#he was a useful monster to use for that purpose!

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU #2

Thank @earthykinous for this idea; I saw it in the tags of the first GameSwap and immediately knew I had to give it a try ^^

-Taranza seems like a very ‘devoted’ character, the kind who very easily latches on to personal influences…so as part of the HWC, I think he would be just as involved with the Mother Computer as Haltmann, maybe even more so, just to be able to share something with him. Just in general, he’d be agonized about his father not recognizing him anymore, and desperate to prove his worth despite it, trying to replace familial love with company loyalty in a VERY toxic-positive way. ^^ And besides, if he uses that control helmet often enough, maybe he’ll lose all his painful memories too… And in this scenario…maybe the reason Haltmann dies is because he sacrifices himself to Star Dream to save Taranza somehow, finally recognizing his son when he realizes he’s about to lose him again. OR, maybe he just feels like Taranza is too important to lose without knowing why, leaving only Taranza to bear the true emotional weight of that sacrifice.

-I think Susie is a more mature character than Taranza– despite her sad backstory, she seems to handle her situation well during the game, and doesn’t even seem that affected by Haltmann’s death post-game. If it’s not maturity, at the very least it’s a much lower level of emotional attachment.

So how would she go about dealing with her crush mutating into a tyrannical insect queen? I think she would actually just lose respect for her, and end up turning on her.

Despite staying by her side and aiding in her conquest, she would secretly be plotting her downfall: praising and obeying Sectonia to her face, while trying to undermine her in the background…keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. Rather than mistakenly capturing the wrong ‘Hero of the Lower World’, Susie would’ve picked Dedede on purpose, knowing that Kirby was the ‘real’ hero who would come to save him AND defeat Sectonia. She’d then pretend to oppose him throughout the game, throwing challenging bosses his way to prepare him to face the Queen…and finally, she’d reveal her true motivations once Dedede has been freed.

But maybe, just to bring back the stakes and drama…maybe Sectonia overhears this reveal, and enters the scene. Through the ensuing argument, we could learn a bit about how Sectonia became evil in the actual game, and have Susie basically call her out, admitting to her treachery and daring her Queen to do something about it. To throw away the last shred of their former friendship, once and for all.

Which Sectonia does, of course, and from there the rest of the game could proceed like normal. Only, I think Susie’s characterization as a tough-yet-caring friend and a twist-hero would make her return with the Miracle Fruit a lot more satisfying. Rather than failing to see how evil Sectonia had become until it personally affected her, she knew exactly how far-gone she was, and put her life on the line to try and wake Sectonia up.  And despite losing that gamble, despite witnessing her friend choose to become a monster in more ways than one, she survived and came back to help us end the battle. ^^ I think that would be really heartwarming~

[valentine-cafe]

A red velvet cheesecake please! (reader is nb amab)

Okay so, (Incubus) Reader fucking Rishen and him using reader's horns as handle bars to grab onto😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

˖⁺. “ fuck you like an animal ! ” : 

﹙ top gn amab incubus reader x bottom mad scientist ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 209 rishen x gn amab reader !! 🍒 : ﹙ mad scientist ˖ spider-moth-mantis monster ˖ yandere ˖ villain character ﹚

you're an incubus fucking your beloved mad scientist - who is most pretty when all he can do is grip onto your horns 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ handjob ˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ whiney rishen ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ praise ˖ messy sex | wc : 0.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: anon I love you forever with this ask because I have been WAITING for the inhuman readers to 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

You breathe in the pretty man below you, his pretty hole wrapped around you so tightly as your hard dick plummets into it over and over again. Thrusts growing so shallow he can barely stay conscious.

Of course he is going to grip onto your horns! The way the pink walls of his tight ass nurses at the veins of the cock that fucks it has his head spinning. So he had to find a way to stay up and supported.

“Ghngh- —- Yeah, that’s it, Takin’ it s’ fuckin’ well.” Your grunt makes his back arch, left hand tugging at your horn in a way that forces your head backwards, tilted to the lift. And so the pace becomes almost punishing, you and him have a little pact that the more he looks away the harder you fuck.

“M—hah- d-dios- di-ios— Ngnh- A-ah p-por favor—” Such sweet stammers, A melody to fill the beautifully sleek black room. The red curtains swaying from side to side as the breeze of the night air grows stronger. He had forgotten to close the window during sleep. And so, you had snuck in. Why not?

You had been trying to get to him all day. The failed attempts of throwing him over his work desk. . . the fucking interruptions of his useless employees swarming him for questions, about work, deadlines, sick leaves, and the usual bullshit— Each and everytime was just about getting to the nearest shadow to hide away in.

He had riled you up on purpose as well.

Soft croons, empty promises, light touches that were barely there. He drove you insane and he did it on purpose. To think a mere mortal as him could catch the attention of you like that. You let him have you crazy and desperate for him.

Well, you suppose. He was not just any mortal. Most of his variants were quite the delicacies as well, they certainly were no ordinary ordeal. But your point still stood. How dare he be the one to rile you up when it should be the other way around.

“C’mon Rishen huh? Look at me.” With a fist full of curly locks held tight in a demonic hand. You yank his head back up to look directly into your eyes.

You weren’t even breaking a sweat, nor anywhere near as exhausted as he was.

Yet knowledge upon the table. So obvious people could smell it from miles away. You were an incubus, to lose stamina right away would be some mystical phenomenon unheard of!

The scientist below you whimpers as a slew of cum spurts out of his weeping dick. Such a pitiful sight you simply must squeeze your fingers around his tip to draw a bit more out. Before you continue the torturous handjob you have him receive. Your hand tight around his shaft, pumping hard and fast.

“S— Sooo Go-ood!” He cries, gripping onto you tight. “M-mgh— D-dear- m-more!”

The whimpers and moans muffle when your tongue steals them away. Hot lips crashing down on his, while his hands move down to the base of your horns to push you closer too. Hips weakly meeting rough ones.

Each forceful slap of your balls against his plush ass makes the skin ripple, the addicting sound going straight to your head and urging you on. Your hot cum plugging him to the brim. Squirting out onto your cock after each of your new release now.

“Yeah? Yeah? Is the pretty slut begging? Y-yeah— o-o-oh p-please— please f-fuck m-m-e.” The mocking pulls a dragged moan out of him, loud and vibrating in his throat, as he comes and momentarily blacks out, his eyes wide and mouth wide agape.

“Thas’ it— That’s it theeeere we go, atta boy.”

For a short moment, you pull out of him. His hands removed from your horns, as you flip him onto his right, getting up behind him and lifting up his leg as far as possible. While your other hand moves to press against his pelvis.

Just to tease him, and think everything is over, you wait for him to wake up. His slurred speech incoherent and gibberish at this point.

A moan rips through the room when you slam yourself inside of him again and fuck harder than you have this entire session. Your teeth wrapping around his neck like a beautiful necklace for him to wear.

“A-gnh— a-aaah- ah-Ah-ah!” Weak moans follow along with the claps of skin against skin and the wet, squelching that his sore ass manages.

The laughs rumbling out of you vibrate throughout the room, seeping into the corners of the room and out of the window. Back into the night.

All it takes is a simple press on his abdomen, and he is gone. Cum squirting out of his throbbing dick multiple times until he is spent.

And once he has gone cold fully, you leave him in his bed for his husband to find and clean up. Covered in his own cum mixed with yours.

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭 

[gloryofdawn]

Also, as someone who probably has literally over a thousand hours into FATE, it has a few other issues that prevent it from being "universal:"

1) There is very little progression. I have a character in a FATE game who has matured in some very serious ways since its beginning. I cannot mechanically reflect these changes with the refresh and skill points I have without him no longer being good at the things he needs to be good at to both continue filling his role in the game and continue being who he is as a character.

2) Stunts don't cover everything, and even the FATE variants that allow for superpowers/magic/etc can require some serious contortion to be able to do anything in the way a universal RPG would claim to

3) It's very easy for a few gamist issues to derail the narrative. In multiple games I've played in and run, a character putting their Athletics skill at four or five made most combats basically impossible to lose by conventional methods of violence, and it gets really narratively unsatisfying when a character loses multiple combats because someone said mean words to them. This is also true of other skills, depending on your system and setting, though they cause problems in other ways (e.g. Using Dresden FATE, a character with a high discipline becomes nigh on immune to the special mental abilities of the setpiece monster for your campaign, requiring you to either tune it to their discipline and kill the fuck out of the other players, not do so and let the character no sell those abilities and maybe the whole fight, or inflate the monster's refresh to give it other capabilities that can threaten that character [except now Athletics is usually a problem again])

4) I tend to find that specializing in one facet of the gameplay causes you to just not be able to participate in others, which is balanced on the face of everything, but ultimately leads to your combat focused players not engaging in investigation or social encounters, your social players feeling like they can't contribute in combat, and your investigative players wishing they could do anything other than make tags after the Looking Around portion of an encounter is done.

5) This isn't immediately an issue in universality, but GOD do I hate the skill pyramid and FATE dice, and I feel like they feed into the above issue. Having skills be, on average, rated from 0-5 with a possible variance of +/-4 on the dice means that overcoming challenges even a single step higher than your skill becomes a matter of luck rather than stats. I understand that this is the point and purpose of Fate Points, but I think that's a problem rather than the solution. If you have a 1 or a 2 in a skill, you have to cross your fingers and hope to beat anything more than the most basic difficulty to create a tag, largely making these ranks of skills worthless against all but the most basic challenges as, again, your GM has to balance against the people who specialized in this shit. This comes around to damaging the universality of the game because at a certain point, if you want your character to be able to do more than two or three things reliably, FATE cannot be the system for you.

I used to really like FATE. Then I was in FATE games for a very, very long time and really got to learn how the system works. I no longer like FATE.

So what about FATE? How is it not universal as an RPG?

The biggest non-universal dimension of FATE – at least in its modern incarnations – is that it has a very strong set of baked-in assumptions about the relationship between players and player characters.

This is something I've talked about in the past; to somewhat oversimplify, there are roughly four ways for a player in a tabletop RPG to relate to their character:

The Isekai Stance: I am my character, and my character is me. I'll have my character do whatever I myself would do if I happened to be, for example, an elf wizard.

The Actor Stance: I'm an actor, and my character is my role. I'll have my character do what I feel it would be psychologically realistic for them to do under the circumstances.

The Storyteller Stance: I'm a narrator telling a story, and my character is the co-protagonist of that story. I'll have my character do whatever I feel would make for the most interesting story.

The Gamer Stance: I'm a person playing a game, and my character is my playing-piece. I'll do whatever it takes to win.

This generally isn't a useful way to classify either players or games; games typically have weak baked-in assumptions about which stance their players will adopt, and to the extent that these assumptions are present, a game may make different default assumptions for different parts of play. A common set of assumptions is actor mode outside of combat and gamer mode in combat, for example.

FATE is, of course, an exception to the rule, in that it has very strong baked-in assumptions about what stance players will adopt toward their characters, and further assumes that play will occur at least mostly in this mode. The Fate Point economy that forms the core of the gameplay loop 100% assumes that you're going to be playing in storyteller nearly all of the time – the types of decisions it's asking players to make on a moment-by-moment basis are frequently straight up unintelligible from any other perspective.

This is a big part of why suggesting FATE because it can "do anything" can go over like a lead balloon: the folks making this suggestion aren't taking into account the possibility that a given group's players may not vibe with the system's assumptions about how players relate to their characters. Storyteller-mode-all-the-time is actually a fairly uncommon group play style, and it often seems that FATE fans don't realise this!

[thedissonantverses]

You are More than Your Scars:

Or Why Davrin and Bellara are our Elven Heroes in Veilguard

Davrin and Bellara represent the past, present, and future of the Dalish in Thedas. The way the writers used them as parallels of what being an elf means in this universe is endlessly fascinating to me as a long time Dragon Age fan.

Davrin we know has a complicated relationship with his clan and his past. As an adult who has been on his own, he recognizes what his clan was trying to teach him. As a kid he didn’t, and he went charging into the world with no regard for those lessons or his own safety. Clan life wasn’t for him, but he still carries the weight of all of that history with him. Uncle Eldrin did what he could. (Check out this write-up for a better look at Davrin's relationship with black fatherhood thanks to @master-of-the-elements) He could have gotten rich with his skillset and his need to challenge himself, but he chose the Wardens to find a sense of purpose in a world that doesn’t always give elves that choice.

He gets his hands bloody and makes the world a better place one monster at a time. Long before he meets Assan, he’s a protector first and a hunter second. He found his own way forward, one that combines the traditions of the Dalish with helping the people of Thedas now. All of the people of Thedas. As a Warden he also carries the weight of elven legends like Garahel. Elves have always lived and died to protect against the blight, and Davrin is no exception. Davrin is Thedas as it is now, where elf or warden or man can mean many different things, and it's how you define it the path going forward that matters.

Bellara also has a complicated relationship with her clan and with the past. We see this primarily through her brother Cyrian, but it's clear due to her neurodivergence she didn't necessarily fit in growing up and stands out even amongst Veil Jumpers. Losing her anchor in Cyrian, the person who knew her best, didn't help. People tend to dismiss Bellara because she talks too fast and thinks too fast and stumbles. But she's intensely passionate about her people's history and legacy and has devoted her life to the seeking of knowledge. She is exceptionally intelligent, she is kind, and she is ferocious in the defense of what she loves. She represents the side of the Dalish that have been seeking lost knowledge, but it's what she does with that that makes her so compelling. Learning not to shrink from that knowledge is crucial to her as a character.

Bellara, by careful design, has an existential crisis about the Evanuris and what they mean for the Dalish, who have already been through enough as a people. It's through Bellara we see what it means to learn about the horrors of your own history, and how to break away from it to make it better. That the many nuances and complications of the past don't need to define your relationship to your culture. You are more than the worst things that have been done to you and yours.

What both of these characters represent is not just an examination of generational trauma, but how to heal and move on from it. Davrin and Bellara, any way you slice it, are heroes. Everything from their arcs to their character design shows off what it means to be Dalish and I can't praise Veilguard enough for their inclusion.

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Meeting Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Witcher warnings, mentions of death and pregnancy loss

Meant to post this a while back for October buttt I just came around to finishing it. Divider by firefly-graphics!

~~~

Geralt had long grown used to people's scrutinizing stares and hateful glares when he strolled through their towns, even while carrying the monster that'd been plaguing them for days or weeks. He received their coin with scoffs and murmurs rather than thanks for risking his life to help them but it hardly bothered him after so many years of the same repeated cycle. It was his duty, the job placed upon his shoulders the moment he stepped out of Kaer Morhen as a witcher for the first time.

Even then, as he listened to the stuttered directions of the young man pointing him toward where their monster was last seen, he felt the glares piercing his back. He ignored them, per usual, and climbed atop Roach with a grunt, his hands curling around the reins and tugging the horse in the direction he'd been pointed in. The townspeople claimed a ferocious beast roamed the town at night, snarling about with snapping jaws. They said chickens and goats turned up dead most often but some mornings, they found the torn corpse of an unlucky drunk. Many monsters came to mind but only one stood out to him amongst others.  

Roach snorted and stalled, her ears flicking about nervously and hooves stomping into the mushy dirt beneath them. Geralt slipped off the saddle and ran his hands along her neck, soothing her into calming down as he studied the woods surrounding them. With night quickly descending, he expected to hear the noise of nocturnal animals beginning to clamber out of their dens and homes, but he only heard the distant call of an owl and the quiet chirping of insects. 

"You'll be alright," He whispered to Roach as he tied her reins to the nearest tree, ensuring to give her mane a few more comforting strokes to ease the anxious stomping and huffs. "I won't let it hurt you." 

When night draped a blanket of darkness over them, Geralt fed sticks into his small fire until it grew bright enough to light the area around him. He waited, seated on the leaf-covered ground with his arm propped on his knee and one hand tightly clutching the handle of his sword. His ears picked up the crunching of sticks, loud enough to be purposeful but gentle enough to not belong to the fearsome creature he heard so much about. His attention darted to Roach to study her form, taking in her twitching ears and the way she began tugging at her reins with a certain desperation prey animals only had when around predators. 

"I heard there was a witcher in town," A voice murmured, and Geralt twisted around to look at the owner of it, eyes narrowing when the man drew closer and out of the darkness. To the inexperienced, he appeared as normal as a human but Geralt caught the glowing amber eyes before he stepped into the light and they morphed back to a shade of (E/C). His stance appeared casual but his eyes remained locked on him, barely paying Roach any attention as she grew rowdier. "I was under the impression the kikimora problem had been solved a year ago. What brings you here?"

"A monster," Geralt responded gruffly, his muscles tense and senses on alert. "It roams the night and frightens the townspeople."

The man stared at him in silence for a beat, the crackling of the fire and huffing of Roach filling the air until the corners of his lips curled upward, mockingly. The leaves and twigs crunched beneath his boots as he strode forward toward him, the light of the fire casting a warm glow over his figure and making him appear almost... angelic. "What makes a monster a monster, I wonder? Strigas will kill humans to feast but when a hunter kills a buck, no one calls him a monster for feeding himself. When you, Geralt of Rivia, are attacked and have to kill, they call you a butcher, but when a knight kills to protect himself he is a hero worthy of many titles and ballads."

"Why do you kill humans then, werewolf?" The man gave a quiet laugh, dropping down to his knees beside Geralt with a wide grin that exposed his four sharpened canines. Werewolf bites were hardly as potent as stories made them out to be but he'd heard the painful tales from witchers and hunters who'd been unfortunate enough to cross paths with the beasts drunk under the light of the full moon.

The werewolf's head tilted downward toward the sword Geralt held tightly and he reached out with a hand that grew (H/C) fur and nails that extended into claws meant to slice through flesh cleanly. He dragged the tip of his claw along the blade until he reached the handle, his hand returning to its human appearance and brushing over the back of Geralt's hand. No werewolf created from a curse or bite could control their abilities so finely, Geralt recalled from the teachings and stories, but one born from another werewolf could.

"To feast or to protect?"

"A group of humans will kill a family of werewolves, even an unborn child, under the guise of getting rid of a plague and be called fearless heroes... but a wolf avenging its pack and pup is a monster, even when he leaves innocents alone." 

Geralt's grip on his sword loosened and his shoulders sagged, with pity or perhaps relief, he wasn't so sure. His mind flickered back to Blaviken, to Renfri and her tale of vengeance on the man who'd taken everything from her. He'd advised her then to leave Blaviken and continue forth with the familial bonds she'd created amongst her men but she refused. His eyes flickered downward to Renfri's old brooch mounted on the hilt of his sword, a prickle of sympathy swirling in his chest.

"Tell me, witcher," The man's hand pressed over his, his thumb pushing and running over one of the veins along his skin gently. Geralt looked back at him, unable to rid himself of the caution still etched in his body despite his soft touch. Only silver could truly kill a werewolf, and this one had his hand near Geralt's only means of defense. Still, his eyes were alluring, and curious as they flickered over his rugged features. "Would you not wish to avenge your parents if they were slaughtered? Or your lover and child?"

"Witchers cannot have children." He thought of Cintra, and the Law of Surprise he'd accidentally stumbled right into with Duny and Pavetta. What had come of the child, he wondered. His unwanted destiny.

"Still, would you not believe it is justified?" 

Grinding his teeth, Geralt looked toward the fire. "What will you do once you have your justice? Killing those who've hurt you will not bring your family back, and the town will simply look for another hunter." He spoke, tentatively raising his hand away from his sword and resting it over his thigh to escape the warm touch. It'd been weeks, perhaps months, since he'd last felt a gentle caress. He found it easily addictive. 

"I will return home.. to the mountains in the north where I was born and raised. If the town chooses to repeat history, then I will gladly accept their vengeance for what I did to them." The man responded, scooting himself closer and nudging the sword away with his fingertips. His hands took Geralt's arm, fingers tracing some scars along his skin delicately and still curious. Geralt couldn't help but watch his fingers move so gingerly, fingers capable of transforming into powerful weapons. "You and I are the same, Geralt: despised for merely existing in a cruel world. Humans will always fear us for things we cannot control. I will always be a monster of the night and you will always be the Butcher of Blaviken."

"Then we leave these people and their town alone. We prove there is more to us than being monsters." It'd failed with Renfri, trying to persuade her away from what Stregobor made her out to be. From the way the man paused his movements and glanced at him, Geralt expected the same outcome. "You return to the mountains and live with the memories of your family until you create a new one." 

The werewolf frowned with knitted brows and peeled his hands away to unclasp his cloak, letting it slip down his back and pool around him. His fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, once white but now dirtied with mud and hints of dried blood. With the light of the flickering fire and his enhanced vision, Geralt spotted the scar along his abdomen. A silver weapon, or otherwise it would have healed as if it'd never happened. He took Geralt's arm once more, pressing his calloused hand against the scar but Geralt's focus drew to the warmth naturally radiating from his skin. 

"The men of this town did not care to learn about us. They did not care that my mother embraced my father despite his curse, despite knowing it'd pass onto their children; they did not care to learn that they named me (Y/N) when I was born and lived in constant fear that I'd be taken from them; they did not care to learn of how I warned Esra to stay away but she did not care whether I was man or monster... they did not care to learn we wished to have a daughter so we could name her after the aunt that raised Esra. They did not care for me, I will not care for them."

A steady silence consumed them both as they stared at one another, as Geralt battled internally between encouraging him to leave or accepting he'd do the same if he were in his position. (Y/N)... he seemed genuine but he thought back to the body he'd been shown. The image of a belly sliced open would forever be burned into the minds of the townspeople.

"Why haven't you killed all of them? You've killed three thus far and are still here. It would be easier than waiting to take them all out at once." 

"There are two more.. one seems to have figured it out and keeps to himself in his home. The paranoia will devour him eventually but the other... the other is away and I will not leave until he returns. I'm going to turn him into my kind, even if it takes more than one bite, and once he is cursed as my father once was.." (Y/N) grinned again, the angelic and almost innocent appearance disappearing, replaced by the look of someone who reeked of trouble. "The townspeople will take care of him for me. He will know what true fear and hatred is from those he once called his friends."

"Allowing you to infect a human with lycanthropy is-" 

Geralt knew he should have expected it, sooner or later, for werewolves were notorious for their speed and strength. In the blink of an eye, (Y/N) lunged at him with enough strength to knock the air out of his lungs and force him onto his back, pinning his forearms beneath his knees and holding the tip of his blade over his forehead. With his back to the fire and shadows cast over (Y/N)'s face, his eyes naturally gleamed with amber to adjust to the darkness.

Geralt stared up at him, his chest rising and falling as his mind caught up with what'd just occurred but unable to push away the thought of how startlingly beautiful he appeared.

"He took my Esra from me, my child.. be thankful, witcher, that I have not taken his wife and son. I don't wish to hurt you or anyone else but I will if you get in my way." 

The sword plunged into the soft dirt above Geralt's head and (Y/N)'s clawed hands came to rest above his shoulders, his knees sliding off Geralt's arms. Conflict bubbled and spread through Geralt's chest, threatening to fill his throat and make him choke. He had a duty, a promise to uphold to the townspeople and by extension the men, but he remembered the pure rage that'd flooded his veins when Renfri died in his arms with teary eyes and choked words.

(Y/N) peered down at him, vibrant eyes studying his face. "It's a shame, witcher, that you've come all this way for nothing. Under different circumstances, on a different night, I may have made it worthwhile." 

A breathless chuckle escaped the witcher, surprised to find a similar longing in his veins despite his position. His casualness in touching his hand and arm made sense to him now. How long had it been since he lost his lover? How long had it been since he craved to be held and desired? Tentatively, Geralt pushed himself up, forcing (Y/N) to slide further down and settle over his thighs. He'd sworn off involving himself in personal business the day Renfri died in his arms but now and again, he wondered what could have happened if he'd helped her in her cause against the wizard.

"I will be done with unfinished business soon, Geralt of Rivia. Grant me this without a fight and when the time comes, you may ask a favor of me in return." Despite his friendly offer, Geralt knew he had little choice. A single slice from his claws in the right place would kill the infamous witcher, leaving his body to be found by whichever courageous townsperson dared venture out in search of him. (Y/N)'s hand crept up to his face, reverting to their human appearance before pressing against his cheek. "Werewolves are good friends to have." 

"You say the one you wish to kill is away," Geralt recalled. "Track him down and be done with it away from this town, and I won't have reason to harm nor stop you."

(Y/N) pursed his lips, the glimmering amber fading into (E/C) as he considered his words. "Very well, then." He nodded, legs moving when he went to stand, only to surge forward and capture Geralt's lips. He pulled away before Geralt could react but not before a sharp canine caught his bottom lip, leaving a prickle of pain he hardly noticed. (Y/N) grinned, tongue swiping at the droplet of blood staining his lip.

"It's a deal, witcher. Safe travels."

The woods were eery and desolate, scarce of any noises that would otherwise entice one to trek through it in search of serenity. Yennefer's ears searched for noise, for the songs of birds or insects and the rustling of wildlife trekking through the brush. She recalled a saying, one about never entering silent forests, for it meant something was lurking within. 

She held onto the reins of the horse Ciri rode, tight and firm in case she needed to tug and usher the horse away from danger. After everything they'd gone through, she'd be damned if she let anyone hurt or take Ciri away from them. 

"Where are we going?" Ciri asked quietly, but despite the softness of her voice, it sounded as if she were speaking normally. 

Geralt remained silent, his muddied boots crunching down bushes for them to walk through until he stopped to crouch down by one. He plucked a patch of fur free from a branch and rolled it around between his fingers, wrinkles forming between his brows as he knitted them together. He stood and let the wind carry it further into the forest before he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and released it from its sheath. 

"We're almost there." He grunted, sparing them a glance over his shoulder. "Stay close."

Yennefer's mouth pressed into a line but she warily followed, pulling on the reins and offering Ciri a reassuring nod. The younger girl swallowed thickly and tightened her grip on the saddle, her green eyes beginning to flicker around the forest wildly. Yennefer hardly blamed her. She felt a pit of anxiety naturally forming in her stomach, her instincts beginning to urge her to turn around and return to the safety of the treeline. 

Then, she heard it, distantly at first and she almost wondered if she imagined it. But when the horse planted its hooves firmly in the dirt and refused to move no matter how hard she tugged on the reins, she knew it was very much real. "Geralt," She exhaled, twisting the reins over the horse's head so Ciri could take them into her hands. 

"Don't run," Geralt instructed them, both hands wrapping around his sword as he came to a stop a few feet ahead of them. 

In the distance, and growing closer, sounded like thundering footsteps belonging to something big. Whatever approached them was quick and the sound of wood creaking and snapping made goosebumps spread across Yennefer's limbs.

The horse neighed and stomped, tugging on the reins with enough strength to make Yennefer stumble. She pressed her hand against the horse's neck and muttered a quiet incantation under her breath, feeling the tense muscles relax beneath her palm. 

"Ger-" Ciri choked on her words and Yennefer whirled her head around to look forward again, her heart lurching at the sight of the beast pressing its paw over a thick log and snapping it in half. 

It approached them on all fours with bristled fur and bared teeth, its pink gums visible and sharp teeth on full display. Each step was heavy and left an imprint in the soft dirt, the branches of the brush around them taking soft clumps of fur as it walked by. It stopped two feet ahead of them and rose to its full height on its back legs, easily towering over them. 

"You remember me, don't you?" Geralt asked the beast and took one hand away from his sword to lift it toward the beast, slow and cautiously. "We met a while back." 

The beast's nostrils flared with a huff and it lowered its head toward Geralts hand. For a fleeting moment, Yennefer expected to snap its jaws around his wrist and tear it off his arm, but instead, it lowered back down to all fours with a soft thump.

A smile graced Geralts face and the werewolf stopped snarling, the spiked fur along its back lowering with a quick shake. Its ears remained perked and it eyed them curiously, its nose twitching with each deep inhale it took as if memorizing their scents. 

"You remember that favor you owe me?" Geralt asked as he ran his fingertips over the top of its snout, a rumbling sound emitting from its chest. "I need your help." 

Yennefer could only exchange a bewildered glance with Ciri as they began following the beast- (Y/N)- back to his home further up the mountain. Geralt provided them a simple explanation, a quick summary of how'd they met almost a full year prior before he'd met Yennefer or taken Ciri in. 

The trees eventually gave way to a clearing with a decently sized cabin in the center, and Yennefer's eyes naturally gravitated toward the grave markers near the treeline by the garden. She grimaced and looked away before her staring could be noticed. Part of her knew she wouldn't have to ask what happened; it was always the same tale.

Swinging one leg over the side of the horse, Ciri slipped off and landed beside Yennefer with a puff of air. "Is this where we'll be staying?" She asked, tucking her ruffled tunic back into the waistline of her pants and observing their surroundings.

(Y/N) turned his head back toward them and then mustered up the most unimpressed look Yennefer had ever seen on an animal when he looked at Geralt. The witcher gave a small grin, the first relaxed one Yennefer had seen in a while, and offered a half-shrug.

"You never specified what type of favor." 

[cheemscakecat]

Shapeshifter rant [angst and yappery]

The big scary looking form he takes is basically a threat pose. Threat poses are what animals use to fight or scare off danger.

Cats puff out their tails and arch their backs:

It’s something that even kittens can do.

Tarantulas lift up their front legs and bare their fangs:

Octopi make themselves look poisonous and can flash colors to scare predators:

It makes sense to me that a shapeshifter would have a bigger, distorted version of their base/“true” form as a threat pose. And that babies would instinctively be able to make that form even if they haven’t seen an adult before.

I think Shifty’s base form, the one he reverts into when he’s relaxing or sleeping, is like the form we see, but smaller and more friendly looking. And that it’s as tall as a grown human or just a little bit shorter.

The shapeshifter is afraid of humans; they lied to him, kept him as a test subject, froze him, and then disappeared. He didn’t know if they were going to come back to experiment on him more, or if they would want to “finish the job.”

He tried to dig his way out of the bunker but was stopped by the steel lining. This form is still fast and very durable, which he would want if the humans ever came back.

This form was made to try and break through the lining of the bunker, but that didn’t work. Instead, Shifty took to hitting the lining to make this form stronger and tougher skinned.

He can perfectly replicate Ford and Fiddleford’s voices, but doing so fills him with rage and makes him crash out. For a time, he would purposely get himself riled up to “train” for the scientists to return.

But as decades passed and nobody came to poke, prod, refreeze, or kill him, Shifty felt he’d been left to rot and gave up.

He still doesn’t trust humans, new or not, children or not. And Dipper quickly proved himself to be a fanboy of the scientist that kept the shapeshifter locked away from the sun and sky, froze him, and then never came back.

The second he realized they knew he was a shapeshifter, he went straight to treating them like a threat. For all he knows human children could be just as dangerous as the adults, and he doesn’t want to be destroyed or captured.

Shifty’s not an evil monster, he believes humans are out to get him and wants to do everything he can to stay safe from them.

The reason he lost his temper when he couldn’t find Dipper and the others is because he had no idea what they might be planning, and no idea what they might be capable of.

Being alone in a bunker for 30 years thinking this way would do a number on anybody. He’s not mentally stable or willing to believe that these new people have good intentions. In his mind revealing himself from the start would be opening himself up to get attacked. Better to pretend to be one of them and figure out what they want.

The reason Shifty wanted the journal all those years ago was to find out Stanford’s true intentions for him. Somehow he overheard Fiddleford muttering about freezing him, and he simply had to know if the scientists were really going to do that. Ford freezing him just confirmed all his worst fears.

So why does he still want the journal, anyway? He feels that Stanford saw him as a monster, and when pretending to be Ford, he talks about himself that way. If he “knows” how the scientists really view him, why would it matter if he has the book or not?

It should have the answers on how to get out of the bunker. He hasn’t been able to escape, he can’t access the room with 50 years worth of food, he knows the outside world exists and would surely like to go there.

It’ll give him some closure in the form of seeing how much Ford despised him and decided to leave him to starve to death in the bunker. Dipper says the author has been missing, but Shifty’s spent 30 years stewing over the scientists betraying him. He’s fully in denial about Stanford or Mcgucket potentially being dead, the idea was just presented that day. No, the book will prove he was right all along, the scientists hated him and locked him away.

There are other creatures in Gravity falls that he could mimic, letting him run free in nature without worrying about humans tracking him down. Heck, maybe the humans actually like these other beasts. Maybe the journal will even give him some sort of insight on why humans are so disgusted with him in particular.

Revenge. The humans refused to let him have the book when they pretended to be friendly. Clearly it holds some sort of value and significance to Stanford. Taking the book and keeping it for himself would surely infuriate Ford. And quite frankly, that’s enough in the way of revenge because humans are too dangerous to be attacked.

On a lighter note, I think that the way Shifty was talking was basically like.. when a kid makes their voice deeper and makes fun of how an adult speaks. He is an adult, but mockingly speaking like Ford in his own voice was a good way to trick Dipper without risking getting angry hearing Stanford’s voice.

This is probably the dumbest headcanon of mine; if you could just be a fly on the wall, on a day where there’s no humans in the bunker stressing Shifty out, I think he would sound pretty similar to Luke Skywalker.

Not the exact same, especially with his emotional state, but similar.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 61

It's back to those two guys.

Before this, the only hint to what Kabru's life under his foster mother was a single panel in chapter 55 showing him being a bit annoyed at her hugging him. He commented that things will get tiresome if he has to ask for her help.

Honestly, it's always difficult for a parent to realize their children are growing up. It's probably even harder for elves since their children grow much slower. So an elf raising a non-elf would probably struggle to realize how quickly their kid is growing. It's probably a similar vibe to having a dog all their life and still thinking of them as a baby even when they're old.

This shot made sure you noticed all the scars on her arms.

Over the entire page this panel is in, her arms became more visible as Kabru kept talking about wanting to go into the dungeons and asking her to train him to fight.

Even if she is strong, she didn't walk out of dungeons unharmed. No matter how strong you are, death is always a possibility when it comes to the dungeons.

I almost feel like she trained Kabru wrong on purpose. As I've pointed out before, Kabru's fighting style is better suited to assassination than monster hunting. And the only glimpse we see of his training was him fighting her and her dolls. She wanted to make him give up on swordsmanship. But if that failed, not giving him the skills needed to actually explore a dungeon might discourage him as well.

Mithrun is pragmatic. Even if he might have any negative feelings about what Kabru pulled, it's not like he can get through the dungeon alone, especially since they ended up all the way down the sixth floor.

I do have to question how they ended up in the sixth floor specifically. I can understand ending up all the way down to the fifth floor since the subterranean graveyard stretches wider than the second through fourth floors, but the sixth floor is entirely underground.

The fall was entirely due to Thistle's magic, so he probably just erased everything directly below the area that collapsed, leaving an opening to the sixth floor.

Kabru confirmed a few things about the Canaries. The ear notches indicate the criminals in the group. Meanwhile Pattadol and Mithrun are nobles in charge of them. Do only guards have those fairy companions?

Kabru's notes on Mithrun mention black eyes are rare for an elf. Since his eyes seem to change color when he strongly emotes, there's probably something to that.

And of course Kabru doesn't find Mithrun interesting. Mithrun has no personality to speak of.

Got excited to see another shapeshifter. I really wish we got more recurring monsters throughout this series. Most of them just appear for one chapter, get eaten, and then never appear again.

And shapeshifter is its actual name since Mithrun called it that. When Laios's team encountered it, "shapeshifter" seemed to be a generic term for monsters like certain types of slime, succubi, or magic mirrors that use mimicry or illusions to infiltrate a group.

Mithrun has totally used his teammates as projectiles in the past.

While the fake Mithrun might look and behave exactly like the real one, there's no way it has the same information the real one has. When Laios's party encountered the shapeshifter, only the real Laios could explain what was happening. And the party identified his fakes because they couldn't chime in at all.

Since Kabru didn't know what a shapeshifter was, I'm inclined to believe the Mithrun on the right is the real one. He led the discussion on shapeshifters, and Kabru could have filled in the blanks allowing the left Mithrun to say what he said.

The Mithrun who suggested they leave to dispel the illusion, the one who contacted the canaries, and the one who was generally in the forefront of each group shot is also likely the real one.

Meanwhile, I can't tell for the life of me which one is the real Kabru.

This will be fun to see animated. I think the fairy switched between Fleki, Otta, and the guy who turns into a wolf. Fleki's name got dropped in the conversation.

Mithrun couldn't tell which Kabru was the real one.

Despite being a guard and (presumably) being second-in-command, Pattadol does not get much respect in the group. Cithis seems to be the real second-in-command.

Cithis said it will take about a week before they can come for the captain. On Laios's side, seven or eight days have passed since he parted ways with Kabru. So the Canaries likely are already deep in the dungeon when the Winged Lion warned Laios about them last chapter.

Love seeing how much psychic damage Laios has caused Kabru. This looks like the poster of a cheap B horror movie from the 1950s.

Haven't seen anything this poor in nutrition since Falin's skeleton.

Kabru is trying so hard to cozy up to someone who doesn't care at all.

He's treating Mithrun the same way his foster mother treated him at the start of the chapter.

Kabru is manipulative and always tries to see through people to figure out who they really are underneath. Ironically, Laios has given him an entirely wrong impression by just acting like himself and willingly sharing his bizarre interests.

From a physics perspective, this works and makes sense and I kind of hate that it does.

Since things like momentum and velocity are kept when teleporting, a falling object that is teleported in place but flipped upside-down would still keep its relative velocity. This would probably make for an interesting physics problem. "An object falling at terminal velocity is suddenly teleported upside-down causing its velocity to now go upward. How many seconds will the object move upward and how long does it take for it to return to falling at the same speed before it was teleported?"

Kabru and Mithrun have apparently found the Touden party's lost gear before they did. So they're only several hours ahead of the party at this point. I bet the shapeshifter from earlier is the same one Laios's party encounters.

The dungeon will provide various necessities when anyone in it wishes for them. Mithrun said to not wish often though. The dungeon is feeding off desires so it probably becomes stronger every time someone looks for a place to rest.

Big bombshell reveal.

So Mithrun probably was trying to be sympathetic to Thistle during their fight. Mithrun was also a dungeon lord and he may have been trying to convince Thistle to give up his title before whatever happened to Mithrun and his unit happens to Thistle.

Mithrun is stoic and unemotive, so him making these faces and these dramatic gestures while talking about being a dungeon lord means whatever happened was serious.

back

[thevalicemultiverse]

If I remember correctly, since Secundus was written before Madness Returns, that Alice doesn't have a sister.

How's she reacting to every other Alice having a sister?

Secundus Alice: It's -- bizarre, honestly. And a little sad, because...well, I could have had a sister. Mama told me once that I was a little miracle, because the last time she thought she was going to have a baby, she lost it far too soon. I'm guessing that pregnancy was supposed to be Lizzie. I don't know why Mama wasn't able to carry her to term in my universe, but... [sighs] It's odd to miss something you've never had. But then again, I also wouldn't have wanted any sister of mine to die the way poor Lizzie did, so... I don't know. It's a lot of complicated emotions to deal with.

[noodles-and-tea]

For the twins in time AU, I genuinely wonder what kind of people the young twins grow up into because of Stan’s/Ford’s influence. Especially if it takes years for the portal to get fixed.

(Sorry if it seems like I already sent this question, I don’t know if it got sent the first time I asked)

I haven’t fully fleshed out how Ford grows up in the past but I do have thoughts on Stan presently

[lord-squiggletits]

Speaking of Tarn, I know it's a meme to make fun of him and it's kind of justified bc he is deeply cringe and sad and pathetic, but I also think ppl spend way too much time shitting on Tarn for being weird/creepy and not enough time shitting on Megatron for deliberately singling him out and targeting him for brainwashing so that he would BECOME that weird and creepy. Like. Everyone wants to call Tarn horrible and weird but no one wants to acknowledge that Megatron is the person who made him that way. Not even from just an indirect sense of "oh he liked Megatron's writings" no.

Literally Megatron converted Damus/Tarn and personally groomed him as a protege (that he ultimately didn't actually care about at all) as a deliberate action just to spite Optimus. There was no "oh Damus/Glitch was already kind of suspicious and weird and evil" TARN LITERALLY WAS NOT THAT WAY UNTIL MEGATRON MADE HIM THAT WAY like come on y'all

[shinelikethunder]

it's so cute that 6x05 had soulless Sam standing there salivating over Dean getting force-fed vampire blood in a barely-metaphorical back-alley rape scene, then went "it was a strategic-value boner. he was hard enough to pound nails for entirely calculating reasons. what reason could Sam possibly have for not being normal about Dean 'panic room detox' Winchester getting corrupted into monsterdom by some sexually predatory creep dripping blood into his mouth?"

("hahaha what subtextual implications about soullessness as a response to trauma and moral injury. a wizard did it and now Sam can't feel feelings, and if we filmed it like he was standing there jerking it then no we didn't." oh season 6, your sickodom is iconic and your deniability is barely even plausible anymore and i love that for you. keep doing hot girl shit forever.)

[starlight-eclipsed]

Enjoy these doodles of Dark from A Dark Among the Lights by LuckyLectio (with a bonus Wild!)

[sammygender]

i’ve said this soooo many times but i cannot believe the widespread fandom take on nightmares is ‘episode that proves john didn’t hit the kids or at least that sam didn’t know about :)’ NO??? that entire episode is to directly parallel sam to max??? i really hate to break it to you guys but sam being like Damn at least we weren’t and aren’t still being regularly beat to shit by the two male parental figures in our lives 🙏 lucky to have dad fr is not the same as him saying Wow i’m so grateful dad never hit us at all. essentially he is literally like ‘if dad had got drunk more often and hadn’t channeled his energy into hunting maybe we would’ve ended up like max. guess i should be grateful he didn’t”. hello. how does that endorse an entirely violence-free parenting style. like have your own interpretation. but the text of the episode isn’t saying John didn’t hit them. the text of the episode is intentionally bringing up the concept of john hitting them, withholding direct judgement/confirmation on whether it happened and keeping it ambiguous, sure, but still bringing it to our attention.

[fatedroses]

dont know what possessed me to draw an au where lucius lives, mostly by making a deal with golbez (as a deal of basically sustaining him through the illness he gets and helping him deal with the damage after in exchange for helping him look for a way to help the 13th from the sources side), but here we are.

[evilphrog]

I turned the cards into reaction images for meme purposes. Go forth and wreak havoc on non-fandom spaces!

[geddy-leesbian]

A carved oak table tells a tale, of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold, and the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room to arbors cool. A time of valor, and legends born. A time when honor meant much more to a man than life, and the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong through lance and sword.

fantasy + cowboys + don quixote variety pack for Serennedy week

plus little snippet of a princess Luis story:

It's the moment of truth. Leon has hacked and slashed his way through what felt like endless waves of monstrous wolves and gigantic insects, navigated through a maze of a garden lined with thorny bushes, and solved a few puzzles. Finally he's reached the base of the tower. If the stories he's heard are true, there's a beautiful princess up at the top waiting to be rescued.

Scaling the tower isn't too bad. There's hardy vines growing on it, that Leon is able to use like a rope to climb up to the lone window at the tower's top. His heart races as he heaves himself through the window. There might be a beautiful princess in the room. A princess so beautiful and special that Leon will actually be attracted to her without conscious effort, and she'll be so grateful to finally be rescued that she'll agree to marry him right away.

Or the room will be empty, and Leon will just have to make peace with the fact he's going to die alone, because this whole “find a princess to rescue” thing was his last ditch effort after years of trying and completely failing to court women the normal ways.

Shutters magically snap shut behind Leon, covering the window, trapping him. The room is lavishly furnished. At the center is a large canopy bed, with intricately carved wood posts and lacy fabrics. And there's a figure in a dress laying on it. Success. It isn't until Leon gets closer that he realizes: It's a man. He approaches stealthily, dagger drawn and presses it to the man's throat.

“Oye, what the hell are you doing?! Barging into someone's bedroom, putting a knife to their throat?”

“There's supposed to be a princess here. You've got her dress. Where is she? What did you do to her?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no princess here. Never has been. Just a very charming prince who happens to enjoy wearing his mother's dresses.”

“You're kidding.”

“No, you have the wrong castle, hero boy. But, while you're here… Untie my hands?”

“I can't believe this,” Leon complains, rolling the man over and using his dagger to cut the rope tying his hands together. “I went through hell to get here expecting my soul mate, and instead I get you.”

“Easy, easy. I may not be the princess you expected, but I'm not nothing either! Can the handsome and amazing Prince Luis Serra know his savior's name?”

“Leon.”

“Thank you, Sir Leon,” Luis purrs, before breaking Leon's brain a little bit by boldly going in for a kiss. “Now let's get out of here. Just a few flights of stairs, no more traps. Oh, and there's a dragon at the bottom of the tower that you'll have to slay.”

“Of course there is. Whatever.”