talk eventually morphed into laughing at all her outlandish lies, which Chloe gladly compiled into a list to share with the rest of the class, ranking them in order of their stupidity. She planned to go through the whole list on the plane ride back where there would be no escape for anyone. It was fun in a way, and if Marion noticed more than one pair of eyes spying in on the conversation he wasn’t going to point it out. Lila was yet to face her dues.

When their friends had to go back to the hotel they promised not to give anything away. Alfred gratefully let them skip over dinner and Dick was overjoyed to show them to their rooms. Marion kind of wanted to laugh when he was shown his, wondering how much of it was Dick, how much was Bruce, and what was Alfred.

There were cat plushies everywhere which he had to guess was Bruce latching onto the detail from the fair and indeed Dough boy is sitting front and center on his bed. Then again wherever he was over he did spend a lot of time with Catfred. It could also be Dick taking note of that because really everything has cats on it. There's blankets, pillows, a rug with kittens over it. There was an armchair shaped like a cat head, and where had they even found that? It only got worse the further he went into the room noticing that the curtains had been replaced to have cats on them and there were pictures of cats hanging on the wall, the lamps in the room even cast shadows of cats. The only thing he could find that wasn't cat-related was a picture of them with Bruce at the fair, each sporting a plushie with Bruce holding a cutesy Batman plush between the grinning twins.

“Nette my defining trait isn’t cats is it?” He walks into her room through the joining door he was willing to bet didn’t exist a week ago. His side, of course, had a cat painted on it, he closes it just so he has less exposure to all the cats.

“Course not,” Marinette grins from her sewing machine.

She had a more, let's say subdued room. Oh sure Bruce had apparently found her all the Ladybug plushies he could but they apparently didn't have the same abundance as cats. Instead, he seemed to have focused on her sewing kit. Mannequins littered about her room that Marinette had already started pinning fabric to. Half of her walk-in closet was dedicated to spools of fabric, the other stocked with clothes. Marion didn’t dare brave his own knowing he would find only cats .

“Did you notice the dollhouse?” Marinette asks as Marion flops onto her bed, at least you could actually see her bed and it wasn't hidden by a pile of cats.

“Yeah mine was stocked with camembert and sugar cubes,” and it had personalized rooms for both Kaalki and Plagg that they were happily exploring.

“Mine cookies,” Marinette hums, more concerned with her design than the topic at hand, “Think we got found out,”

“Probably, whoever it is hasn't said anything tho,” Marion looks over at the large dollhouse in Marinette's room, Tikki waved at him from a window and he waved back.

“Probably Alfred,”

“Probably, that mans a witch,”

“A Witch?”

“I know what I said,” Marion sighs, sealing himself to go back into the cat infestation. How do you politely say ‘thank you so much but what the fuck?’

He knew he had to brave the closet sometime as someone had been so kind as to put away his clothes. Sure enough, it was as bad as he had imagined. Everything from t-shirts with cartoon cats to clothes carefully crafted to have cat ears. I was actually kind of amazing at this point. Giving up his conquest to find his actual pj’s he buttons up a two-piece that is, naturally, covered with cats.

On his way out he notices a bit of black at the very front of the closet not fitting in with the color-coded organization. He pulls it out to find a gorgeous leather jacket that was completely devoid of cats! Huzzah! There was a note hanging from the sleeve which Marion unfolded.

Knew Bruce and Dick would be idiots so I got you something actually decent

I saw the room and yeah it's a fucken mess

If you ever need it gone or I don’t know accidentally set on fire give me a call

Marion chuckles knowing it could be no one else but Jason he tucks the note into the jacket, pulling it on to find a perfect fit. He keeps it on as a shield, something solidly not-cat is comforting at this point. He pushes the piles of cat toys onto the floor and seriously he was going to have to have a talk with Bruce about moderation and interior decorating. He lies down looking up at the ceiling, then immediately getting up and storming into Nette’s room. He was not going to sleep under a mural of cats! Nope not tonight! Not ever!

Marinette doesn't even look up from where she’s hunched over her desk as he flops onto her bed. Can someone be over the moon to be surrounded by ladybugs? Yes provided they have had an overexposure to cats first.

“I know we don’t want to go to school tomorrow but I can not stand a second more in that room,”

“Schools over Mari, it’s the concert tomorrow remember?”

“Goddammit,”

“Jasons having a bad influence on you,”

“Can’t we have just one day of rest?”

“No, now go to sleep,”

“You first,” Marion shoots, back despite curling up under the blankets.

“If you want to wear that jacket tomorrow you better take it off before it gets ruined,”

“I can wear it for the concert?” He shoots back up, excited but takes her advice anyway.

“ No I did not spend weeks designing a new jacket for you to wear that,” Besides it doesn't even have bats on the back,”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Marion yawns, sinking back into the bed, and wow it’s really soft, “What if we changed them to Robins?”

“... you really don’t want me to sleep tonight do you?”

“Means I get the whole bed to myself, a master plan if I do say so myself,” Marion doesn't even stir as the pillow hits him square in the face.

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

[tiny-belle]

My @secret-shifters gift for @write-1t-bop-1t. Hope you like it! 😊

I wanted so badly to get away from there. I felt put on the spot as all eyes were upon me, waiting for me to make a decision right in that moment. How on earth was I supposed to choose a suitor, someone who I was to devote the rest of my life to, without the chance of truly getting to know any of them? Sure, some of them did try to genuinely impress me, but there were still quite a few who only wanted me because of my title or money or appearance. The notion of simply throwing a fancy ball and expecting me to suddenly fall in love with at least one of the male attendants is ridiculous. So when the time came for me to announce my choice, I fled.

I flew away as fast as I could, but the guards chased after me. Luckily, I managed to throw them off my trail as I tossed aside the tiara from my head. Before I knew it, I had reached the edge of the kingdom; a giant barrier of roses. No one ever dared to leave the kingdom because apparently there were rumors about horrible monsters on the other side who supposedly tortured or even killed fairies. According to the stories about them, they were a hundred feet tall with sharp teeth and bloodthirsty eyes and booming voices, and they would snatch up anyone who dared to venture outside the kingdom. Between their frightening appearance and horrible actions, yet no actual proof of their existence, they were usually relegated to scary stories children told each other and warnings parents used to scare their children straight. But I was so caught up in the heat of the moment that I was willing to take my chances of potentially dealing with them if it meant getting away from my royal obligation.

I flew into the rose bushes, only to get tangled up in the thicket of thorns. I pushed myself as I maneuvered through the stems, despite my gown tearing and cutting myself along my arms and legs. The worst damage was when my wings got caught, resulting in the thorns poking and slicing holes into my wings. I could no longer fly because of this, so I grabbed ahold of the stems to prevent myself from falling. I was so close to the end of the barrier that I could just see the other side, only to notice just how high off the ground I was. I could only hold on for so long that my hands became sweaty and I lost my grip. The roses cushioned my fall so that I didn’t die upon impact, but from what I can recall because it happened so fast, I blacked out before I hit the ground.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but I woke up to find that I was no longer outside. Rather than waking up in darkness, I awoke to the soft glow of firelight. The first thing I noticed upon opening my eyes was just how high the ceiling above me was. It seemed to stretch all the way up into the sky. Not even the highest ceilings in my castle reached anywhere near as far as this. I felt the extremely cushioned surface below me to find that I had been placed on a giant pillow. I tried to sit up, but between feeling too weak from my injuries and the lack of support from the pillow, I couldn’t. It took a while, but when my consciousness fully returned to me, I was able to actually take in my new surroundings. That’s when I saw that I was inside an enormous house. It was so huge that my castle could actually fit inside, and it would be no bigger than a dollhouse. Heck, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire kingdom could fit inside.

What really startled me awake was the sound of footprints stomping into the room. A monster! I panicked, unable to fly away due to the condition of my wings. I couldn’t even find a place to hide without getting caught as I could barely sit up, let alone walk. I shut my eyes as the stomping became louder with each step closer towards me. I then heard something tiny being placed beside me, followed by feeling the tip of a giant finger stroke my head before walking away. I opened my eyes to see that beside me was a thimble full of water. I looked over, but the “monster” was nowhere to be found. I slid off the pillow, sitting against it as I took a much-needed drink, not realizing just how dehydrated I was from the adrenaline of running away.

It wasn’t long though before I heard the “monster” return. There wasn’t enough time for me to scramble back onto the pillow, so I lay down on the table and closed my eyes again, pretending to be unconscious. I heard a couple objects being placed down beside me and the “monster” pulling up a chair to sit down. I then felt four fingers push their way under me and gently lift me up, causing me to tense my whole body. Not only did the physical contact sting my cuts, but I froze with fear that this was the beginning of the end for me. I wanted to retaliate so badly, but I was afraid of what would happen if I dared to move. I wasn’t held for very long, as I was immediately placed back onto the pillow. I wanted so badly to see what exactly was going on, but I couldn’t bear to look at the terrifying creature who I was at the mercy of. Suddenly, I felt the tip of a finger just barely touch my chest, only for it to be immediately removed. “Oh, thank god,” a deep yet soft voice said just under its breath.

I couldn’t help but be confused. So far, this thing has had every opportunity to do whatever it wanted with me, but hadn’t done anything even remotely harmful. I heard the sound of scissors cutting something, and the tips of fingers reached for my arm and carefully held it up. Whether it was due to the physical pain or the fear of what it would do to me, I flinched and pulled my arm away. It tried to grab my arm again, only this time I swatted away. My eyes still closed, I scooted backwards. I didn’t realize that I had reached the edge of the pillow, so just as my body tilted off backwards, a giant hand caught me. I screamed as I pushed myself off of it, falling forward onto my knees. Almost as if against their own will, my eyes opened, and without meaning to, I saw the “monster.” I only looked for a split second, but because I was so overwhelmed by its size, I immediately shut my eyes again and curled back into a ball, my breath staggering as I trembled like a leaf. I so desperately hoped that what was happening was just a nightmare and that when I opened my eyes, I would be back in my bed.

I then felt myself being moved onto the hands and lifted up into the sky. “Please, don’t be afraid,” the voice begged. I slowed my breathing down as I recollected myself. “It’s alright, you’re safe.” The voice was calm and gentle, lulling me into a sense of security; so much so that I slowly opened my eyes. Surrounding my field of vision was pure flesh, causing me to freak out again. “No, it’s okay!” the voice said assuredly.

Still unable to look at its face, I winced as I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that tears began to trickle out. “Please don’t hurt me,” I cried. “Please just let me go.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re safe here.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I just want to nurse you back to health. You’re clearly hurt and I want to give you a safe place to stay while you heal.”

“Really? That’s it? You’re not going to torture me or kill me?”

“What? Of course not! I know you’re scared right now, but if you look at me, you can see that I mean you no harm.” I remained practically motionless. “Please, trust me.”

So far, nothing in his voice, words, or actions had indicated any intention to harm me, so I gave in and looked. What I saw was nothing like what the stories about the “monsters” had described, with the exception of the enormous size. The face right before me alone was taller than the average man, but the face itself was as normal as any one I would see back home. I still couldn’t help but be overwhelmed just by the scope of the being before me, but I was just as much in awe. I never took my eyes off him as his face grew further away while he lowered me back onto the pillow. “You’re not a monster,” I said as my voice trailed off.

“No, I’m a human,” he said with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“A human?” I tilted my head in confusion.

“Yes, you’ve never heard of us?”

“No. We were told that giant monsters lived outside our land. But you’re just like us, except bigger and without wings.”

“Exactly,” he smiled.

I looked around. “So is it just you here?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But doesn’t it get lonely and boring without anyone else around?”

“It does, but I’ve never really been good with other people.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just never really got along with anyone or had anyone to talk to. I prefer my solitude and being surrounded by nature anyway.”

“I understand how you feel. I’m the same way.”

There was a moment of silence before he picked up the two objects I heard from earlier, a pair of scissors and a roll of bandages. He cut up an extremely thin piece and asked for my arm. This time I willingly gave in and he bandaged up my cuts and bruises. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he said as he bandaged my other arm, “what exactly happened?”

“I ran away from home. There’s a barrier made of rose plants blocking my land from the rest of the world, but I fought through it to escape.”

“Why did you run away?”

“Because I’m being forced against my will to get married, even though I want to find my future husband on my own.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.” I paused before I spoke up again. “How did you find me?”

He finished bandaging me. “I was outside for a stroll when I saw you lying on the ground. I was afraid of what would happen if anyone or anything else found you or that you would die if I left you, so I brought you back here.” He reached over for my wings, which flicked in his touch. “Does it hurt when I touch them?”

“Not really. Wings don’t have any feeling to them. They’re like hair in that you can only feel them if pressure is applied or if they’re pulled on.”

“I’m guessing that you can’t fly given the holes?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry, they’ll heal. They’re like broken bones or cut hair, the holes will fill in, but it just takes quite a bit of time.”

“Well, until you can fly again, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

I looked up at my savior and smiled for the first time. “Thank you.”

[sigmastolen]

i should be putting the final polish on my teaching plans, but instead, have some torchwood audio drama comments!  spoiler alert: neither of these episodes is great.

“expectant” - of course.  of course it had to happen.  and of course it was at barrowman’s insistence, especially after the “serenity” interview.  is this a good story? ......no.  no, it is not.  is it enjoyable to listen to an hour of barrowman hamming around on tired ~pregnancy hormones~ gags and making gurgling noises of pain? .... definitely not as enjoyable as it presumably was for barrowman.  but i can almost see where it could have been better than it was? i guess?  like, if we’d been able to spend more time with this as jack’s reaction to profound grief, if it had been allowed to be a more psychological and emotional story, perhaps.  if we had been able to see more of ianto’s reactions and the strain it put on their relationship and on torchwood as an organization, maybe.  i appreciated his tense interactions with jonty, who i didn’t find compelling or get attached to, but i like the genuine affection aaron anthony expressed for the character.  idk.  or, like, maybe if the wellness farm people’s “addiction” made, like, more any sense to me?  it's just so slapshod, and i just can’t help feeling that fandom, where mpreg is very well-explored and which has been ruminating specifically on pregnant jack harkness since october 22, 2006, has definitely done this story better.  and in light of that, goss comes off particularly tone-deaf in the interview, wherein gdl keeps having to remind him that, actually, this didn’t come from nowhere, this was in the torchwood canon from the word go, and that he’s well aware that fans have delved into it.  and as a final note, the ending is also deeply unsatisfying.  the emotional payoff is not enough for enduring this story, and -- i say this as someone generally uninterested in kidfic -- i think we should at least have had a scene with jack, junior, and ianto, resolving the relationship tension.  and why is there a sewer handoff at all, aside from circularity?  just from a practicality standpoint, you’d think that jonty would rejoin them on the birthing ship, from which jack probably shouldn’t have been allowed to disembark with junior.  idk.  i didn’t hate it the way i hated “the dollhouse” or “the vigil” but it’s... definitely bad.

“fortitude” - i enjoy rowena cooper and her portrayal of queen victoria, and yes, victorian!torchwood is fun to explore, and the sea fort setting is cool, and cooper, david sterne, and especially paul bazely gave brilliant performances, but.  this one is rough.  maybe i don’t know enough history, but i had a hard time finding my way in, just in terms of understanding who our characters were and what was happening.  (in some ways i think this one specifically would have benefited from being television; i suspect it would be easier to understand and get into if i could see it.)  and overall there’s just... an unpleasant flavor of imperial apologia to the entire thing, especially the ending, where despite singh’s bitterness he can’t destroy victoria and just... accepts that he’s being Disappeared to this sea fort to babysit an alien for, potentially, the rest of eternity.  and then the interview carries on that tone.  idk.  another case of fabulous performances let down by the writing.  fall/winter 2019 into 2020 seems like it was a weird time for the big finish torchwood monthly range.  next up is martha and gwen, though, so i’m hopeful!

[kumeko]

A/N:  Chapter 2 for my @marveltrumpshate fic for @quillofchoice! I wanted to try alternating between Brock’s and Jack’s PoVs a bit. I’m not sure if I made him too soft, but my research has given him the image of a soft house husband. XD

Summary: Jack never expected to find himself in the middle of a children’s toy aisle, looking at Barbie Dolls. When Hydra promised new experiences, this was not what he was expecting.

…

…

…

…

In the years they’ve known each other, Jack had gotten used to Brock’s temper tantrums (for lack of a better word). The man was a walking volcano, just waiting to erupt, and every now and then he would explode in a fit of rage. Usually it was on a mission, sometimes it was during sparring (Jack had long gotten used to the bruises), and occasionally it was during something mundane like eating dinner (which led to bruises of a different nature).

 Yet, for all of his experience, this was a strange outburst. In front of him, a miniature Brock paced across a desk, tiny firsts clenched tightly. Scattered around him were shredded magazines and distorted paper clips. When you were the size of a finger, there were very few things left to take your anger out on. That said, Brock had managed to leave an impressive trail of destruction. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he actually killed someone in this form.

Oddly enough, as deadly as the image was, Jack couldn’t help but find it cute.

 Not that he could ever say it aloud, least he wanted to be the dead person. Despite whatever label he would put on their relationship, Brock was never one to let feelings get in the way. Jack didn’t have that level of detachment, it was beyond him.

 “What is taking them so fucking long?” Brock growled, his usually deep voice coming out a high pitch.

 Again, very cute. Jack had never thought he was one to like cute things, but, as usual, Brock was an exception to that. “It takes time to process things,” he pointed out.

Brock glared at him (adorable) before letting out a chain of expletives. The angrier he got, the worse the words, and by now Jack was starting to feel awkward listening to them. It was a small mercy that no one else was in the waiting room with them. When Hydra had shuffled them off to one of their post-mission check-ups, they had ensured privacy. Whether it was out of respect for Brock, out of fear for what he’d do, or just to keep word from getting out, Jack wasn’t sure but he was grateful nonetheless.

 It had been a long check up, with two doctors putting Brock through every kind of test and machine possible. Or at least, tried to—most devices were configured for human-sized bodies, not dolls. Jack had waited patiently in the small, white waiting room, idly flipping through old magazines. After two hours, a tiny Brock had marched out of the doctor’s room, looking not a wit taller and a fuckton angrier.

 “Maybe they got some Pym particles off you at least?” Jack suggested with a shrug. “Then the mission won’t be a write off.”

 “That is not—”

 The door opened, cutting off Brock’s high-pitched growl. A man with a white lab coat stepped out, looking incredibly ordinary for a doctor who looked after mercenaries. He skimmed the clipboard in his hand, flipping through pages, before looking down at Brock. And then even further down, because god, Brock was tiny. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay like that for a while.”

 Brock’s expression grew dourer. “The fuck.”

 “Fortunately, the change isn’t permanent—after a few weeks, it should wear off. However, we don’t have the capabilities to force a change. You will just have to wait,” the doctor continued, ignoring Brock’s reaction. “Come back for a checkup after that, I would like to see if there are any alterations to you after the fact.”

 “Alterations?” Brock stomped forward, each step shaking the table. “I’ll show you—”

 Jack groaned and leaned back into his seat.

 -x-

 “No.”

 After three hours, Brock’s voice had gone from endearing to downright annoying. Jack glanced furtively to his left and right, scanning the toy aisle for any witnesses. Fortunately, it was midday Wednesday and the Toys R Us aisle was deserted. The only people to watch on to this argument were the hundreds of Barbie dolls lining the shelves, rows upon rows of blankly smiling dolls that sent a shiver up his spine.

 He had never been good with dolls.

 “You don’t have a choice,” Jack argued back softly, gesturing at the Kens stacked behind Brock. Despite standing on the shelf with them, no one could mistake Brock for them—he was slightly shorter and the scowl on his face was downright bloodthirsty. “There’s nothing else your size besides a Ken doll.”

 “They are nowhere near my size,” Brock scoffed, patting one of the dolls at the crotch. He leered. “But you’d know that, right?”

 There was nothing remotely arousing about that when he was that size and Jack bit back a frustrated sigh. “Look, just pick a few, okay? You don’t want to stay in that for weeks.”

 “You need to do better than that to get in my pants.” Brock leered once more before turning to the Kens. Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hawaii Ken, with this pastel, floral shirt. “Do you seriously expect me to wear that?”

 “It’d be a change of pace,” Jack snarked, grinning. He picked up Ballerina Barbie and dangled it in front of Brock. “Or you could always wear these.”

 “Didn’t know you had that kink,” Brock shot back dryly. “I’ll make sure to buy you one later.”

 Jack didn’t drop the Barbie, but only just. He nodded at the Hawaii Ken once more. “Only if you wear that.”

 Brock kicked the doll with a surprisingly amount of strength for his size. Ken crashed on the ground, bending in a way dolls weren’t meant to bend. “Try again.”

 And he was back to angry. Jack rocked back on his heels, scanning the dolls. Finding a Ken that looked like he belonged in the 90s, with his leather jacket and black jeans, he held it out. “What about this?’

 “That’s a fucking boy band. Do I look like a boy band?” Brock grimaced, swatting the doll away. Yet another casualty. Jack wasn’t going to pay for them.

 “They don’t really have an ‘army’ Ken,” Jack muttered under his breath, irritated. “Or—oh.” Sitting on the second highest shelf was a Ken with camouflage print. “They do have one. They really do have every profession covered.”

 “Stripper?” Brock suggested, leering again.

 “We’re trying to get you more clothes, not less.” Jack rolled his eyes, picking up a box featuring Barbie and a carriage. There were other ones, with motorcyles and horses and even a huge dollhouse. Brock would need a bed too, right? Somewhere safe he could rest without worrying if he got squashed. Tiny forks and plates so he could eat. “Maybe we can get one of those sets?”

 When he didn’t get a response, his eyes flicked up to the shelf Brock sat on. Or rather, had been sitting on because he wasn’t there anymore. “Brock?”

 Footsteps to his right alerted him to the reason his commander had disappeared. “Do you need help with anything, sir?” a kind but curious voice asked.

 Jack bit back a groan. Helpful employees were worse than dogs and almost impossible to shake off. Clearing his throat, Jack turned to his right and tried to smile. The way the woman flinched told him he’d failed. “No, I’m good.”

 Sporting a blue vest and jeans, the employee clasped her hands behind her back, her expression nervous. A bright yellow name tag identified her as Linda. “If you do need anything, let us know.” She paused looking at the doll in his hand and then smiled up at him. “Buying a gift for your daughter?”

 Automatically, he shook his head. “No.”

 “Oh.” Linda guessed again, “Your son?”

 “I don’t have—” Jack paused, realizing just how strange it was for a single grown man his size to be standing in the doll department. “Yes…it’s for my…niece,” he lied. He could almost hear Brock’s laugh; he was terrible at impromptu lies.

 “Right.” She gave him a strange look, her smile strained. “Of course. I’ll be…leaving now.”

 Without waiting for a response, Linda fled the aisle. The second she stepped outside the aisle, Brock laughed in earnest, jumping out of the shelf and onto Jack’s shoulder. “Your niece? Why are you so shitty at this?”

 “Shut up,” Jack growled, irritated.

 “Seriously, you can’t even come up with a—”

 Having had enough, Jack flicked Brock away with his finger, listening to his tiny yell as he flew through the air. Unfortunately, unlike a bug he didn’t go splat. Picking himself up off the ground, Brock shouted, “JACK!”

 No matter how strong his body was, he was still insanely slow, and Jack dropped several dolls and a dollhouse into his shopping cart before leaving.

 And if he threw in the Hawaii Ken, it was not out of some need for revenge. No, he got that just by watching Brock struggle to catch up as he marched through the store.

 -x-

 Today was a day full of firsts, including Jack sitting in the middle of his living room trying to assemble a Barbie playhouse. When this was over, he was burning the whole thing. Scattered around him were garish, bright pink plastic pieces, all waiting for him to force them together in the shape of a house.

 “I’m not living in there,” Brock stated flatly, picking up one of the tiny plates. At least it seemed the right size.

 “You don’t have to, but you need furniture, right? A bed, a chair, a table?” Jack listed out, flipping through the instruction manual for directions. How was this harder than planning a mission? It made no sense.

 “You’re spray painting them,” Brock ordered, dropping the plate. Good thing it was plastic.

 “What, can’t handle pink?” Jack teased. He winced as Brock punched his thigh. “Fuck, how does that hurt more than normal?”

 Brock shrugged. “Science.” Neither of them had been hired for their academics, after all. He patted the mattress of the bed doubtfully. “These aren’t made for sleeping.”

 “Better than nothing.” He turned the directions vertically, his mouth twisting as he tried to figure out how to screw together two pieces. And after this he had to make dinner—what should he do about that? Get a normal amount and give Brock less? Did Brock have a normal-sized appetite or a tiny-sized? Would he need to cut rice into tiny pieces?

 Suddenly, he didn’t want to finish making the dollhouse. It was the easiest thing on the list.

 -x-

 At the end of the day, Brock had somehow swung back from irritating to cute. Maybe it was dinner—a single spaghetti noddle chopped up into small pieces with a few drops of sauce. Maybe it was the tiny doll’s cup he drank from or the way he washed his face with a bottle cap full of water.

 Or maybe it as the way he ignored, in typical Brock fashion, the bed that Jack had painstakingly made and opted to instead sleep on Jack’s pillow.

 Jack tried not to smile as he gingerly laid his head down beside Brock.

[crybatty]

When I first made the Crybatty au, I didn't have a story in mind. I was just listening to Melanie Martinez songs and thought "what if I made an adorabat au based on these songs" and then I did, drawing The first Crybatty picture that same day. Then I started to develop it further to the Au you know today.

However, Those early pictures weren't as story focus as the pictures today so you don't know the full story.

After some thinking, I've decided to explain how each song from the crybaby album fit into the story and I'll do the same for k-12 when I finish all the k-12 pictures.

There will be some retcons and things that seem like they don't fit, but that stuff happens when you add ideas to a story that weren't intended from the beginning.

Adult themes mentioned, so be warned

Here is her story in semi chronological order.

Crybaby

Pretty simple, this is a general song about Crybatty herself: she's overemotional, unpopular, and cries lot. Now here is her full backstory:

Born to rich parents Eugene and Sonara, as a baby she was ignored and raised by her older brother (dun dun dun!) Despite him only being 5 at the time. When adorabat was 4, both Eugene and Sonara were killed by a monster. Since her parents were cruel to everyone, non of her relatives wanted to take Crybatty or her brother in so they were Both sent to the orphanage. Soon, her brother was adopted but not her, so she was left alone there. The Orphan keeper and the other orphans were cruel to her because of how easy it was to make her cry or lash out. She dealt with this torment until she was 13. A new sheriff and his wife moved into pure heart valley and decided to adopt her.

Now she can live a happy life, right?

Dollhouse

It's because of this song that I decided to explain Crybattys backstory and I had to rewrite some stuff to make it fit.

Despite being adopted, she didn't gain rest from conflict. While Mao Mao and Badgerclair weren't mean to her, they argued constantly and their behavior reminded her of not only her birth parents, but also the orphan keeper. Badgerclair drank alot like Sonara, Mao Mao was constantly sleeping with other women like Eugene, and they wore the facade of being a perfect family.

These memories brought up more memories, some about her brother. She remembered how her brother started smoking weed at only 7 to deal with the stress. She also remember how on the day her brother was adopted (by drug dealers), the orphan keeper wanted Crybatty gone, so she tried to force the parents to adopt both her and her brother, but they refused and only took her brother. All she had to remember him by was a small bat doll he gave to her as a baby.

Tag, you're it/Milk and Cookies

These songs go hand and hand both in the album and In the Crybatty story.

Sometime after her brother was adopted and before she was adopted, Crybatty was forced by the Orphan keeper to take a big trash bag to the dumpster across the street at night. While walking back, she was approached by the King of pure heart valley, Snugglmange. He previously saw Crybatty when he visited the Orphanage and when he saw her, he was instantly obsessed. He couldn't rest until she was his. He approached her in the dark and when she ran away in fear, he chased and captured her, taking her away to his castle and locking her in a secret room. The only other person who knew she was there was the Royal alchemist Camille. She was horrified by the kidnapping but because she was in love with the king, she kept her mouth shut.

The king didn't want her to be his wife or even for sexual reasons. He wanted her because just the idea of her being his was like heaven for him. She was his, he owned her. He eventually made her get her now famous tattoos, the tear drop and the triangles above her eyes, as proof of his ownership of her.

Days after he took her, she had enough of his outbursts and found a way to escape. However, she knew he'd find a way to get her back, so she had to take drastic actions. She baked a batch of cookies and put poisonus chemicals in them that she stole from Camile. She gave the cookies to the king and she watch as he died from the poisoning. Then, she left.

When she got back to the orphanage, the orphan keeper didn't seem to care, or even know, that Crybatty was missing for days. However, the Orphan keeper and the other orphans noticed her new tattoos and of course, would tease her about them (although, some did like them). At first, Crybatty hated them as they were a reminder of the king. However, soon she began to see them as victory scars. Even though he did kidnap her and forced these tattoos on her, she did end up killing him and these tattoos were proof. She even began to embrace her the name that all the kids would call her as a insult, Crybatty, because the king called her by her real name Adorabat in a creepy way.

Although still emotional, she decided to not take shit from anyone anymore.

Pity party

Pretty simple song with a simple placement in the story

Crybatty had finally been going to school after being adopted. She decided that she would try to be nice to everyone as a way to make friends. And a week before her birthday she tried to plan a birthday party and she invited everyone she thought she was friends with. However, come the day of the party, no one showed up. Despite her trying to see the bright side, this was Crybattys emotional breaking point. She realized trying to be nice would get her nowhere, so she would close herself off from everyone so no one would hurt her again. However, suddenly there was a knock at the door and when Crybatty answered it, she met a girl named Honey

Honey went to the same school as Crybatty, however she didn't get an invitation to the party because Crybatty didn't notice her. Honey though, noticed that all of the kids that Crybatty gave an invitation too either ripped it up or threw it away behind her back. Honey grabbed one of the crumpled papers and went to the party anyway, the only person to show up. Crybatty was overwhelmed by emotions and hugged honey, instantly wanting to be friends with her. They shared a slice of cake (as Crybatty threw her cake on the ground in anger earlier) and enjoyed the small party together.

Sippy cup

Story about the things Crybatty sees around her.

She sees the constant conflict between Mao Mao and Badgerclair due to Mao Mao constantly sleeping with other women. Mao Mao even cause Penny and Benny to divorce. And even though Badgerclair wants it to stop, she doesn't leave Mao Mao because she feels like only he would ever love her.

She sees how insecure Honey is about her body and appearance. Honey's guardian, who Crybatty would later learn is Camille, was always making honey feel bad about herself and so she became taking unhealthy diets.

Both if these problems Crybatty had no control over, she all she could do was watch.

Mad hatter

Crybatty eats a strong edible and trips out

Carousel

How Crybatty meets someone special.

Crybatty went to a pop-up carnival one day. She went on a few rides, not really enjoying herself. Until she go on the carousel where while waiting for it to start, she sees a cute boy she immediately gets infatuated with. She's had small crushes before, but there was something different about him. He got on the seat in front of her which is a good metaphor because he was so close yet so far. When the ride stopped, he got off and she was unable to catch up to him. She spent hours trying to find him at the carnival, but she couldn't. She gave up and decided to ride the carousel one more time before leaving. However, when she got on one of the horses, she saw that on the horse next to her was the boy. She talked to him and they became quickly attached. She learned his name was Edwin.

~~~~~~~~~

So that was part one, I promise part two won't take like 5 years to write, I hope. Hope you enjoyed reading this long explanation.

[simblrinterests]

Gen 1 Retrospective (The lost generation)

So back when I started this challenge, I was on a different computer, I didn’t have reshade, I had no idea how to pose sims, and the entire concept of taking photos alongside playing baffled me. But then I got reshade...and then I figured out how to pose.  So by the time gen 1 was just about to move onto gen 2, I was dipping my toe in the storytelling thing.  Also the difference is wild.

This is probably the first photo from this legacy (no editing)

This is a photo I took last week (no editing)

I consider this to be my first real BPR post.  I did put up a few photos from the tail end of gen 1, but this was the first pose that turned out the way I wanted.

I completed a NSB last year and it was the most fun I’d ever had with my game because of all the colours involved, so that was my berry gateway drug.  That and some really good BPR stories made me want to try the challenge for myself.  

But basically the whole thing should have been completely different.  First of all, Morning Star was my third attempt at a BPR founder.  I previously had a played through gen 1 arc, and then Neige was gonna be my founder with the whole Snow family as a backdrop, but I got bored of both those saves.   

I originally didn’t make Morning’s parents.  I figured I kept getting bored trying to play through the traditional rebellious teenager runs away from home thing, so I just decided to skip it.  The parents you see in the story I went back and created from her genetics...but she did always have a sister.  

I played through as Morning for a while, mostly just focusing on the goals of the challenge.  I dropped Rhubarb in and made him a cop.  They actually did meet when he wandered past her house one day.  So the thing about Rhubarb is that he was hot-headed.  He yelled a lot - but never at Morning.  So she was always completely smitten with him and I felt extremely guilty about breaking up their marriage.  The original plan was going to be that they married too young, had too many kids too fast and then got divorced when Morning met someone who she had more in common with.  But they were always just so devoted to each other I couldn’t break them up, plus Rhubarb was a shockingly good dad despite his inability to keep a dollhouse in one piece.  

I used to make Morning work on her creativity skill at the art centre so she wouldn’t be trying to keep up with her toddlers’ needs.  By this point she had three kids, and then Orion appeared and started randomly talking to her while she painted, and I just kinda...deleted the door.  I sort of made them keep talking until they fell in love.  Then Morning and Rhubarb went out to a dance party, Rhubarb just flipped out at the bartender out of nowhere, which did piss Morning off.  So I had her go over to Orion’s place to give me that purple baby.  

Aurora and Autumn were my two picks for heir this generation, and they both originally had different names.  

Yeah.  Autumn was originally going to be Winter but then pulled the red hair and I ended up not liking the name for her.  Aurora was going to be Venus but when she aged up to a kid I decided it didn’t fit her.  I do this kinda a lot where I try out names and then change them if I feel they don’t fit.  But Rory was seriously this close to being Venus.  I don’t think Autumn was Winter for more than like, a day.  

Autumn was also originally going to be the heir, but then Rory just kept getting more interesting to me.  She picked up Rosebud and Posey as friends all on her own, she independently started practicing the writing skill, she and Autumn started getting into fights.  Plus there was the matter of Autumn looking like Morning’s clone.  So I let Autumn keep her original traits which I felt were intrinsically hers at this point (she’d been a vegetarian since she was a child and was always a jerk about it).  

This generation was more about gameplay and each subsequent generation has become more and more storytelling and pose focused.  I really enjoyed playing this gen and I’m planning on doing more gameplay in the upcoming generations.  I took this opportunity to go back and give some small makeovers to the original family, which was super fun.  I’m going to be posting some of the missing scenes I shot with them later today or later this week.

I hope you enjoyed this gen 1 retrospective!  Gen 2 is up next, where I finally get to talk about Chant 😭

[pass-the-bechdel]

Dollhouse season one full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

92.3% (twelve of thirteen).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

46.83%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Nine, over half (six of those were 50%+, one of them 60%).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Zero.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Twenty-eight. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, six who appeared in at least half the episodes, and one who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Forty-two. Eleven who appeared in more than one episode, five who appeared in at least half the episodes, and three who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Not good at all. The series is rife with violence against women and involves sexual assault on a constant basis, with acknowledgment or exploration of such inclusions intermittent and interlaced with excuses. Needless to say, it never even gets close to flirting with an above-average content rating (average rating of 2.76).

General Season Quality:

A mess. There are elements of good things here, and some episodes that utilise that potential, but mostly this is a show that doesn’t seem to know what it wants to do or how far it really wants to pursue its own promises, and it is full of dead air and extremely questionable storytelling, wrapped around one of the least-dynamic lead characters I’ve ever seen. It’s a recipe for failure, and a disappointing one at that, because done right, this could have been truly amazing.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Let’s nail down how consent works, because it might be the most important issue at the heart of this show that the writers just don’t seem to understand: consent is not a binding contract. Real consent is 

1. ongoing (may be revoked at any time if the individual in question wishes; must be re-established or renegotiated if the circumstances originally consented to change)

2. enthusiastic (if the individual becomes uncertain/uncomfortable with conditions, actions must halt until consent has been renegotiated and re-established)

3. informed (an individual cannot consent to terms that are obfuscated or omitted; consent gained through lies or trickery is not consent at all), and

4. willing (coerced consent - whether through threats, ultimatums, manipulation, or other means - is not real consent. If the individual is placed in a position where declining is not a viable safe option, they cannot give consent).

Pretty clear-cut, really. With that in mind, the only way that the Dollhouse could operate in an ethical manner would be if the dolls were genuine volunteers who were restored to their original personalities after every engagement, so that they could consider the requirements of each job as they arose and pick and choose which ones they were comfortable fulfilling; it would then also require that their imprinted personality include strict parameters agreed to beforehand to preserve their ability to revoke consent if their boundaries are violated. Of course, there would still be LOADS of ways for the technology to be abused, but that’s an irrelevant discussion in context, because that’s not how the Dollhouse operates. Many of the dolls are not willing participants from the outset, but even if they are, after being stripped of their personalities and memories they lose the power to make informed choices and their enthusiasm is all programmed in, and it’s irrelevant anyway because they are not presented the opportunity to give or deny consent in their ongoing situation. Whether or not the dolls can consent is not up for debate: by definition, plain and simple, they cannot. To suggest otherwise is kinda the same thing as when people say that marital rape isn’t a real thing, as if signing a marriage contract permits your spouse to override your bodily autonomy anytime they want. Consent can be fickle, subjective, and highly conditional, and those are all good things because they protect the basic human right to personal sovereignty. Consent is not a binding contract. 

Despite occasionally throwing around lines about how ‘you can’t consent to being a slave!’, the show doesn’t want to commit to the idea that the dolls are, unequivocally, being abused, and the failure to be morally assertive on that point leads to some seriously reprehensible presentations, most notably in terms of rape. The oft-repeated lofty idea behind what (theoretically) makes the Dollhouse ‘good’ is that they give people ‘what they need’, which mostly means fulfilling sexual fantasies. Naturally, this makes all of the Dollhouse clients who acquire a doll for sexual purposes, rapists. They know that’s what they’re getting into, too, they know that they’re paying big bank to have a person brainwashed into fulfilling their desires, which by definition means that the person is being denied the capability to give consent. This isn’t a naughty secret being hidden from the client; it’s a known factor which they’ve decided they don’t care about. They’re ok with taking advantage of this person in order to fulfill their ‘need’. Thus, the fact that Joel Miner just wants to play house with an imprinted version of his dead wife is not cute or romantic, it’s still rape, but the show doesn’t treat it that way: it’s directly handled like we’re supposed to be happy that he gets what he wants, in the same episode as the writing finally bothers to dabble vaguely in the concept of consent issues after it turns out that Sierra has been raped by her handler (while NOT imprinted to think she wants it). Thus, the episode in question draws a straight parallel between the idea that there’s ‘real rape’ (what Hearn does), and then there’s innocent wish fulfillment (what Miner and anyone else who bothers to have their victim programmed first does), and we shouldn’t conflate the two. Except, obviously, we should conflate the two. Both are rape. There’s not a moral grey-scale here, that’s like arguing that if you drug someone first so that they can’t resist, that’s less assaultive than if they were cognizant enough to struggle. Both are rape, both disregard the bodily autonomy of the victim and deny them the right of choice. ‘But I really miss my dead wife!’ doesn’t make it better, and it certainly doesn’t make it ok. And giving people ‘what they need’ at the expense of others is not virtuous - especially when you factor in the price tag attached to a made-to-order sex slave.

The above-referenced episode is one of the most egregious examples of this at play, but it’s a recurrent issue throughout the series, and not one that’s gonna go away. The story is not interested in analysing the fact that DeWitt has repeatedly raped Victor; her conflict about the issue revolves around the feeling that she - like the other Dollhouse clients - is pathetic for ‘needing’ programmed service. And while Ballard expresses misgivings about the idea of raping Mellie, he still does it, repeatedly, and there’s no condemnation from the narrative; we’re supposed to see this as a complication to Ballard’s moral compunctions, that he’s confronted with shades of grey in the black-and-white world he had imagined, but there are no shades of grey. You knowingly committed rape. More than once. The first time they had sex, when he didn’t know she was a doll? THAT is something Ballard can feel conflicted about, because he didn’t do it knowingly, he was not able to make an informed decision, his own ability to consent was impaired and he’s entitled to feel abused by the Dollhouse machinations that put him in that position. THAT is legitimate conflicted emotion. Going “fuck you, Dollhouse, you want to send me a sex slave, I’m gonna take out my conflicted emotions ON HER through what I readily recognise as rape”, that’s...not something a character can do and then still hang around on the show representing any kind of morality. That’s not even anti-hero material, that’s villainy, and if we respond to Hearn’s crimes by snapping his neck against a coffee table, why is Ballard still roaming around feeling righteous? The show is so sketchy on morality, it doesn’t even present Ballard’s attitudes as self-delusions, it isn’t exploring his descent into evil. Even from the first episode, it was unclear where the story really sat with Ballard, seeming simultaneously aware of the fact that he’s not as pure and heroic as he imagined himself, but also never pursuing the idea of exploring a more complex moral reality. If ‘now he’s a rapist but he feels bad about it (but not bad enough to NOT DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE)’ is supposed to suffice as ‘deconstruction’, boy howdy, I got news. You can’t even pretend to deconstruct anything if you’re too busy equivocating to have an opinion in the first place.

I’ve used this word so much already in relation to this show that it’s starting to lose its meaning, but what Dollhouse really suffers from is a misogyny problem. I touched on it already in the episode ‘Omega’ when I talked about how Alpha’s ruminations on the nature of the self/consciousness/etc are undercut by the intense misogyny of his character and story, because his presence in the narrative and his impact on other characters is so heavily tied up in the violent expression of his misogyny that there’s no room for a clear-minded discussion of anything else, and in truth the entire series suffers from the same affliction. Misogyny is so ubiquitous in the story at the same time as being so rarely acknowledged that they can’t engage meaningful thematic discussions about anything else; misogyny is the elephant in the room, and so much space is being dedicated to it, there’s nowhere to squeeze anything else in edge-wise. The refusal to acknowledge the clear-cut nature of consent and thereby the inherent sexual assault built into the frame work of the narrative is part of this, but it also represents an insidious division between ‘real misogyny’ and the various kinds that the show doesn’t want us to acknowledge, the many and sundry equivocations it is entertaining in order to avoid having a moral backbone. Alpha literally slicing up women’s faces is ‘real misogyny’ (by the writers’ definition), and a character like Nolan putting Sierra in the Dollhouse so that he can have force her to have sex with him is ‘real misogyny’ (quite contradictory since Nolan still has his doll programmed to want him, just like all the other clients; apparently it’s only rape if the perpetrator is a mustache-twirling cackling supervillain type). Tanaka slinging off about ‘whores’ is ‘real misogyny’ that Ballard can take umbrage with, but Ballard’s infantalising obsession with calling women ‘girls’? We’re not batting an eye. The fact that Echo is repeatedly engaged by one Matt Cargill, whose rape sexual fantasy is all about teaching a ditzy inexperienced girl new things? Cute! Echo being violently beaten in more than three-quarters of the episodes this season, sometimes multiple times per episode? Eh, that’s normal. That’s normal writing. 

The ‘real misogyny’ is the stuff that the writing deems worthy of being called out, and like with the issue of creating a false grey-scale to excuse ‘softer’ rape crimes, this creates a situation in which more low-key misogyny can skate by unchecked because we’re being encouraged to view it comparatively, instead of objectively. If you’re talking about a violent serial rapist and you say “he calls women ‘girls’ all the time, too!”, it sounds like you’re being silly, because hello, there are much bigger problems to talk about. On the other hand, if you don’t sit around making softening comparisons, you can actually talk about how women being infantalised by men is a big problem that is part of a larger tapestry of misogyny, especially disturbing for the intersection with sexualisation (HUGELY at play with the dolls in their ‘doll state’), and relevant to the discussion of pedophilia (which, incidentally, the show featured TWICE in just thirteen episodes, but without any kind of exploration or commentary that would suggest an actual reason beyond the voyeuristic fetishisation of sexual violence which is this show’s bread and butter). Because the misogyny problem on this show is so all-encompassing (along with the rape-apologist grey morality, it is built into the framework of the series itself), the fact that it is never acknowledged and brought into the thematic conversation of the story blows a hole out the side of the writers’ ability to have any kind of sophisticated conversation about the morality of their subject matter: the combination of oblivious sexism and wanton avoidance leaves the moral compass of the story...nonexistent, really, smashed to pieces and rendered useless. It’s like they didn’t want to have to talk about the morality of the Dollhouse at all, they just wanted the narrative conceit of programmable people and the opportunity to indulge various objectifying fetishes, but since that’s not how storytelling works they figured they’d ramp up the ambiguity and pass off the lack of nuanced discussion as ‘shades of grey’, despite how inappropriate that is with sex trafficking. Thus, you get a show which treats “but if the perpetrator is sad, is it really rape?” like that’s a legitimate question.

Honestly, we could unpack this show forever, because all of it needs unpacking, because it’s riddled and stained irrevocably with garbage in a way that is pervasive and complicated, but I’m gonna let this lie for now. We’ll talk about it all more as season two unfolds, and when I review that season’s developments and eventually, the full series (save me). There’s loads of stuff that I didn’t even touch yet, so at least I know I won’t be starved for content. I did know that, coming in, I knew it’d be an unhappy mess. The one thing that really surprised me about season one is how little the narrative actually discussed its own invoked themes, I thought they did better than that - perhaps season two will fill that void a bit. Maybe Echo will get hit in the fucking face less, too. I’m not gonna bet on that. After all, what would this show be without women turned into sex objects and then violently punished for it? Well. For starters, it would be better.

[pentakillmaven]

The Nose Knows, Chapter 4 (NaNoWriMo 2018)

Short chapter this time, but I really had fun writing this one! It’s a group text chat chapter!

Chapter Rating: T

Chapter Warnings: Unresolved mutual pining

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 4

Ladybug and Chat Noir met up a little after sunset at the top of the Arc de Triomphe. They didn't like to use the same meeting spot every time they patrolled, just in case a villain was tracking them, but the structure was a common starting point for their circuitous routes around the city. Ladybug bit her lip nervously as she thrust a wrapped box into Chat Noir's hand. "This is for you, Chaton."

"My Lady?" Chat cocked his head to the side as he furrowed his brow a little, but he accepted the box easily enough. "What's all this about?"

"Just open it!"

Nodding rather reluctantly, Chat tugged on the ribbon wrapped around the box, setting it aside for the moment while he tore through the paper. Lifting the lid, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw what was inside. "What in the…" He reached into the box, pulling out a black beanie hat with green paw prints stitched around the brim and faux leather cat ears poking out of the top. Alongside the hat was a fleece scarf with more of the paw print accents and a pair of faux-fur-edged gloves. "Bugaboo, these are amazing! Thank you!"

"Actually, Marinette asked me to bring this present to you. She said it was a thank you gift for saving her. Since it's nearly winter, she thought you might be able to use them if you get cold during patrol."

"Marinette made these? I knew she was a talented designer, but, wow. These are incredible."

Ladybug grinned. "I know, right? I'll tell her you like them!"

Chat shook his head quickly. "No, no, something like this, I need to tell her myself. Do you mind if I skip patrol tonight?" Chat wrapped the scarf around his neck and tugged the hat on over his head before he quickly started to pick up the wrapping paper, stuffing it inside the box alongside the gloves.

Ladybug's eyes widened in minor panic, though Chat was too busy to notice. "She's really busy right now! She's got some big tests coming up; it's probably better not to disturb her while she's studying. You can tell her another night."

Chat looked a bit disappointed, but nodded. "That makes sense. Tell you what--I'll put together something really nice to thank her for the gift, and give it to her when I get back."

"Get back from where?" It was Ladybug’s turn to look confused by Chat's sudden change of topic.

Chat winced a bit, scratching at the back of his head. "Y-yeah… My civilian identity has something going on that I have to leave town for a few days. I should be back by the beginning of next week, though. Do you think you can get Réna Rouge or Carapace to cover for me while I'm gone?"

"Wait, you're leaving town? As in leaving Paris?" At Chat's nod, Ladybug’s face tightened in concern. "Do you think it's smart to leave right after Hawk Moth just sent out the first Akuma we've seen in nearly a month? What if he's about to start on a rash of attacks? Réna and Carapace are great, but I need my partner."

"I'm sorry, Bugaboo, but I don't have any control over the situation. Like I said, it's a thing for my civilian identity."

Ladybug sighed in resignation, nodding slightly. "I know how that feels. All right. Just keep your Miraculous safe while you're gone, okay?"

"Of course. I won't let it out of my sight."

"Good. Now, shall we begin?"

"Of course, My Lady. Lead the way!"

Marinette dropped into her bedroom through the skylight, having already released her superhero transformation from Ladybug. She shivered, quickly pulling the skylight window shut to block the late autumn chill. Paris hadn't seen its first snow of the season just yet, but it definitely felt cold enough to do so, especially this late at night.

Marinette pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, noticing multiple notifications that she'd missed during her time as Ladybug. Some of them were the usual late-evening push notifications from her various games and apps; she also had a few new emails, mostly junk or advertising. The one notification that did catch her eye was from the group chat that she, Alya, Nino, and Adrien all had going on. It was mostly used for school-related discussions, but occasionally someone sent a funny meme or a video link to share to the rest of the group. Opening the messaging app, she scrolled back up to where the new messages began so she wouldn't miss anything.

[8:57 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Hey guys! Today was a lot of fun! Thanks for having us over, Marinette.

[8:58 PM] DJLahiffe: yeah same

[8:58 PM] AdrienAgreatest: I wanted to let you guys know that I won't be at school tomorrow. Actually, I won't be here the rest of the week. Father has some business to attend to in Milan, and he's taking me with him.

[8:59 PM] TheLadyblogger: what the hell Adrien??? doesnt your dad know that the bac practice tests are, like, next week??? how can he pull you out of school right now???

[9:02 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Trust me, Alya, I'm not happy about it either. I just found out earlier tonight, when I got home from Marinette's house. We aren't even leaving until tomorrow, but he made me come home early so that I could "get some good rest, because we have a busy schedule the next several days." Nathalie isn't saying much about it, but she did mention something about a potential merger with some Italian leather working company. I guess they make things like wallets, shoes, and belts? So the company would be able to offer more in the way of accessories that we don't really have right now.

[9:06 PM] DJLahiffe: wow. that sounds p cool but ur dad is still rude af tho

[9:08 PM] TheLadyblogger: i'm with nino on this one. @MariDC what do you think about this? are you as outraged as we are?

Glancing at the time, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was only 9:15. She quickly typed out a response.

[9:15 PM] MariDC: Sorry, just got back up to my room. Was helping Maman with dishes. I'm sorry to hear you're going to be missing class, Adrien! But if this is something your father wants you to do, I think it's important that you take it in stride. Look on the bright side! At least you don't have to sit through stuffy classes the rest of the week. Your teachers are always willing to work with you when you have to miss class. As long as you're back in time for the Bac practice tests next week, everything should be fine. You will be back by then, right?

[9:18 PM] AdrienAgreatest: According to Father, we will be flying back Sunday, so unless something unexpected happens, I should be back in time for the practice tests. Maybe we can do a video call study group one night, depending on how busy I am.

[9:19 PM] MariDC: That sounds great! Just let us know when you're free in the evenings.

[9:19 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Definitely. I'll keep you guys posted on what's going on. If previous experience is anything to go by, the next few days are going to pretty much be Father talking with a bunch of old people while I sit and do nothing. Either that or I'm going to be doing non-stop photo shoots while Father talks with the board of directors at the other company. This is the first time that I'm going to be out of the country, though, so that's exciting at least. I've never been to Italy before.

[9:22 PM] DJLahiffe: dude let me dm you some new remixes ive been working on, u can listen to them on the plane

[9:23 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Yes please! Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know so you weren't worried about me tomorrow. Have a good night everyone!

[9:25 PM] TheLadyblogger: night adrien!

[9:25 PM] DJLahiffe: nite bro

[9:25 PM] MariDC: Good night, Adrien! Sleep well and safe travels!

[9:26 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Thanks :)

Setting her phone aside, Marinette sighed, the sound rather forlorn. She crawled out of bed to get into her pajamas, grabbing her History textbook for some more reading before she fell asleep.

However, despite her best efforts, her mind was buzzing with activity; she couldn't get settled enough to read the textbook and she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet. Her mind kept replaying the look on Chat Noir's face as he opened the gift she'd given him. It seemed so familiar, but she couldn't think of why. Not to mention the strange coincidence that both Chat and Adrien were going to be out of town at the same time. "Tikki?"

The Kwami poked her head out of her little dollhouse on the shelf beside Marinette's bed, where she'd settled once they'd gotten inside. "What is it, Marinette?"

"Chat Noir is going to be out of town for a few days starting tomorrow. And Adrien just messaged Alya and Nino and me saying he was going to Milan for the rest of the week."

"Oh… that's an interesting coincidence." Tikki looked up at Marinette intently, as if reading the girl's expression.

"Is it though? I know it sounds crazy, but… what if…" Marinette trailed off. No, that was too crazy for her to even imagine.

"What are you thinking, Marinette?"

"What if… Chat Noir's civilian identity… what if he works for Gabriel Agreste? What if he's going with Adrien and his dad to Milan, and that's why he's going to be out of town?"

Tikki's eyes widened at Marinette's suggestion. "That's… certainly a possibility, I suppose."

"I know we aren't supposed to reveal ourselves to each other without the masks, but if I was on the right track to figuring out his identity, you'd tell me, right Tikki?"

"Of course I would, Marinette. But I'm not sure if you're on the right track or not."

"Oh. Okay." Sighing, Marinette leaned back in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she continued to ponder the curious coincidence. This was getting her nowhere--she needed to get back to studying! With a huff, she picked up her textbook again, gluing her eyes to the page.

However, after trying and failing to read the same paragraph four times, Marinette set the textbook aside and picked her phone back up. Her fingers shook as she typed a private message to Adrien, and she had to reread the message twice to make sure she didn't have any typos before she sent it.

[9:45 PM] MariDC: Adrien? I have a question.

[9:46 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Hey again Marinette! What's up?

[9:47 PM] MariDC: Do you know Chat Noir?

Marinette held her breath as a message appeared in the corner of her screen: AdrienAgreatest is typing…

Ten seconds turned into thirty seconds, turned into a minute, and Marinette had to gasp for air before she passed out. Finally, after the longest two minutes of her entire life, Adrien's reply popped up on her phone.

[9:49 PM] AdrienAgreatest: I'm not sure why you're asking, but yes, I've at least met Chat Noir before. I don't know who he is behind the mask, though. Or, at least, I don't know if I know him. Does that make sense?

[9:50 PM] MariDC: Yes! That makes perfect sense. I have a confession to make: When I said I was at home the whole time the villain was attacking the school on Monday, I was lying. I actually got hurt in the bathroom when the villain first appeared, and Chat Noir saved me. I only lied to keep Alya and Nino from freaking out and worrying about me. Are you mad?

[9:53 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Why would I be mad at you? It's not like you intentionally put yourself in harm's way, right? I'm just glad you're alright. You're one of my closest friends and I would be devastated if something happened to you. I care about you a lot, Marinette.

Marinette's eyes widened almost comically as she read and reread Adrien's messages. She vaguely heard a loud, high-pitched squeal coming from somewhere in the room. It took her a minute to realize it was coming from herself.

[9:56 PM] MariDC: I care about you a lot too Adrien! I mean, you're one of my closest friends too! I love

Shaking her head wildly, Marinette deleted the text and started again.

[9:57 PM] MariDC: You're really important to me and I hope I didn't disappoint you or make you mad.

[9:58 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Don't worry about it, Marinette. You didn't do anything of the sort. Anyway, I should be getting to bed. It's late and I have to be up at 5 for us to make our plane.

[10:00 PM] MariDC: Oh lord! Yes, you do need to be getting to sleep! Can't have Mr. Model with saggy under eye bags, now can we? ;) Sleep well, Adrien. Let us know when your plane lands, all right?

[10:03 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Will do. Good night, Marinette. Sweet dreams :) (edited)

Marinette blinked, peering down at her phone in confusion. She'd glanced away for a moment, but she could have sworn that instead of her name, Adrien had initially written "Princess."

Did Adrien think of Marinette using pet names? Did he consider her his princess?

"Oh my god!" Marinette rolled over and stuffed her face into her pillow to muffle her squeal.

[dichenlachmandaily]

Future Shock

In Altered Carbon, Dichen Lachman harnesses her passion to brave a dystopian world.

Dichen Lachman sits behind the front desk in the Palm Springs Art Museum lobby, her eyes loosely shut as a makeup artist dusts gold pigment across her lids. She’s wearing Ugg boots; her hair is tousled. Despite the 6 a.m. call time, she declines a coffee and instead reaches for an old-fashioned doughnut hole. Lachman (whose first name is pronounced Dee-chen) is poised but low-key, nowhere near the fiery intimidator she portrays in her latest project, the Netflix original series Altered Carbon.

The museum is closed today, quiet save for crew chatter and the clang of gown-draped hangers on the stylist’s rolling rack; art hulks off the walls in the shadows of unlit corridors. Following months of stunt work, emotionally taxing scenes, and 16-hour days on set, the stillness is welcome. Lachman spent the summer in Vancouver, British Columbia, where Altered Carbon filmed its first season. Between network events and promotional appearances from São Paulo to Seoul, she’s savoring the post-production time off at home, just being Mom. Mathilda turns 3 in May, and her favorite things are scribbling, Sia music videos, and the family dog, Whisky. Deep love for family is an attribute the 36-year-old actress shares with her character, Rei. Perhaps the only trait they share, she says — that, and a fondness for action.

When it comes to that devotion, Lachman refers to a full-body, teeth-gritting sensation, a compulsion to hug tightly, to fuse, to be together forever. Rei takes the sentiment to an extreme, but Lachman relates. “That whole idea that I’ll just eat it,” she says, in her soft Australian drawl, which she dropped for the role. “Like I say to my daughter sometimes, ‘I just want to eat you up, I love you so much.’ ”

When we catch up by phone after the museum shoot, a few weeks before Altered Carbon’s premiere, she delves deeper into the idea of eating one’s feelings and shares a story about her four-legged childhood friend, a Jack Russell terrier named Singhi.

“When I was leaving Adelaide to pursue acting in Sydney, I found two of her little furs on my jacket,” she recalls. “I didn’t want to throw them away because I felt like that was throwing my dog away. I didn’t want to keep them because I thought I would lose them. So I swallowed the two little dog furs. I imagined they’d be absorbed into my body and we’d kind of be a part of each other.”

“When I was leaving Adelaide to pursue acting in Sydney, I found two of her little furs on my jacket. I didn’t want to throw them away because I felt like that was throwing my dog away.” Dichen Lachman

Lachman had shrugged off the role of Reileen Kawahara when she didn’t hear back from casting for four months. It was an uneventful lead-up. She received sides, sans any contextual clues to the plot, and submitted a self-taped video audition.

Then she got the call.

“What is this?” She’d actually forgotten. “There’s no callback? Do they want to see me again?”

“No,” Lachman’s agent told her. “They just want you to do the role.”

“I subsequently found out Laeta was a fan of Dollhouse [2009–2010] and The 100 [2014], so she was familiar with my work,” the actress says. “This is the biggest show I’ve ever been a part of … I just feel lucky to have been a part of it and humbled watching everyone’s work on the show.” The 10-episode, multimillion-dollar series, which became available for streaming Feb. 2, is one of Netflix’s highest-budgeted undertakings yet.

An adaptation of the 2002 cyberpunk novel by Richard Morgan, the first in his Takeshi Kovacs trilogy, Altered Carbon stars Joel Kinnaman as Kovacs (pronounced Ko-vach), a body-swapping soldier summoned to solve a murder in the year 2384. Human consciousness has been digitized and can be “sleeved” into new bodies, establishing a world in which the rich live forever and reprobates evanesce in the dark, debauched underbelly of society.

“It’s woven in such an intricate fashion, you can’t really say the show is just one thing,” Lachman explains. “It’s a love story. It’s a murder mystery. It’s action packed. There are all of these philosophical ideas, too. You walk away thinking, If I could live forever, would I even want to?”

Lachman portrays Kovacs’ sister, first appearing in episode one as a figment from his past; she gets her big reveal midway through the season. (At the risk of leaking a spoiler, let’s just say Lachman’s grand entrance is badass, evidential of the months pre-production she spent training in Japanese combat.)

Along with Kinnaman, the cast includes James Purefoy as a “re-sleeved” murder victim in search of his own killer; Martha Higareda as a well-meaning cop intent on closing the case; Renée Elise Goldsberry as Quellcrist, a futuristic Robin Hood hell-bent on quelling elitism; Will Yun Lee as Kovacs’ “birth sleeve”; Ato Essandoh as Kovacs’ gun-slinging ally; and Chris Conner as the personified consciousness of a hotel where Kovacs resides. These characters are complicated and not always who they appear to be. The plot is layered with flashbacks, visions, and alternate virtual-reality dimensions. Timelines seem to intertwine, leading the viewer through a supremely satisfying plot twist to a finale that may very well render all of us worthless until the second season finally airs. According to Kalogridis, “the biggest success is that the whole thing actually makes sense

“We lived with my uncle 
and my aunts, my grandfather, and my cousins in a tiny 
little apartment. So I had a really …” she pauses, 
“colorful childhood, almost 
of another era.”

Lachman was born in 1982 in Nepal. At that time, more than 90 percent of the country’s population of 15.7 million worked in agriculture, fielding rice, sugarcane, and oilseeds. Fewer than one in 10 owned a telephone. There was no FM radio. No television stations. Terrain continues to hinder development, but modern-day residents can tune in to Altered Carbon — Netflix extended its streaming services around the globe in 2016.

“I was there until I was about 7,” Lachman recalls. “I think we had Superman, Supergirl, and Police Academy, but no real TV to speak of.” Those VHS tapes were her immersion into science fiction. “We shared electricity with India at the time, so three or maybe four nights out of the week we didn’t even have electricity; mostly it was candlelight. We lived with my uncle and my aunts, my grandfather, and my cousins in a tiny little apartment. So I had a really …” she pauses, “colorful childhood, almost of another era.”

Lachman’s father, a Sydney native, was trekking through the Annapurna region of the Himalayas when he met his would-be wife, originally from Tibet, who was working at her family’s restaurant, a backpacker/tourist destination. “He told a friend, ‘I’m gonna marry that woman,’ ” Lachman recounts of her parents’ meeting. He did. The family moved to Australia when Dichen reached school age. “I remember taking my cousin to school [in Nepal]; it was in a hut, and they were still writing on slate with chalk. My father thought I’d have more opportunities if we were in Australia, so we moved to Adelaide.”

She was 23, living on her own in Sydney and dabbling in low-budget films — not long after the dog-fur incident — when she landed the role of Katya Kinski on Australia’s long-running soap opera Neighbours, a veritable breeding ground for Aussie exports. (Margot Robbie, Chris and Liam Hemsworth, and Russell Crowe are all alums.) A leading role in Joss Whedon’s sci-fi series Dollhouse brought Lachman to California in 2008.

Here, she met husband Maximilian Osinski, who is also an actor in the sci-fi/superhero sphere. Both have appeared in Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. on ABC, albeit in different seasons, and worked together on TNT’s end-of-days drama The Last Ship. Most recently Lachman portrayed alien ringmaster Roulette in Supergirl’s second season. Then Netflix came calling.

“It’s so refreshing because all of the women are such intricate, complex characters,” Lachman says. “They get to be beautiful and fierce, and they hit back. I think this is largely due to Laeta really wanting to show us off like that, to give us more than just a one-note character.”

As Kalogridis puts it, fierce women are the backbone of the show; they promote an underlying message of “owning your body and owning your power.”

Kalogridis has a stellar team, from set decorators and fight choreographers to visual effects artists and cinematographers, whose credits read like a best-of sci-fi list: Guardians of the Galaxy, Captain America: Civil War, War for the Planet of the Apes, Wonder Woman, The Martian. “This was definitely a labor of love for a lot of people,” she shares. “It’s not a movie, but it’s not necessarily what you associate with TV. It’s sort of occupying an interesting in-between space.”

“We were world-building,” adds costume designer Ann Foley, who joined the Altered Carbon team after four years with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., during which time she dressed Lachman. “That was one of the things that really drew me to this project — helping Laeta build and develop this world. One of the challenges when you’re doing anything futuristic is trying to keep it grounded and relatable so people don’t get distracted by the costumes. You don’t want to pull anybody out of the story.”

Foley orchestrates a visual crescendo through the season in ensembles that define each character and provide covert signals to the viewer. Lachman’s commanding wardrobe evolves alongside Rei’s tumultuous story arc; androgynous Samurai- and Sōhei-inspired combat gear metamorphoses into regal, sinewy shapes. Threading together her range of looks is one choice color. “You see so much green in the world where Reileen and Kovacs grew up,” says Foley, referring to scenes filmed in Vancouver’s verdant forest near Widgeon Falls. “You’ll see there will always be an element of that color in her costume, because that helps to inform who the character is.”

In Episode nine, Rei sits with Kovacs and tries to express the intrinsic bond she has always felt with him — a full-body, teeth-gritting sensation, a compulsion to hug tightly, to fuse, to be together forever. Despite hundreds of years of separation, in this world where one’s consciousness can live forever, occupying different bodies, Reileen has never stopped loving her brother. They are family, and family comes first.

“Remember what Mom used to say?” Reileen asks Kovacs as they sit at a small table in a seedy Moroccan-style hookah lounge. She chooses each word slowly and carefully. “ ‘I love you so much, I could eat you up.’ When you were arrested, they put me in an orphanage. All I had left of you was one of your old shirts … They ripped that shirt out of my hands — I can still feel it tearing, the threads still in my fingers. I knew they were going to take those too. So I swallowed them. Just to have something, anything, left of you.”

That passion is the characteristic Kalogridis saw in Lachman and the reason she sought her out for the role. “She brings a real depth and age to a character,” Kalogridis says. “I absolutely believe her version of a woman in her late teens/early 20s and a woman who is 255, 260 … Dichen’s just a very old and interesting soul. She is the warrior goddess.” Lachman has ventured a long way from Kathmandu, from Adelaide, and from Sydney, but as with all of us, the sum of her past experiences defines the person she is today.

“There’s a moment,” Lachman says, “where [my character] discovers Takeshi in the yukuza warehouse, and they just start killing everyone around them. She looks at him and smiles. There was all this action happening around us, and I had to try to cover my laughter because I kept thinking, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Who am I?! I’m originally from a Third World country, then a sleepy little town in Australia, and I’m running around like Rambo on this set with hundreds of stunt guys and people shooting guns at each other …

“This is what I dreamed about.”

[nautilusopus]

4, 28, 39

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

40 (because I keep fucking adding to the list like a moron. All of them will be written, but I don’t want to start more than one multi-chapter thing in case it tempts me to slack off on my current project. 

I’m not counting one-shots because the ETA on those is “whenever I’m in the mood to put something up and don’t have any chapters to write”. So longfics only, but these are the current active projects that all have a chance of being the next thing I work on (after The Pale Man which is a oneshot but something I really should have done by now):

Diaspora: Me making Advent Children not suck. The end product will only bear a superficial resemblance to Advent Children, but I think that’s for the best. Strong case for this one being next, just so people will know what I consider “baseline canon” more or less (starting with an AU was a mistake). Also I really really really want to write a thing where Cloud interacts with a whole lot of kids because I think he’d be great with them, and The Number I lends itself very poorly to that despite the hints of it that I managed to cram in. Motorcycles and Jenova cults and Reunion, oh my.

She That Waits: Better title pending. Silent Hill and It – two great tastes that taste great together. What’s Dead And Buried (aka that time I just posted chapter 18 of The Number I as its own story to see how many random passersby would be interested in it on its own merits) was actually me focus testing some things for this story. People seem to have responded positively, and this is officially the next thing on the list, so there is a strong case for it being the next main project. 

BORD SHILLING. I LIKE BORB. [Better Title Pending]: Me yelling at Square for throwing around buzzwords. ANGEL WINGS DREAMS HONOUR DARKNESS SEE LOOK I CAN DO IT TOO. Postgame. For @limbostratus. Very sad, very sweet (I hope). Also probably kinda weird. Has priority due to being physically higher on the list and also for a friend. Also lower stakes than The Number I (though hopefully just as upsetting), which I think I might need.

Meddling Kids: Also high on the queue, also lower stakes, and probably a bit more lighthearted than some of the other stuff here. Modern Day AU. I’ve been enthusiastic about this idea for a while but just don’t have much of a plot for it yet. Pretty gay. Involves me printing out that one picture of Aeris wearing the skate-punk shorts and sneakers, grinding it into powder, and doing the entire rail off a picture of Bill Murray.  

A Symphony For Crows [Better Title Pending, god that one’s pretentious]: Me scraping up the remains of a novel I once wanted to write ever since I was like ten before I realised I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the characters I created and was a thousand times more invested in the cast of some RPG from the nineties and threw out the whole thing. Original setting. High fantasy. Oldschool faeries. Probably very flowery. Inspired by The Snow Queen a bit. Potentially the longest fic on here, apart from…

[Title Pending]: Me violently spewing hatred at the VII fanbase via allegory. That’s not what this started out as, honestly, but I noticed after a while that that’s sure what was sneaking in as unintentional subtext, so I just decided to roll with it. Partially the remains of several scrapped RP campaigns, partially some headcanons that I have kicking around that I realised could form a coherent story. Will not be published without at least getting Diaspora out of the way first. It’ll be tricky to pull off, due to its length, due to the fact that half of it is very OC heavy apart from Zack as the narrative shifts around, and due to the sheer scale of the fucking thing. I don’t know what order most of these are going to be in (and am accepting feedback on what you guys want to see first), but this one is definitely lower.

Dollhouse: Another story lower on the queue. Given that said queue is 40 fucking stories, “low” in this context means like… ten or eleven at most? but it’s not getting immediately published. Probably the darkest thing on this list, apart from maybe ^that one, and even then I think this one might be a little more upsetting. Won’t be published for a while because it’s the most OC-heavy story I have, and because I need to firmly establish myself as Not Crazy I Promise before I put it up. Thriller/psychological horror. 

[Title Pending] but I’ve been calling it Dumpsterman Roadtrip in my head: Cloud and Sephiroth and me examining their dynamic properly since no one else seems to be doing that. Not necessarily a redemption fic. I don’t know yet. Still a bit fuzzy, I haven’t done much concrete planning with it yet. It’s infuriating to me that there are a thousand million fics focusing on Cloud and Sephiroth’s relationship, and not a damn one of them does it properly despite being handed this great dichotomy on a silver platter. I get “OMG WHAT A SADIST THAT LIVES TO TORTURE THIS ONE MAN” is easier to write, but that doesn’t make it even remotely better. 

FROG ADVENTURE [Better Title Pending]: Cloud gets turned into a frog, separated from the group before anyone can realise what’s happened, spends like a year as a frog trying not to get eaten. The only G-rated one on the pending-projects list, I think. Still working out how I’m gonna handle this considering it’s also going to be either very OC-heavy or Cloud will be the only character saying anything throughout the entire thing. Either could be an interesting experiment. Classic sixties children’s book vibes for this one. 

The Doublemint Twins Visit the Kierkegaard Retrospective [Better Title Pending but I think this one is pretty good]: This fic used to be way different in the planning stages! In fact it was originally for sure going to be the next thing I wrote, but as I expanded the outline more and more everything just kept getting darker and darker and eventually I couldn’t figure out a single conceivable way there could be a happy ending. I consider happy (or at least bittersweet) endings mandatory for everything I write, so in the end I wound up scrapping it for a while until I picked up the bits I could still work with and rearranged them a little. This one’s still pretty existentialist, I think, but nowhere near as grim. I have no idea how to end this one either, but at least it doesn’t seem as grim as the last one did, which originally involved Cloud finding a lot of the clones (as in actual clones, not the way the story uses the term) Hojo made of him for the sake of backup organ harvesting still alive, and it turns out he’s also a clone, and the whole thing kind of devolved from there as I struggled to figure out what the fuck to do with like ten different Clouds that would end even remotely well. Also, I feel like a lot of people have done clones and siblings or whatever, but I have yet to see anyone that’s done this. 

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@cateringisalie, @auncyen, and @farfromdaylight are like the only people I read anyway. I can’t answer this question without my very very obvious bias showing. They have an actual understanding of the characters and don’t write the same fucking thing over and over again and that’s already more than anyone else is doing. 

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Only the weird one that called me double reverse racist against myself and also Christians. 

I thrive off of negativity and the knowledge of how terrible everyone’s tastes are is enough to give me the inspiration to write entire goddamn novels, as you can see. 

[austinplaysrpgs-blog]

Curse of Strahd, Part 1: Death House

Part 2 here

Cast of Characters

Rolen - Firbolg Paladin, Oath of the Ancients, Neutral Good (Played by me)

Rolen was the champion and protector of his clan for many years. They lived deep in the forests south of Waterdeep, keeping some distance between them and their giant cousins to the north. He has since left them behind for an unknown reason and is pursuing a green dragon. Rolen towers over smallfolk at over seven and a half feet tall, but he’s a gentle giant that is more interested in preserving the nature around him than in cracking skulls. He has blue-grey skin, and brown hair, with an impressive beard. He has the law of his people tattooed in white on his skin beneath his armor. He carries a small crystal on a string around his neck. It glows softly in moonlight. A gift from his daughter that she found in the caves near their home. It is his most cherished possession. He carries a large shield emblazoned with a green leaf, the symbol of his god, Silvanus.

Garfield Rosewater - Human Warlock, Celestial Patron, Lawful Good

To Garfield, life is black and white. He always grew up hearing about how his parents put an end to a civil war that claimed the lives of many, and wanted to be just like them. What Garfield doesn’t know is how they accomplished it: by making a deal with a forgotten elder god. They gave away the life of their firstborn to this god in exchange for peace, not intending to have children of their own. But fate had other plans. Now Garfield walks the land, hoping to discover why he has these powers, and why his dreams are plagued with dark thoughts.

Leo - Human Bard, College of Lore, Chaotic Good

Leo has always had aspirations for something bigger. Why be ordinary when you could be famous? Leo has a knack for words and feels at home on the stage. Capturing people in his stories and plays was easy and he rode this talent into the spotlight...until disaster struck. He never really goes into what happened, or why he is on the run, but it always seems to be the same story, Leo comes into a town, makes a great impression, and rises to fame. Then people start asking questions, and he disappears to the next town to keep his private life out of the spotlight. Now he looks to build his legend through adventure instead of the stage.

Frank - Wood Elf Monk, Way of the Drunken Master, Neutral Good

Frank’s clan was a small and isolated group within the High Forest. The wood elves had a tradition of picking one person every night to stand as Night Watch while the rest slept. One night, Frank got picked for the Night Watch. It was a pretty uneventful, mostly ceremonious position; nothing had happened in years on the Night Watch. Frank took his watch with little care and began to drink his favorite plum wine. During his drunken stupor, a pack of wolves made their way into the village and into an open hut. The screams that followed awoke the rest of the village, but by then it was too late. With a family dead, the villagers banished Frank. If they could not trust him, he could not stay with them. Frank is looking to perform a heroic feat and prove to his clan he can be trusted again.

Rolen waits in town for the return of his new companion, Frank. Rolen had stepped in and saved him from a likely death in the dense forest. Despite his wood elf heritage, Frank was often too drunk to really focus on his surroundings. Filled with admiration, Frank latches onto Rolen when he reveals that he’s pursuing a green dragon.

Frank and Rolen travel to the nearest town, where Frank sets off in search of “heroes” to aid Rolen in their quest. He stumbles across Leo and Garfield in town and they hit it off. Frank also runs into a man who is looking for help. He hands him a letter explaining that a woman has been visited by an evil curse, and asks for our help to save her. Frank obviously agrees to this without a second thought, and we set off to investigate.

While we are making camp, a mist settles over us. Upon waking, we notice that the woods around us has changed. We take a look around, and nothing seems familiar. We wander around for a bit before stumbling upon a gravel road. With few other options, we follow it.

The road leads to a large iron gate. A stone wall extends from either side as far as we can see. We pass through the gate into the forest beyond, and it creaks closed behind us.

A bit further down the path, we’re attacked by wolves. Leading the pack is a dire wolf with a rusty pelt. He watches while we dispatch the pack, and disappears into the mist, saying “Welcome to Barovia.”

After a short while, we find our way into a town. The place seems deserted. Buildings are boarded up; there doesn’t seem to be any activity. We hear the sound of whimpering children coming from around the corner. We go investigate and find two children cowering in the alley. They introduce themselves as Rose and Thorn. We ask them where their parents are, and they point us to the four story home at the edge of town. They tell us that their parents told them to stay here while they took on the monster in the basement. Without hesitation, we make our way directly to the house.

We make our way inside and poke around. There isn’t an obvious way down to the basement, so we head upstairs. On the third floor, Rolen hears the wails of a baby and goes to investigate the noise. The specter of a nursemaid appears in the next room, cries out “My baby!” and attacks. When the fight is over, Rolen notices eyes on the walls, watching the party, and swings his hammer, knocking a hole in the wall. The hole reveals a secret staircase leading up to the attic.

In the attic, the party finds the room of the children. Inside the room is a pair of small skeletons. Specters of the children we’d met outside, greet us, asking us to not leave them behind. There’s a dollhouse that looks exactly like the house we’re inside. Using the dollhouse, we find the secret staircase to the basement, and leave. Rolen has the foresight to bash holes in the wall to allow easy entry and exit from the staircase.

The crypt below the house appears to hold the entire family of the children. We find the children’s sarcophagi, and decide to go back up and retrieve their remains. We give them a proper burial, and the specters thank us as they proceed into the afterlife.

Rolen attempts to knock on a door, and is nearly consumed by what turns out to be a mimic. We hack it to pieces, but not before Rolen suffers some serious wounds. We find our way down to the next level. There’s weird cult shenanigans afoot. There’s a portcullis leading to a large chamber, from which we can hear chanting. We use mage hand to turn the wheel and open the portcullis from the inside, and when we enter, the chanting ceases.

There’s a raised platform in the center of a pool with a bloody stone. When Rolen and Frank climb the platform, shadowy figures emerge from the walls, and begin chanting “One must die!” Neither Rolen nor Frank are looking to end their lives just yet, and Rolen strikes the bloody stone with his hammer, cracking it. The chanting ceases once again, and a mound of refuse and vegetation emerges from the pool and attacks us.

In a highly improbable sequence of events, we manage to defeat the beast. Once we do, the structure begins to shake and crumble. We get the sense that the entire house and crypt may be coming down, so we book it for the exit. With ghouls in hot pursuit, we make it out of the basement and back to the first floor. The windows are all bricked up, the doors have been replaced with swinging blades, and the fireplaces are lit, spilling over into the rest of the rooms. With a couple of very close calls, we manage to leap and drag our way through the sets of doors between us and the exit.

Exhausted and beat up, we head to the inn and rest. The next day, we come across a fortune teller who has taken up shop in town. She greets us, and asks personal questions that reveal that she knows far more about each of us than we know about each other. Unsettled, but intrigued, we ask for a reading. She produces a deck of cards from out of nowhere and offers us to draw from it.

“This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand your enemy.” Rolen draws and reveals the 6 of Glyphs -- “The Anarchist, with this I see walls of bones, a chandelier of bones, and a table of bones - all that remains of enemies long forgotten.”

“This card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope.” Garfield draws the 3 of Coins -- “Ah the Trader, Look to the wizard of wines! In wood and sand the treasure does hide.”

“This is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword of sunlight.” Frank draws the 7 of Stars -- “The illusionist, eh? A man is not what he seems. He comes here in a carnival wagon. Therein lies what you seek.”

“This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness.” Leo draws and reveals a card with a Ghost. “Oh so he’s back in the picture? I see a fallen paladin of a fallen order of knights. He lingers like a ghost in a dead dragon’s lair, convincing him won't be easy.”

“Now I see, your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This card will show you where he can always be found.” She flips over the top card and shows The Tempter. “A secret place - a vault of temptation hidden behind a woman of great beauty. The evil waits atop his tower of treasure.”