#his show was called ‘the magic of oil painting’

[simplyghosting]

Love going down a rabbit trail

[frostbitten-writer]

Secret

Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader

Tags: Not established relationship; no specific details abt R, only that they’re shorter than Ekko; mention of Shimmer as drugs; FLUFF

A/n: Another cute idea for a one-shot, enjoy 🫶🏻🤭 Plus, so many new Snowflakes joined, so in general welcome 💖❄️

The air was thick with tension, all of the fighters at the Tree were together in Ekko’s office, a massive map laid out on his desk, which, for this occasion, was put in the middle of the whole room. It was already past midnight, children and other people sound asleep while the group was having a heated argument. Everyone was tired, but the adrenaline rush that was palpable was keeping them awake. The arguments started to get louder, the debate about where Silco’s gang is going to show up the next time starting and finishing without a single, normal, or logical outcome.

The situation with shimmer was worse than ever, more people came to the tree, especially children that either escaped from child labour at the plants or from losing their parents. More people were drugged and laid on the streets, begging for a single coin that was definitely going to be invested into the radioactive, purple goo. The air was stiff and dry, the wooden floor almost invisible due to the different papers scattered all around it, or the different utensils they used while coordinating Silco’s next move, like a pair of dividers or a ruler.

Ekko felt like he was ready to rip his hair out. What do you mean he couldn’t find out where Silco was? What do you mean, he couldn’t magically figure it out?

His whole attire was messy, shirt dirty from the spilled coffee and face paint smudged from him rubbing his face in frustration. It was definitely not his best day, and he was not happy with how the meet-up was going. Everyone was already slumped in their seats, absolutely defeated and ready to give up. At that sight, Ekko grumbled and knocked some useless papers off the table.

“Are you guys even listening?! We are having a crisis right now! Look at the stats! We are running out of spaces and rooms, and yet the people still keep coming! Are you even getting what this means?!” He yelled out, the multiple oil lamps illuminating his glare. As Ekko continued his monologue, the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room. Ekko was still too devoted to his speech that he didn’t turn around to the door behind his back. His stance was broad, hands gripping the sides of the table tightly, so that his back and shoulder muscles tensed and flexed under his tank top. That’s only when he realised that something was wrong, since everyone's eyes weren’t fixed on him but on something behind him.

“What?! Did I grow wings or what!” He called out, before turning around and dropping his jaw.

There were you, bare feet touching one of the maps and a towel over your shoulders, as if you had only, only now left the shower. Your form was looking warm and cozy, a pair of black night shorts on and a white tank top that looked familiar.. with a jacket that looked a bit too familiar.. and an unmistakable.. orange infinity scarf around your neck. Ekko’s eye started to twitch. Didn’t you both agree on keeping the relationship secret?!

Before you could even say anything, Ekko tugged on your hand and out of the room, his face and ears cartoonishly red while the guys suddenly didn’t feel as tired as they were before seeing the amazing Ekko run around like a preschooler.

While you were laughing, he quickly pushed you against the wall, glaring, no, more like pouting down at you as you smiled sheepishly.

“What..?” You giggled quietly, feeling your knees buckling slightly and you slipping down the wall. Ekko quickly caught you up, sliding you up so you were making eye contact, feet and toes freely dangling down as he held you with a suppressed smile.

“What was this about?” He tried his best to do an intimidating glare, but you could see it right through him by the way he would bite his lower lip.

“What was about..?” You asked innocently, feeling like a little child. 

“You know perfectly well what I mean, that was anything but undercover…” He chided you, the only thing that was missing was his finger shaking in disapproval.

“I was cold, plus, the only thing that I found were your clothes..” You murmured quietly, avoiding eye contact, and before he could say anything, you interrupted him in his thought. 

“You know that they’re a lot more comfortable than mine!”

He let out a long sigh, both from tiredness and you, even though he would take being annoyed by you over Silco on any day. 

“You do know that I have a meeting..?” 

Nod.

“And you know that they are waiting..?”

Another nod.

“And you know that they will definitely ask questions..?”

This time you didn’t do anything but just stared into his eyes, pleading for understanding.

“You know-“ 

The door creaked open and Scar looked over to both of you, a knowing smile on his features.

“Um, so, whatever this is.. can it wait until after we discuss Silco and his plan?” He murmured, lazily stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched Ekko’s face fall once again in shame.

“Yeah- yeah.. of course..” He murmured and quickly let you down to your feet. Not knowing what to do and how to act around another pair of eyes watching you, he chastely pecked your cheek before entering the room again, and if you’re not wrong, you think you heard Scar laughing and Ekko cursing him out under his breath…

Support banner: @/cafekitsune

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 24 - Oviposition

Summary: It’s mating season. Boba has a special request for you this year. 

Pairing: Boba x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, Naga!Boba, snake anatomy (Boba has two dicks), masturbation, mating, oviposition, lots of talk of pregnancy (cause that’s kind of the point), stomach bulge, lots of fluids, magic

A/N: I don't have much to say about this one but what do I have to do to get Naga!Boba to lay his eggs in me?

MASTERLIST

A gentle breeze brushes your skin as you lean against the balcony overlooking the red sands below. It’s still hot despite the setting suns, the warm breeze offering little respite to the burning heat radiating off the sand far below. You fiddle with the rings on your fingers, your entire body adorned in gold and jewels. Your thin, green dress rustles in the breeze, the fabric as fine as silk but thin enough to keep you cool in the hot desert. 

You step back inside, your room still heavily fragranced by the scented oils you had bathed with. Nerves flutter in your stomach as the twin suns drop lower and lower in the sky, painting your room in deep oranges and reds. It’s a beautiful sight, one you usually enjoy, but tonight you’re too anxious to bask in the sunset. 

You stop in front of the mirror, adjusting the gold, bejeweled crown atop your head. It was made specially for you, as was most of your jewelry. He likes it when you’re bedecked in signs of his riches, his power. That is what you’re here for. To show off, to be stared at. Another prized possession for him to keep in his palace. 

Well, that’s not all you’re here for. 

There’s a short knock on the door before it slides open, Fennec stepping in. A smirk flashes across her face as she looks you over. You’ve taken comfort in Fennec, the only other human in the castle, many times before. Boba only has so many uses for you, and you spend most of your time alone. 

Though, if all goes well, that will change tonight. 

“He’s ready for you.” Fennec says, holding the door open. 

You take a steadying breath before walking out the door, letting her lead you down to the sublevel where Boba resides. It’s cooler down here, the lower levels protected from the heat of the day.

Fennec pauses outside the giant doors to his chamber, giving you a steadying look before she knocks. The deep, gruff voice inside calls to enter and she opens the door for you. You take a breath, steadying your nerves before you step into the dimly lit chambers. The door closes behind you, latching shut. You know Fennec will stand guard, but the thought of being locked inside has the nerves twisting your stomach violently. 

You’re not afraid of Boba. You’ve long gotten over that fear. He would never hurt you, and has even gone so far as to defend you from others that got too close, others that thought they could touch. 

No, your nerves are swirling for a different reason. 

It’s mating season. 

Twice a year Boba goes through mating season. He’s more aggressive, quicker to anger, and always more possessive of his things, including you. He usually spent the height of it alone in his chambers, having lavish gifts sent to you and vast meals laid out. It’s always a strange time, but you’ve grown used to it. 

This time, he had a request for you. It took you by surprise when Fennec delivered the message, and you took a long time to think it over. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this.” Boba says, uncoiling himself from where he had been sitting in the corner. 

He’s thick and broad, from his head to the tip of his tail. His top half is human enough to not seem strange, with the exception of his pointed ears, slitted eyes, and the thin, sharp fangs you know reside in his mouth. You’ve seen them more than once, bared as a threat to anyone who angers him. Rarely does he use them, striking out only when necessary. Those who receive his bite never live to tell the tale. 

His skin is tanned on the top half, bearing many scars from his days as a warrior. The tanned skin changes into scales at his elbows and his waist. His scales are dark, the base black with green, red, and yellow spots coloring the expanse. His hands are big and his fingers end in claws, dangerous claws capable of taking skin off as easily as a knife cuts into soft butter. His tail is strong, flexible, and long, so long he could likely touch each end of his vast chambers if he stretched it out straight. You’ve felt its power before, had it coiled around your body, watched it coil around others and snap their bones like its nothing. 

He’d never hurt you. That he promised. 

He slithers up to you, towering over your form. You stare up at him, swallowing your nerves. 

“I wish to serve you in any way that I can.” You say, fiddling with the gold belt around your waist. “Of course, I didn’t know this was possible before.” 

Boba wants you to carry his clutch. 

The words Fennec had said to you, the message she had delivered just days ago when mating season began. You didn’t know much about his species or their mating before, and you weren’t entirely sure it was possible for you to carry his eggs. 

“They need a safe, warm place to incubate.” He says, slithering closer to you, closing the distance between you. He lowers himself down so you’re closer to the same height, a clawed hand coming to rest on your stomach. “And what better place than inside my most prized possession.” 

Your stomach clenches and not from nerves. You know he cares about you, but you had always assumed his most prized possession would be his vast treasure or his weapons. Not...you. 

“There are not many,” He says, his hand dragging across your stomach to hold your hip. “And there will be some discomfort with placing them, but I will do my best to make it as painless as possible. Do you have any questions?” 

You stare up into his eyes, his tail slowly coiling around you. You hadn’t even noticed it was moving, too captivated by him. “How will they...come out when they’re ready?” You ask. 

He smiles. “Your body will know when it is time to lay them. That will be the most uncomfortable part. Not all of them will make it, but no harm will come to you in the process.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.” 

He picks you up in his arms, slithering over to the lowered part of the floor where he sleeps. It’s full of sand, and you wonder if he buries himself in it when he sleeps. You know normal snakes like to burrow, and the image of him burrowing in the sand brings a smile to your lips. 

Boba coils his tail in the sand, covering a large area. He lowers you down so you’re resting against his tail, your body splayed out across him. His tail is warm, the scales smooth against your skin. It’s not the first time you’ve rested on his tail. You sit amongst the coils often when he’s holding court, draped across him in your finery. 

This is different though. 

His hands tug at the stays of your dress, removing it from your body easily. He keeps the jewels and the crown in place, trailing his hand over the pendant that falls right above your breasts. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, staring down at you. It’s also not the first time he’s complimented you. 

It still never quite fails to bring warmth to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say, slightly breathless. 

His hands trail down your sides, claws gently scratching across your skin. “I want this to be as pleasurable for you as possible.” His hands stop at your hips, his tail shifting to lift them slightly. “Touch yourself for me.” 

Heat blossoms beneath your skin as you stare up at him, nerves beginning to chew away at your stomach again. You hadn’t expected this to be part of it. You had expected...well, you’re not entirely sure what you had expected. Something so intimate...that certainly wasn’t it. 

You slip a hand down your body, fingers trailing over your skin. You keep your gaze locked with his as you reach your slit. You part your legs further, trailing your fingers over your clit. You’re sensitive, sex not something you partake in often, and you’re usually alone when you do. 

Your lips part in a gasp as you continue to tease your clit, the cool air brushing against your dampening slit. Boba’s eyes trail down your body to where your hand is circling your bud, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. His senses are different than yours, more sensitive, he told you once. He can hear and smell and see better than you can. You can only imagine what this is like for him. 

You continue to rub your clit, your eyes drawn down his body to his waist. Not far below where the skin changes to scales, there’s a slit opening. Your eyes widen as something begins to poke out. Not one something, but two somethings. Side by side, two cocks spring forth from the slit in his stomach. It’s not far off from where it would be if he were a human man. One is slightly larger than the other, with a wider hole at the top. 

Your ministrations stop as you stare at them. You have little experience with human men, but you know this is very different. “Are you...going to put both...” 

Boba chuckles, leaning forward to cup your face. “No, little one.” He wraps his other hand around the smaller one. “This one will prepare you first.” He moves his hand to the larger one. “This one will deliver the eggs into your womb.” 

Your lips part as you stare at them, nodding slowly. “Uh huh.” 

He chuckles again, pulling back so he’s hovering between your legs. He smooths his hands over your thighs, putting your slick folds on display. “This may feel strange. I promise it will not hurt for long.”

You gulp as he lines the smaller cock up with your pussy, dragging the head through your folds. It’s strangely slick, coated in some sort of lubrication. It doesn’t hurt much as he presses into you, the lubrication helping him slide right in. You moan at the stretch, watching the appendage slip deeper and deeper into you. He braces himself over you, rocking his hips as he works into you. 

You relax back against his tail, toes curling as he stretches you open, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. Your pussy begins to tingle, the strange lubrication coating your walls. The pain of the stretch is gone, the strange tingling sensation taking over. 

“I-It’s strange...” You gasp as he presses further into you, bumping up against your cervix. It doesn’t hurt much, but your pussy continues to tingle, all pain disappearing, only the pressure of his cock inside you left. 

“It’s numbing you.” He grunts, continuing to push his cock up against your cervix. “It will make it easier for you to take my clutch.” 

“Oh!” You gasp, pleasure beginning to bubble under your skin as he fucks you. 

Despite the numbing you can still feel him, the pressure along your walls, the push of him against a spot inside you that has you almost seeing stars. 

You almost whine as he withdraws his cock, your tingling walls feeling empty despite the numbness. His hands wrap around your thighs, pushing them up and towards your chest. He tells you to hold them there, splaying yourself open further for him. Your face warms as he stares down at you. A twist of anticipation and slight fear burns through you as he wraps his hand around the other, larger cock. You expect it to hurt, especially as he lines it up. 

The pressure is intense, but there’s no pain as he presses his cock into you. Your body stretches around him, your lower stomach bulging a bit as he eases himself into your walls. You’re breathing heavily, fingers digging into your skin as you watch him move inside you, sinking deeper and deeper, spreading you open and pushing against that spot inside you. 

“Relax.” He says, hovering over you. His hands rest on his tail by your head, his cock sinking deeper and deeper until he’s pressed against your cervix. “This may be a bit uncomfortable at first.” He warns. 

You let out a quiet sound as a cramping feeling begins in your stomach and back, his hips sinking closer to yours. You wince at the pain, clamping around him. One of his hands cups your face, your knuckles nearly white as you cling to the backs of your knees. 

It doesn’t take long for the pain to dissipate, the numbing setting in. It’s a strange feeling as he pushes into your cervix, his body settling against yours. He lets out a groan as his cock begins twitching, a sudden gush of fluid filling you. You whimper at the strange feeling, his cock pushing harder and harder against that spot as he pulses inside you. 

His eyes are screwed closed, a deep groan falling from his lips as something pushes against your entrance. Your eyes drop down to where your bodies are connected, his cock bulging against your entrance. Your eyes widen as it begins to push into you, spreading you open even more. You let out a sound as you watch it push its way through your canal and your cervix. 

Something heavy and warm drops into your uterus, your entire body clenching at the strange sensation. Boba lets out another groan as his cock begins to swell and bulge against your entrance. 

He’s laying his eggs inside you. 

The second one pushes into you, stretching you open again. You’re expecting it this time, relaxing your body as the egg drops into your uterus. It’s still strange, but the thought of having his eggs inside you, and the push of the eggs against your walls has pleasure bubbling in your stomach once more. 

“Doing so good.” Boba praises you as another presses against your entrance. “Taking my clutch so well.” 

You practically preen under his praise, your stomach starting to bulge a bit as the third drops into you. They feel heavy, the sensation strange as your body works to adapt to the change quickly. 

You can’t help but moan as the fourth makes its way to your uterus, your hands releasing your legs so they can wrap around his waist. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as he continues to fill you with his eggs. 

The fifth one is the biggest, nearly catching on your entrance as Boba pushes it through with a deep groan. You can only imagine what it feels like for him, your walls fluttering around him. 

“One more.” He groans, sharp fangs dragging along your neck. “Doing so good for me, princess.” 

You cum as the sixth egg pushes its way into you, the pressure against that spot inside you too much. Your back arches, pressing you closer to him as you cum around him. He groans, releasing more fluid into you before he eases out of your cervix, drawing his cock from your walls. 

You’re still coming down from your high as his cocks disappear back into his slit. You stare down at your bulging stomach, pressing your hand against the bump. You make a sound as you feel the eggs move within you. You wonder if they’ll get bigger, or heavier. They already feel heavy, firm and solid within you. 

Boba puts his hand next to yours, claws tickling your skin as he feels his clutch inside you. He leans back over you, kissing you softly. “Thank you.” He murmurs against your lips. “Thank you for doing this for me.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling exhausted from the effort of taking his clutch, even if you didn’t do anything but lay still. 

“You should rest.” Boba says, laying himself next to you on his tail. “It is late.” 

You feel your eyes fluttering closed even as you try to fight it, exhaustion and sleep taking over as you drift off to sleep on his coiled tail. 

Ragu List:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @ghostperson69 @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

[firapolemos05]

The Art of Sculpting

My piece for this year's @zineofgid . Hope everyone has a happy new year!

CW: slavery, pet whump, noncon touching (not sexual), dehumanization, lady whumpers, sadistic whumper, nonhuman whumpee, magical whump, tooth pulling, forced stripping, belting, restraints, sadistic use of chili oil, mentioned forced fighting, past whipping

Champion taglist: @thewhumpywitch , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

Champion.

That's what they're calling him now. 

The coveted title now his, just as Master Scarlet wanted. Another gilded symbol of glory for her to brag about. But only her.

Slaves were not permitted glory.

He'd gotten himself beaten bloody, defeating the previous titleholder, with no reward except an extra meal he struggled to stomach. His body was still sore, aches and strains making themselves at home in his muscles, bruises dotting his dark gray skin. At least the throbbing in his ankle had gone down. An unfortunate misstep during the fight tore a ligament.

His opponent had been left worse for wear, being dragged from the ring with broken fingers and a concussion (the stone floor cracked when he slammed their head into it). He refused to watch the aftermath, when the whip made them pay for their loss in blood and screams.

Didn't matter if they had a title or not. They were all prisoners. The whip hurt all the same.

“I asked you a question, pet.”

The voice's scolding tone jolted him back to the present, out of his reverie. The cold marble under his knees. The two women lounging on cushioned benches before him, a table topped with refreshments the tiefling wasn't allowed to touch. One woman with long blonde hair, lips painted blue. A stranger. The other a statue of crimson. Red hair, red eyes, and a taste for his blood. His captor. A frown directed at him.

“What did you say?” he asked, then quickly added, “M-master? I didn't hear you.”

‘Stop drifting off! You know she doesn't like to repeat herself.’

‘If this conversation were less boring, that'd be easier.’

He was lucky enough to catch her in one of her better moods. “Quite an exhilarating final match, was it not? Tell me, did you enjoy it, pet?”

Pet. Pet. Pet.

‘My name is Itzal.’

(How long has it been since someone called him by name? It's becoming a conscious effort to remember.)

“It was. . . exciting, Master.” There was no speaking ill of the fights. No complaining. Scarlet would know he was lying, but that didn't matter for this. His real opinion didn't matter and would only earn him a humiliating spanking. 

“It was a thrilling show, I was on the edge of my seat!” the other woman agreed. The Champion, Itzal, didn't recall her name. Isidora? Isotta? “I was sure he was going to lose when that half-orc hurt his leg but what a turnaround. You've got him trained so well, Lady Matar.”

Months ago, Itzal would've snapped at her for talking about him like that. He wasn't a fucking dog. Some feral animal to be beaten into submission.

He's a different person than he was months ago.

“I made sure he was well prepared for the ring when I first entered him. I know many of the other Society members like to keep their slaves untrained in combat, but I play to win.” Scarlet took a long sip of her wine. “Nowadays, we're working on his house manners. Required etiquette with guests. Such as paying attention when his betters are speaking.”

He flinched at the jab.

“And proper posture, stop slouching.”

He straightened his back, biting back a comment. The hard floor was not helping his injured ankle, nor his knees for that matter.

Isidora(?) marveled. “So obedient.”

‘Don't say anything. Don't make them mad.’

“He's getting better. Still a rebellious streak in him, though a far cry from how he acted before his first lashing at the ring a few months ago.”

Mouth shut, body still.

Itzal held his tongue, clenching his fists around the chain connecting them behind his back. He tried to ignore the phantom sensations of the whip ripping flesh. All he'd done was speak without permission.

“He has a little biting problem as well so I've been muzzle training him.”

“Biting? How uncouth. I hope he hasn't hurt you at all.”

(If only it was that easy.)

“Oh no, of course not,” Scarlet assured. “Just a handful of servants. It will be corrected with time.”

Isidora chuckled lightly. “Yes, I do recall you mentioning you preferred the defiant ones. My lovely finch hasn't given me any trouble like that.”

“He is a pretty little bird. The submissive ones have their appeals, but I have always enjoyed a challenge.”

Itzal could only assume the women were discussing some poor aarakocra and not an actual pet bird. They always did that. Talked about their captives as if they were simple animals and not fully sentient people.

Animals did not have rights.

The urge to tell them off was getting harder and harder to ignore. But as much as he wanted to open his mouth, that would only invite punishment, and Scarlet tended to be especially harsh with an audience. It wouldn't be worth it.

It wouldn't be worth it.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind.

Mouth shut, body still.

Slaves did not speak without permission. 

The way Isidora stared at him sent his gut twisting. Moving away or shrinking back were not available options at the moment. Body still. Body still. All Itzal could do to avoid it was not meet her gaze. “He truly is an alluring specimen. Let me see your eyes, Champion.”

He ignored her, against his better judgment. Her tone of voice didn't sit well, the hunger in the word ‘alluring’. He didn't want to look at her gawk. Didn't want to watch her inspect him like some fancy vase at a pottery market.

“Obey, pet,” his master warned (oh how he hated calling her that).

‘Just listen, damnit!’

He should listen. It wasn’t even anything too difficult. Just had to raise his head. It wasn't like he'd been ordered to kiss the polished leather of her boots. He could even focus somewhere that wasn't the woman's face. Her oversized, gaudy necklace perhaps. Just as long as she got what she wanted. What was with her sudden interest anyway? Did she-

“Hey! I gave you an order!” Isidora rose from her chair, indignance flaring. Her gloved hand clamped onto the tiefling's horn, wrenching his head to face her.

Some string within Itzal had been pulling taut throughout this entire meeting. Now it snapped. 

Isidora could certainly see his eyes now. Solid red burning with hatred.

She didn't act quick enough. He didn't regain control of himself quick enough. She was no fighter. Those dainty hands never worked a day in their lives. It was too easy. His teeth sunk into the soft meat of her forearm and suddenly all he felt was pain. 

A shrieking drill bored into his head and his mind was screaming. Was some of that his own cries of agony? Maybe, he could never tell over the white hot burn of what felt like his brain getting fried by a bolt of lightning. A broken rule. The slap that sent him sprawling to the floor paled in comparison. 

Itzal pressed his forehead to the cold tiles, the taste of blood yet to register on his tongue. It would pass. The pain would fade out. It was a minute of his head bursting under whatever spell Scarlet kept on him, but just that. A minute. Temporary.

“-brutish little mutt bit me!”

“I gave you a very clear warning, Isaura. Do you make a habit of manhandling every animal you've been told may bite?”

Something warm was trickling out of Itzal's nose. When his vision stopped scattering with black dots, he noticed red spots on the floor below his face.

“It’s a small puncture. With proper cleaning, it'll heal on its own. Won't even scar.”

“Oh gods, it's bleeding! I'm going to get rabies!”

“Don't be dramatic, you're fine. Do you honestly think I'd have him up here if he were rabid?”

Isaura’s (‘oh, that was her name.’) shrill voice pierced through the ringing in Itzal’s ears. She was so red in the face it looked like she'd been standing in the sun too long. It was strange to hear Scarlet take that chastising edge with anyone other than him. 

Not that he was complaining. 

Until that gaze turned on him and ice froze in his veins.

“Apologize.” It was not a request.

‘Do as she says. The punishment will be worse if you don't,’ that little voice in his mind pleaded. It was right. Rage was not something Scarlet displayed often. Annoyance, yes. Frustration, yes. But never the piercing cold fury Itzal sees in her eyes now. Her calm composure made it all the more terrifying. 

Yet his tongue was lead in his mouth. Set still by his own anger, his refusal to break and let himself be treated like this. He would not be sorry for defending himself against unwarranted touch. The only chance he's been able to.

So he said nothing. 

Until a flick of Scarlet's wrist summoned an item to her hand while the other wrapped around his throat. 

-

Seemed like today would become a learning experience for two.

The pliers made the work quick, a twist and pull, and the tooth came free. Tipped with blood and the echoes of her pet's cries. He crumpled when she released him, curling in on himself. Scarlet beholds the fang and turns to her guest.

Had the situation been different, and this little mess not a result of Isaura’s ill-advised stunt, she may have offered the tooth to her as a token of acquaintance. A souvenir for the visit.

She dropped it into a small glass to clean later, and whisked the pliers back to their pocket dimension.

“You're really…keeping that?” Isaura balked with unmasked distaste. 

Scarlet scoffed. The woman was so shameless with her inexperience. Her pet had been an inheritance, given to her already submissive and pliant. Of course she knew nothing of how to properly break one. “Do you take issue with my methods of discipline?”

As expected, she fumbled to remedy the perceived offense. “N-no, of course not, Lady Matar! I just-”

Scarlet interrupted her with a snap of fingers and the guard that'd been standing by approached. She gestured to where her little slave lay panting on the floor and summoned a belt to hand over.

“Tie him down. Thirty strokes.”

The tiefling's head jerked up, eyes wide, chin coated in blood. His gaze caught the belt.

“No.” He made a futile attempt to flee but didn't manage even two steps before the guard took firm hold of his bound arms. His protests continued as he was dragged writhing to the table set aside for this purpose. “Fuck, let go!” he tried to yell, but the words didn't form right around the throbbing in his mouth. 

“Watch closely, Isaura,” Scarlet spoke to the other woman. “This is how feral slaves are handled. Had your little finch not been already broken, this is how you would've been expected to train him.”

The ropes held up to her pet's struggles. They didn't let up as he bucked, kept him bent over, knees and tail tied to the table legs to stop any kicking.

He only paused his escape attempt when the guard ripped open the fabric of his pants, tossing the ruined garment away. She had a clear view of the flinch that shook his body, ears flattening, cheeks darkening with the indignance of being so exposed. 

“Pain can be an effective teacher, but for the more willful slaves, humiliation is often a suitable punishment in itself.”

And before he could brace himself, the belt buckle slapped across his bare backside.

Spanking had proved an effective method the first time she used it on him. Whomever his former guardians were, they'd been soft, never once raising a hand to him in such a manner. Quite irresponsible. 

It only took five strikes to make him lose the fight against screaming. Twelve for his swearing to turn into incoherent pleas for mercy. Eighteen for him to begin crying out apologies. But his master ordered for thirty strikes, so thirty he would get. The ropes did not give under his struggles, did not hear his pained whimpers. His rear and thighs become a canvas of crisscrossing angry welts. Some have broken skin and send rivulets of blood dripping down.

The guard furled the belt back up once it was done, handing it back to the master. After unfastening the ropes, unbothered by the slave's whines, he returned to his post. 

“This seems rather…messy, doesn't it?” Isaura commented, grimacing at the splatter on the tile with enough disgust to make Scarlet almost roll her eyes. Not bothering with a reply, a wave of a hand with the barest amount of magic restored the floor to pristine. 

If she thought this was messy, then she certainly couldn't stay for the rest of what was in store. The Matar estate is no place for the squeamish. 

“Look at it this way, Isaura. An untrained slave is like a lump of clay. Lacking structure and grace.” Scarlet grabbed her pet by his horns, just as the other woman had done earlier. This time he yelped as the movement made his pain spike, as his master pulled him upright. His tail curled around his waist to spare his modesty. “And like with clay, they require a skilled hand to sculpt them into something worthwhile. A firm hand to correct any imperfections.” With a slight shove, she let the slave fall before her guest.

The tiefling dropped hard, his knees hitting the floor with a thud and a sharp grunt. He hunched over, blinking back tears, body trembling with effort not to sit and put pressure on his wounds.

“Let's try this again,” Scarlet declared, nudging the toe of her boot into a welt on her pet's thigh. He choked on a wail and jolted forward until his forehead hit the tile. She did not need to say more, he should know what's expected of him now.

“I'm…s-sorry, madam.”

Good. He managed even with his mouth swollen.

“Sculpting is messy, lots of excess to trim off, lots of undesirable behaviors to train out. A true masterpiece requires time and effort.”

“I see now.” Isaura gave her hostess a respectful curtsy. “Thank you for showing me this, Lady Matar. I apologize for my unsightly behavior before. I realize I have much to learn.”

Scarlet smiled, putting on the mask of a patient instructor. “Indeed. But that is what us senior members of the Society are here for, to teach.” She gestured over to one of her servants, a quick order to fetch her guest's coat and hat. “Well this has been an eventful visit but I do need to continue some work. I'm sure you have other affairs to attend to.”

Isaura knew well enough to recognize her cue to leave. “Ah, of course. Thank you for having me.”

“Next time, I must insist you bring your little finch with you. I'd love to see him perform.” And it would do good for her pet to be made to compete. Promise punishment if he didn't behave just as well as the broken little bird.

The guard escorted Isaura out.

The little slave had found that lying on his side did not aggravate his wounds. Until Scarlet ground her foot into his tailbone.

“Sit up.”

He's letting his fear slip far more easily now. It's becoming easier to reduce him to tears. “But-”

She gathered the ropes. “Did I say you could talk? Isaura is a woman of delicate sensibilities. She wouldn't have been able to stomach this next part. Did you think we were done here?” She wrangled him back onto his knees, pinning his head down to force his back to arch. Then she tied his knees to his elbows.

Punishment is one thing. Making sure the lesson sticks is another matter entirely.

Scarlet addresses the servant, “bring me some chili oil.”

He was clever. She could see it in his eyes when he connected the dots. “N-no. No no wait! I'm sorry Master!”

“You will be soon enough. We're going to make sure your little stunt tonight never happens again.” The servant set down the jar and a basting brush on the table Scarlet stood beside. They were dismissed. 

“It won't! It won't!” He tried to crawl away, tried to roll onto his back to protect himself, but a tight grip on his tail halted the attempt. Kept his backside raised for easy access. “I won't do it again! Please!”

The spicy bite of the oil was already filling Scarlet's nose. “You certainly won't, if you wish to prevent this punishment in the future. Tonight however, you will take what you deserve like a good little slave.” She took the brush and soaked its bristles in the dark red liquid.

The oil seared into the tiefling's torn skin and his shrieks ripped through every room of the manor.

-

It was days before Itzal was able to sit again without his eyes watering. Over a week before the pain faded in full. That pain had been replaced with an ache in his neck, a soreness in his scalp, a sting in his cheeks. 

Master Scarlet got him well acquainted with having his horns jerked, his hair yanked, his ears pinched between sharp nails. She struck him if he so much as made an expression she didn't approve of, to the point Itzal feared he'd have permanent handprint-shaped bruises on his face. It got more difficult when she moved on to his tail.

Sculpting, she called it.

Trimming off the imperfections. Beating out undesired behavior.

His dreams brought him to a body that wasn't his. Cold and caged by red velvet museum ropes and its own immobility. Cold and unmoving like hardened clay. Onlookers who ogled with eyes too big and smiles too wide. Uncanny. Uncaring.

A week later, Master Scarlet brought him with her to a dinner party and those faces became reality. Everyone seemed to want a closer look at the new Champion. 

Itzal didn't dare resist.

[ashenquill]

Hello Tumblr, I am back with more headcanons!!1!1!

Beware of Hermitshipping in this one (it's not the focus but it's mentioned)

Bdubs. He doesn't have a full legal name, he's just Bdubs. On paperwork, he will sometimes put "Bee Double", but it's no more than a formality. It's pretty well-known that "Bdubs" is technically a nickname, but whenever someone tries to ask okay, but what's your real name?, he just keeps talking like they never said anything. Most people brush this off, but anyone who is highly-attuned to and proficient in magic will realize that, although Bdubs seems like an open book, they don't actually know that much about him.

Hybrid-wise, Bdubs is a fae creature of unspecified origin, although he's most akin to that of a nymph (specifically a dryad) or a gnome (this isn't just a short joke, it's a short joke with a purpose). He is closely connected to the earth, and can manipulate anything that comes from the earth, though he doesn't do it often. He is also able to make illusions and move at higher speeds than should be possible, which makes it very easy for him to confuse and disorient people, especially those who don't know him.

Bdubs is a very devoted and hard-working person, and he is proud to boast that he works an impressive seven jobs. These include: owning and operating a coffee shop called "The Muhd Cafe" (or simply "Muhd"), Construction Supervisor & General Contractor, owning and operating a headshot shop (he does both pictures and paintings), owning and operating a plant nursery, owning a demolition company, part-time Scarland employee, and the esteemed Royal Advisor/Jester/Butler etc. Bdubs technically works part-time for all of these businesses, and co-owns most of them with other people. He has to keep busy to not become restless, and it shows.

Some details for each buisness:

Muhd - Co-owner: Etho Slab. Affectionately nicknamed "Wet Dirt" by Etho and most employees. Bdubs hates this nickname. Bdubs uses his hybrid abilities to make coffee faster than any gunslinger in the Wild West, and frequently leaves his customers disoriented. Because of this -- and despite his protests --, he has been banned from working the counter unless there's a rush. This is Bdubs' "favorite" job (he swears he doesn't have a favorite, but he comes here most frequently), and he lives in an apartment above the coffee shop.

Bdubs' Head Shop - Sole owner: Bdubs. Sourced from a van with all of his art and photography supplies, and only appears on occasion. Bdubs has a glowing reputation, and any time the shop appears in the city, he gets heavy foot traffic.

Moss O Menos - Plant nursery located near Muhd. Bdubs is technically the sole owner, but the store's manager, Gemini Tay, runs the place in his absence and is basically a co-owner at this point.

Boomer's Demolition - Co-owners: Tango Tek and Impulse S-V. Their office is located in a tnt factory, so they typically do business over the phone or through emails. They have a terrible reputation and don't get many customers, so all three have other jobs.

Other details about Bdubs:

Smell = earthy, mossy, and also the unholy mix of his ten thousand jobs (coffee, oil, paint, gunpowder, churros, etc.)

Hybrid: forest nymph/gnome type of thing (connects to nature easily, can move faster than normally possible, often causes small-scale abnormal events)

Book smart - Special knowledge of customer service, architecture, and color theory

Likes: Etho, working, Etho, helping people, keeping busy, Etho, Etho, Etho

Dislikes: minor inconveniences 

Passions: brightening someone’s day, serving others

Habits/other details: thinks he has street smarts but could get conned by a shady guy in a trenchcoat, this is actually how he ended up marrying Etho, no I will not elaborate

Active in his environment - hates being idle, needs constant change to not get bored, and is willing to make it EVERYONE’S problem

Perfect sleep schedule, major early bird, gotta shreep

[stellacaerulea]

Timeless Moonlight

Arena 11

1. Sister

Augustus still remembered the day Hestia was born.

It rained for many days in a row, and the sky was dove gray, like the shadows on an oil painting.

Augustus was in the studio at that time. His last painting was placed in the painting salon of the Duke's house. The radiant god in the painting was majestic and compassionate, and received praises from many upper-class social circles.

People pursue August's artistic achievements not only because he is the crown prince and future king of Pigeon Kingdom . He was extremely talented in art, and he was often obsessed with it when he was young.

The queen gave birth again after fifty-three years. This news should have been announced to the whole country in a grand manner by the royal family. But now, it's just the fool who rushes to tell him, with a look of panic that needs to be concealed.

Augustus put down the pen in his hand. His first reaction was that the painting could not be completed today.

Augustus walked through the silent palace in the rain and opened doors one after another. 

Until he saw his dying mother on the delivery bed and his father in tears beside the bed. The young maid stood aside with a newborn baby in her arms, a look of horror on her face.

Augustus hated the way the maid had lost her manners. He took over his infant sister and immediately saw her strange-colored eyes.

August was stunned for a moment. Lightning struck the tower, and the crows on the windowsill fluttered away, casting a curse on the child's birth.

How could the light elf give birth to such an ominous child? What weird eyes, not to mention that her birth was accompanied by the depletion of her biological mother. She will definitely become a scar on the face of the royal family, it would be worse than—

Mother: Augustus…

Augustus suddenly heard the call. The queen lay on the bed and tried her best to give him a miserable smile. 

She was originally a light elf as gentle as moonlight, deeply loved by her husband, son and everyone. But now the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds and faded.

He eagerly approached his mother's side, wanting to hear her last loving words to her son. But the mother only stretched out her hand and touched her daughter's cheek feebly.

Mother: Take good care of your sister, she is your sister after all. 

That beautiful moonlight has fallen. 

Hestia was born with ominous and cursed eyes. The old king didn't like her and almost ignored the child. 

The Pigeon Kingdom aristocrats and their children followed suit and treated the Pigeon Kingdom princess with indifference and contempt. 

Augustus didn't visit Hestia often either. Even though he heard that she was not in an easy situation, he always believed that her status as a royal princess would not cause her to lose her dignity. 

Until one day, Augustus happened to pass by the garden and saw Hestia playing alone. The little princess was lying on the ground, her long skirt was torn by the branches of the bushes, and her body was stained with dirty mud. 

August had a rare outburst. The majestic Pigeon Kingdom princess doesn't even have a personal maid by her side. How could the light elf be treated with such contempt?

But Hestia didn't care. She said that it was none of the maid's business, but that she wanted to see the dragonflies landing on the leaves. 

Hestia: The book says that dragonflies have magical eyes. They see the world differently than I do. Brother, our eyes are also different, will the world we see be different?

Augustus was speechless for a moment, so he could only ask the maid to take her to change clothes. He stood outside the door, his voice passed through the door, and he taught her seriously that a princess should behave like a princess.

Augustus: Hestia, it's because you always make a mess of yourself that no one wants to get close to you.  Augustus: The light elves are the noblest race. You must always show your dignity and grace and don't let others look down on you.

Hestia at the door was silent and didn't reply. The maid wiped her hands and cheeks, put on a beautiful dress, and brought her back to Augustus. 

Augustus looked at his sister. Apart from her strange-colored eyes, she was actually a cute child. He couldn't help but touch her hair. 

It's just that Hestia's question occasionally lingers in August's mind.

She has eyes different from his. What kind of world does she see?

In that world, everyone excluded her, isolated her, and no one loved her, but she didn't care. She only sees books, machines, and a yearning for the unknown and novelty. 

But maybe out of the corner of her eye, there's an older brother. An older brother who will advise her on her behaviour, who will choose her portrait and dress for her birthday, who will stand with her at banquets and public occasions, who will hold out his hand to her when no one invites her to dance.

An unsmiling brother who doesn't like her at all, but occasionally shows kindness to her.

2. Coming of Age

Hestia grew up day by day like this. 

She spent more and more time in the Treasure Pavilion and the library, and had more and more ideas of her own. She remained unsociable, did not like to wear dresses or go to balls. 

The girls from the upper class discussed the popular hairstyles and clothes in the royal city enthusiastically, but Hestia spent the whole day with some foreign craftsmen, discussing inventions, machinery and other topics. 

Occasionally, she would ask some weird questions. 

Hestia: Brother, don’t you think this country should change? Hestia: We are stuck in the royal city, we seldom look outside. 

Augustus never understood her, never liked her, but never stopped her behaviour. 

After all, she was just an unpopular princess. If playing with those useless mechanical gadgets could add some colour to her grey childhood, then let her be. 

She'll have to marry eventually. When the light elf comes of age and is capable of bearing children, her brother will help her fulfil her duty, even if the king does not care for her. 

Hestia resisted the idea of marriage. But Augustus understood that it was only childish ignorance, and that when she grew up she would accept it with pleasure.

In the corner surrounded by machines, the lonely child blossomed into a beautiful girl. 

Hestia was indeed becoming more and more calm and peaceful. Augustus was very pleased with her transformation. She must have grown up, matured, and began to understand the glory of the light elves. 

But when he came back to his senses, the relationship between him and Hestia seemed to be very estranged. 

Hestia seldom called him ‘brother’ anymore, but rather ‘elder brother’ in a respectful and distant manner. 

Occasionally they would meet during afternoon tea, and she would just smile at him, with something he couldn't understand flashing in her mismatched-colored pupils. 

Is she planning something? A new design or the invention of some kind of power plant?

August vaguely remembered that Hestia once mentioned that she found a pigeon automaton in the Treasure Pavilion. 

Maybe next time he can ask her, ‘that... ah, that iron pigeon, do you want to repair it? Maybe there are skilled craftsmen in the iron shop outside the city.’ 

But Augustus would not and could not ask this question. 

He would only ask, ‘I have chosen a fiancé for you, the young duke of the Hildale family, and you will meet for the first time at your 100-year-old coming-of-age ceremony. Or do you have a more favorite candidate?’

So he asked. The light in Hestia's eyes flickered for a moment, and August thought she would say something objectionable. She had always been such a disobedient child.

But she then obediently lowered her head and said “everything will follow your will, brother.” 

Hestia designed a discreet dress for her birthday party, with gray satin and a simple skirt, without the complicated decorations that are popular. 

August frowned when he saw the finished product. He added a low-key but luxurious crown for her, and the skirt was embroidered with silver thread, which was shining.

The light always belongs to the light elves. Although Hestia was born on a gray rainy day, because of her birth, the sun was setting on her mother, who was dubbed the "moon of the kingdom." 

But Hestia is a light elf after all. She is beautiful and noble, and she was born to be surrounded by a net of light.

When she took her brother's arm and walked into the grand coming-of-age dance, those who were talking wildly lost their words in front of her beauty. 

This is what August wants, an elegant and decent sister, a grand wedding of the century, and the eternal glory of the Pigeon Kingdom royal family. 

Augustus brought a delicate and elegant light elf to her. The young man who was knowledgeable in etiquette and was about to become her fiancé kissed the back of her hand and invited her to dance.

But the beautiful princess smiled apologetically at her fiancé. She turned to her brother beside her, winked slightly slyly, and took his hand.

Hestia: Brother, let’s escape together?

Augustus was unusually stunned. He had not heard her call him “brother” for so long that he allowed Hestia to hold his hand and escape from the banquet hall. 

They walked into the night garden, and the light illuminated Hestia's skirt, which was wet with night dew. She leaned forward and saluted him, the smile in her heterochromatic eyes was like twinkling stars. 

Hestia: Dear Your Highness Augustus, would you be honored to dance with me? Augustus: Hestia, you should dance with your fiancé. Hestia: Brother, today is my birthday. We used to dance together at birthday parties, didn't we? 

Hestia's hand was placed in Augustus's, and their silhouettes intertwined and twirled under the arbor, as the starry night and the roses whispered to each other.

Augustus: Hestia, did you use the paints I gave you last time to paint your mechanical inventions?  Hestia: See… Brother is already a top artist, and no matter how much I practice, I can't match you. Augustus: Art is a royal virtue.  Hestia: It is also an excellent virtue to make the best use of what you have. 

The older brother spoke on trivial topics, while the younger sister responded with kindness. Suddenly, Augustus felt that they were very much like ordinary, close siblings, and that they had never had such a good time together.

Towards the end of the dance, Hestia spun round, her long hair brushing against Augustus' cheek, bringing with it the scent of dew and petals. 

He couldn't help but touch her hair gently, just as he had done when he was a little girl. But his sister wasn't a little girl any more. They were both grown up.

Augustus: Hestia, you've grown up, be a good girl. Leave your brother and go to your fiancé. You will be the most beautiful bride in the Pigeon Kingdom Court.

Hestia just smiled and shook her head. She stood on tiptoe and leaned close to Augustus's ear, as the sister shared the last secret of the night with her beloved brother. 

Hestia: Brother, I'm leaving you. I'm going where I'm supposed to go.

3. Betrayal

Augustus soon realised the meaning of Hestia's last words, for she disappeared the next day. 

The ball became the laughing stock of the Pigeon Kingdom Court again, but Augustus rebuffed all the rumours with indifference and strength. 

After failing to find Hestia anywhere, Augustus accepted the truth. He did not break off his engagement to the Hildale family, claiming firmly that Hestia was recuperating from her illness and would not be seen for a while. 

In his mind, he still believed that Hestia would return, that she was eccentric but not arrogant. 

What did she want? Had she not been educated enough, had she not been satisfied with fine clothes and food? Or was she dissatisfied with the fiancé her brother had chosen for her?

Forget it. Let her pick one herself. Anyway, he was the honourable crown prince, and one day he would become the king, and wouldn't the king's sister be able to have whatever she wanted? 

Power is such a sweet wine, and Augustus drank glass after glass of it, gradually becoming a little drunk. 

Without Hestia, no one even came to ask him: ‘Brother, why don't we ever look out when we're stuck in the royal city?‘

Augustus never understood what Hestia saw when she looked out. 

What was outside the city? Slum children forever scrambling for a piece of stale bread, and peddlers standing in the muddy streets selling poor quality goods.

Young maidens cover their noses when they pass them, and noblewomen in carriages lower their curtains so that they feel dirty even looking at them. 

What is there to see outside the Royal City? Was it as good as the art in the galleries? Augustus could not see anything ugly in his eyes. 

He could only see fine paintings, delicate sculptures, or beautiful roses. 

His father's illness was getting worse, and he would soon be king of Pigeon. Even if he fell in love with a human woman, so what? 

What were the laws of the land or the prejudices of the world in the face of the supreme power of the king? 

But the city began to grow restless. People marched through the city, saying that the Crown Prince was a man of no virtue, that he was obsessed with beauty, that he didn't care if the people lived or died.

The city guards patrolled the city day and night, but the people who asked for bread and milk could not be driven away. 

A priest stood in the central square and gave a speech that the Crown Prince had violated the worst dogma of all, that the light elf had not only intermarried with a human girl, but also had an illegitimate half-breed son, against the will of the gods. 

And so it was that Augustus gradually lost the support of the people and the Church. But he always believed he could get away with it, and he even spent his days playing the fiddle in the royal orchestra. 

The fiddling only came to an abrupt end when the opposition surrounded the castle in the centre of the city and the heavily armed guards entered with swords. 

Noble: Augustus, the Pigeon Kingdom will only welcome a ruler who is truly worthy of it.

When the arrogant nobles declared his guilt, Augustus didn't even bother to look at them, but he raised his eyes anyway. 

For a moment his blood froze. 

Surrounded by the Church and the nobles, he saw his long-lost, but familiar sibling. 

Hestia: Elder brother, I'm back.

She was even wearing the same dress she had worn to her birthday party, the silver threads that Augustus had added to the dress shimmering so brightly that his eyes ached.

Hestia walked step by step in front of Augustus. It seemed that she hadn't changed at all, but in Augustus's eyes, she was already a different person.

Looking at those calm, heterochromatic eyes, Augustus felt his throat tighten. 

He tremblingly took off the crown on his head and threw it at Hestia's feet. The jewels on the crown fell into pieces, just like the fragile and estranged family ties. 

Ah, those bicoloured eyes are indeed a symbol of curse. 

Such annoying eyes.

4. Throne

Augustus expected to find himself in prison, just like every overthrown monarch in the history of Pigeon. 

But Hestia kept his title, as he was still a noble royal and brother of the queen. She even wanted Augustus to serve in her cabinet as an aid to her reforms. 

Of course, Augustus refused, finding her idea ridiculous. Was it better to waste the treasury on useless machinery than to curry favour with the rich and powerful? 

Was it that better to let the commoners get a chance to study, and ignore the risk of losing their reverence for the King's power and the Glory? 

Reform requires money, and where does it come from? She enlists the support of the people, but the poor, who cannot afford to eat, will not give her even a cent.

And the nobles were even less likely to support her - after all, who would be willing to serve the nobles if the commoners were given access to technology and productivity?

But Hestia did not argue with him. She said, ‘Brother, I will do it. I'll bring a better Pigeon.’ 

Will she do it? Augustus laughed in his heart. 

If he hadn't listened to his mother's instructions to take care of her, she would have died in one accident or another because of her neglect. 

If he hadn't indulged in her eccentric hobbies, she would have been stuffed into a pure white wedding gown as a gift to the princes and nobles, like a common noble girl, and her life would have been hastily cut short. 

Augustus felt that he had been foolish, that Hestia's betrayal had not been unnoticed, that she might have been plotting for the throne all along, and that it was all due to his own permissiveness.

Because he always felt that it was his sister, no matter how badly she behaved, it was always his sister. 

But now Augustus has come to his senses and he sees his situation clearly, while Hestia is still living in a dream. 

Augustus is ready to take back what is rightfully his, and if this sister is an obstacle, then remove her, for power and politics are what he does best. 

He banished his human lover and illegitimate son. Even though Hestia's union with the young duke was no longer possible, the marriage contract between the Pigeon Kingdom family and the Hildale family remained in effect. 

He secretly married a daughter of the Hildale family and produced an heir. He also bribed the Church to spread rumours among the poor that Hestia's reforms had offended the gods and would be condemned by heaven.

Crows flew in circles around the castle spire, and rumours of Hestia's curse became popular again, but Hestia never cared about them. 

She never cared about that. The gossip didn't reach her ears; she only had eyes for her beloved invention, the innovation she wanted in the productivity of the Pigeon. 

She wanted so much for everyone to enjoy the fruits of the reform, for everyone to be able to walk freely under the sun. 

She even chose to believe in Augustus and had no qualms about the people he arranged for her. 

So Augustus' men tampered with her invention. In full view of the public, the machine she built exploded, almost killing her.

The childish reforms came to an end, and the kingdom finally fell into the hands of Augustus. 

The rebellious queen was thrown off the throne. Her merciful brother left her alive to repent for her sins for life, and personally escorted her to the prison. 

They walked through the silent corridors. Hestia's injured left leg had not been properly treated, so she staggered and struggled to keep up with Augustus. Augustus should have been enjoying the fruits of his vengeance, but for some reason distant memories came back to him. 

He remembered the first time he had held his sister in his arms, the curiosity on the baby's wrinkled face, and what those different coloured eyes were thinking when they first saw him. Augustus had no idea.

Until Hestia entered the cell, she remained calm and silent. What were those different-coloured eyes thinking now, when they saw her brother? Augustus did not know. 

Eventually, August couldn't help himself, he reached out and took his sister's chained hand. Just as he had done so many years before, when his sister had taken his hand and led him away from that grown-up ball. 

Augustus: Hestia, do you admit your mistake? 

Admit it, Hestia, and if you do, I swear by the Glory that I will forgive you for all your past betrayals. 

You will still be my sister, Princess of Pigeon, and you will still have the fame, status and glory of a light elf.

If you reflect on this and behave yourself, I will choose for you a husband who will satisfy you and make your life happy and peaceful. 

Memories go back and forth and end up at the starting point where fate intertwines. On the hospital bed, with a blurred face and a weak smile, his mother said, ‘Take care of your sister, she's your sister after all’. 

His voice was almost choked, like a sigh, like a prayer. 

Augustus: Admit it, Hestia. 

But Hestia laughed.

Hestia: Elder brother, I will never regret it. 

Damn it! The cell door slammed shut. 

Augustus never looked back at his former sister. The last vestiges of their affection were gone.

5. History

The Pigeon Kingdom has lived a long time under the rule of Augustus. 

It was still strong and great, and no one in Augustus' ear failed to praise its splendour. Certainly it was brilliant, at least in the sense that it had left a rich treasure of art. 

Augustus destroyed all the scientific achievements of Hestia's reign and forbade any further technological inventions. 

He built high walls that only allowed beautiful songs and music to resonate through them, and fine paintings to adorn them, turning Pigeon Kingdom into an artistic utopia. 

Meanwhile, the technology of the Apple colonies was changing day by day, the Cloud's emperor sought for change, whereas only the Pigeon Kingdom still sang its old elegies.

On rainy days, August's temperament would flare up and he would break things, such as the film projector from Apple. 

Even when a dragonfly landed on the window sill, he would get angry and ask his guards to drive it away. 

The aging king is becoming more and more unpleasant, leaving him with no one to talk to. 

The woman he once loved died in Lake Bovaly, his emotionless wife died prematurely due to illness, his half-breed illegitimate son fled to Apple, and his precious little princess grew apart from him. 

In the end, he seems to be the only one left. 

And maybe his sister, who was still in prison.

But he couldn't look at her. He didn't know which face to show in front of her, and he didn't want to see her eyes. 

But the law of history is eternal, and every inch of land its wheels pass through is on this objective and unforgiving track. 

It brought his son back to him, with a rebellious song and a dagger of vengeance, driven deep into his chest. 

The rain drowned his cries. In his last moments, Augustus saw in Mercury the familiar image of his sister, the one who would never bow, who would always rebel against him. 

Hestia, did you bring this child back? 

He smiled to himself.

Augustus: What a miserable life. 

Augustus’ body lied in the sleeping quarters, and a continuous rain covered the walls of the palace, as if lamenting for him. In the midst of the rain, the sound of a cripple's limping footsteps suddenly rang.

The free Hestia pushed her way through the door and leaned down to look at her dead brother. 

He was no longer the spirited light elf, and old age had somehow left eternal scars on the comfortable elf-king, but never affected the imprisoned sinner.

Hestia: I can barely recognise you.

Hestia reached out and closed his eyes. The moment she touched his cheek, the broken wings of Augustus fell onto her fingertips and turned into nostalgic, flickering particles of light. 

At this moment, the brother and sister who resented each other and pitied each other had finally reconciled through death. 

There will never be a Hestia of Pigeon Kingdom again, just like there will never be an Augustus of Pigeon Kingdom again. They both ended up in the same place as failed rulers. 

A new era approached, the dust of the past was forgotten, those who had travelled together were separated, and all that was left was time. 

At that moment in history, the younger sister said her last goodbye to her brother before she left.

Hestia: Brother, I'm leaving you. I'm going where I'm supposed to go.  Hestia: Good night, brother.

[miirshroom]

Elden Ring (Shadow of the Erdtree) vs. the definition of Bad Writing

Pondering the question of whether something can be called bad writing when it is intentionally "bad". Like, good fiction writing is engrossing - it evokes emotion and can through linguistics alone paint a very vivid sense of space and atmosphere. Any emotion - joy, anger, sadness, etc. So if bad writing is the opposite, then it would be writing that causes confusion about what emotion should be felt or is structured in a way that breaks the suspension of disbelief.

But what if causing confusion is the intention? While in fiction writing it is desirable to provoke an emotional response so that the reader becomes invested, this is a lot like the goal of propaganda - an appeal to strengthen a certain point of view and evoke sympathy for it. The main difference being personal scale compared to a society scale. Some fiction stories focus on showing how a single person is the hero of their own story and others split the viewpoint between multiple characters for a window into the fundamentally different personal philosophies that cause them to be in conflict. If the point of view of 9 demigod characters are presented via the themed zones of the map and NPC interactions and each make a propagandistic emotional appeal, then which is the player going to empathize with?

It's a confusing choice, requiring extensive research to weigh the options. And I mean, both in-game and research into real-world dog whistles, snake oil, and other esoteric nonsense that can help identify the types of crackpot ideas involved with each faction.

But critical thinking is hard compared with just gravitating towards the character that a person projects onto most strongly based on surface aesthetic. And if that character later has character development due to the status quo changes in a way that the reader DOESN'T personally empathize with, then that's bad writing. How dare they change the precious blorbo Miquella, he should have remained a sweet innocent child and forever stagnant in the narrative. Or otherwise, he was robbed of his role in the narrative to grow into a powerful and beautiful saviour.

However, a different truth is revealed after stripping emotion from the situation: this is an expectation of a YA fantasy solution in an adult fantasy story - expecting a lone perfect child saviour to carry the weight of the world and be victorious where experienced but flawed adults fail.

Alternatively, the objection that actually Miquella is a wise adult cursed to be in a child's body ignores a fundamental facet of the narrative - Miquella knows that he has not grown to his adult form and seeks to remedy this. He KNOWS that he is undercooked and not finished developing. So it comes to this: either Miquella's worth is reduced to his ability to produce offspring by sexual reproduction (thus requiring him to become a biological adult), or he was intent on become an adult because stories operate on metaphorical levels and his child-like ignorance of the rules of magic that govern the Land Between is making him terminally incapable of devising a functional plan to bring his dreams to fruition. Unfortunately, that ignorance also extends to the conditions of that metamorphosis being faulty. Miquella was doomed by the narrative from the moment he was presented as a child prodigy and above critique.

Oh, and also the general theme of Shadow of the Erdtree is that it is bad on purpose! But in that second way of deliberately trying to break suspension of disbelief. Observe a few ways that this surreal design logic is worked into the environment:

Helpful developer hints for things like "hit the weak point" that players would have figured out anyways quite quickly

Forest populated by 20 wolf packs and not much else

The Scorpion-spiders are a badly designed chimera creature that is even anatomically inaccurate in how the stinger is rendered. This after the accurately rendered wildlife (crabs, crayfish, tortoise, Golden Eagles, etc) of the base game

The red flesh mushrooms are comically cartoonish - the 3D render being a nonsense version of a Fly Agaric (that doesn't even match the item 2D portrait). Compare to the more accurate Fly Agarics embedded in the 3D render of the Melted Mushroom.

Piles of the broken Rosus statues scattered about the entrances to Catacombs in place of the more subtle directional guidance of the base game

The soul item colour coding convention is entirely broken - an orange item is more likely than base game to be something generic while any plain white soul item could be a unique armour or weapon

The way that you can walk too far in a direction and break the great rune to drastically change the worldstate in the middle of some random fields that don't even look like significant checkpoints

The design logic is disjointed and seemingly contradictory with the main game for a simple reason: it is a dream of the past. A dreamworld with barely enough Order to hold it together. The Shadowlands is a parallel universe to the Lands Between in the similar way that human imagination has invented explanations for how the world works in fanciful ways that run parallel to the scientific explanations. Paying attention to the differences in the environmental storytelling reveals the sense of wrongness that saturates the DLC, like waking up from a dream and realizing that in hindsight the rules of reality in the dream were simply wrong. It isn't even a new concept to have a deeper dreamworld to a surface fantasy world - this concept is used in both Wheel of Time and the Realm of the Elderlings and probably other fantasy settings.

The idea that dreams influence the reality of the real world can explain seeming inconsistencies. The "Mother of Fingers" is a retcon in-universe in that she did not exist until someone imagined it so, and then retroactively she has always existed since some vaguely defined primordial era. Somebody dreamed up Metyr from some misinterpreted observation and invented Finger Creeper constructs in homage to her. Like how people knew that unicorns and basilisks existed and created art of them for centuries with the belief that this is a thing that is totally real, and now digital constructs of them exist in fantasy computer games.

If the Shadowlands is a dreamland and Marika originated from here, then it follows that Marika was a dream woman fashioned by the Fell God of Fire - her soul did not exist in the Lands Between until crossing the boundary between the waking world and the dream (the Gates of Divinity), overtaking the physical body that holds the Elden Ring, and transforming it to the image that she was designed to have. Messmer is all of the base serpentine nature that Radagon (who is himself said Fell God of Fire) forced out of sight and out of mind in his pursuit of becoming Marika. So Messmer is a child of Marika because he represents everything that Radagon suppressed in the Shadowlands in the process of embracing the identity of Marika. But just as the base serpent breaks through Marika's seal of grace on Messmer, this is paralleled in Marika struggling to maintain her identity until that of Radagon overwhelms her once again.

Miquella brings the perspective of a boy who has recently pushed his own dream girl-self off a cliff. This is a drastic shift of his character, in the sense of character development. It's just not character development in a positive direction. It is literally tied into defeat of Mohg, Lord of Blood that Miquella's story requires an understanding of causality. Trina being discarded by Miquella is an effect. What is the cause? A wounded Miquella decided that he needed to discard pieces of himself in the Shadowlands to become a god. How did Miquella arrive at the Shadowlands? Mohg helped him there. How did Mohg "help" Miquella? By kidnapping and traumatizing him into not wanting to inhabit his own body - allowing Miquella to fall into a sleep so deep that it is indistinguishable from death. The Shadowlands is not a place for good well adjusted thinking to end up.

So in conclusion: bad writing is writing that lacks the self awareness to know that it's bad. The Shadow of the Erdtree knows that it's in the dead timeline where rejected ideas go to burn out and diminish. The writing of Shadow of the Erdtree may be uncomfortable or upsetting, but it is actively trying to be these things. Miquella's dreams and nightmares have a depth to them that is beyond anything that the player can guess from looking at his aesthetic in isolation and without considering the full cause and effect of events surrounding him. The writing is going to seem most nonsensical to people who accepted Miquella's goodwill and genius on blind faith.

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday

Y'all voted on banters this week! I went for 'end of act 1, in the Underdark' Baldur's Gate 3 banters for the companions and my drow bard Tav, Zynatheri.

There's no only Gale banter because they're not speaking to each other at that point (because Zyn will not stop bullying him).

if you see these and think the idea is fun, I would love to see yours for your Tav or Durge! Just tag me if you do so I can enjoy it! :D

...

Zynatheri: All right.  Shuffled thoroughly back into the deck.  Now, as I call upon the mystic powers of the Talis…are you watching?

Karlach:  Harder than I’ve ever watched before.

Zynatheri: I draw from the very top of the deck, and…Nine of Winds.  Is this your card?

Karlach: Holy shit.  It is!  That’s my card!

Zyn: The cards always know.

Gale:  They most certainly do not.

Karlach:  I didn’t show her the card, Gale.

Zyn: Yeah, Gale, just because the powers are beyond your comprehension doesn’t mean they’re not real.

Gale:  Your provocations fall on deaf ears.  I refuse to succumb to your clumsily strewn bait.

Zyn:  That’s fine.  Karlach, do you want to see another magic trick?

Gale: Stop calling it magic!

Karlach: You ever think of playing music while we battle?

Zyn: Would make casting spells hard.

Karlach:  What about right at the end, then?  When I crack the last skull and then we look for loot.

Zyn:  Like victory music?

Karlach:  Yeah!

Zyn:  Sure, sounds like fun.  Just save me any jewelry you find.

Karlach:  Fuck yeah!

Lae’zel:  You and Wyll fight similarly.

Zyn:  We probably learned the same style of fencing.

Lae’zel:  Why is he more skilled than you are? Was your instruction inferior, or are you?

Zyn:  Insult or observation?

Lae’zel:  If my observations insult you, that is due to your own weakness.  I only speak truth.

Zyn:  No, you speak ignorance, not truth.

Lae’zel:  Explain.  Alleviate my ignorance.

Zyn:  No thanks.

Lae’zel:  Kainyank.

Lae’zel:  During our last battle I asked repeatedly for healing and was ignored.

Zyn:  Sorry, I was feeling too weak and inferior.

Lae’zel:  Ah.  You were attempting an object lesson.

Zyn:  Sure, it was definitely that and not me being petty.

Lae’zel:  Wyll also employs magic, and his blade does not falter as yours does.

Zyn:  Wyll was given magic.  Nothing against him, but it’s true.  I earned mine through hard work, creativity, and talent.

Lae’zel:  That is no excuse to neglect your sword.

Zyn:  Ah, well, see…I’m also lazy.

Zyn:  Where there’s a Wyll, there’s a way.

Wyll:  Not bad, but I have used it before.  What’s wrong with ‘provoke the Blade and suffer its sting’?

Zyn:  The more mottoes the better.  How about ‘if you seek the Blade, be ready to pay’.

Wyll:  It does rhyme.  ‘Anger the Blade, and prepare to pay?’  It’s quite pithy.

Zyn:  Oh, you’re talking about revenge.  I was working from more of an advertisement angle.

Wyll:  (Laughs.) I am not an adventurer for hire, my friend.

Zyn:  I could make a poster that might change your mind…

Wyll:  Hmm.  Show it to me later.

Shadowheart:  I believe I found some of that moss you mentioned.

Zyn:  Great!  I’ll show you how to prepare it tonight.  We’ll just need oil.  I’m going to need some of the eyeshadow for my own uses, though.

Shadowheart:  Since you’re the one teaching me to make it, I assumed as much.

Zyn: Oh, not for me.  I was going to paint all over Astarion’s face while he’s in reverie.  Of course a cock is classic, but a giant glowing eye on his forehead in the dark would look striking.

Shadowheart: (Laughs.) Why are you so terrible?

Zyn:  I’ll save the cock for Gale.  He deserves it.

Astarion:  What were you and Shadowheart whispering about?

Zyn:  You.

Astarion:  Well, naturally, darling.  What about me?  Hopefully not spilling too many intimate secrets…though I wouldn’t blame you, of course.

Zyn:  She was asking me if the giant mole on your face made it difficult for me to kiss you.

Astarion:  The what?

Zyn:  Did you not– okay, calm down. Calm down! It was a joke.

Astarion: Don’t talk to me.

Zyn: My dear, sweet viper.  Please, stop sulking.

Astarion:  I am not sulking.  I simply have no desire to speak to you.  Or look at you.

Zyn:  Such a shame.  I guess Drizzt isn’t sneaking into your tent tonight.

Astarion:  How dare you threaten me!

Zyn:  It works and has no repercussions.

Astarion: Well, yes, but that isn’t the point.

Zyn: I’m teasing you.  Don’t worry.  Just a quick polymorph, and you’ll finally get your hands on the legendary blade Icingdeath.

Astarion: Gods, you ruin everything.

[jessicalprice]

i am emily kaldwin, the most considerate sociopath

(reposted from Twitter) 

Okay, so can we take a moment to acknowledge that MAYBE the reason the world of Dishonored 2 is so fucked up is because they spend all day looking at the incredibly fucked up art on their walls?

Like, here in the parlor we have this quaint sepia-toned memento of the time that Grandpa and all his friends got eaten by a giant squid:

And what art do we keep in the bedroom, you ask? Perhaps a nice soothing floral? Nah, it's the time we encountered a naked yeti or some shit in the forest:

And in this cozy sitting room we have art about getting lost in a hell dimension.

And here in this fine palace we have 

I dunno 

the mothman I guess:

(These details are a big reason I love this game.)

If you don't want to read the news while you're in the W.C., you can gaze on this...

this 

I dunno, maybe this is Dishonored 2 firemen? maybe this is their equivalent of a swimsuit calendar? who knows

Pretty sure I magicked up onto this very ledge like 2 minutes ago--this is their equivalent of those overly flowery hometown pride pics of your local downtown:

Why have an oil painting of some renaissance dude in a ruff when you can have one of an out-of-work mime staring adoringly at a mosquito:

YAY OUR FAIR NOT AT ALL DYSTOPIAN CITY like I think this was from the tourist bureau:

I mean, sure:

You know, having a very normal breakfast next to The Hole:

some people have pictures of tropical birds or wild horses or their pets 

some people have nightmarefish 

here in dishonoredland we only have nightmarefish

takes all kinds to make a world

but I mean all the mirrors look into the abyss instead of showing your reflection so

our fair city pt 2

another thing they like to do with their art is hang paintings of the EXACT ROOM YOU'RE IN, except with no people in it

ok I actually legit want this one

that time when the Flying Dutchman docked here

we do love our undead captains of industry

we are certainly, absolutely, very normal sailors, and not at all The Damned, cursed to rove these wretched seas until we find new souls to take our places

Okay but real talk time:

The name of the game in this, er, game named Dishonored 2 is BODY MANAGEMENT, folks. 

After you take someone out, you gotta hide the body or guards come and also you stress out your citizenry and you're the empress (on the lam) so that's irresponsible of you. Their wellbeing is your responsibility.

And you pretty much have to at least choke everyone out so they don't see you and attack you and also for peace and quiet because if the citizens see you carrying the guards' bodies they start screaming.

The citizens are WAY HAPPIER if they're unconscious.

So you gotta choke them out but like there's all this shit that wants to eat them: bloodflies, rats, probably other people, idk.

So you have to put them somewhere safe once they're unconscious, which usually means up high--

oh btw this game was made by cats, the floor is lava, never walk on the floor when you can climb on shit, you'll die

--so anyway, you've got all these people you've knocked out and you have to put them somewhere safe and it's tidier if you put them all in the same place, also you don't want other people seeing them because seeing bodies stresses your subjects out.

So step one is you gotta find a place to put the unconscious bodies up high and out of sight.

So I found this weird 2nd floor dentist's office with no stairs or anything so the only way you can get up there is by magic, so when they wake up they'll feel safe:

I am such a good empress 

they love me

There are even these bloodfly zombie people called Nest Keepers who are basically walking plague machines but I knocked that guy out too instead of killing him because I am merciful. But the bloodflies killed all these people in that house so there were a ton of bodies that I had to put somewhere.

I mean, no one was going to see them because the house was condemned, but it wasn't tidy.

So I needed to get them out of the house but running all the way down the stairs to carry them one-by-one was a lot of work so I just threw them out the window

and then I heard screaming 

so I guess some people saw them

probably should have choked those people out first, don't want them stressed.

But anyway I tidied up that house (body-wise, anyway--I feel the need to smash everything that's smashable when I leave a place so if I come back I remember that I looted it--but you have to be careful bc sometimes if you smash things near an unconscious person it kills them and you’re their empress and responsible for them so you don’t want that).

So then I went outside and decided to get down to business, putting away the bodies.

But then I found the Nest Keeper and he was dead, so I guess when the normal non-zombie people saw him they freaked out and killed him?

Anyway, so I was luring guards over and choking them out and putting them in the dentist's office so they'd be safe and then I saw this and was like OH SHIT WHAT HAPPENED HERE:

And then I realized those were the dead bodies I'd chucked out of the bloodfly house and maaaaaybe the guard got hit with a dead body and died.

I feel kind of bad.

But anyway, moving on, step 2 is you gotta find a place to put the DEAD bodies because you don't want your citizens seeing them and getting upset, and also it's not very tidy to leave them lying around your city, that's how you get ants.

So I found a very convenient tidy dumpster for the dead bodies:

I felt sorta sad when I put the nest keeper in there.  

sorry, my dude, people can be jerks 

I should have put him in the dentist's office first

or shit maybe it was throwing him out of the window that did him in, but once they're unconscious they're usually pretty bouncy. Like babies.

And I really thought the guard was dead from being hit with dead bodies but as it turned out they'd somehow just knocked him out and I didn't even have to chloroform him or choke him out.

To the dentist's office!

I was carrying this other guard and a guard came at me so I sorta had to chuck the unconscious dude at him which somehow killed them both and I was sad. 

The physics here are a little odd.

Okay and the guards had hanged a bunch of people which, fine, I guess, but the game WILL NOT let you cut the bodies down and it's bothering me because they really need to be taken to Body Stash #2.

This is very untidy.

So anyway, when you smash most things they disappear, so I spent a while cleaning up the city getting rid of all these unwashed dishes and putting all these bodies away.

It's much tidier now, and quiet with everyone unconscious.

No one wants to play video games with me 

which is fine, I guess  

not after Skyrim and my collecting all the brooms and buckets and putting them in the Janitor Closet House

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

I’m going to try and list the events of today - just so I don’t lose track.

Dawn. Barnum got us moving by 7:00 as usual. Maggie had a pee accident in the night, and the stench was horrible. Bri took Bernie and Maggie out, I took Murphy, and followed up with the Woodge.

Fed the cats and started a fire in the stove in the kitchen. Yeah…we ran out heating oil yesterday afternoon. Had a limited supply of wood and coal, but it began to take the chill off…

Maggie threw up.

And now it gets serious. I googled up pyometra a deadly infection which un-spayed female dogs can get post-heat. Yup. Bri called the vet and talked them into seeing her immediately.

He called the fuel oil company and begged for a delivery - then off he went with Maggie into town.

I continued cleaning and moving things back to the studio - my client guy is coming at 2:00 to pick up his paintings. I bake two loaves of cinnamon bread, and loaf of white bread for tomorrow mornings breakfast. Swill down a cup of coffee, and keep tidying up.

The belt on the dryer busted yesterday, leaving me with two loads of wet laundry which will continue to be wet and will soon begin to get moldy. Bri ordered a replacement part and we will look forward to taking the dryer apart (AGAIN) in about a weeks time.

I mix a bucket of green mold killer and have a go at the front step and walkway - it’s become ridiculously slippery and neither one of us wants to hit the ground hard. I scrub with a chunk of old broom, and leave it to do its thing…

Bri returns with some cat and dog food procured from the vets - but no Maggie. “Shes going to have surgery today. She’s infected and has to have a hysterectomy.”

Barnum had surgery four days ago to remove a cancerous mass in his belly. Now it’s Maggie’s turn.

I take Murphy out again, apply the xeroxed info onto the back of all the completed paintings, and keep tidying. Magda the vet calls to say that Maggie will be operated on this evening, and promises to call and let us know how things went.

The oil guy shows up, pumps €500 into the tank - and leaves. Bri goes out to jump start the boiler.

It doesn’t start. “I’m going to drive to Belleek and buy more wood and coal” - and so he does.

I find the boiler-guys phone number. He’ll be here in two hours.

My client shows up, we chat, drink coffee - he refuses my cinnamon bread, but likes Woodgie very much? We load his Mercedes with the paintings (he’s brought me another BIG one) - I tuck several of my pillows and blankets around the art to cushion them for the ride home.

He does not hand me money.

Which leaves John the boiler guy unpaid. He arrives, works his magic over the next hour - I wrap up a fat slice of cinnamon bread and tell him we will drop his money off at his house tommorrow.

I start making the dough for tonight’s pizza. A figure looms in the doorway - it’s Pat. “I’m just coming from a funeral in Kilty and had to stop as we were passing. Do you mind if I show some people your house?”

Pat is always welcome, I would say “drunk or sober” but somehow we never see “sober”

He rolls in. He is followed by four other people from the funeral - three of whom are smashed. The kind woman who IS sober apologizes for the drop-in, but it really doesn’t matter at this point. They are roaming around the house, tripping over dogs and enjoying Pats tour.

The funeral is for a young g man who “was shot” -?! There is confusion as to whether it was suicide? “In his side” - and yet nobody mentions murder. We offer our sincere condolences.

The tour comes to an end, they all roll outside again - and we bid them farewell- “safe home.”

It’s now 8:00. The pizza dough is rising, the dogs are passed out in front of the fire - and we still have not heard from the vet.

It’s been a day, and no mistake.

[mrapplethorn]

Artificers that don’t use tech

One of the classes of which it doesn’t always feel like it belongs in your (or the adventure’s) world is the Artificer. Its name does not imply that though, we all know the Artificer in Dungeons and Dragons is a person that combines steampunk-esque contraptions with the magic found in most D&D worlds. An Artificer should be, according to the word’s description, a trickster or an immoral craftsman of clever devices. Confining this description to a person that uses metal contraptions to cast spells feels a bit shallow, so here are a few ideas you can use to build your next Artificer.

Art by Kris Theorin (left) and Lily Abdullina (right)

The Gingerbread Man’s Baker

Battle Smith Artificer – Cook’s Utensils

Delirious Barnsforth started out as a simple cook, working for a local noble family. Wanting more out of life, he accidently poisoned the lord and lady of the house. He fled into the forest where he met a benevolent Hag. She gave him shelter and taught him the basics of spellcasting. Delirious showed some affinity for the arcane arts, but he lacked in creativity.

Only after he discovered that there was a way to combine spellcasting with cooking did he really become a force to be reckoned with. His first ‘Steel Defender’ was a blob of dough that he somehow managed to trap a fey spirit in. These days he is known for bringing to life the famous Gingerbread Man.

How to play him

If you have spent one second on the internet, you know there are people on there that love to correct everyone that says Frankenstein when they mean Frankenstein’s Monster. Likewise, Delirious also corrects anyone that calls him anything but The Gingerbread Man’s Baker.

Every spell Baker Barnsforth casts is somehow shaped like a cook’s utensil, food, or other items you’d find in a kitchen.

Delirious, as an Artificer with the Battle Smith subclass, has a steel defender, although his is not made of steel but of dough, and in the shape of his oh-so-famous Gingerbread Man.

Art by Marcin Kulesza (left) and Dan Dossantos (right)

The Tatted Artificer

Armorer Artificer – Painter’s Supplies

Born without a shred of magic in her bones, Diana Jones studied to become an archeologist. Her interests also lied with art and painting, tattooing in particular. So, when she stumbled upon a mysterious dark fluid within a buried temple her first thought was to test it on her skin.

How to play her

Every feature, feat, spell, and ability of the Tatted Artificer is represented by a tattoo on her body. As shown in the image the spell Shadow Blade could manifest as a set of removable scimitar tattoos on your characters back.

The armor she would need to wear to gain her subclass abilities has taken the form of tattoos also.

If you play in a campaign where money has a prominent place, You and your DM have to agree on some things. Armor is a big aspect of the Armorer Artificer. Something we just replaced with tattoos. The easiest step is to keep the cost of an armor improvement but let it technically be an added tattoo.

Art by Alejandro García

The Snake Oil Salesman

High Elf Alchemist Artificer

Smoke billows from their workshop. The Healer of Harkonen goes by many names. But most people know them as Dietrich the Knife-eared Snake oil Salesman. Tall tales of their past are whispered in taverns. They speak of an elf who brought down the destruction of an ancient city with their disease-spreading elixirs. What the stories leave out however is that this simple alchemist does not work alone. They and their twin have travelled the world, fought beasts, and harvested magical components. Now they run a shop that sells miracle potions, miracle in the fact that you will never truly know what happens when drinking them.

How to play them

Dietrich or their sibling do not contribute to a fight with their physical skills. Their spells take on the form of potions, salves, and other concoctions. A fireball for example could be akin to a Molotov Cocktail.

Art by Oleksandr Kozachenko (left) and Victor Titov (right)

The Woodsman

Plasmoid/Reborn Artillerist Artificer

Once a man, the creature now only known as the Woodsman, is a hulking green figure. Raised as an orphan in a Druid Circle, his past is not well documented. His abilities are druid-like but also very alien to them. The forest is his home and the object of his protection. When provoked he breaks of pieces of himself that can act on their own and can only be described as vinelike cannons.

How to play him

The Woodsman has a lot in common with the Oath of the Ancients Paladin, you could even use the tenets of this subclass to guide you in your actions.

The spells the Woodsman casts all thematically link back to his plant-based nature.

[petra-creat0r]

Okay so the polls have determined I'm talking about LPS.

Tbh, I don't have a whole lot to talk about when it comes to my favorite little toys from the 2000s, especially since my collection is at home, but I do have a few things!

First is my favorites! Aka Creme (Angora Rabbit #2480) and Tytus! (Goat #1786). Creme I've had since I was a kid and was one of my first pets (along with the Rat #2481 she came with who I've since lost)

Them

There's also my girl, Sydney Petrovsky. I was gonna replace her before she quickly grew on me

Her neck spring or something is broke so her head sinks down, making her a little short and 9 year old me painted her with black oil paint that smugged her original markings a bit. All in all, she's a little roughed up but I say that adds to her character.

An example of how she should look is Sara, the replacement I forgot I ordered, who, while damaged, is still in a little better condition than Sydney.

Asides from my favs... I guess I gave Garrett, the pet I brought with me to work. Since my apron has a pocket, I've been bringing one of my pets with me every shift.

Gecko.

Edit: since this took me two days, Garrett was who I brought yesterday. Today was Alli

Honestly, LPS was one of my main hyperfixations as a kid. One of my mains before discovering Undertale and I frequented LPStube as much as I could back then. (Though oddly I never got into LPS Popular and still haven't watched it). I remember watching Cookieswirlc a good amount before they started making non LPS content. As well as a lot of skits and music videos. My friends and I would even make up a couple ourselves (though we didn't really have the resources to upload them, we could still record on my mom's camera and stuff.)

Because of this, I have a few old LPS series concepts. They're not all that good because I was like, nine. But I think it'd be interesting to revisit them sometime. The first series I can remember was Peter and Piper. Since I had a double of Monkey #485 (Likely because I somehow got one from my girlfriend considering she has one Squirrel #484 which came in a playset with the monkey).

The "plot" (if you could really call it that) of the series would be that the protagonist, Peter, played by one of the monkeys, had the power to... genderbend. Piper being his girl counterpart (played by the other monkey). Could I have executed this idea with just one monkey, likely. Was it a cringe idea especially considering modern times? Yes.

The other characters was a G4 Wolf (#3806) and a G3 Guinea Pig (#3299) who I don't recall the original names of, but whom I've since dubbed Lisa and Harvey. I also remember Lisa had ice powers, causing Harvey to sing Let It Go to annoy her. There was also something with the school mascot (because of course it was set at a high school) being a hybrid of a bunch of animals including like a tiger and a bear and a dragon I think.

I'm not sure how to adapt it, asides from probably making Peter a magical girl or something? (Also probably trans as I like that better than the gender bending thing)

The second show i had even less for. It was called Twins and stared Creme (my favorite Angora Rabbit from above) and another Angora I had at some point, a pink one with striped ears, #2132. (I've since lost this pet. Might've traded it with a friend)

It was about an evil mirror dimension. As a kid, I used to believe mirrors were actually viewing portals into other dimensions and the inhabitants were opposites of us or something. A pretty common trope but I think nine year old Lorrie actually believed it.

Tbh, the concept of the 2nd one would work better with doubles compared to Peter and Piper, which might be possible with just one pet.

Anyways, that's all I have on LPS for now, anyone has any questions about my thoughts on certain pets or even some series, then shoot me an ask.

[ruin-a-wedding]

Life at the bar was not dissimilar from that of the blood-drenched underworld, though it generally involved less dead bodies.

But today is not a general day, and the body laying before you on the medical exam table was long past living. The senator is very dead and Meliza stands beside you very, very unhappy.

“What happened?”

The room stinks of the type of death that comes quickly. His vitality did not leave him gradually; the man was alive and then, all at once, he wasn’t. To determine any more than that would take you some time.

“Says they were in the middle of a scene when he went limp,” Meliza answers with a glance over her shoulder at Doc and the pale-faced nurse waiting by the entrance.

“Doc’s not gonna like this,” you mutter with your back to the door.

It’s common procedure to do an investigation after patron injury or death, but you and the doctor work in tandem on these cases. Without the full knowledge of your skills, the investigation by someone so many decades younger than Doc will inescapably be read as an insult no matter what they think of you personally.

“They know the rules,” Meliza answers loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “No one goes back in rotation until they’ve been cleared.”

From the doorway Doc grumbles beneath their breath before taking off in the direction of the basement stairs. After a moment of indecision the nurse follows after her superior in a show of solidarity, leaving the two of you to speak freely.

“What about the body?”

Meliza sighs.

“It would be a scandal if he was seen here alive.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Find me in the lounge when you’re done,” she orders before turning to leave.

Cleanups like this were tiring work before your injury, and, despite some of your strength returning in the fourteen months that have passed since your arrival, you know that what’s about to happen will take weeks to recover from. Nevertheless, the life you owe to Meliza is worth more to you than your comfort.

Placing a hand on his oiled, hairless chest you begin massaging small circles directly above his heart. The man is in his 60s and balding, but his chest is fairly muscular. You push away thoughts of what the Saint-James family would pay for a specimen like this.

Reanimation takes longer than usual, indicating some potential weakness of the heart. Your hypothesis is further confirmed by the smooth way the blood moves through his veins, often a sign of blood thinners. His heartbeat returns, weakly, and the corpse’s eyes flicker open. With his signal you begin singing the prayer passed down to you through generations:

“On your heart ceas’d, let mine beat in’t stead. (Tell me, dear one, who has done it?) On your last breath, may you use’t to speak. (Help me, belov’d, to find your peace.)] On the world rests, may you again wake. I speak to and because: a witness for the dead.”

The revenant’s lungs rattle as it answers you in the language of the dead, confirming your thoughts but also filling in information of its own. When it finishes recounting the circumstances of its death you bring a scalpel to the artery on the side of its neck; it stings as if you’re holding the blade to your own skin, but you power through the sensation. Blood sprays from it as you continue to manipulate the heart until it lacks the blood needed to sustain a beat.

Clean white room now painted red, you can’t help but observe the way rivulets of blood run down the tiled wall before pooling at your feet. Sanguimancy is a skill separate from your magic, its practice forbidden by the Corbeaus. Those capable of blood reading, however, have little say in when the knowledge strikes them. Truth lies where blood is spilled, and a Sanguine cannot defy its call.

[uselessboss]

Ente & Vivre's Story (Chapter 6)

It was Saturday. The Kindergarten was closed, which meant that there was no activities planned for today so she opted to dress more casually.

“Well, that's not quite right, I still have to help Ente today.”

After her brief experience with being put in charge some days prior she decided to take a more “proactive role” and requested Ente to allow her to have a more “hands-on" practice so she could learn how to properly assist him in his duties.

It has been 2 days since then. So far, and besides some minor hiccups, she was doing better than expected, although she could chalk it up in part(or maybe mostly) to everyone being so kind and accommodating to her. The children were well mannered and nice enough to laugh off any mishaps from her part and Ente has been an excellent teacher, giving her detailed explanations, making sure he cleared any questions she had and gently and patiently correcting for any mistakes. She could see why the little ones trusted him so much.

"I wonder if Ente will make breakfast today" Her stomach automatically growled at the thought of Ente's cooking, making her blush in embarrasment. "W-Well, his schedule is quite packed on Saturdays if I'm not mistaken, so it's not like he HAS to do it"

Despite her words her feet automatically took her to the kitchen where she was greeted by the familiar sight of Ente humming a soft melody as he worked his magic, which in today's case seemed to be a fluffy looking cake taken straight from the oven, its delicate smell permeating the whole room, making her nose tingle pleasantly with its delicious aroma.

"Good Morning Miss Swan!" Greets Ente as he places the cake over a cooling rack.

"Good Morning Ente."

Somehow, before she became aware of it, having breakfast with Ente became routine to her.

"It feels nostalgic."

It wasn't like she never had a meal with another, because she had. It was just that it has been a long time since it meant something more than "eating food together", when to her it was a precious time to spend together in company of a loved one.

Although calling Ente a "loved one" might have been a bit of a stretch.

He was... "Something", although what, she wasn't sure yet.

"You came in time. I just finished making our breakfast"

The breakfast table looked like something out of a painting displayed in art gallery: A basket full of golden toasts prepared with an assortment of herbs and olive oil, the freshly baked cake being placed on top of a stainless steel stand and a beautiful tea set she recognized from belonging to Ente's personal collection displayed as the centerpiece to complete the whole ensemble.

"What would you like to have first?"

Her eyes zero in the cake.

"The cake"

She couldn't help it, she was itching to have a bite of the goods as soon as she got a whiff of it, the aroma was honestly too tantalizing.

"Wait one moment as I prepare tea for you"

Ente prepared her tea just like he did last time: Measuring it with practiced ease, gently dumping the contents of the spoon in the middle of the teapot's compartment with a graceful flicker of his wrist and then pouring the steaming water in slow, precise and fluid movements, all undoubtedly important steps to bring the absolute best attributes of the beverage.

"It smells nice"

It was rich and deep, but not overpowering so. It intertwined with the delicate tones of the cake in an unique synesthetic experience, a preview of what their taste would be like, both together and individually, teasing and stirring her curiosity even more.

"Here we go"

She looks at the offered cup of amber liquid with an intrigued look.

That spectacle wasn't just for putting a show was it? It had to have another purpose, that was what her gut feeling told her.

Following an unknown impulse she decided to allow herself to be guided by the fluttering aromas in the air so despite her previous eagerness to have cake she decided to take a sip of the tea first.

"It has a fruity flavor?" She noted with surprise as the aroma seemed to lean more on the side of truffles.

"Now try the cake"

She did as she was told and took a bite from her cake.

"Oh? Is that granola?" She chewed it slowly to better savor it, the cake basically melting in her tongue with how soft it was. "And I think I can also detect a hint of honey?"

"You have a sharp paladar Miss Swan" Ente's face lits up, elated to have her recognize the flavor.

"He looks like a puppy" Vivre chuckles internally as she takes another sip of the tea, her eyes widening in astonishment as the flavor completely changed. "Hazelnut?"

"Yup! Isn't that amazing? You can taste it because the cake has a similar flavor profile. which is why it makes the hazelnut flavor in the tea more proeminent!"

=0-0-0-0-0

"...Are my eyes too swollen?" She asks in worry.

"Hum... Just a little bit

"I knew it, it looks weird doesn't it?" She frets, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, it's barely noticeable Miss Swan, no one is going to notice it"

Currently they were waiting in front of the Kindergarten for the groceries supplies of the week to be delivered.

"I think I see them" Ente waves. "Hello! Good morning everyone!"

"Good Morning to you too Miller." One of the drivers of the truck greets back as he exits the seat. "Oh? I see you are with someone today, who is this?"

"She's Miss Swan, she will be aiding me as a "temporary helper" in the kindergarten"

"Pleased to make your acquaitance"

"Likewise young lady" The man gave a boisterous laughter. "I hope you decide to become a permanent helper because God knows this lad needs one"

"Geez, you guys worry too much"

"No, he's not" A man from another truck pass by as he carries a crate in his arms. "Seriously Miller, one day we are going to find you collapsed on the floor from overwork."

"I told you, I'm fine. You are such worrywarts! There's no need to fuss over me like that, I know how to care of myself!" Ente pouts, cheeks puffing out like a squirrel.

"Pfff-"

"Miss Swan?"

She laughed at the exchange.

"S-Sorry for laughing" She tries to quell her giggling fit. "It's just... It was the first time I saw you pout. It was kind endearing"

Ente carried a heavy weight over his shoulders- From his responsabilities at the Kindergarten, looking after the well being of a complete stranger like her or keeping at bay the unknown burdens in his heart, he carried too much. So it felt nice to see him like that, being able to act silly for once.

"Not you too Miss Swan. I thought you would pick my side"

"You thought wrong. Did you forget what you once said Ente? That we were "Mortal Enemies"?" She fires back in jest.

"You are right. I should know better. It was just a question of time before you would backstab me"

"Is that an inside joke between you two?" One of the delivery crew asks, raising an eyebrow at the strange exchange.

"Who knows" Ente shrugs his shoulders.

Who knows indeed.

"...You don't need to store those yet Miss Swan. I need to wash them first. The fruits, vegetables and herbs for spices, those you can leave aside"

"Got it"

It was the first task of the day: To sort and store the perishables in their respective places inside the fridge.

"What about the rest?"

"It should be fine to leave the rest as it is for now." Ente instructs. "Next should be the laundry. The sooner we put them to wash the sooner we can hang them up to dry."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"... So Ente?"

"Yes?"

"You said we should take care of the laundry right? So why are we sorting through the toys now?"

"I also wash the plushies, but before I put them inside the washing machine I check their condition so if there's anything broken or that needs a fixing I put them aside to take home so Saramsrein can look it over"

"Unr- I mean, "he" fixes them?"

"And he's very skilled at it too"

It was still somewhat weird and bizarre for her how Ente had the literal demon of immortality do menial tasks for him like it was no big deal.

"While I go through the toys can I trouble you to pick the sheets, covers and blankets? Ah! From the infirmary and your room as well"

"Of course"

She didn't think much about it until now because Ente made it seem so easy and effortless but...

"I wash the leaves carefully and after I'm done I leave them to dry in a rack. Moisture leads to the proliferation of bacteries and fungi so it's important to leave them as clean and as dry as possible so I also make sure to clean the containers they were stored in and pad the inside with paper towels too"

"That's... A lot to go through" She stares the crates next to Ente. Did he wash all of that by himself?

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to help me with this specific task"

"Ah! I didn't mean to-"

" No. That's not it. What I meant was that the leaves are easy to damage so it might be better if I handle it as I am already experienced with this task"

"Oh. Understood then"

"I probably said this before but for herbs and spices I tend to pre chop them and store them in the freezer instead of the fridge. It helps to optimize the cooking process during the week."

He really had everything covered down to a T.

"Can I help you with anything else in the meantime?"

"Could you keep track of the time for me then? Warn me when the clocks hits around 11:30 a.m so I can take a break to prepare our meal"

"What about If I..."

"Yes?"

"N-Nevermind." She chickens out. "I will make sure to warn you"

"Thank you Miss Swan"

She couldn't believe she almost suggested to cook a meal for him.

Well, not that there was anything wrong with the sentiment, Ente always cooked meals to her so it wouldn't have been strange to want to return the favor, that was not the issue here.

The real problem was what would it reveal about her as a person.

When she thought about Ente's cooking what came to mind was the word "home" with its gentleness and compassion. It was apparent how much zeal and thought he put behind his dishes- From cooking a comfort meal if you are upset, to picking the most nourishing options to improve your health and well being, to making an absolutely amazing meal to give you an enjoyable time. His caring and sweet nature seeped through his actions.

Meanwhile her cooking amounted to a whole piece of nothing as it couldn't be considered neither good or bad. With everything that was going on in her life, like dealing with her personal demons, the malicious strutinity of people wanting to take advantage or bring down both her and Matthias and the missions of the Organization it didn't feel like it was a skill worth polishing. Food for her was just a means to keep her body going, something done out of necessity than enjoyment. She didn't even remember what most of the food she had eaten tasted like, that was how little importance it had to her.

"If I tried to cook something it would surely come out as a sloppy and unappetizing mess."

Yes. It was for the best if she didn't do it.

"Ente, it's past 11:30."

"Oh? Already?" Ente wipes his hands. "Then we better start making the lunch's preparations"

""We"?"

"Yes? Isn't that what you wanted to ask before?To help me with the cooking?"

"W-Well, t-that's..."

Ente was too perceptive for his own good.

"Would it be with you if we did something simple today?"

"Y-Yes. Of course"

"Then pasta it is!"

So that just happened.

"Your clothes might get stained so you can wear my apron" Ente ties the ends of his apron behind her back. "Perhaps it might be a good idea to add an apron to the list of things we need to purchase tomorrow"

She sucked in a strangled breath.

"You can do this Vivre. You deal with absurd, convoluted and complex rituals and supernatural cases on a daily basis, cooking should be easy in comparison!"

"First we have to put the pasta to cook" Ente places a pot filled with water on top of the stove. "Miss Swan could you put the pasta on the pot? Just enough for today's lunch and dinner"

"M-Me?"

"Yes"

She stares at the box of pasta like it was some sort of cursed item.

"Well, he said "enough" so I suppose it means that I shouldn't drop the whole content inside the pot". She tries to reason. "But what would be considered a reasonable amount? It doesn't look like it's that much so it can be kind misleading..."

"Like this?" She grabs half of the package.

"Not a bad amount, but perhaps a little less?"

"Is this amount good?"

"Perfect! Now you can place it on the pot" he nods in approval. "Also don't forget to add a pinch of salt and oil to the water"

"Wouldn't the sauce already have salt? Also why oil?"

"Hum... How should I put this? There are some flavors that only blend well together when its components are made distinct enough to "contribute" to the final piece, which is why seasoning the pasta itself is so important: To bring enough of its flavor to match the sauce"

"I see. I guess it makes sense"

"As for the oil it's because this way the pasta won't stick to each other"

"Understood. Thank you for answering my questions'

"No problem. Feel free to ask me anything if you aren't sure ok?"

Cooking wasn't as scary as she thought.

Then again, it was because Ente was the one teaching her.

"To chop onions you make horizontal cuts that follow these lines here" he briefly traces the line and then change his hand's placement to show the next step. "Curl your fingers like this for the criss cross chopping in a way that makes the side of the knife rest against your knuckles. This way you won't have to worry about accidentally cutting yourself"

"Got it" she nodded as she took the knife from his hand and carefully did as he had demonstrated.

"Good. Now you can do the same with the garlic."

"Would 2 cloves suffice?"

"Let's see... I think they are of a good enough size so it should be ok."

"He really was born for this role"

"Make sure that the garlic is golden and the onions are soft before adding in the minced meat"

"Understood"

"After making sure you don't see the "pink" part of the meat anymore you add a pinch of salt" He pauses briefly before adding with a smile. "Think you have the amount figure out Miss Swan?"

"Yes. Let me try"

She was starting to get the hang on how to do it. Perhaps because she was feeling more comfortable and confident now?

"...And after stirring the sauce with the pasta you add the basil and parsley leaves at the end so its flavor stays fresh"

"Let's see... This amount should do right?"

"Perfect! Now we only need to set the table and then we are good to go!"

Who would have thought that one day she would be capable of making something that was actually meant for human consumption?

"It smells nice" Ente hums. "I am looking forward to tasting your cooking Miss Swan"

""My cooking"?"

"Well, yes. I might have given the instructions on how to make it but you were the one to put them in practice. Measuring , chopping and seasoning the ingredients... You did all that.

"When you put it like that..."

Her first "real" meal.

She took a bite.

"That was...!" Her eyes widened, and yet no other word came from her lips. Instead her gaze shifted to Ente as she waited to see his reaction with baited breath.

"It's delicious!" Ente chirped. "Just like I thought... No, like I KNEW it would be"

"Well, you helped me after all"

"Oh no. The praise was meant 100% for you Miss Swan. I could tell how much effort, care and dedication you put into it. You didn't cut any corners nor did things without consideration. You always made sure to check beforehand if you got everything right and was incredibly humble during your learning process, making sure to ask questions if you were unsure about something and trying to follow instructions as closely as possible. You are a very dependable person"

Thump. Thump.

"Y-You have quite the silver tongue, don't you Ente?"

"I'm not trying to give you empty compliments, I mean it."

"Ah... You are truly..."

It made her so happy.

"...I think it might a bit dull for you to wait until I finish my task so could I ask you to store the rest of the supplies?"

"Of course"

"The storage room is close to the fridges. The inside is split by sections with plaques with listed items and labels on the shelves and containers so you can easily identify what goes where"

"It doesn't cease to surprise me how organized and tidy you are"

"Knowing how to be as efficient as possible is important when you work with a tight schedule after all."

"Ah. That's right, I keep forgetting it, but he does everything by himself."

During the week he runs the Kindergarten, planning activities for the children, playing with them, making meals and watching over the little ones until the closing hours(sometimes going very late at night) while during the weekends he did the laundry, maintenance, restocking of supplies, preparations for the week and tidying up of the place in general. He was a textbook example of a hardworker.

His passion and dedication towards fullfiling his goals was nothing short of admirable and to be able to witness that with her own eyes has been a incredibly humbling experience for her. It made her realize how arrogant she was.

She always acted as if she was entitled to her revenge, completely disregarding whether Ente had goals and dreams of his own and judging, through self-serving and conceited lenses, that her vindictiveness was worth more than his life.

What a fool.

She was so fixated in her goal that she missed what would have been lost in the process. Death wasn't something to be taken light of, there are consequences for taking someone's life.

"... I finished storing everything"

"Thank you Miss Swan. I also just finished things here"

"Do you have more pending tasks Ente?"

"Besides storing the fruits and vegetables after they are ready I guess that there's the cleaning of the Kindergarten itself like wiping desks, chairs and windows as well as vacuuming, sweeping and moping the floors."

"... I see"

"Is there something the matter Miss Swan?"

"...Do you mind if I ask you a question Ente?"

"Not at all, what is it?"

"Is there a reason to why you work alone?"

"I guess old habits are hard to shake off"

"Old habits?"

"My family was being hunted and we were in hiding. My father worked hard to throw our pursuers off our trail by acting as a bait to lure people away so I could get a chance of having a "normal life" and I didn't want to waste his efforts so I pushed people away" Ente's voice goes quiet. "I was also... Scared of forming bonds with others and getting them involved in our mess. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I got them hurt, or worse, dead for being unfortunate enough for crossing paths with me"

She was so pathetic.

She always painted herself as the pitiful one, the wronged party, but the truth was that there was no such thing as "fairness" between the hunter and the hunted. Failure only meant a small inconvenience for her as it didn't really hinder others aspects of her life while to Ente it would mean losing everything. She only needed to win once while he could never win, even if he managed to escape, as the chased, he would have to watch his back forever.

"From the start, and even before we found him, we already ruined his life"

"...Can I ask you one last question Ente?"

"Yes. Go ahead"

"What would happen If I... Killed you?"

"I wonder..." Ente ponders in contemplative tone. "Life is made of dreams so If I were to die then I guess those dreams I carry within me would die as well"

"What kind of dreams do you have?"

"Dreams of passing forward all the love and care I received. Dreams of watching children growning up happily in a good environment. Dreams of carrying the wishes of everyone who helped me come this far, of my family who had to endure and sacrifice so much for my sake, I want to honor their dreams as well."

"Those are some nice dreams"

"Do you have dreams of your own Miss Swan?"

"I..."

Did she have one? A wish to connect her to the future?

She never thought about it before or perhaps she has been avoiding thinking about it all along, but had she ever considered what would come "after"?

Was she even planning to "live" after getting her revenge?

'Another one commited suicide'

'One of the children of the victims' of Euryale's wrath right?'

A body swayed slowly as it hanged limply in the air.

'Poor child, with nothing left to live they could only find solace in death. How tragic'

So young... Even younger than her...

As she stared at the corpse in front of her she couldn't help but fixate on the noose around their neck.

It made her wonder...

"...Iss S...an"

How would it feel to have it around her neck?

"MISS SWAN!"

A strong grip brought her back from her dark musings.

"...Ente?"

"Are you ok?"

"Y-Yes."

"Thank goodness." Ente sighs is visible relief.

He was still holding her.

"Ah! S-Sorry!" Ente steps back in a fluster.

"No. It's ok"

His touch was grounding.

"Just like when we first met"

Ente truly was...

"...Say Ente?"

"H-Huh?"

"Can I make a request to you?"

[chaoticrebels]

✩༺♥༻✩ ━ ❝ "You bloody idiot!" It was strange, seeing the usually quietly meek and soft spoken little dormouse raising her voice to anyone - much less someone who could kill her (and almost had when they first met).

But she was. Her face flushed red in her frustration with the exotically beautiful Elf Prince, her petite and soft hands clenched so tightly they were trembling at her sides. "Were you TRYING to get yourself killed!?! What would you have done if I hadn't gotten here in time to save your life?!"

Well, the answer to that was simple wasn't it? He probably would have just been dead. As it was, his blood had splattered on the ground, painting it like an oil painting gone wrong. It had taken much of her energy to draw the life magic from the ground to seal his wounds, so much so she finally chocked out a gasp and dropped to her knees beside him. "Please never do that again, Ki. You are someone I never want to lose." ❞

✪ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ 。゜ ⠀ ★ Answered » { Layla }

✦ —   * ⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀﹕⠀ ❪ @ofwondersandhares ❫

It was just another mission, like any of them before. Just more dangerous, which in retrospect should've been left to someone else. Not the prince, not when the price of failing was death. And his bodyguard had argued as much because he had a bad feeling but Kimo didn't listen to the pleas, just snuck away because he was confident in his skills and there was no secret to why because he had the target within an inch of their life as they spilled the information he was after but then he was betrayed. And while the elf could have easily gotten out of there, he wanted revenge. Especially when he could hear the taunting, yet that was a mistake on his part because it was a trap, he should have waited but emotions were running high and he reacted without thinking which was stupidity on his part. Because now the roles were reversed for a bit until they messed up at the sound of an unexpected arrival, giving him a moment to turn invisible and using his magic to do what was needed to escape before falling into a pool of his own blood. Becoming visible once more when he was alone, his natural form on display as laid there dying.

Which was a strange feeling to experience, the pain midst the bitterness of knowing it was the end and you'll never experience certain things. But there was a calm acceptance that made it kinda a serene moment for him, even if this wasn't his ideal ending. And then that moment was interrupted when his colorful hues locked on a familiar moment, which only caused his lips to curve upwards. But his smile fell at the yelling, at the name calling. And if it was almost anyone else, he would have made them regret it despite his current situation. Instead he just listened to her yelling at him, until he pushed himself up off the ground and cupped her cheeks. ❝Mousey..❞ The prince voiced out in a soft breath, thumbs running up and down her redden skin before he let go and was instantly on the ground again because holding himself in standing position was draining him faster. ❝No, not at all but I knew the risks. I'm not afraid of dying, to die would be an awfully big adventure. I just wanted revenge, to shut up the person who betrayed me. I just underestimated the idiot, which is on me. And isn't it a bit obvious what would happen if you didn't show up, I would be dead.❞ Given the fact the ground was painted with his blood, her cheeks even sported his blood now and that caused him to give her a sheepish grin.

And before he could protest, she was healing him. Which this time he didn't get startled but he did frown, only because he couldn't imagine how much energy she had just used to do so. A concerned frown gracing his features as Layla dropped down next to him, listening to her ask him nicely to not do it again, listening to her confess she didn't want to lose him. And in response, Kimo repositioned himself. Tempted to channel his magic to help her out in return but he didn't feel like putting his bioluminescence on display in this condition, plus he didn't know if he had the energy to channel either the light or dark magic after using it earlier during his escape. Instead he cupped her cheeks once more as he pressed his forehead against hers, almost tempted to kiss her but that thought caused him to blush.

❝Oh Mousey, I promise I'll be more careful. But don't you know that no matter what happens Layla, you'll never truly lose me. I'll always be with you.❞ And that wasn't exactly a lie because in a way, he always would be. But luckily for now, it was while he was breathing and while he didn't know he life span, his species lived far longer than the creatures that inhabited this planet.

[dnangelic]

( oh ? ... i don't know about that . ) the words ring out slowly through his mind , and it rashes ; develops a bothering itch that has him speaking out before he even realizes it . ' even if they do , everything still belongs to the artist --- ' a flush , and then he hesitates . ' i mean , a thing is just a thing . when people's feelings end up imbued into an artwork , then sometimes , it can seem like it's come to life ... ' from the likes of the snow queen and idea to insomnia and argentine , he had experienced it over and over by now --- artworks that seemed to be alive , that birthed all sorts of thoughts and feelings of their own , in tandem with the past's . if nothing else , there were his own father's precious words : ' magic is born out of people's hearts ... or at least , that's how it's supposed to work where i'm from . if something like a portrait really does end up having a mind of its own , isn't it only because someone else gave those feelings to them ? '

the flower trades between their hands , and he smiles . it was the first time too that anybody had ever gasped like that called him --- not just his other , but even him in tandem , amazing . the immediate leap of his heart once more morphs him ; he stares at the passing setting with his own mesmerized wonder . a red dress and a yellow flower , as well as the deep , deep black of live soot in a dim , elegant room --- everything was beautiful , and he indulges for as long as he can . ' meaning ... ' never once had he thought of it in that way . after all , someone like him was controlled so expressly by his most natural feelings , that if there had ever been any sort of meanings , then they had likewise been carried and wholly believed in as unconsciously as the rest . still , wouldn't it have been nice to give meaning to anything that had been decided meaningless by others ? the thought's cut short as kate continues --- it's encouraging , it's a little embarrassing , but her faith and confidence , even her awkward shyness and incredible request , sends his heart immediately into his throat and transforms him again .

' are --- are you sure ?! nobody's ever asked that before , and anyways i ... ' he wanted to paint this scene . the one that he had memorized , of kate and the flower , a sight that would surely haunt him in flashes , memory and its sentimental twinges making every shape and color all that much more rich and luxurious after its steeping . head shakes at the trailing , throwaway end of his words --- ' i mean , if it's really okay , then yes , ' his eyes pinch as elation fills every inch of his expression , ' i'd love to show you my art . '

taking her into someone else's too was little trouble , and when he finally remembers how to walk and move --- ( don't just stand there grinning , you idiot , or i'll take over and take kate in myself ! ) kate's already buzzed and hurried about the room . his arms open out to her , more than somewhat shyly . if he wasn't careful , his heart would ... no , it would be fine --- he could at least control himself this much when it mattered ! and no matter how afraid he was of the idea , she wouldn't think he was gross or a creep for having to touch her just a little bit , right ?!

' please ... excuse me , ' he shuts his eyes even as he can feel dark grinning , pushing on his back , sallying their arms forth in order to gently lift kate , depositing her --- through the frame , into its field ; yet another world , guided and allowed by the magic of the black wings . ' i should stay on this side to be able to bring you back once you're finished , but how is it ? '

even from here , the caressing winds , the field of flowers and sun-lit wheat stretching on for miles without a single building or live soul in sight seemed to be the epitome of freedom . even if it was an oil-lamp lit dusk-night within the manor , it still seemed bright and sunny day within the portrait . was it warm , then ? just as comfortable and faint-scented as it looked ? ' ... if you ask me , i think it's a really nice painting . i only wonder where it's supposed to be --- if anywhere , really . '

ㅤㅤ" WHEN you put it that way, it gives Kate the impression that the paintings have a mind of their own ... " Following that logic, paintings were then essentially the physical manifestation of an artist's mind but how these two were able to interact with a painting was a mystery in itself. No matter the method, the clues seemed to point entirely to Dark who appeared to be the anomaly in this entire situation. It was his only form that was capable of utilizing these abilities after all. So, that would mean Daisuke was the original host of this body and Dark was the true identity of the curse ? Even if that was the case, the idea that Dark was a separate entity felt oddly ... wrong. Were they the same person then ?

ㅤㅤHer mind suddenly flashed back to the concept of unification; the physical and mental union between a shadow and a human but if the circumstances were such then neither Dark or Daisuke would've existed as separate individuals. Perhaps she could ask more about it later. It felt rather inane to compare the rules of the Shadows House to humans from entirely different worlds.

ㅤㅤShe nodded and trailed after Daisuke to witness their abilities first-hand but she couldn't help but notice how suddenly his body had transformed. From the looks of it, he couldn't exactly control his transformation either. Their existences must've been a bit unstable if they were constantly switching back and forth but what was the trigger ? Was it based on their emotions ?

ㅤㅤKate gazed expectantly towards the painting of the meadow, attempting to gauge for any sign of magic of some sort but to no avail -- that is until Daisuke effortlessly reached in to pull out ... a flower. She gasped in disbelief at the sight of the flower and carefully took it into her hands for any signs of superficiality but ... it was essentially lifelike. " ... Kate is amazed. To any other person, the painting is simply a beautiful accent to the room but in your hands, there's life -- perhaps meaning that can be brought forth. " She cautiously reached towards the painting in attempt to touch it herself but it was nothing more than a mere surface for her soot to be smeared on. She drew her hand back with a frown, deciding to leave it alone for now. Kate eventually returned her attention towards Daisuke and shook her head. " Kate understands you just fine. So in short, the artworks need to depict where your destination is ? The logic seems reasonable enough. Kate is certain that if you keep practicing, you'll eventually be able to reach the places you desire with ease. After all, you love art, don't you ? Kate is confident that passion will pay off with enough time and effort. " She found herself lowering her head towards the flower and awkwardly began to fidget with its petals. " ... And, if it means anything, Kate is already quite fond of the drawing you gave her so ... she would enjoy the idea of seeing more of your art in the future. If ... you'd be willing to show Kate, of course. " Even if his skills were at the level of an amateur, the amount of thought and care he put into his paintings was honestly quite endearing and not to mention, he had quite the adorable artstyle so she was rather eager to see more. Kate wasn't much of an artist herself anyways so there wasn't a whole lot for her to judge so as long as she cast aside her own pretentious standards. ( still, it must've been difficult living with a curse that required some form of application to the arts ).

ㅤㅤ" ... Huh ? " Her mind had buffered until she suddenly realized that Daisuke actually made her an offer to take her ... inside the painting ?! " Y - you can take Kate inside the painting ... ?! Kate was actually going to ask about that but she was convinced you were the only one able to go through them ... " She appeared hesitant, uncertain if going on an adventure right now was a good idea ( what if someone came looking for her ? ). But ... this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity ! Perhaps there was no time like now to take this chance !

ㅤㅤKate glanced around the room in a panic, seemingly indecisive about her next move before finally settling with finding the nearest parchment and pen. She scribbled down a quick note for Emilico, just in case she returned before Kate did and left it on the table before returning back to Daisuke -- that is, until she recalled the flower in her hand. She froze, contemplating what she should do with it for a moment before disappearing off into the other room. After some rummaging and the squeak of a faucet, she came out with a miniature vase filled with water and promptly housed the flower before stepping back to admire her handiwork. This time, she was set.

ㅤㅤ" ... Kate gives her apologies. " She finally made her way back over to Daisuke. " If it's alright with you ... Kate would like to experience it for herself. "