#never acted like a stereotypical bard a day in their life!

[criticalfai1ure]

edgin is a multi class bard/rogue who doesn’t know he has spell slots – WRONG. if ed multi classes at all it’s as a paladin/bard who forgot his spellcasting was something he’d had before he’d ever become a harper.

[breadraccoon]

Background Info: The Tale of a Songbird and a Stag

Here is some tidbit of information for a fic I just posted (the fic in question): You don't have to read this to understand it. There is a spoiler for the fic below, but it’s sectioned off at the end. It's for those curious about the lore around my ghostflower fantasy Au

There is talks about structural racism and how it affects the characters in this fantasy world. They live in a capitalistic society. Oppression and exploitation has to exist. I try my best to be mindful of how I handle these topics. This world runs by more dungeon meshi race rules.

TLDR on this fic's structural racism: Miles lives a model minority life while Gwen is an invisible minority. Invisible minority meaning if she doesn't acknowledges certain things about herself, she has all the advantages and privileges of being a human(tall man). You don't know she is a minority unless she tells you.

Miles is a Tiefling Wizard. Lighting magic is his specialty. He absolutely has a spell to conjure a lightning sword. He’s got a tail with antler shaped horns on his head. His day to day adventuring gear is pretty light. He has a set of light armor, so mostly chainmail and a few small metal plates for his arms and legs. Miles may be a wizard, but he still knows a bit of hand to hand combat and swords work. His father is a royal guardsman. Jefferson made sure Miles knew how to defend himself. His mother, on the other hand, is a clerical healer. Overtime, Miles picked up some stuff from the both of them (His main class is a wizard, but he got some levels in paladin). Like a good dutiful son, Miles often sends letters home updating his parents of his adventures.

All in all, Miles lived a really great childhood despite the fact he and both his parents are all Tiefling. Yes, Tiefling racism still exist in this AU, but Tiefling have no relationship to devil type beings. That's just a false stereotype. Still, Miles was pretty sheltered as a kid. He grew up in a large city-state and spent a lot of time hanging out and playing with his cousins. They’re practically his siblings. Miles always had a strong an affinity to magic. Him going to a magic academy was never in question for his parents. Miles had different feelings about being forced to leave home to go to some academy out in the middle of nowhere. Miles is a city boy. He is not built for the woods.

When he turned 14 he was shipped off to an all boys magic school. Miles learned a lot about wizards. Both the good and the bad, although the academy tries its best to gloss over the role wizards had played in the atrocities against magical creatures and wizard societies historical exclusionary behaviors. The current wizarding world wants to put on a face of more diversity and inclusion. Miles has a very complex feeling about being a wizard. Part of what Miles does on these adventures is take notes and redraws magical creatures in his notebook. He hopes to publish a more nuance and flattering book about magical creatures. Miles wants to dispel a lot of the bias and false information spread from past mages. Fun fact, as a little slight against magic human supremacy, there is a chapter in his notebook about magical humans because fuck human supremacy :)

Anyway, reading old text and pointing out the biases can only bring you so far. So, Miles left home to get more first hand information. That and he had a very eye opening experience with his uncle. He’s not dead, but he is in jail. Aaron had opened his eyes to the disenfranchised lives most Tiefling lives. In a way, Miles is also trying to rewritten Tieflings stories too.

Miles departure from home first leads him a small town just outside his home. There he comes across a sole act bard, Gwen. They first meet in a tavern where she is sing and playing the lyre for money, but they truly first meet when Gwen saves Miles from getting robbed. Miles falls in love pretty instantly, but he doesn't push his feels on to Gwen. Rather he tells Gwen his dreams over a drink and that's when Gwen decides to join him on his adventures. A mixture of Miles's charm, ambitions, and his naivety to the outside world is what convince her. She doesn't want to see this earnest mage get hurt.

Over the years, many people come and go from their team, but Gwen always stays by his side. Miles comes to rely on Gwen in a way that makes him feel safe and supported whenever she is around. He knows she will always have his back and he does his best to do the same for her. While they aren't a couple, everyone the meet treat them as such. Including his parents who have met Gwen. Overall, Miles wishes people would stop doing that. It's funny at first, but Miles doesn't want Gwen to feel pressured into a relationship. Miles is a sweet, kind heart guy who doesn't expect his feels to eventually be reciprocate. Falling in love and having a family are an eventually for him, but he wants his partner to also want those things to. If Gwen doesn't come to want those things on her own, Miles will move on. It would hurt but Miles knows what he wants. It a matter of how will he get there.

Now Gwen! She is a bard because musician. Gwen can play a variety of instruments, most often playing the lyre because that make her the most money. But Gwen's true calling in instruments are ones that are more rhythmic. She has a voice like a songbird. Like any bard, she can pair magic with her music for attacks or to amplifying her teammates. Gwen has light leather armor. She very strong at hand to hand combat and pretty deadly with a knife. But overall, Gwen generally tries her best to avoid fighting and has very strict no killing rule.

As for Gwen’s childhood it was a bit rough around the edges. Her mom caught a plague sickness and died when Gwen was 7. After that, Gwen and her father's relationship grew to become strained. He was a very strict, paranoid man. They often moved a lot because of his job. George was a bounty hunter. Gwen never had any long term friends growing up because of this. But her knack for music helped her form bonds with others quite easily. At some point in her teens she had a falling out with her Dad which lead her to part ways with him. She has not seen him since.

She traveled alone for a bit but was taken in by the family of an old friend she had made in her childhood. For a couple of years, she lived with Peter and his aunt. Peter introduced her to his other friend Harry. Harry was an wizard in training. Peter, on the other hand, was working on becoming a paladin. Peter and Harry all had goals of becoming well renowned heroes. Gwen, as much as she wanted to be a hero too, she also just wanted to go where ever Petter and Harry went because they had become her found family. So Gwen learned to channel magic through her music so she could be helpful. Before they could set out together, tragedy struck. Peter mysteriously died. Gwen was falsely blamed. All this led to Harry and her having a huge falling out. In the end, Gwen had to skip town and was back to traveling alone again.

Gwen spent a long time on her own after that. Partially because she was trying to hide from her past. Partially because she was self-punishing herself for the role she played in Peter’s death. So, Gwen shutted out the world. She became a hollow shell of a person. It wasn’t until she came across a helpless, lost wizards, Miles, that Gwen started to open herself up to others. Miles taught her to slow down and to enjoy the little moment. That adventure wasn't just the ending but the journey too. But most of all, Miles made Gwen feel loved in a way she had never felt before. Gwen loves him back, but she’s scare her secret will turn him away. So Gwen tries her best to shove her feels into a box and tries to ignore them (It doesn't work). Gwen only wants the best for Miles. She has a hard time dealing with these feels.

Spoilers for the fic below. There are some extra details about a character and reading this removes the big surprise:

So yeah, Gwen is a harpy. Gwen’s dad, George, is also a harpy. There are many types of Harpies. Gwen's family falls better under the classification of a fury. Fury is a religion and kind of harpy, if that makes sense. They have a very strong sense of justice. They fall into the hawk-people category of human hybrids. They have barbed wings and hawk like feet. While the patterning of feathers can vary from fury to fury, Gwen and George have feathers spanning most of their back, all of their shoulder, and little of there upper arms and upper chest. They also have feathers from the knee down. Their feathers vary from a golden yellow to a bronze color.

You know how I said George was a bounty hunter, well he hunts magical creature poachers. He's a little of a punisher type guy. That's part of the reason why his relationship with Gwen turns sour. Gwen’s mother was a normal human. She only found out about her husband true nature after Gwen was born. Helen Stacy was very surprised by her daughter's wings and feet. Although she wished George was honest from the start, she still loved both George and Gwen.

Furies like Gwen and her father have been binding their wings and feet for the better part of a century. Gwen got started when she was an infant. There are very few fury left and none freely walk as themselves. The killings of furies were way more systemic and pushed for by governments than the world like to remember.

This made Fury assimilated into human society. Most of the newest generation can’t fly. They may not cut off their wings, but they don’t have the muscles strength to take off from the ground. They don't know their own culture either. The language they once spoke is practically dead. Many only feel like they are furies by blood and by blood alone. Otherwise they identify as humans, more specially tall men, because that how people see them and that how they live their lives as.

Also, if you’re wondering why most don’t cut off their wings, it is because it doesn’t fix anything. They still can’t see a doctor. They have scare tissue on their backs. Plus, fathom pains. Plus, it messes up the development of muscles in their back and sometimes lead to spine issues. It’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.

Well this was longer than expected. About three pages, lol. I am not turning this is into a 100k word fic. But if this is anything, this can give you an idea of how in depth of a background I give to characters.

[bi-bard]

sharing my coming out story because it's pride [and because i don't think it's on here]

Hi.

My name is Kyli aka bi-bard. As my username suggests, I am bisexual. I have been out publicly for a good number of years now, but my coming out story actually occurred before I started posting my writing on tumblr.

So. In honor of pride month, I wanted to share my coming out story.

I realized that I was bisexual in middle school. I was scared and confused. I had never truly questioned my sexuality before then. But once I started to do that, I couldn't get myself to stop.

I have been very fortunate in my life. I come from a family where I know that the people who matter the most to me would accept me no matter what. I was luckier than most and I am entirely aware of that.

However, that knowledge and awareness didn't stop me from being terrified about coming out and telling people who I was. I was still incredibly aware of how people online and those around me a day-to-day basis could act and think. I wasn't sure if I would be safe in the community that I had to be a part of due to where I lived or in the community that I had found such comfort in on the internet.

So, that fear kept me pretty quiet for a while.

I came out to a few friends at the time, who were also part of the community.

I would like to focus more on my family than anything else.

I came out to my older sibling first. I was met with a huge smile and a request to tell one of their friends. My older sibling also helped me when it came to coming out to my parents.

My original plan was to give each of my parents a letter.

I slipped my dad's letter in his jacket that he took to work at the time. I didn't think he'd find it until he was at work the next morning.

That didn't happen. He found it while he was in the driveway.

I was getting ready for school and he knocked on my door and told me that he accepted me and loved me. I had to sit in my room for about twenty minutes so I could calm down and stop crying.

Along with that acceptance, he asked that I don't give my mom a letter.

So, I didn't.

That night, I came out to my mom. I was crying and shaking and it was not a fun experience. She was also incredibly accepting and we ended up having a really great discussion about how sad it was that I had to be in tears in order to tell her.

Unrelated note: my goal is still to get my mom to watch Nick's coming out scene with his mom in Heartstopper because that shit was almost a direct translation.

My final step in my coming out journey was the internet. As mentioned, I was already writing on Wattpad at the time. I sat with this quick draft open for ages before I finally got the nerve to post it. Those who did respond to it were incredibly kind and incredibly accepting.

My hope with sharing this story is to provide some comfort for people.

Coming out is scary no matter the situation. You could have the most accepting people around you, but that doesn't change the internal fear. You are not alone in that fear and you are not dumb or overreacting for experiencing.

You get to decide the timeline that your coming out journey follows. You get to decide who to tell and when to tell them. If you feel pressured into coming out to anyone around you, then you are around the wrong people.

And finally, you are not defined by the stereotypes of your sexuality. You are not defined by how others use those stereotypes to shame, fetishize, demean, or reject you. You are an individual with a million and one different pieces and your sexuality is only one of them.

Thank you for reading this whole message. Thank you those who have followed me and accepted me as who I am.

I love you, I support you, and I wish you the best of luck in whatever your self-discovery brings next.

Happy Pride!!

[pesterloglog]

Cronus Ampora, Meenah Peixes

Act 6, page 5308

CRONUS: wvell vwell wvelvlw...

MEENAH: ...

CRONUS: GLO8ES.

MEENAH: wha

#38?

CRONUS: i sawv you vwalking my vway, and i had this smooth line all ready to go.

CRONUS: but for some reason i decided to open it vwith a tongue tvwister?

CRONUS: vwery nice ampora, starting your killer line with three consecutivwe 'W' vwords in a rowv.

#W's are hard #theyre hard and no one understands #(V's too)

MEENAH: what uh

MEENAH: was your killer pickup line goin to be

MEENAH: or should i ask

#no

CRONUS: sigh, nevwer evwen MIND, its so ruined nowv.

#just nevwer EVWEN

CRONUS: i just sawv you strutting in my direction, vwith all of your impressivwe moxy and confidence, for the first time in, howv long?

CRONUS: and i got a little excited. i vwas going to blowv you out of the vwater vwith that line, but, i guess nothings changed?

MEENAH: guess not

MEENAH: sounds like youre still the bard of tries too hard

CRONUS: oh, nice. you alvways knewv howv to tvwist the fork.

CRONUS: actually, all you girls are quite adept at tvwisting your respectivwe utensils.

#utensilkind

CRONUS: the guys too, now that i think about it. can i ask you a question? why do all you pretentious scenester types enjoy being so cruel to especially sensitivwe and artistic people?

MEENAH: so i take it even after a billion sweeps here with a boat load of eligible spook shorties to mack on

MEENAH: you still never got any action

CRONUS: first you tvwist the fork, then you use it to pry into my personal life? thats really just so svwell of you, meenah.

CRONUS: vwithout commenting specifically on that, (because seriously, VWHAT? so rude), i vwill say that it gets vwery frustrating after the first fewv epochs trying to make heads or tails vwhat people are evwen LOOKING for. i mean, in ANY quadrant.

CRONUS: nowv, please don't tell anyone i said so, but you and i both knowv pretty much all these people should feel honored to go out vwith a guy like me.

CRONUS: vwhat being royalty and all, and not evwen slightly put off by dating dowvn on the spectrum. i mean, really, howv much more evwident can i make it to evweryone that im really a cool, progressivwe, easy going dude, vwho doesnt take the social order seriously or buy into any of the stereotypes? first of all, as if the hemospectrum scene isnt 8EYOND played out.

#you should be sticking your fork in THAT

CRONUS: i barely EVWER evwen bring up my high social status. it couldnt be LESS of a big deal to me, but i think people maybe are still intimidated by it? theyre probably putting me on a pedestal, in spite of all my easy going assurances that my royal lineage is something i nevwer evwen think about. like, no friend, i am just like you. vwe laugh at the same jokes, listen to, vwell, to some extent, the same music...

#i at least USED to listen to music you like #does that count?

CRONUS: all these cats and kittens, im telling you. theyre alvways drawvn to the freaks and rejects. you havwe to be 8ROKEN in some vway to get a little concupiscent attention.

#cats #kittens #freaks #rejects #broken

CRONUS: they nevwer seem to givwe the time of day to a guy vwhos sensitivwe, and listens to people, and sticks to his poetry and music, and i guess... just someone vwho tries to be there for them.

#sensitivwe #listens #poetry #music #there for them

CRONUS: hovwevwer, the bright side of my vwarious rejections is that is has helped me craft a privwate list of people vwho are objectivwely fucking terrible, vwhich id be happy to share vw...

CRONUS: meenah? vwhered you go?

CRONUS: crud, she vwalked avway vwhile i vwas saying stuff.

CRONUS: really blewv that one in record time.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Listening to a wokie fuckhead go on and on about how dare we put Shakespeare on still because….ummm….racism….sexism…Umm wolf shit? These unfucking cultured swines honestly need to fuck off they don’t have the fucking brain power for it.

“It is a tale; full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

-– Macbeth

There's a profound irony in these pseudo-intellectuals and their extremely shallow takes on the Bard. They come from the same outrage mob mentality prevalent on Twitter, where the objective is to actively find a problem or invent a way to be offended, whether it's there or not, whether it's intended or not (Problematization).

Of course, these are the smooth-brains who insist that CRT is just about "teaching history" (it's not; or alternatively, is an obscure legal framework, which nobody is teaching - they can never decide which Motte to retreat to), and then proceed to get To Kill A Mockingbird removed because of the racism present in a compelling portrayal of history.

For people who declare themselves to be the most enlightened and awake of us all, aware of the invisible nuances the rest of us miss, they have only a few superficial dot-points cherry-picked from the stories, missing or ignoring the point entirely.

Othello is arguably one of the earliest examinations of racism; the lead and protagonist is the dark guy, not the white guy who's manipulating him. And when he succumbs to resentment, things go tragically wrong and there's no going back. A lesson the activist elite among us could well learn.

The Taming of the Shrew is literally a farce, and almost everyone in it is a terrible person doing terrible things; you’re not supposed to admire them. It’s like “Ruthless People”. It's the "shrew" herself who is the sympathetic character. In Macbeth, it's Lady Macbeth who motivates and pulls the strings of the entire thing, exercising her power and influence over her husband. (It actually reminds me, without the machiavellian aspects, of how Obama bragged that he ran every presidential decision by Michelle, effectively giving her the power of the Presidency; without the credit for success, but also with immunity to the consequences for failure. Women have always held power and influence, even when it wasn't in formal seats, in many ways more than the men who acted on their behalf.)

Romeo and Juliet is literally about two people who die directly as a result of tribalism and their families' inability to put aside old disputes.

https://www.magicalquote.com/60-life-lessons-from-william-shakespeare-quotes/

https://brightdrops.com/shakespeare-quotes

https://www.buzzfeed.com/sarahgalo/happy-451st-birthday-to-the-bard

Across all his works, one of the most consistent lessons is that people are complicated and flawed, because that is humanity. People can do good in their own way, and others who have good intentions can do bad things by circumstance, misunderstanding or manipulation. This is unforgivable to Wokistanians, as they hold fast to two-dimensional stereotypes and cliches. In order to sustain a war of "us vs them" collectivism based on superficial attributes, the individual must be kept at arm's length. It cannot and does not deal with an individual except through membership in its power categories.

Another is that of personal responsibility, which is outright rejected in preference to exalted helplessness in the face of a numinous "system," requiring wholesale emancipatory insurrection.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

-- Julius Caesar

It's ironic in an almost Shakespearean way, that the people who could most stand to learn from Shakespeare are the shrill scolds who reject him.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

-- A Midsummer Night's Dream

"This above all; to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

-- Hamlet

"Reputation is an idle and most false imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserving."

-- Othello

“Strong reasons make strong actions.”

-- King John

“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.”

-- All's Well That Ends Well

[jaskierswolf]

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 3/6  (1, 2 - 4)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

CW specific for this chapter: voyeurism, exhibitionism, Dandelion/female OC, sex work. (Can you guess what happens?)

Summary: There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.

The arrangement, as Dandelion had begun to think of it, was working well. With his ballads gaining popularity over the continent, his coin purse was beginning to fill out. Not that it stopped them from sharing rooms at inns, but occasionally he or Geralt would actually manage to visit a brothel to sate their needs. Masturbation was wonderful but even that was a short term solution. Occasionally one just needed to good tumble in the sheets, and Dandelion always made sure he paid for the night. He enjoyed the afterglow of sex just as much as the act itself, and even though he was paying them, he enjoyed waking up in his lover’s arms, but mostly the pair of them got each other off in the mornings or just before bed, whenever the need arose, and if they had the coin they’d visit a brothel. It worked for them.

The life of a witcher and that of a travelling bard did share one thing in common.

It wasn’t easy to settle down.

And honestly, neither of them wanted to. Geralt kept bemoaning that witcher’s were not meant for love and family, whereas Dandelion’s wanderlust seemed to bleed through into matters of the heart. How anyone could be happy with just one lover, he would never understand. There were so many beautiful people out there just waiting to be adored, it would be a bloody shame to deny them the opportunity.

Dandelion tried not to think about how he always returned to Geralt, be it in the mornings or evenings. He tried not to think of how, despite his wishes for freedom, he had essentially tethered himself to the witcher.

He tried not to think of how easy it would be to fall in love with him.

It was easier not to think about it.

“Geralt?” he called to the witcher.

Geralt looked across from where he was riding Roach. Dandelion’s own gelding was shorter than the mare, a chestnut horse that had nothing on Roach but it was better than walking everywhere. Geralt had been good at not riding too fast, but Dandelion’s feet were constantly sore and blistered by the end of the day. At least this way he could switch between riding and walking.

Gods, by the end of the year his thighs would be like tree trunks. He’d never exercised so much in his life before. The life of a viscount in training had been cushy, and his life as a student hadn’t been much harder. It was all desks and fancy chairs, the occasional lecture room with firm wooden benches.

In fact, the most exercise he’d had before had probably been in the bedroom.

Oh, how things had changed.

“We should visit a brothel in the next town, my friend,” Dandelion suggested.

To his surprise, Geralt shook his head. Dandelion pouted, ready to launch into a sonnet about the carnal delights that could be found waiting for them in the bed of a whore… or even two, but Geralt cut him off. “I need to stock up on potion ingredients, and the last contract didn’t pay well thanks to a certain bard.”

Dandelion flushed, averting his gaze. It hadn’t been his fault. He didn’t know that the gorgeous lady he’d been flirting with had been the Alderman’s wife. Was he supposed to be psychic? Not everyone had Geralt’s keen witcher’s senses, he hadn’t exactly been able to smell the mingling of their scents, as Geralt had described it. Dandelion was half convinced the witcher was making that up. There was no way he’d been able to smell that.

Although….

Geralt had mentioned he could smell when someone had orgasmed.

“I’ll have you know, that I am not to blame, dear witcher! If she was happily taken then she should have refused my advances. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that she was married? She kept looking at me with those eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, and cheeks like roses. She was practically begging me to take her to bed.”

Geralt snorted. “You can go to a brothel, I won’t stop you, my friend, but I don’t have the coin. I’ll stay in the woods outside of town and you can meet me at dawn. Don’t be late.”

Dandelion rolled his eyes and sniffed haughtily as he adjusted his hat with one hand. “Nonsense! We’ll just have to share.”

“Share?”

“A whore, obviously Geralt, do try to keep up.”

Geralt pulled Roach to a halt and Dandelion had to circle round as he trotted ahead. He peered at the witcher, quirking his eyebrow. “What?”

“You want to share a whore?”

Dandelion sighed dramatically, holding the reins in one hand as he flicked out a wrist in a flourish. “It’s cheaper and that way neither of us will need to camp out. It’s a practical and pleasurable solution. Come on, Geralt, when was the last time you had the soft flesh of a woman’s thighs around your waist, the feel of her breasts in your hands.”

“Shut up, Dandelion,” Geralt growled and spurred Roach onwards.

Dandelion chimed a laugh, and followed after his witcher. “So is that a yes? Geralt! Geralt come back!”

____________

It was a yes, even though Geralt never said the word. He never enjoyed the way Dandelion waxed poetry about women, as if they were a rose to be viewed purely for their beauty. He never admired the male figure in quite the same way. Whilst the poet wasn’t ashamed of his love of men, he only openly spoke of women as his lovers, occasionally omitting the gender altogether if he deemed it necessary.

Geralt had never really understood the need to hide. He didn’t exactly advertise his attraction to men, it was easier, not to mention cheaper, to hire a female whore after all, but he didn’t make the same effort that Dandelion did to hide it. Although, the bard in all his flamboyant gestures and colourful silk clothes did portray the more stereotypical dandy type.

And arseholes were less likely to actually try and attack a witcher, unless they were drunk or downright idiotic. Some thought that besting a witcher would impress whatever girl they had their eyes on, but Geralt was fairly good at discreetly using Axii to convince them that it wasn’t worth the fight.

Although, he had to admit, he did enjoy a good brawl, and the fighting rings were a good source of extra income when they were running low.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. Perhaps he should have sought out the local fighting ring instead of going along with Dandelion’s ridiculous plan of sharing a whore, but there was no denying that he could use a good fuck. He was half-tempted to push the poet up against the nearest tree and fuck the living daylights out of him, but they didn’t do that. Quick hand jobs in the forest were a far cry from getting fucked against a tree.

But Dandelion was growing ever more tempting with every day that passed. Geralt knew the way the poet’s breathing hitched in his throat just before he came. He knew the way he would bite his lips in a fruitless effort to keep quiet, the obscene sounds of his moans that rang out in the night. Geralt knew how those cornflower blue eyes looked when he was hungry with lust, the scent of his arousal permeating the air until it was all that Geralt could smell. He knew how the bard’s cock felt in his hands, as Dandelion cried out, Geralt’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

But he didn’t know how his lips tasted. He didn’t know whether Dandelion’s swan-like neck was as sensitive as he imagined. He could only guess at how beautiful it would look with an array of bruises and bite-marks left behind by Geralt’s mouth. He didn’t know how Dandelion’s cock would feel in his mouth, a taste of his cum.

And he wanted to know.

Fuck, he wanted to know everything.

If he hadn’t been taught from such a young age that witchers didn’t feel, he might have begun to think that he was falling in love with the poet.

But that was off the cards. It was just sex, hell, it wasn’t even that. They were friends, companions on the road.

And it was cheaper to share a whore.

“Greetings!” Dandelion trilled, giving the madame his most charming smile. The poet winked as he slid some coin across the bar. “We’d like to share, if that’s acceptable?”

The madame glanced between Geralt and his poet, looking decidedly unimpressed. He supposed they made a strange sight. The two of them couldn’t be more different in looks. Geralt with his dull black armour, two swords, and harsh demeanour, versus the colourful bard with hair the colour of golden corn, shiny burgundy silk clothes, and a lute strapped to his back.

They were the moon and the sun.

But, as the saying went, opposites attract.

And fuck, Geralt was attracted to the bard, too attracted. Dandelion would only get hurt by his side but Geralt was too weak to let him go, not whilst he wanted to stay, and Geralt hoped he would stay for a long time yet. The path had been so cold before Dandelion. He steadfastly ignored Vesemir’s warnings about getting attached to humans. A witcher’s lifespan far exceeded that of a human, if they survived the monsters of course.

It was better to settle for whores and one night stands. Geralt had never had a problem before, but being the Butcher of Blaviken was enough to put most humans off. No one had even attempted to befriend him since Renfri.

His friends were dwarves, druids and sorceresses. Although, that last one was still to be determined. The graduates of Aretuza were as prickly as they were powerful, manipulating the world and its people more skilfully than any politician, spy or monarch.

“You want to share with the witcher?” the madame asked, doubt ringing clear in her voice.

“I want to share with my friend, but we’d be happy to take our business elsewhere. A town like this must have more than one brothel,” Dandelion snapped, putting both hands on his hips, his charming air vanishing in an instant.

“No need, I have just the girl for you.”

Dandelion’s shiny smile was back, brighter than before, blinding Geralt and making his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Excellent!” the poet cheered with a clap of his hands, “Show us the way!”

Dandelion’s hair shone in the candlelight, bouncing as he quickly turned around to wink at Geralt. There was a sparkle in his eyes that seemed to light up the entire room. The poet’s tongue flicked out between his lips, and, not for the first time, Geralt wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“Isn’t this a lovely establishment, my dear friend?” Dandelion wittered on, and Geralt ignored the weird stab of pain in his heart at the word friend. They were friends, just friends.

Friends.

Maybe if he repeated it enough then he would begin to believe it.

“It’s a brothel,” he said, his voice sounding dull compared to the warm tenor of his friend.

“Yes, yes, and it’s a rather lovely brothel. If you ignore the smell of sweat. Oh, but that must be even worse for you!” Dandelion exclaimed, looking horrified. Geralt shrugged. It did stink, but he was used to focussing on the nicer smells in places like this. They tended to burn incense, and here was no exception. The floral scent of freesia masked the worst of the sweat and sex, but Geralt focused on the pretty poet next to him. Dandelion still preferred the scented lavender oil in his hair. Before Dandelion, for Geralt’s life now existed as before and after Dandelion, lavender had not been a scent that he enjoyed. It was too strong, and reminded him of the sleeping drafts they used at Kaer Morhen before the mutagens…

But now it was the scent of Dandelion.

Mixed with chamomile and the poet’s natural musk, Geralt had grown rather fond of lavender.

Instead of saying all of this, he just muttered “I manage.”

Dandelion just wrinkled his nose, seemingly disgusted with the whole idea. Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile. It warmed his heart to know how much his friend cared about him, about the whole world in which they lived. Dandelion loved the world and in turn the world loved him back.

It was how it should be.

They were led through to one of the rooms on the second floor. It was cramped but nicely decorated. A pretty young blonde was lying on the bed, her fingers in the middle of braiding her long hair. She glanced up when she saw them, dark blue eyes looking up through thick black lashes.

And all Geralt could think of was that the colour was wrong.

Too dark.

The colour of a stormy ocean instead of the cornflower blue he’d grown used to.

There were freckles dusting her cheeks, and scattering down her neck below the bodice of her dress. She was slender, like Dandelion, but she lacked the muscles his poet had gained over the year…

Geralt cursed.

Winter was fast approaching and he’d been heading north soon, towards Kaer Morhen… towards home. He wondered where the poet would go for winter, perhaps to Oxenfurt. He always spoke of the city fondly.

“Geralt?” a strong hand on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, the girl was still on the bed, looking more than displeased. He mumbled an apology for his rudeness.

“Can’t say that’s the best welcome I’ve had,” she muttered “I can get another girl if you’d prefer.”

“Nonsense!” Dandelion exclaimed. “He’s just tired, isn’t that right, my dear?”

Geralt nodded.

“See, nothing to worry about!” the poet trilled. “Now, how do you want us?”

“You shared before?”

They both shook their heads.

“I thought so, you can always tell,” she said, swiftly untangling the braid in her hair until it fell loosely down her back. “Are you taking turns or sharing?”

Geralt looked at Dandelion, it had been the poet’s idea and so the decision fell to him. Dandelion hummed, his tongue sticking between his lips as he considered, then he turned back to look at Geralt, tilting his head, one hand on his hip. “What do you think, darling? Would you be happy to watch?”

Geralt swallowed, the thought of watching his bard fuck another person should have bothered him… but instead he found himself growing hard in his trousers. He could already imagine the sinful things that Dandelion would say, the dirty poems and rhymes he would wax as he bedded the beautiful whore in front of them.

The bard was rumoured to be an unparalleled lover, and Geralt wanted to know, wanted to see why.

He nodded, barely looking at the girl, unable to tear his gaze from his friend as the pair of them stripped out of their clothes. Travelling together meant that Geralt had seen Dandelion naked many a time, but never like this. When they touched each other, they never took off more than necessary.

Marie, as the girl told them, pulled Dandelion to the bed, running her hands down his chest as she straddled his hips. Dandelion gazed up at her like she was a gift from the gods. He looked at her like he’d seen the sun for the first time. It made Geralt feel sick. He knew what it felt like to be caught under the poet’s gaze, how it felt to bask under the warmth of his affection.

Geralt should have realised that it wasn’t meant for just him.

“Oh, you are just stunning, darling, radiant as spring,” Dandelion cooed, fingers trailing down Marie’s spine. Geralt saw her shiver. He knew that whore’s often pretended to enjoy the company of their clients but Geralt could smell her genuine arousal mixing with the bard’s. Dandelion’s long fingers danced across her skin as she rolled her hips forward, making the poet sigh happily. Geralt could hear the spike in Dandelion’s pulse, as his breath hitched in his throat. Marie gasped as Dandelion cupped her breast.

Geralt was growing achingly hard in his trousers. He knew his turn was next.. but… he was also a witcher. His stamina was… a lot and if he wanted to cum without exhausting Marie then he really should start.

“Do you want me to ride you, poet?” Marie purred, her hands splayed on Dandelion’s chest.

Geralt hoped his bard would say yes. The way he was lying back on the bed with his hair fanned out behind him was enticing. Geralt could easily imagine Dandelion pinned underneath him as he fucked the bard.

Or maybe even fucked himself on Dandelion’s cock.

He hadn’t bottomed very often, most men assumed the witcher would top and Geralt didn’t really care enough to correct them, but suddenly the idea of Dandelion fucking him became the only thing he could think about. The poet’s long, clever fingers opening him up, brushing against his prostate. He growled, palming himself through his trousers. The sound drew Dandelion’s attention, and the poet fucking winked at him.

“What would you prefer, darling?” Dandelion asked, his voice hoarse, losing its usual smooth musical timbre.

Geralt felt too hot under Dandelion’s burning gaze. It was everything he wanted and yet not enough. “Ride him,” he choked out.

Marie laughed, and then reached between her thighs to coat her fingers before stroking the poet’s cock. Dandelion’s wanton moan echoed in the room, the sound going straight to Geralt’s aching cock. He growled and rushed to unlace his trousers, a hiss escaping his lips as he took himself in hand. Dandelion swore as Marie lowered herself onto him, both whore and poet gasping at the feeling. The scent of their joined arousal was almost too much.

She rode Dandelion with the enthusiasm that only a whore could have, moaning and whining and gasping as she fucked herself. Dandelion’s fingers gripped into the soft muscles of her thighs, thrusting into her, a string of poetic nonsense falling from his lips.

Geralt couldn’t look away.

He fisted his cock in time to their movements, imagining it was him that made Dandelion moan so sinfully.

It had been before, but fuck… this was a whole new level.

The way their bodies moved as one, the sounds of flesh slapping together, sweat glistening on the poet’s skin. Geralt’s eyes caught a bead of sweat trickling down Dandelion’s neck and he was hypnotised. He wanted to lick the droplet from the poet’s skin, taste the salt on his tongue, bite down on the muscles of Dandelion’s neck as he keened, his orgasm shuddering through his body.

Marie must have noticed where Geralt was looking because she leaned forward to kiss Dandelion’s neck. The poet’s breath caught, and he cried out, thrusts losing their rhythm as he came.

“Fuck, Geralt…” he moaned, just as he would when they touched each other in the woods.

Marie gasped wordlessly, fingers gripping into the sheets, but Geralt was too focussed on his bard.

His bard.

His poet.

His Dandelion.

For Dandelion was his, there was no denying it now. It was one thing for the poet to say Geralt’s name when he was the cause of his orgasm, but that had not been the case.

Geralt almost pitied Marie.

She hadn’t deserved it.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion whined as his head hit the pillow. He was breathing heavily, his fingers tracing patterns into Marie’s thighs, and Geralt was reminded of the way that Dandelion’s fingers would dance over the strings of his lute when he played in the taverns.

He closed his eyes, gripping his cock tighter in his hand. His pleasure was still building slowly, as it always did, but his mind was spiralling and he felt unable to relax. His muscles were tense and he gritted his teeth.

“Your turn, witcher,” Marie called from the bed, “unless you’d rather fuck the poet. He won’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“But Geralt,” Dandelion pouted as he turned to face Geralt, cheeks still flush and rosy.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Geralt muttered, doing up his trousers and stalking from the room. “Dawn, Dandelion.”

“Dawn, yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, jealousy was raging through him like poison. He knew that Dandelion had thought of him, and yet suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t Dandelion said something? Geralt had been right there, every damn day for months, and yet the poet, famous for his inability to shut up, never said a fucking word.

It had taken a whore to make the truth spill from his lips.

And Geralt wasn’t even sure whether Dandelion had meant to tell him. What did he expect from Geralt? Was Geralt supposed to forget it, pretend it never happened? Or maybe Dandelion had been expecting Geralt to take up Marie’s offer…

And he’d run away.

“Fuck!” he yelled, startling a nearby cat as it was washing itself. The creature hissed and spat at him, clawing at the air. Geralt paid it no attention and carried on walking towards the stables to fetch Roach. He would make camp in the woods, and hopefully Dandelion would be there in the morning.

Geralt wasn’t sure what he’d do if the poet decided not to show.

[justgottafinishthischapter]

Building Character: Sorting Hat

So recently on my main channel, I started breaking down different kinds of people you’d find in the four houses of Hogwarts when it dawned on me that this could be a useful character building exercise. So, I’m going to lay out all 48 archetypes that I named and show how this can be used to outline a character.

The Sorting Process:

My method for sorting characters is to lay out all of the archetypes I’ve found in the Hogwarts Houses, and then compare to the traits of my characters and use a score sheet to determine the best sorting for a character. I’ve already made a score card here. Luckily, all four have been given the same number of archetypes, and now it’s time to meet the archetypes.

GRYFFINDOR

The Jock

Bold, confident, adventurous, and boasting a strong quidditch team, it’s no surprise that Gryffindor is viewed as the Jock clique of the four houses. The house values of determination and relentlessness makes for quality athletes. The stereotype of the brainless jock also persists, as Gryffindor is the house most likely to be considered less than impressive in the academic sphere. Jocks also tend to form close-knit bonds with others like them, just as lions move in prides, and Gryffindors tend to behave similarly, preferring to stick with large friend circles of their own kind. This archetype could just as easily be dubbed “The Frat Guy”, but Jock is more gender-inclusive.

The Brat

Time to rip the bandage off. Gryffindor is spoiled and pampered. Between the text itself and the author who wrote it, the general opinions of the fanbase, and the clear bias of the school staff, Gryffindor is painted as the best and favorite house. It hogs most of the spotlight, and there’s even a general consensus that the other houses are all inferior to golden favorite Gryffindor. This sense of self-importance, entitlement, and blatant unfair favoritism can give Gryffindors an unpleasant and arrogant ego. This can lead them to breaking rules, bullying, and belittling other houses due to this innate sense of superiority and impunity.

The Coward

Counter-intuitive as it might seem, cowards actually fit in nicely with Gryffindor. After all, bravery is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to rise above it. The story even frames this as the most noble kind of Gryffindor. Those who act in spite of their fears. Many of the major Gryffindor characters could easily have been in other houses, but instead chose to be brave.

The Champion

When Gryffindor is flavored with Hufflepuff, they can become a champion, someone who fights in the place of others. Someone who fights for those who cannot protect themselves. The Champion can also champion against something, such as fighting against inequality, tyranny, or corruption. They can even fight on their own behalf. This is simply an archetype not afraid to raise a fuss, call people out, and issue a challenge.

The Explorer

The Ravenclaw among Gryffindors, the Explorer is constantly seeking out new things. New places, new friends, new experiences. These are the Gryfindors who fear boredom or getting stale. Life is an adventure, and there’s no point living the same day twice. Even a bad experience is a chance to learn, grow, and explore something that they didn’t know before.

The Diva

The Slytherin variety, the Diva is proud, flamboyant, confident, and ostentatious. Whereas the Slytherin Star archetype chases fame because of ambitions, Divas have powerful personalities that command attention and recognition. Stars perform to rise to power and glory. Divas perform because it makes them happy to pursuit their passions. Even someone who doesn’t perform can still be a diva if they’re dramatic, over-react, and live for that tea. They can be temperamental, flighty, and a bit vain, but they’re made to entertain.

The Risk-Taker

Gryffindors aren’t known for planning head. They’re reckless, headstrong, and fly by the seat of their pants, and the Risk-Taker is no exception. They don’t let rules, traditions, or the risk of repercussions to stop them from doing what they want. They’ll take any dare, climb any mountain, and ignore any safety warning in the pursuit of thrills and adventure.

The Immature

Just as Ravenclaw’s wisdom can make it more mature and responsible, Gryffindor’s tendency to act without thinking about the consequences tends to cause Gryffindors to behave childishly, inappropriately, and stupidly. It’s no surprise that the house that loses points the most for breaking the rules, talking back to teachers, and childish pranks is the house whose values encourage irresponsible behavior.

The Genki

The Japanese subculture of Genki is characterized by an overzealous, energetic, and upbeat personality, one which is usually loud, outgoing, and talkative. They wear their hearts on their sleeve, and speak their mind openly. This zest of lively bubbliness is often viewed as charming and likable, which fits the image of the popular Gryffindor.

The Monarch

Gryffindors are often seen as the house of leaders and heroes. As the king the other houses follow and bow to. Leadership isn’t all just crowns and a fancy office. It involves making tough decisions and having the nerve to push yourself and others forward. The image of “The Good King” enforces the Gryffindor values of leading by example, and that just and moral leadership will produce a just and moral world.

The Popular

It’s no secret that Gryffindor is kind of the house of the Popular kids. Their friendly and social nature makes them people that others want to be around. While the Gryffindor ego can branch this archetype off into the Alpha Bitch and the Jerk Jock, the verdict still stands that the most popular people in Hogwarts are likely a part of this house. Even the house itself shares this popularity, as it is the most liked and often preferred of the four houses.

The Fool

The Prankster. The Class Clown. The Fool is someone who isn’t afraid to push the envelope to get a laugh. Gryffindors are unarguably the most social house, and that desire to impress and bond with others can compel them to stop at nothing to entertain themselves and others through their antics. However, they also tend to get in trouble for this behavior, and they have to be cautious: as sometimes the risk outweighs the humor, only making them a laughing stock, rather than a laugh riot.

HUFFLEPUFF

The Sidekick

Much as it stings, this House is a mass production house for sidekicks and comic relief characters to balance with the typically Gryffindor protagonist. Hufflepuff’s values of loyalty, friendship, and integrity make for very good friend characters. Hufflepuffs as the main character are pretty uncommon, mostly popping up as the support of the team. The healer, the defender, the plucky bard with an inspirational speech. But that loyalty and integrity is truly commendable, as they are some of the most dependable and trustworthy figures.

The Paragon

When “Too Good for This Sinful World” is taken literally, these characters have moral fibers so squeaky clean that they legally cannot say “fuck”. This archetype is the living embodiment of Lawful Good. These are the characters who play by the rules always. Who decry any action that means taking the low road. The Paragon comes in two different flavors depending on the tone. They’re either the one good person who win because they played fair and who people should strive to be like, or they’re the noble idiot walking right into a trap because they’re too naive to realize that they’re the only person playing by the rules.

The Heart

Some people can lie, cheat, and steal. Some are good at pretending they’re a different sort of person. But, not this Hufflepuff Archetype. They feel too often, too strongly, and too genuinely to pull off hiding how they feel. This archetype is a bit of an open book. What you see is what you get. That’s not to say that they never tell a lie, but they’re also more likely to come clean about it sooner or later just to get it off their chest.

The Hero

Although Hufflepuff is mostly a support house, occasionally, they get to play the lead. Most common in Shonen Anime, this Gryffindor/Hufflepuff hybrid archetype fights for what’s right because it’s the right thing to do. Think of this archetype as the White Knight. A crusader against injustice who fights with integrity and does so for the good of the people. They fight because somebody has to. Because they don’t want people to be afraid, alone, or injured. They strive to be a beacon that lights the way in dark times, and gives people something to hope for.

The Councilor

The Ravenclaw hybrid of Hufflepuff house, the Councilor is someone who helps others by listening to their problems and offering advice, guidance, or support in whatever capacity they can. They care about the well-being of others and offer themselves as a trusting confidante. They are gentle and reassuring, having the patience and open-mindedness to help others deal with their issues in a positive and healthy way.

The Entrepreneur

The Slytherin among Hufflepuffs, the Entrepreneur is someone who combines the hard-working work ethic of Hufflepuff with the ambition of Slytherin to be humble business owners. Their distinction from the Slytherin Workaholic is that Slytherins work to climb the corporate ladder. Hufflepuffs work because they love what they do and enjoy doing it. A less leader based sub-archetype is the worker bee, a hard worker who takes pride in doing a good job.

The Knight

The Knight is someone who is devoutly loyal to a cause or person. Their word is binding, and if they say they’re with you, they are with you, for better or worse. This also makes the Knight very easy to turn to the side of evil, as all it takes is swearing their loyalty to an evil person or cause for them to become a crusader for injustice and cruelty.

The Self-Righteous

Another Hufflepuff that can stray into villainy, a Hufflepuff can be a total villain if they mask their villainy behind a facade of being morally virtous.  The Self-Righteous is the embodiment of the religious extremist. Those who commit atrocities in the name of God, King, and Country, even if their God, King, or Country distinctly condemns such behavior. However, because they assume they are fulfilling the desires of something which is intrinsically righteous, that must make them automatically righteous as well.

The Puppy

The cinnamon roll. Sunshine personified. The Puppy is an upbeat optimist that generally sees the good in others. Like a newborn puppy they are excitable, friendly, eager to please, loyal, sweet, and happy. Some might say that they’re too optimistic, crossing the line into naive, gullible, or foolish. But the puppy’s optimism is often backed by a strong conviction and a desire to help that makes them much more resilient and strong-willed than people might assume. They make great friends as they’re always eager to help others in any way that they can, and even when upset with a person will usually look for a nicer way of airing their grievances with people.

The Peacekeeper

The Peacekeeper is someone who strives to help others live harmoniously. They break up fights, help people settle their arguments, and only fights to maintain peace. They are sensitive souls that can’t stand fighting, hostility, or bullying. They just want people to get along, and they’re willing to do what they can to make that happen.

The Caretaker

Hufflepuffs are very aware of other people. They’re the most socially intelligent house. This archetype is composed of those who take care of those around them. They’re the friends who remind others to take their medication, to ask them if they remembered to do their homework, or to make sure they’ve had something to eat. They care about the well-being of others, and will gently nurse, encourage, and support the people that matter to them. However, this archetype can also go so far that it needs itself, putting so much of their attention and time on taking care of others that they need someone to remind them that self-care is also important.

The Mundane

So many people focus on the fact that Hufflepuff is the house of modesty and loyalty that they tend to overlook that the house is also the catch-all house of students who don’t fit into the other three houses. So, this Archetype is for people who aren’t really exceptional in anything. They aren’t brave like Gryffindor, Wise like Ravenclaw, or Cunning like Slytherin. They’re the “normal” or “average” person. Someone who doesn’t come across as being important or impressive. But Helga Hufflepuff saw the value in accepting anyone as long as she had room at her table.

RAVENCLAW

The Nerd

The first thing we think of when we hear Ravenclaw, Nerds are walking encyclopedias with a treasure trove of facts and information. They tend to study because they enjoy learning. For them, school was fun, and the library is an important place. If the burning of the Library of Alexandria angers you, welcome home ya nerd.

The Geek

Nerds know facts, Geeks know pop culture. If you know what year the first issue of Superman comics was written, you’ve found your label. A geek lives for cosplay, fandom, conventions, shipping, fanfiction, and memorabilia. And they are not Nerds. Nerds and Geeks are different, but can overlap. However, you don’t have to know book smarts to be a Geek.

The Bookworm

Not all Ravenclaws are brainiacs. The Bookworm has a love for reading that is not directly tethered to book smarts. For this archetype, reading is a relaxing hobby.  It is often a trait among introverts, especially as a way to decompress, and they also tend be loners who prefer their quiet alone time.

The Valedictorian

Expect this archetype to have the highest grades, to be part of every club or organization, and has probably run for class president. A Ravenclaw with an undercurrent of Slytherin, they are ambitious in their intellectual pursuits. The main thing keeping them out of Slytherin house is their love of learning and knowledge which overshadows their ambition to achieve.

The Advocate

Just as the Valedictorian has elements of Slytherin, the Advocate has elements of Gryffindor. The advocate champions the rights of the underdog, stands up to hypocrisy, and points out logical fallacies in any argument. They hold up the light of truth and knowledge to combat ignorance and prejudice through their insight and knowledge.

The Dreamer

The Hufflepuff among Ravenclaws, The Dreamer is a Ravenclaw who believes in the inherit goodness of the world. These Ravenclaws may be seen as overly optimistic and naive, but this just speaks to Ravenclaw House’s knack for marching to its own beat, and standing out in a way that shows the house’s unique and open-minded world view.

The Scientist

Typically the standard “brain” of a team in fiction, most team brains tend to be nerdy in math and/or science, such as Pidge, Edd, and Entrapta. The Scientist is invested in scientific endeavors. They seek knowledge, but can easily be warped into the Mad Scientist, as characters like Lord Orochimaru, Rick Sanchez, and Shou Tucker cross the moral line as they perform inhuman experiments in pursuit of knowledge. They tend to value logic and the scientific approach, and will seek out evidence and statistics to reach a conclusion.

The Investigator:

Those who thirst for answers, The Investigator’s interest in knowledge is directly impacted by a desire to know and understand more. However, unlike the Scientist that may use this knowledge for personal gain, The Investigator prefers exposing the truth and uncovering the facts. They love cracking codes, solving riddles, unearthing secrets, and exposing the truth.

The Adult:

Ravenclaw is a house associated with wisdom, and with wisdom comes maturity, responsibility, and leadership. Expect these people to be mom friends and dad friends, offering advice, taking care of others, and typically being mature for their age, and wise beyond their years. They behave like an adult, even from an early age. They may get a bad wrap for being boring instead of young and reckless, but they are also sensitive, stable, and trustworthy.

The Creative:

Ravenclaws tend to think outside the box, and that wild imagination and intelligence tends to leak out as writing, painting, dancing, acting, and any other creative endeavor. Even those who lack the talent to be an artist themselves can still fall under this archetype if they appreciate and value the arts and creative acts.

The Unconventional:

Ravenclaw is known for being a little odd. Ravenclaws revel in their unusual eccentricities. They’re fine marching to the beat of their own drum. A bit of a nutty genius, artists like Salvadore Dali, David Bowie, and Mozart are known for being unusual. Entire artistic movements like cubism, avaunt guard, and club kid fashion follow this zany mindset.

The Cloudcuckoolander:

Separate from the Unconventional, the Cloudcuckoolander is someone whose mind is a strange and unusual thing to outsiders. They come off as almost being detached from reality, their head in the clouds, and seeming odd in their mannerisms. People tend to treat them as delusional or crazy, but they show themselves to be strangely insightful into others.

SLYTHERIN

The Mastermind:

Exemplified by a ruthless pursuit of power, the Mastermind treats situations like a game of chess, always plotting to give themselves the upper hand. They are cunning, ruthless, and goal-oriented, usually with an emphasis on control, dominance, and authority. They usually gravitate toward leadership positions and can be very skilled at getting others to comply with their wishes. This archetype is usually seen in villains like Regina Mills, Princess Azula, and Cersei Lannister. However, occasionally, this archetype gets to be seen in a better light with characters such as Daenerys Targaryen. And sometimes it’s played for laughs, such as with Brain and Plankton’s plans for world domination.

The Perfectionist:

This ambitious go-getter is characterized by a strong drive to be exceptional in everything they do. These are the characters who strive for the highest accolades, the top marks, and mastering anything they put their mind to. Often either a cry for validation or as a means to pursue their ambitions, this type of Slytherin is all about standing out by rising above the rest. They are driven by a desire to be their best self, and they’ll work themselves ragged to hold themselves to that high standard.

The Workaholic:

Tangentially related but distinct from the last archetype, the Workaholic is someone who basically treats their entire life like a business or a job. They have a planner loaded to the brim with a schedule that always keeps them moving, and leaves very little time for other things and people unless they can manage to pencil them in somewhere. These ambitious folks are very likely to succeed in life, but their social lives tend to suffer as a result.

The Detective:

Often mistaken for Ravenclaws, or straddling the line as Slytherclaws, The Detective archetype of Slytherin is someone who studies and learns things not for the simple joy of learning as true Ravenclaws do, but more often for the challenge, thrill, or to get what they’re after. This archetype views knowledge as a vital tool and weapon in their endeavors. Even if they enjoy learning, the knowledge they seek out is specifically related to what they are trying to accomplish.

The Tactician:

Like the Detective that teeters on the Ravenclaw line, the Tactician tends to straddle the line with Gryffindor. They can be brave, heroic, and reckless, but this archetype’s main distinction from a Gryffindor is their Slytherin tendencies. Whether they’re ambitious, clever, or strategic, they lack the brute force simplicity of a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor will rush in guns blazing, while a Slytherin knows the value of a sneak attack. Heroes like Percy Jackson, Link, and Katsuki Bakugou make full use of their cunning in the heat of a battle, looking for weakspots, analyzing the battlefield, and always willing to find a pragmatic solution to whatever they come across.

The Sincere:

The archetype to bleed over into Hufflepuff, this archetype is blunt, direct, and doesn’t sugar coat things. They are brutally honest. This can come across as mean and unsympathetic. But, even if it seems like they’re just dumping salt in the wound, it just means that they don’t pretend. They can be depended on to give the whole truth no matter how much it might sting. They might openly mock their friends, but when someone needs them, they can be depended on to give the most genuine feedback. And when things look bleak, this is a friend that can usually be relied on to offer their support. And if someone is too weak or scared to fight for themselves, The Sincere is the kind of friend who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty on someone else’s behalf.

The Charmer:

Ever aware of their public image, the Charmer is a Slytherin whose ambitions are met not through power, but through playing the social game. Experts at winning people over, these Slytherins can be just as ambitious and clever as any other. However, they choose instead to recruit and convince people to follow them and do their bidding with their charms and communication skills. They’re good at arguing their case, and speaking in such a way that people feel compelled to help them. This archetype often masquerades like they’re one of the other houses, especially Hufflepuff. But don’t let their charms fool you. They’re as Slytherin as they come.

The Rebel:

The Rebel is a Slytherin who much like Gryffindors view rules as more of a suggestion than anything else. They’re just trying to have fun and enjoy life, and rules tend to get in the way of that. Often pranksters, couch potatoes, or troublemakers, The Rebel tends to balance between being misunderstood and actual delinquency. However, their rebellious nature can drive them to question old norms and traditions and try to view the world in a new way. Their refusal to bow to old paradigms can mean that Rebel archetypes are champions for change and growth, for better or worse.

The Star:

A primadonna through and through, The Star archetype is one whose ambitions are focused directly on fame. All of their ambition and hard work is all in pursuit of that loftiest goal: the fleeting spotlight of celebrity. Whether they want to take Hollywood by storm, receive a standing ovation at center stage, or go viral on the internet, this archetype is determined to be in the spotlight and make a name for themselves. They can be divas, and may even be competitive with other performers, but it’ll all be worth it when they receive accolades for all of their talent and accomplishments.

The Rogue:

The Black Sheep. The dark knight. The Rogue is the typical anti-hero. Skirting the line between hero and villain, the Rogue is a pragmatist, able and willing to do what needs to be done without letting morality or personal feelings get in the way. Cynical, snarky, mean-spirited, and roguishly charming, the Rogue isn’t quite a bad guy, but being good does not mean being nice. Like The Sincere, The Rogue is unabashedly themselves, and lives earnestly.

The Survivalist:

The Slytherin mindset is one known for being pragmatic. A Slytherin will do what they must to get ahead. The Survivalist embodies this practical approach to problems, being flexible and adapting to situations in order to gain the upper hand. The Survivalist can be someone who survives in the wild, but it can also be someone whose loyalty, opinions, strategy and behaviors can easily change and adapt to new situations in order to thrive. They can thrive in a fast-paced high-stakes situation, and can usually improvise very well should their plans suddenly change. This ability to quickly adapt to circumstances makes this one type of Slytherin that’s hard to knock down.

The Competitor:

Fans of reality shows know that some of the greatest players are also some of the most diabolical and cut-throat. Evel Dick and Danielle were a wicked power duo in Big Brother 8, and Dan got 1st and 2nd in Big Brother 10 and 14 respectively. Slytherin and Gryffindor can both get competitive, but they play in different ways. Slytehrins are far more pragmatic, and have less of a problem lying to someone’s face to get ahead. These tactics, while underhanded, are great game moves. Dan hosting his own funeral in season 14 is still regarded as one of the most brilliant plays in Big Brother history because of how completely he flipped the power in the house. The Competitor can be a total monster, but they also tend to be monstrously entertaining.

Now that I’ve laid out the archetypes, I can start evaluating my characters. Looking over my protagonist, I’m pretty sure he’s a Ravenclaw, but let’s put the character to the sorting hat’s test. My character would fit into: [Gryffindor] -The Monarch [Hufflepuff] - the Heart - the Councilor - the Peacekeeper - the Mundane [Ravenclaw] - the Nerd - the Geek - the Bookworm - the Advocate - the Dreamer - the Adult - the Creative - the Unconventional [Slytherin] - the Perfectionist - the Charmer So this matches what I assumed, that he was a Ravenclaw main, and a Hufflepuff secondary, but I didn’t realize how far he was from being a Gryffindor or Slytherin. So his ratio chart would look like this:

While it’s not hard to sort characters, some aren’t always as clear-cut and I hope this writer’s aid helped you better define your character’s traits.

[urcharactersclasspect]

Psst. Can I get some more details about Nazz and Jonny being Bards of Heart? That's a really interesting take imo!

Boy do YOU have an ESSAY to read

As a disclaimer, Ed Edd n Eddy isnt really a very deep show- Theres just tidbits of something deeper sometimes you can gather about the cul de sac and the kids we focus on in the show. Ive watched through the show from episode 1 to Eddy's movie and the last episode. But its been a hot second since Ive been a kid myself and I havent really sat down to watch it in a long time tbh.

Another disclaimer is, even though they share a godtier does not mean they will have the same personality! Since Personality by itself pretty much is not as relevant to classpects as much as how the aspects seem to bend around the person in question as they grow and delevoped. That being said..This is gonna be a long ass read. Im so sorry. I have THOUGHTS on everything.

For Nazz, throughout the show we see her literally making almost every boy in the Cul De Sac crush on her, she has no confirmed feelings until the last movie, where she and kevin want to date. Unlike most heart players in canon and the ones I have met or seen good protrayals of, i dont think she has unrequited feelings and we clearly see as much, but it sure does give me the same energy as Dirk's frequant troubles to just finally spit out his feelings for Jake through extreme indirect means, and how Heart players are actually way better at controlling how or showing how they really feel waaaay more than people give them credit for- This isn't to imply heart players are Emotionless and never show emotion, but Heart players are firmly NOT all sweethearts who are innocent, do no wrongs and are definitely not always bubbly fangirls like Meulin- Hell, even Meulin isn't really probably being honest with her own feelings on things either.  On the contrary, they can be very intense with what they are passionate about whether it be romantic or just an interest of theirs. And usually, like Dirk, they are very self aware of that fact. So they sometimes try to hold back things about themselves they are all too aware of. Sometimes to a detriment, but not always. For Dirk, its his emotions in general he tries to keep to himself. For Meulin its likely her resentment of her team members and holding back her anger at Kurloz or maybe even her feelings for Kurloz still being there.

For the Bard part of her classpect, its the idea that Bards Mirror their opposite. The thing about Nazz is shes actually very responsible! Often giving an air of being very well put together for a kid to the rest of the cul de sacs kids and cool headed more times than not. Its part of the charm. Of her acting cool and casual- And just how she behaves regularly like nothing bothers her, but sometimes you can tell it does or just might (almost like a passive ghost of hpow Dirk acts). You learn over time shes actually very smart, too; she gets very good grades, is a model student who cheerleads, and even was seen as responsible enough by the parents of the cul-de-sac to babysit Eddy. Which definitely says something, I think. This is usually how we see Mind Players- Dirk being so cool headed but only the surface is  too. Since its the stereotype at this point that Mind players are the calm ones (which I have my own opinions on too but thats another essay for another time).

DESPITE this chill and responsible facade on the surface, Nazz has SEVERAL times shown some genuine Heart player impulsiveness or thinking with her heart on a sleeve. She allows Edd into her bathroom without even thinking about it, even when it wasn't cleaned up. You see how she acts on emotion like humouring Edd a lot through the show even by kissing him at one point and dancing with him even when it wasnt the popular thing to do, she humours Kevin but lectures him for his own impulsiveness on pure anger towards the Edds frequantly, passively destroying someone elses impulses and making him think before he acts a little more; In spite of this too, she also can get violent towards the Edds herself and irritable when things dont go her way, and we even learn Nazz for all her coolness and popularity, still has insecurities shes VERY emotional about- her hair being one. Much like Dirk does about this or that. Im sure theres further proof to get what Im saying across, but Im rambling as is. So thats where Ill end that tirade, I think it REALLY fits Nazz.  So theres my conclusion.

For Jonny 2x4. Its easier to tell you why I think it fits him, and Id say its for far more obvious reasons when you really get down to it. Hes probably an example of a Bard that simply hasn't learned how to gauge his aspect very well in every day life, leading to him becoming more of an annoyance to those around him much like how you see Cronus or Gamzee be treated. Someone who hasn't quite "gotten it" yet. I don't think this is nessasarily because Jonny is stupid though, at least maybe not as stupid as he makes himself out to be, since hes shown to definitely have some intellegience, more like its because hes Younger (theres no direct ages we know of?), but he does act a lot younger than Nazz so thats my best assumption, and hes also in a seperate enviroment from Nazz, who I personally see as a far healthier Bard for reasons I'll be getting into in a minute here. just know. Jonny has similiarities to Nazz with how the Heart aspect bends around him; Theres too many instances to count where hes just being impulsive but he tries to come across as braver or calmer than he really is. But if I admitted all of them for Jonny, we'd be here all day long and you'd be reading even MORE.

Lets just go with the obvious signs outside those then.

Jonny is a very lonely kid. This is similiar to Dirk too; Jonny is never seen with any genuine friends except his attempts to befriend the Edds, as stated before some kids in the cul-de-sac consider him to be an annoyance due to his own impulsiveness, and this because hes a very socially awkward kid because even in his own home theres rather dark implications of Child Nelgect or something happening. Even the Creator of the show states this interesting quote in an interveiw: "He'd be more or less thrown out the door at 9am and only let back in when it got dark or if it was time to eat. He had an imaginary friend. " Hes that lonely kid who was so lonely and felt so much so he had to resort to Imaginary friends, imposing an identity to an object that seemingly has a similiar personality to his own or a personality that meshes well enough for them to "get along" and to not get along sometimes- this is seen constantly with Jonny talking to Plank. Jonny sometimes disgrees with the morality of Plank, but hes also best friends with Plank and if I remember correctly, Jonny even says at point they are as close as brothers- PLank knows him more than he knows himself, as Jonny says. Sometimes Plank suggests even illegal things - things a little kid like Jonny (supposedly) wouldn't know about or do himself. Almost like Jonny knows weird things from listening to his parents and imposed them onto Plank, making Plank "real" so Jonny could stay in his own head and pretendHE doesn't know anything. If that makes sense.  Much in the same manner as Dirk having conversations of various focuses with HAL and objects he himself has inputted his will or rather - his Soul and Heart onto.

Thinking about this some more. I think an arguement could be made that Jonny isn't actually a Bard of Heart, but maybe a Bard of MIND. But IM not so sure.

If i think of anything more to add to this, I might revisit my thoughts on it later and reblog or edit it more.

[vore-scientist]

Hey Little SongBird

[Sfw safe soft M/m GT vore]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Premise: A bard is in desperate need of a story. Can he sing his way out of being eaten by the evil giant wizard known as Yonah HaEsh? Well. No. But perhaps he can sing his way out of the wizard’s stomach? A fun little adventure for sure. 

Story is First Person (The Bard’s) POV. He’s a expressive narrator. 

Warnings: big Fear.play during the vore scene! This is a thief style story. Yonah,  if you don’t know, is very convincing when he says he kills people. And because he has no quick and easy safety spell, his treats sometimes end up a little bit well, not di.ges/-ted but slight skin irritation happens from time to time. Yes some pain, but no permanent harm! Yonah’s very practiced at making sure they are A-OK!

Ok onto the story!

---

I hate the stereotype of bards being horny tricksters who use their voices to seduce people into infidelity. Any such stories are complete poppycock and base slander. Bards are more than pretty faces and lovely voices. We are first and foremost story tellers, entertainers! Actors and chroniclers! Often risking life and limb to get you the stories you love so much. Those fancy sword moves and fight dances you see on stage aren’t just for show.  

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo-ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet, I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild, you might ask? Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The Apprentices, the Journeyers. Not Masters such as I. 

At least, not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me. 

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways. 

Regardless, to earn back my place in the guild I needed a new story, an impressive story. So I gathered my supplies and took the first teleport to the City of Luster, closest city in the Kingdom of Orr to the Mystic Woods. Sure, other cities exist at its borders, but Luster is the only one with a direct path into the Woods. A path that is safe, to a point. 

It’s also a great place to get a few last minute supplies. For example, a small ukulele. My previous instrument, my precious goldenrod Oud, was repossessed by the guild. I needed something cheap and lightweight. And also I was banned from purchasing from most craftsfolk because, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, I'm Blacklisted. 

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there. 

Right! I was ready to go.  

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road. 

And Into the Woods. 

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story. 

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero—maybe I—would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck—it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!! 

Not that I’m on a time limit. 

The gnomes were so nice, and they made the most delightful floral scented cakes. They enjoyed my songs and tales about heroic gnomes and I left their camp with a flower crown and a sack of cakes. 

I felt like today I would find a story! 

Nope. 

In this forest of wonder and magic and monsters and secrets, I ran into nothing. I even played music to attract trouble but Nooooooooo, guess even the beasts of the woods knew I was blacklisted! 

It was late afternoon when I found some interesting deer tracks and decided to follow. 

Bards aren’t known for our stealth but I’m going to tell you a secret. What’s the guild gonna do! Blacklist me? 

Anyways the secret is: certain Bards learn to play notes and pitches that cancel out our footsteps and create silence. 

I followed the prints to find a small herd of very interesting deer! 

They had really interesting patterns, each one slightly different but only if you looked closely. That meant I needed a closer look. 

So focused on the deer I didn’t watch my feet and I tripped. The deer ran off. 

“HEY!” a shrill voice called from somewhere in the trees, “What did you do that for?”

No idea who was yelling at me but I was taking no chances, and like the deer I bolted. But not fast enough, not nimble enough. 

An arrow shot by my leg and stuck in the ground. I stopped. And stood perfectly still. 

“Idiot.” the voice was now right behind me! 

I turned. And looked down. It was an elf! With plum purple skin and dark green hair. 

And they were laughing. 

Then another elf fell from the trees to land silently next to the first. This one had dark green skin and straw yellow hair. Their long ears were standing straight up reaching higher than my eyes. 

They were laughing too.

“What’s so funny?”

“You responded to ‘idiot’!” Said the purple one. 

Ugh. Elves!!

Then they got suddenly more serious. 

“Can’t believe it! We’ve been hunting those deer before the sun even rose and you happened to trip when we got them in our sights!”

“I’m... sorry?” 

The second elf elbowed the first, “He couldn’t have known we were there, Damian! Not his fault!” She spoke in elvish but I’m fluent. 

The first elf, Damian, looked up and half groaned half sighed, “and I suppose, Bridget, that I should apologize to the human for almost shooting him?”

I don’t know why I spoke up but I did. 

“It was an impressive warning shot!”

Damian’s ears stood up again then folded back and a little red flush appeared on the purple cheeks. As did on Bridget’s but for a different reason. 

“Yes. Warning shot,” they said. 

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut. Not a smart idea to quip about an elf’s hunting prowess. I still wasn’t happy to learn they were trying to shoot me! 

“You’re an adventurer?” Asked Bridget. “What’s your name?

“A bard!” I said. “I’m, um, Ophir!” 

“Need a place to stay tonight, Ophir?”

The shadows were lengthening, I hadn’t noticed. And then my stomach growled. 

“I sure do. But are you sure? I mean I did scare the deer-“

Damian shouldered their bow and nodded, “It wouldn’t be very elven to leave a stranger in the woods.”

Even not hunting they moved so silently I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I followed them to their village. We stopped by the temple, as it is the respectful thing to do when entering the village. It was set up for fall, done up in browns and oranges and paper chains. On the altar was a single brown leaf. The first one seen by a member of the village. 

I’m not elvish but I still prayed to Autumn for my hometown to have a bountiful harvest. 

I sat on the floor in the common dining hall as my new… friends, sat on stools made of tree stumps. They may not have caught any deer but there was some sort of roasted meat concoction wrapped in sugary leaves, crystallized to give it crunch, making a sweet and savory combination I’d never experienced before. The same sugar crispy leaves were used to scoop a sort of nut and vegetable curry. Delightful! I could write a song just about the food. 

I of course told them why I was in the woods, since they were curious. 

And they told everyone how I tripped and fell, exaggerating it greatly. All the elves laughed but knowing elves I was better off. They enjoyed slapstick comedy. The fact that I was able to laugh at myself seemed to gain me favor. 

One elf, with lighter green skin and dark brown hair laughed like the rest and yet, their eyes were deep in thought. They were a strange one, I think. Even by elf standards they had a strange name. 

Jacuzzi? Who names themselves Jacuzzi?

Then they spoke. 

“So, Ophir, you need a story?” They asked. I nodded.

“I think I can help you,” they said, “at the very least point you in the right direction.” 

At their words a lot of the company got quiet. 

“If you’re that desperate, there’s,” they paused, as if they were still considering whether or not to tell me. “A wizard. If you encounter him, you’re sure to get a proper story.”

I couldn’t think why this made the elf act so strange, plenty of mages made it their job to participate in tales. Though, with wizards they were usually evil, if not a member of an adventuring party. Nonetheless! A story about a wizard sounded fantastic. 

“Where does-“ I stopped myself from finishing that stupid sentence. Nowhere in the Mystic Woods stayed put so asking for directions was complete folly. 

“What’s the best way to, uh, find him?” 

Jacuzzi shrugged “The birds have the most up to date information. But you’ll know it’s his place when you find the tower in the garden.”

Lots of wizards had towers, few had gardens. That was more of a witch thing. 

“He’ll be there? Tonight?”

“Probably, he can't- well he’ll be there. If not tonight then by the morning. Don’t mess with his things.” 

Sound advice. 

“Hold on tonight?” Damian re-entered the conversation. “Are you mad? Traveling the forest at night is dangerous! Especially alone.”

“So? I’m trying to get into trouble. Doesn’t make a difference if I find it at the tower or on my way.” 

My confidence wasn’t entirely fake. I had a good meal, I wasn’t tired. I could knock this out by morning! 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

I swear I heard giggling as I departed. If these elves were pulling one over on me well! I don’t know what I would do but I’ll think of something. I had a wizard to find. 

It wasn’t long before I realized why I should have waited for morning. 

No! Birds! 

From whom could I ask directions? A rodent? They were never as helpful. The sun was about to set. It was only early autumn, the days were still a decent length, but it would be dark real soon. No birds, no people. 

Wait. I spoke too soon. There were footsteps. It was a slim chance but maybe they could help me. 

“Young man, what are you doing? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night alone?”

The voice had a deep and soft quality that wasn’t human. But they were speaking Orrian. Really folks, dont meet strangers in the forest that you can’t see. They’re usually evil witches or sorcerers or cyclops ogres. Yeah, one-eyed ogres are skilled talkers, luring people to them. It was only after I answered I realized this could be an ogre. 

“Aren’t you out alone too?”

“Why yes-” the voice was closer and then I saw them. 

Thankfully it wasn’t and ogre. But it was a witch, and a dwarf one. Uncommon. Probably not evil. It did explain why they were confidently out at night. Dwarves had pretty amazing night vision. They had the traditional black robe and hat, and a cat sat down beside them. It was a really large cat, which was amusing next to the short witch. Their long braided beard was decorated with trinkets, which was a quaint look I must admit. 

“But I live here.”

I stood up straight, which I guess was a bit rude. 

“How do you know I don’t?” I stammered, “I could!”

The dwarf stroked their beard, “I guess it’s possible, do you?”

I sighed and slouched, “No…”

“But I am looking for trouble.” I explained my story and the dwarf listened, smiling kindly. 

“So the elves told me I would be guaranteed a story if I found this wizard who has a tower and a garden-”

The witch’s eyebrows raised. 

“- you know this wizard?”

The cat mrowed loudly, his tail swishing on the forest floor a bit faster. 

“I do indeed,” there was an extreme fondness in their voice. 

“And you know where he is?”

The witch laughed, “I’d say this was coincidence, but in these parts there are too many of those to be truly coincidental. I do in fact know the current location, and it’s close by.”

“Really!” I almost danced with excitement. 

Unlike the elves the dwarf had no hesitations. They pointed me in the right direction, and informed me of a few roadblocks and landmarks. 

“If you hurry you should be just in time for dessert,”  they said, waving as I wasted no more time in heading off. 

“Thanks so much!” I turned on my lantern and my back on the witch. 

Oh if I had only thought about the implications of their last words to me. 

Hilarious. In hindsight. 

Nevermind that now, I’m sure you’re already laughing. Hahaha. 

Finding the tower was easy with the witch’s directions. They’d even told me the thorns were fake and the vines safe to climb up. That should have raised red flags, or some color, but I was so focused on achieving my goal. 

Now, we bards aren’t really known for our… physical abilities beyond dance. We can fight sure, but a fifty-foot climb is gonna leave most bards gasping for breath. I'm proud to say I was merely on the cusp of wheezing, though I was having difficulty standing. 

I needed to rest. So I lay on the windowsill. 

Which I failed to notice stretched so that I could more than easily lie down.  The cool night air and stone felt so nice. I looked into the tower. 

And my heart stopped. 

I’d gotten a brief glimpse before nearly passing out, but it was different now. 

Exactly the same. 

But. 

Bigger. 

You might know, my readers, that wizards are all human. All of them. Non-humans aren’t allowed to attend the academy. I’m sure those like I, being a quarter fairy, might be let in, but... This- this giant sized workshop didn’t make any sense. A giant could not be a wizard no way. Why would the elves say this was a wizard’s tower? Did they not understand the difference between wizard, witch, and sorcerer?

But the dwarf witch, they had to know! They had not corrected me. Plus, the workshop did have a very wizard feel to it.

What was going on here? 

I needed a moment to process so I rolled over to look outside. Looking inside made my head hurt. 

But a Giant Wizard. If that were real, what a story! If it were fake, then well, a giant mage is still exciting. I looked once more into the room. Three desks, one for material prepping and alchemy, one that looked like the main workbench, and one… like a spare workbench? It was not very organized compared to the other. And shelves full of things I could not identify. 

And on the floor, an open trap door with stairs leading down. Down to where the wizard must be. 

I was thankful I had noticed the shift in scale, or I surely would have fallen 15 feet onto the floor. Instead I got out my grappling hook and rope and rappelled down. With a flick, the hook dislodged. This place was large, I would need it again. 

I could have spent hours in this room, just taking in the immense magical collection, but that wasn’t why I was there. And I heard noises from down the stairs. Water? Clinking metal? I took each stair one at a time, slowly making my way deeper into the tower. 

Either the kitchen just happened to be one floor down or this stairwell was enchanted to take you to the floor you were thinking about. For just as I reached the landing I saw the massive doorframe that led into what was clearly a kitchen and small dining room. Small for the giant, who was at the sink washing pots, pans, and other things. 

He certainly looked like a wizard! A tall wide brimmed hat with a curling point, and robes that matched the garish colors and patterns. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and mutton chops, and long curly black hair tied behind his back. On his handsomely large nose rested thick square spectacles. Not only was he tall, he was just plain large. 

I know I talked about the false stereotypes of bards, but we weren't the only profession with them. People tended to think of Wizards as more delicate, as they spent all their time studying, never going out, forgetting meals. But this, man, for he looked more human than giant except for being over 20ft tall, well the only word for it was burly. 

I’d never imagined a wizard who, if you removed his wizard robes, put him in a flannel shirt and handed him an axe would be a picture perfect lumberjack. Now such a wizard was right before my very eyes. 

Suddenly I was not so confident. I should have lost my nerve back at the window, when I saw the scale of the workshop. But it just didn’t hit me until I saw the giant. I’ve seen giants before, they are actually larger than this person, that made him seem more dangerous. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

This wasn’t just any wizard, or any giant. 

This one was evil. 

Maybe I could just leave! Yeah. I would just get the fuck out of here. I was not prepared to handle an evil giant wizard. 

I made my decision a bit too late. The giant stopped cleaning a plate to look up and sniff the air. 

Shit. 

It was futile to run, but it was my only option. I didn’t even make it up two stairs before the giant roared with delight. 

“FEE FI FO FUM!”

No no no! Not that! 

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND!” 

Well technically I was quarter fairy but-

“IT MATTERS NOT THE THINGS YOU STOLE, I’LL CAPTURE YOU AND SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.”

Yeah… I should not have come here. Evil giants tend to eat people. I’d had a small hope that this smaller giant, who was very likely a proper wizard, wouldn’t.

He made it to the stairwell in a few seconds and scooped me up in one hand, holding me up to his face. 

“How convenient,” he smiled, revealing very giant-like fangs. His breath was horrible. “I was just thinking I needed some dessert.”

I cursed the witch from earlier. They knew! They knew he would want to eat me! But the witch wasn’t here, wasn’t my problem right now. 

“Please! Mister Wizard, I did not steal anything, I am no thief! I’m a bard!”

The giant raised his eyebrows, but did not set me down, instead he turned and walked down the stairs. 

“A bard?” he asked, “what’s your name?”

“Ophir Shel Peh!” I said.

The giant tapped his chin. “Hm. Yes I would say you probably are a bard! I don’t get many of those.” 

The room he entered was some sort of living room. But I didn’t really have the capacity to take in any details other than the chair that he sat down in. 

“I wonder if bards taste any different from thieves!” he said with excitement that made my heart drop to my feet. 

“Please, please don’t eat me!” I begged. “I just wanted a story!”

“Hm,”he placed me on the coffee table but did not let me go. Instead he started removing my gear, everything except my clothing. Things were going from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t have much hope of surviving but he wasn’t eating me just yet, and he was clearly open to conversing. 

“Well! Either I would tell the tale of my adventure here, or, you could give me a tale, perhaps in exchange for something?”

The giant laughed, “you came here on your own to challenge me? So you could tell your tale?”

I nodded. 

“Very foolish,” he growled, “But I could tell you a story.”

“Really?!” 

“Not that you would ever get to tell it.” he continued, “since I’m going to eat you.”

He sounded like he’d really made up his mind about that. But the longer he talked the more time I had to think of a way out of this. I didn’t want to point out that him eating me defeated the purpose of him telling me a story in the first place. 

“It’s a good one too. Surely you were surprised to find me a half-giant and wizard.”

I nodded again, a bit more dumbfounded. Half giant explained a lot already. 

“But if I tell you how I ended up here, you must promise not to tell it until his mystical majesty is dead. Or I am.”

What?

“Are you dying?”

The giant looked wistful. “No. But I’m a villain. I could die any day. The next person who comes into my tower could be the one who kills me.”

“And you’ll finally get what's coming to you I guess,” I said. “Like I’ll even be able to tell it since I’ll be one of your victims.” 

The giant laughed, “oh yes, of course. Cause I’m going to eat you! Like I have many others before.”

Great. I shouldn’t have said anything. 

He scooped me up again and placed me on the armrest. Then he let me go. But i didn’t dare try to run. 

“I guess I could start at the beginning, when I decided to become a wizard.” he mused, “The life story of Yonah HaEsh.”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, and then down at me. 

“How foolish I was. I mean obviously I succeeded but it was still foolish.” 

You know how I said I would spend the time while he rambled to think of a way out of this? Well his story was certainly long enough. Gods, wizards don’t leave out details! They have no concept of narrative flow! 

And yet. It was riveting. His human father was a fire witch and that got him interested in magic. So he disguised himself as human to attend school. He was found out eventually, expelled and arrested for infiltrating the kingdom as a dangerous magical monster. He was almost executed before he was offered a job here in the tower! And amazingly, the Grand Master of the school had taken pity on him and allowed him to continue his studies here and graduate, earning the right to call himself a wizard. 

The point is I forgot about escaping. Until he started to wrap up his story. 

“Never intended to become evil. But it suits me!” He said brightly. 

That brought me back to reality. Evil. Giant! 

I was in his hand again, not so tightly this time but still secure. Face to face. He was smiling again and chuckling.

“Especially since it means I get to eat people!”

“You're so surprised you’re evil but I’m not!”

I think he knew I was stalling more but didn’t care. 

“How so?”

“You spent years among smallfolk! You have smallfolk friends! And you’re perfectly fine eating us?”

He snorted “it was smallfolk that expelled me from school, that nearly executed me for trying to learn magic! And for trapping me here, in my tower. Make no mistake, this gilded cage is still a cage.” 

There really was no going back. 

“Now your time's up, and I’m hungry.”

I still screamed! Who wouldn’t! I was sure he was going to have to bite me in half to eat me even if his earlier proclamation was to swallow me whole. 

I barely fit in his mouth, ribs pressed into his lower teeth and it hurt! His saliva soaked me through so quickly I could only imagine how good I tasted. I tried to brace myself on his teeth but my hands slipped between the jaws. Even more distressing he was definitely enjoying my struggles and flavor. 

Then I was upside down! And even in the tight space I slipped towards his throat. I put my hands forward to try and stop but it was so slick they slid down into his throat, along with my shoulders, as he swallowed. 

The air was crushed out of my lungs and I dared not scream. It was hard, as I knew where I was headed, and I was surrounded by hot rubbery flesh that shoved at me, eager to get me to my destination. 

A massive throbbing against my face told me I was passing by his heart. It was at this point he took another swallow and my feet slipped into his throat, my hands… they touched air. Thick. Hot air. 

And then so did my face and I made the mistake of gasping for breath. As the air smelled of vomit, and I remembered the wizard was cleaning up from dinner when I arrived. I was smelling the remains of that meal. Oh gods if he had eaten me right away I would have been sitting in food! It was a small bit of reprise, I guess. That the giant decided to talk for a couple of hours. 

My feet were still in the esophagus when my face pressed against the opposite wall of the stomach. It was slimy like I couldn’t believe! I pulled my feet free and oriented myself so that I was sitting upright. 

This must be what it feels like to be kidnapped in a sack. A sack that was going to be dunked in acid. 

“You awake in there?” said a deep rumbling voice from above, and I felt a sharp nudge. Great. He wasn’t done with me, and I failed a bit in protest. “Ha! That’s better, I go through all the trouble of swallowing you down, the least you can do is struggle and scream a bit.”

“If I do that, I’ll run out of air quicker!” I squawked. Though I suspected I would start crying soon enough. Either just out of despair or because of the pain. 

I wasn’t feeling anything yet except for slime and heat, so it wasn’t likely to be a quick death. Depending on how long it took for digestion to work on a whole human, I might run out of air and pass out first. That would be nice, less painful. Unconscious I would feel nothing. I would much prefer that- oh. 

“Mr Wizard,” In that moment I’d forgotten his name, thought I wouldn’t need it if I was going to die.

Another jab at my side. “Yes, my tasty little bard?”

“Can I make a final request?” 

The entire chamber squished and bounced a bit, and I imagined the giant heaving a sigh and sitting back in his chair. 

“That depends on the request.”

“I- I want to sing one last song. But I need my ukulele, can you-” I kind of shuddered, but it wasn’t like an heirloom or something, “swallow it for me?”

There was a long pause, or it felt long because my timeline was now so short. 

“I'm not a fan of eating objects,” he said, then heaved another sigh, “but I suppose I can do that.”

I felt him lean over and then heard a sickening gulp. If I was going to die I was going to die singing with an instrument in my arms!

I plucked a few cords and shook out as much of the drool as I could. 

“Your voice isn’t magical is it?” Asked the giant as I tuned the ukulele.

I smiled “No, it is. I’ve got some Fey ancestry. Never really tested its power. Mostly I’ve played monsters to sleep. Or made a crowd cry with an opening line. People tell me that when I weave a tale it’s as if they were there first hand. Not so useful when you’re already eaten.” 

Unless he’s so moved by my song that he takes pity. But I didn’t say that out loud. 

“Well, just make it a nice song. I’ve got sensitive ears.”

Ok… I had a momentary thought of singing so loudly and so sharply that his ears bled. But then I realized he was making a threat. He could make my death much much worse. My original song was fine. 

I strummed the ukulele, it sounded so odd in the stomach. And maybe it couldn’t penetrate out so well. I used a little magic to boost it. I don’t always use magic, except for my naturally magical voice, but I figured… 

This would be my last performance. And it would be for my murderer. Still, I was compelled to make it a good one. 

I’d already made it through the first instrumental bars, and I took a breath of the rancid air. 

-

In the quiet mystic morning  When the sun’s just graced the land O’er the horizon, lies a story And it begs to take my hand

Now that summer’s ceased its gleaming And the harvest’s past its prime In adventure i've found meaning But I’ll be homeward bound in time 

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

As the first instrumental break started I turned my attention to the giant’s response. It was hard to evaluate from inside of him. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t hitting my mark. 

-

If you find it’s me you're missing And you’re hoping I’ll return To your thoughts I’ll soon be listing  On the road I’ll stop and turn

-

It was starting to hurt a bit now, I hadn't noticed it at first since when I perform I tend to feel all floaty and numb, but now pain penetrated my fog. I directed it into my voice and I cried out. 

-

For the wind has set me racing As my journey now begins To leave the path I’ll be retracing When I’m homeward bound again

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

The second, and last, instrumental break. Did I feel shaking around me? Was this working? Breathing was becoming harder, my skin stung. My shoulders, elbows, and knees ached too, this was a horrible position. The fluid level was rising. But I didn’t stop. I would finish this song. 

I was practically sobbing at this point but my song rang out. 

-

In the quiet  Mystic morning When the moon has gone to bed When adventure’s lost its meaning…

I’ll be homeward bound

Again

-

With the last few notes from my mouth, I gripped the ukulele so hard it almost cracked. 

Then the chamber jerked. I heard heavy breaths. Again. Was that a sniff?

Was he crying? Please. Gods of music. 

“Dammit,” he hissed and sniffed again, “Fine. I’m letting you go. Stupid bard.”

My brain was so frozen with elation I couldn’t actually believe it until it was happening. Not until I was physically forced back up the way I’d come. I slid out of the giant’s mouth and into shallow warm water. I took deep breaths of the clean air. And Yonah continued to retch as I got my bearings.

We were back in the kitchen, I was in the sink! Wait where was- The giant let out a horrible sound like a cat with a hairball and with a plop, my ukulele joined me in the bath. 

Now Yonah looked at me, eyes red and puffy, some tear streaks down his face. Though he had just violently thrown up. 

“Congratulations, Ophir the bard,” he spat, but he was grinning, “You have your story.”

I- I blinked in astonishment. He was right. I’d trekked through the woods, hung out with gnomes, got led to my near doom by elves and a witch, and sang so sorrowfully I made the evil man-eating giant cry and let me go. 

“Th-thank you-” I said, and I let him help me out of the sink and onto a towel to dry. 

“I should be thanking you!” he said. “Dessert and entertainment all in one!”

The fact that he still thought of me as food wasn’t reassuring but I didn’t think he was going to eat me again. In fact, Yonah’s entire demeanor had changed, he wasn’t so harsh looking, his voice was softer. 

“Would you like some tea? That helps after a near-death experience.”

He didn’t wait for my response but went to get the tea leaves and pot.   

“Hold on!” I said, but he didn’t stop making tea. “Did you even intend on killing me?”

He smiled as he put the pot on the stove and lit it with a snap of his fingers and a flash in his eyes. 

“No, not really, you’re not a thief.” Yonah laughed at some joke that only he got. 

“So why-” I mean he could have gotten me to sing before swallowing me whole. 

“Your fairy blood.” I looked confused, “I could smell it on you, sweet and magical. I wasn't going to pass up such a special treat.”

If there was a god who could erase horrifying knowledge from the mind I would have prayed to them. 

“Then- did my song do anything?” I choked like I was back in his stomach, unable to breathe. 

It was clear he saw the distress in my face, that I was not as good a bard as I thought I was. 

“My tears were real, little bard. I didn’t expect to be moved so much. Even if I had meant to kill you... you might have convinced me otherwise.”

The teapot whistled and he went to take care of it. I sat down. I was so lucky. Had the elves known he would spare me? Was that why they were laughing? This was some convoluted prank? And the witch, how were they in on it? Not that it mattered, their reasons and motivations weren’t important for my story. 

Then I remembered, “Your story!” I said, rather loudly. 

He stopped what he was doing, which was carefully using magic to pour a cup for me. “Yes?”

“I'm not dead! I can tell your story!” I stood back up, one hand on my hip the other pointing,  “That’s why you let me go isn’t it.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “That definitely factored into it.”

Motherfucker! This also meant I wasn’t done with him. He was getting out a smaller place setting for me to sit at but I didn’t sit down, or drink the tea. 

“I need- I need to write it all down!” I said, “I have a good memory, but I was under duress before. I need to hear it again. And write it down."

The wizard smiled again, showing his teeth, but this time it did not scare me. 

“Then let’s take this upstairs, shall we?”

He held out his hand and without hesitation I sat on it. I was placed on his shoulder and he took me, and the tea, to the workshop. 

Amazingly he had a few blank notebooks that were human sized, and human sized pens. Nice ones too. And a human sized desk? The set up was perfect. 

“Since I have until either you or the king dies, I can do proper research. I’ll need names and places and dates! And your parents, if you know how they met, that would make a great prologue!” 

We worked well into the night.  My cup of tea got cold. 

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

FOR REFERENCE, HERE’S HOW THE SONG SOUNDS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VooU55wzSEc

[gt-adventures]

Hey Little SongBird

(SFW GT fantasy adventure short story.)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods 

Staring: Yonah HaEsh the half-giant wizard. and guest-starring Ophir, the mostly human bard. 

Summary: Ophir the bard needs a story to get back in the good graces of the Bards Guild and ventures into the Mystic Woods to find one. And what a story he ends up in! In the clutches of the Great and Terrible Yonah HaEsh. Can Ophir, through story, song, and dance, touch the evil “man-eating” giant’s wicked heart and avoid a terrible fate? (yes of course he can!) 

Warnings: Yonah’s job is to be a villainous fairy tale giant (and wizard). That means the whole “fee fi fo fum” and threatening to eat people routine, and he’s really convincing. At no point in this story does he ever intend to follow through on the threat. ALSO Ophir tells a fairytale that ends slightly gruesomely (I actually changed it to be less so… still) 

---

I hate the stereotype of bards being horny tricksters who use their voices to seduce people into infidelity. Any such stories are complete poppycock and base slander. Bards are more than pretty faces and lovely voices. We are first and foremost story tellers, entertainers! Actors and chroniclers! Often risking life and limb to get you the stories you love so much. Those fancy sword moves and fight dances you see on stage aren’t just for show.  

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo’ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet. I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild? You might ask. Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The apprentices, the journeyors. Not Masters such as I. At least. Not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me. 

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways. 

Regardless, to earn back my place in the guild I needed a new story, an impressive story. So I gathered my supplies and took the first teleport to the City of Luster, closest city in the Kingdom of Orr to the Mystic Woods. Sure, other cities exist at its borders, but Luster is the only one with a direct path into the Woods. A path that is safe, to a point. 

It’s also a great place to get a few last minute supplies. For example, a small ukulele. My previous instrument, my precious goldenrod Oud, was repossessed by the guild. I needed something cheap and lightweight. And also I was banned from purchasing from most craftsfolk because, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, im Blacklisted. 

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there. 

Right! I was ready to go.  

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road. 

And Into the Woods. 

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story. 

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero, maybe I, would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck, it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!! 

Not that i'm on a time limit. 

The gnomes were so nice, and they made the most delightful floral scented cakes. They enjoyed my songs and tales about heroic gnomes and I left their camp with a flower crown and a sack of cakes. 

I felt like today I would find a story! 

Nope. 

In this forest of wonder and magic and monsters and secrets, I ran into nothing. I even played music to attract trouble but Nooooooooo, guess even the beasts of the woods knew I was blacklisted! 

It was late afternoon when I found some interesting deer tracks and decided to follow. 

Bards aren’t known for our stealth but I’m going to tell you a secret. What’s the guild gonna do! Blacklist me? 

Anyways the secret is: certain Bards learn to play notes and pitches that cancel out our footsteps and create silence. 

I followed the prints to find a small herd of very interesting deer! 

They had really interesting patterns, each one slightly different but only if you looked closely. That meant I needed a closer look. 

So focused on the deer I didn’t watch my feet and I tripped. The deer ran off. 

“HEY!” a shrill voice called from somewhere in the trees, “What did you do that for?”

No idea who was yelling at me but I was taking no chances, and like the deer I bolted. But not fast enough, not nimble enough. 

An arrow shot by my leg and stuck in the ground. I stopped. And stood perfectly still. 

“idiot.” the voice was now right behind me! 

I turned. And looked down. It was an elf! With plum purple skin and dark green hair. 

And they were laughing. 

Then another elf fell from the trees to land silently next to the first. This one had dark green skin and straw yellow hair. Their long ears were standing straight up reaching higher than my eyes. 

They were laughing too.

“What’s so funny?”

“You responded to ‘idiot’!” Said the purple one. 

Ugh. Elves!!

Then they got suddenly more serious. 

“Can’t believe it! We’ve been hunting those deer for days and you happen to trip when we got them in our sights!”

“I’m, sorry?” 

The second elf elbowed the first, “he couldn’t have known we were there, Damian! Not his fault!” She spoke in elvish but I’m fluent. 

The first elf, Damian, looked up and half groaned half sighed, “and I suppose, Bridget, that I should apologize to the human for almost shooting him?”

I don’t know why I spoke up but I did. 

“It was an impressive warning shot!”

Damian’s ears stood up again then folded back and a little red flush appeared on the purple cheeks. As did on Bridget’s but for a different reason. 

“Yes. Warning shot,” they said. 

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut. Not a smart idea to quip about an elve’s bunting prowess. I still wasn’t happy to learn they were trying to shoot me! 

“You’re an adventurer?” Asked Bridget.

“A bard!” I said.

“Need a place to stay tonight?”

The shadows were lengthening, I hadn’t noticed. And then my stomach growled. 

“I sure do. But are you sure? I mean I did scare the deer-“

Damian shouldered their bow and nodded, “It wouldn’t be very elven to leave a stranger in the woods.”

Even not hunting they moved so silently I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I followed them to their village. We stopped by the temple, as it is the respectful thing to do when entering the village. It was set up for fall, done up in browns and oranges and paper chains. On the altar was a single brown leaf. The first one seen by a member of the village. 

I’m not elvish but I still prayed to Autumn for my hometown to have a bountiful harvest. 

I sat on the floor in the common dining hall as my new… friends, sat on stools made of tree stumps. They may not have caught any deer but there was some sort of roasted meat concoction wrapped in sugary leaves, crystallized to give it crunch, making a sweet and savory combination I’d never experienced before. The same sugar crispy leaves were used to scoop a sort of nut and vegetable curry. Delightful! I could write a song just about the food. 

I of course told them why I was in the woods, since they were curious. 

And they told everyone how I tripped and fell, exaggerating it greatly. All the elves laughed but knowing elves I was better off. They enjoyed slapstick comedy. The fact that I was able to laugh at myself seemed to gain me favor. 

One elf, with lighter green skin and dark brown hair laughed like the rest and yet, their eyes were deep in thought. They were a strange one, I think. Even by elf standards they had a strange name. 

Jacuzzi? Who names themselves jacuzzi?

Then they spoke. 

“So, you need a story?” They asked. I nodded.

“I think I can help you,” they said, “at the very least point you in the right direction.” 

At their words a lot of the company got quiet. 

“If you’re that desperate, there’s,” they paused, as if they were still considering whether or not to tell me, “A wizard. If you encounter him, you’re sure to get a proper story.”

I couldn’t think why this made the elf act so strange, plenty of mages made it their job to participate in tales. Though. With wizards they were usually evil, if not a member of an adventuring party. Nonetheless! A story about a wizard sounded fantastic. 

“Where does-“ I stopped myself from finishing that stupid sentence. Nowhere in the Mystic Woods stayed put so asking for directions was complete folly. 

“What’s the best way to, uh, find him?” 

Jacuzzi shrugged “The birds have the most up to date information. But you’ll know it’s his place when you find the tower in the garden.”

Lots of wizards had towers, few had gardens. That was more of a witch thing. 

“He’ll be there? Tonight”

“Probably, he can't- well he’ll be there. If not tonight then by the morning. Don’t mess with his things.”

“Why-”

“He considers it extremely rude-  You don't want to be rude”

Sound advice. 

“Hold on tonight?” Damian re-entered the conversation. “Are you mad? Traveling the forest at night is dangerous! Especially alone.”

“So? I’m trying to get into trouble. Doesn’t make a difference if I find it at the tower or on my way.” 

My confidence wasn’t entirely fake. I had a good meal, I wasn’t tired. I could knock this out by morning! 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

I swear I heard giggling as I departed. If these elves were pulling one over on me well! I don’t know what I would do but I’ll think of something. I had a wizard to find. 

It wasn’t long before I realized why I should have waited for morning. 

No! Birds! 

From Who could I ask directions? The sun was about to set. It was only early autumn, the days were still a decent length, but it would be dark real soon. No birds, no people. 

Wait. I spoke too soon. There were footsteps. It was a slim chance but maybe they could help me. 

“Young man, what are you doing? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night alone?”

The voice had a deep and soft quality that wasn’t human. But they were speaking Orriandish. Really folks, dont meet strangers in the forest that you can’t see. They’re usually evil witches or sorcerers or cyclops ogres. Yeah, one-eyed ogres are skilled talkers, luring people to them. It was only after I answered I realized this could be an ogre. 

“Aren’t you out alone too?”

“Why yes-” the voice was closer and then I saw them. 

Thankfully it wasn’t and ogre. But it was a witch, and a dwarf one. Uncommon. Probably not evil. It did explain why they were confidently out at night. Dwarves had pretty amazing night vision. They had the traditional black robe and hat, and a cat sat down beside them. It was a really large cat, which was amusing next to the short witch. Their long braided beard was decorated with trinkets, which was a quaint look I must admit. 

“But I live here.”

I stood up straight, which I guess was a bit rude. 

“How do you know I don’t?” I stammered, “I could!”

The dwarf stroked their beard, “I guess it’s possible, do you?”

I sighed and slouched, “No…”

“But I am looking for trouble.” I explained my story and the dwarf listened, smiling kindly. 

“So the elves told me I would be guaranteed a story if I found this wizard who has a tower and a garden-”

The witch’s eyebrows raised. 

“- you know this wizard?”

The cat mrowed loudly, his tail swishing on the forest floor a bit faster. 

“I do indeed,” there was an extreme fondness in their voice. 

“And you know where he is?”

The witch laughed, “I’d say this was coincidence, but in these parts there are too many of those to be truly coincidental. I do in fact know the currently location, and it’s close by.”

“Really!” I almost danced with excitement. 

Unlike the elves the dwarf had no hesitations. They pointed me in the right direction, and informed me of a few roadblocks and landmarks. 

“Thanks so much!” I waved back at them and didn’t look where I was going and almost tripped. 

Almost. 

“And light your lantern!” 

Oh right, duh! 

Finding the tower was easy with the witch’s directions. They’d even told me the thorns were fake and the vines safe to climb up. That should have raised red flags, or some color, but I was so focused on achieving my goal. 

Now, we bards aren’t really known for our… physical abilities beyond dance. We can fight sure, but a fifty-foot climb is gonna leave most bards gasping for breath. I'm proud to say I was merely on the cusp of wheezing, though I was having difficulty standing. 

I needed to rest. So I lay on the windowsill. 

Which I failed to notice stretched so that I could more than easily lie down.  The cool night air and stone felt so nice. I looked into the tower. 

And my heart stopped. 

I’d gotten a brief glimpse before nearly passing out, but it was different now. 

Exactly the same. 

But. 

Bigger. 

You might know, my readers, that wizards are all human. All of them. Non-humans aren’t allowed to attend the academy. I’m sure those like I, being a quarter fairy, might be let in, but... This- this giant sized workshop didn’t make any sense. A giant could not be a wizard no way. Why would the elves say this was a wizard’s tower? Did they not understand the difference between wizard, witch, and sorcerer?

But the dwarf witch, they had to know! They had not corrected me. Plus, the workshop did have a very wizard feel to it.

What was going on here? 

I needed a moment to process so I rolled over to look outside. Looking inside made my head hurt. 

But a Giant Wizard. If that were real, what a story! If it were fake, then well, a giant mage is still exciting. I looked once more into the room. Three desks, one for material prepping and alchemy, one that looked like the main workbench, and one… like a spare workbench? It was not very organized compared to the other. And shelves full of things I could not identify. 

And on the floor, an open trap door with stairs leading down. Down to where the wizard must be. 

I was thankful I had noticed the shift in scale, or I surely would have fallen 15 feet onto the floor. Instead I got out my grappling hook and rope and rappelled down. With a flick, the hook dislodged. This place was large, I would need it again. 

I could have spent hours in this room, just taking in the immense magical collection, but that wasn’t why I was there. And I heard noises from down the stairs. Water? Clinking metal? I took each stair one at a time, slowly making my way deeper into the tower. 

Either the kitchen just happened to be one floor down or this stairwell was enchanted to take you to the floor you were thinking about. For just as I reached the landing I saw the massive doorframe that led into what was clearly a kitchen and small dining room. Small for the giant, who was at the sink washing pots, pans, and other things. 

He certainly looked like a wizard! A tall wide brimmed hat with a curling point, and robes that matched the garish colors and patterns. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and mutton chops, and long curly black hair tied behind his back. On his handsomely large nose rested thick square spectacles. Not only was he tall, he was just plain large. 

I know I talked about the false stereotypes of bards, but we weren't the only profession with them. People tended to think of Wizards as more delicate, as they spent all their time studying, never going out, forgetting meals. But this, man, for he looked more human than giant except for being over 20ft tall, well the only word for it was burly. 

I’d never imagined a wizard who, if you removed his wizard robes, put him in a flannel shirt and handed him an axe would be a picture perfect lumberjack. Now such a wizard was right before my very eyes. 

Suddenly I was not so confident. I should have lost my nerve back at the window, when I saw the scale of the workshop. But it just didn’t hit me until I saw the giant. I’ve seen giants before, they are actually larger than this person, that made him seem more dangerous. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

This wasn’t just any wizard, or any giant. 

This one was evil. 

Maybe I could just leave! Yeah. I would just get the fuck out of here. I was not prepared to handle an evil giant wizard. 

I made my decision a bit too late. The giant stopped cleaning a plate to look up and sniff the air. 

Shit. 

It was futile to run, but it was my only option. I didn’t even make it up two stairs before the giant roared with delight. 

“FEE FI FO FUM!”

No no no! Not that! 

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND!” 

Well technically I was quarter fairy but-

“BE THEY ALIVE OR BE THEY DEAD, I’LL GRIND THEIR BONES TO MAKE MY BREAD.”

Yeah… I should not have come here. Evil giants tend to eat people. I’d had a small hope that this smaller giant, who was very likely a proper wizard, wouldn’t. Also the line about grinding my bones to make bread? I’m no alchemist but I dont think powdered bones make for a good flour, and wouldn’t even be enough to make bread for a giant if it were! As far as I knew giants didn’t bother with such things and just gobbled people up. 

Which didn’t bode well for me as this giant made it stairwell in a few seconds and scooped me up in one hand, holding me up to his face. 

“How convenient, a tasty little thief” he smiled, revealing very giant-like fangs. His breath was horrible. “I was just thinking I needed some dessert.”

“Please! Mister Wizard, I did not steal anything, I am no thief! I’m a bard!”

The giant raised his eyebrows, but did not set me down, instead he turned and walked back into the kitchen. 

“A bard?” he asked, “what’s your name?”

“Ophir Shel Peh!” I said. 

“Not Jack then?” The giant tapped his chin, and his eyes found my ukulele. “Hm. Yes I would say you probably are a bard! I don’t get many of those.” 

He sat at the personal dining table. And set me in front of him, putting his elbows on the table, and his chin over intertwined fingers. It was silent except for his breathing, and my heart in my ears. Every breath he took blew around me, and it was just a little warmer than I expected. He didn’t say anything for a long time and I started shaking, adding my rattling bones to the noise. 

“Why are you here?” he asked before I fainted (I had… somehow forgot about breathing). 

“Adventuring!” I couldn’t say ‘for a story’! THAT’S CHEATING. But perhaps... Ah I can’t lie to you reader. I wish I could say I was perspicacious enough to consider this giant was a professional fairytale villain. But I had no idea. I was damn lucky he was though. And he’s really good. I understand why His Mystical Majesty hired him. 

Let’s get back to me being a complete dumbass shall we?

The giant’s face hardened and I worried I’d fucked up. 

“Adventuring?” he asked rhetorically, but I nodded, then he looked a little morose. 

“Shame, I was thinking of letting you go-”

He was!?

“-But I guess I have to eat you after all.”

He didn't sound at all troubled by it. I mean, he had threatened to do so. I backed up and he smiled, knowing he could snatch me up no matter what. I think he could tell I was going to ask why, even just to stall. 

“It’s nothing personal, I don’t like intruders on my good days. But I can’t have you out there talking about me, spreading the word of a merciful giant. You’ll only get more people killed. ” 

That was a lot to process but I got the gist. 

“I won't talk!”

He stood up and slammed his palms on the table so hard I finally fell down. 

“You’re a bard, it’s your job!” 

Unfortunately he was right. 

Then he looked a bit surprised by something, narrowing his eyes at me. 

“I suppose,” he said, “your job also involves performing?”

I nodded. 

“I don’t get to go out much,” he said, though I wasn’t sure that the entire truth “If you give me a good show, I might consider it payment for what would have been an extra special treat. I can smell the fairy blood on you.”

I tried not to make a face. My fairy blood made me smell better? Great. And there was always a chance he was lying, just to get a show and his dessert. Evil giants might be fairly honorable, but evil wizards were notoriously dishonest. So I had no idea with this evil giant wizard. 

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” I asked. 

He sat back down, perfectly copying his original pose. 

“Tell me a story,” he said. “And perhaps I will not eat you.”

Great. Legally there weren’t many stories I could tell. You might be asking, ‘Ophir! You’re about to die, what do you care?’ Well if I live and I'm found out, I’ll be expelled from the guild for life. I’m already in hot water. 

That… and the only stories I could think of were ones with evil wizards or giants, who ended up dead. Curse my stupid brain. But I couldn’t refuse, he would eat me! Guess I had no other choice. 

[(adapted from a real tale)

The story of Maestro Lattantio and His Apprentice Dionigi. 

It was an old tale, from the long dead kingdom of Italy, so anyone could tell it. A wild tale of a wizard and his apprentice battling it out in ways only two mages would. Wanting to be free of his abusive master, Diogini kept turning into things, animals, creatures, to escape. 

But Lattantio would transform into the exact creature or monster or animated object needed to re-capture Diogini. Eventually Diogini turned into a fish and swam down a river. Lattantio declared that he was through with these games and would kill him. Lattantio turned into a kingfisher hawk, intending to snatch him out of the water, but Diogini jumped into a basket carried by a handmaiden  for the princess. The handmaiden had been doing laundry, so being a fish wouldn’t do. He turned himself into a beautiful ruby ring. The princess found it in her pocket and he became her new favorite piece of jewelry. 

Then one day, the King became ill, and Lattantio was called in to cure him. He did of course, and in payment, asked for the princess’s ruby ring, for he could tell it was Diogini. But he could come back tomorrow for the payment 

That night, when the princess took off the ring, Diogini transformed back into a man. He apologized for his ruse, and explained that the wizard Lattantio was his enemy, and would do anything to get him back into his clutches. The princess, who at first was horrified, saw that Diogini meant her no harm, and he was as handsome a man as he was beautiful a ring. She asked how she could help. 

The next day, when Lattantio returned, the princess stepped forward and held out the ring. Then dropped it to the floor. It turned into a mouse, so of course, Lattantio turned into a cat. The princess whistled to one of the palace dogs, which leapt at the cat, breaking its neck. 

Diogini quickly returned to human form and separated the dog from the cat’s corpse, tossing it into the fire. The only way to be sure the evil was truly destroyed. 

Impressed by Diogini’s skill and at the behest of the princess, the King was happy to make Diogini the court wizard, and his son. 

]

I concluded the story, and looked at the giant, distressed to find he looked unimpressed. 

“That was,” he waved his hand in a dismissal manner, “diverting, but I could just have easily read that story.”

WHAT! I’d done voices! I was dramatic and expressive! How dare he say reading it from a book could be the same! But I couldn’t be angry because I was scared. 

“Though I suppose it was decent,” he continued, “just not enough to keep you alive.”

Crap.

“Dance for me,” he said, “and perhaps I will not eat you.”

It took me a few seconds to notice he wasn’t eating me, but instead was giving me another chance. But… Dance!? On this table? With my leather boots on? And my thick pants? And no music!? This was not good. 

“S-sure” I said, I was still shaking badly. 

Since there was no music I thought perhaps, something that conveyed real meaning through motion. I could hear the song in my head at least, so I wouldn’t falter or look like I was making shit up. 

I leapt and gestured, and waggled my body in the most embarrassing ways.  

“What is this crap?” said the giant after I had danced for only a minute. 

“Interpretive dance, mister giant,” I said, freezing in a most uncomfortable pose. 

“You’d better pick something else,” he said. “And give it some more personality”

All I knew was he had given me a second chance. Ok. So I didn’t have music, but maybe something rhythmic would be better. I didn’t have the right shoes but my footsteps were still very audible. 

So I went into a new dance. Hopping and stomping and tapping my feet. Then I started singing. I had been so stupid that I forgot I could do both at the same time. I basically re-invented a few ritual dances from my hometown, used to bless the beginning of each month. If I lived through this I would go home and teach everyone. 

The giant Watched me carefully from behind those huge glasses. Judge, jury and executioner. 

Finally I was sore and out of breath, jumped up to land with a mighty THUNK, ending the performance. 

The giant looked a bit sorry now. Why would he look sorry!?

“That was very impressive, and your singing was a nice touch, but I think such things would best be done with a group. Alone it was underwhelming.” 

What did he know! I’d danced my freaking ass off! I sat down and tried not to cry as I regained my strength. Why weren’t my best efforts good enough!? I was a Master bard. But I was at the mercy of the most subjective critic. I had to change tactics. Impressing him wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Well, since it’s getting late,” he reached out a hand.  

“Wait!” I shouted, nearly breaking my voice which would have been a death sentence. 

The giant’s hand paused, “That was so bold I’m inclined to do so, but not for long.”

“You, liked my singing?” I asked. 

The hand retreated. “You could say that.” Then he caught on. “Fine. One last chance.” 

He leaned back, crossed his arms, and cleared his throat. 

“Sing for me, little bard, and perhaps, I will consider not eating you.”

I scrambled to my ukulele. It was so old it was already out of tune, so I hurriedly tuned it, under the piercing gaze of the giant.  

“Your voice isn’t magical is it?” Asked the giant as I tuned the ukulele.

I smiled “No, it is. My fey ancestry. Never really tested its power. Mostly I’ve transfixed crowds or made them cry with the opening notes. I’ve also played monsters to sleep.”

He leaned forward as I realized my mistake and quickly added “but that doesn’t work if you know about it! Which you now do!” 

Thankfully he believed me. I was telling the truth, but there was no reason for him to trust me. 

“Well, just make it a nice song. I’ve got sensitive ears.”

Oh fantastic. That meant he could probably tell if I went out of key. I had a moment’s thought to play something screeching and horrible, to make him bleed from his ears, giving me a chance to get away, or at least cause him pain before he ended my life. No. My first choice of song was probably the best one. 

I sat down criss cross apple sauce, but back very straight. And I strummed the opening cords. 

[

In the quiet mystic morning  When the sun’s just graced the land O’er the horizon, lies a story And it begs to take my hand

Now that summer’s ceased its gleaming And the harvest’s past its prime In adventure I’ve found meaning But I’ll be homeward bound in time 

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

As the first instrumental break started I turned my attention to the giant. His face was as stoney as ever.  I wasn’t hitting my mark. So I continued. 

-

If you find it’s me you’re missing And you’re hoping I’ll return To your thoughts I’ll soon be listing  On the road I’ll stop and turn

-

The old strings were threatening to cut into my fingers but I just used the pain to fuel my voice, powering it with agony and sorrow. I saw the giant’s brows raise as my human sized voice grew to fill the giant room. 

-

For the wind has set me racing As my journey now begins To leave the path I’ll be retracing When I’m homeward bound again

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

The second, and last, instrumental break. I had started crying at the chorus and couldn’t see the giant through my tears. My last performance, and it was for my murderer. 

And still my song rang out. 

-

In the quiet  Mystic morning When the moon has gone to bed When adventure’s lost its meaning…

I’ll be homeward bound

Again

-

My ears were ringing from the sheer volume, I was clutching the Ukulele so hard it threatened to crack. I was numb from all my efforts. Now would be a great time for him to eat me, maybe I would feel no pain. 

Then, as my ears and eyes cleared up, I saw. 

The giant's eyes, red. Shiny trails of tears down his cheeks. His arms were still crossed but he looked like he was almost strangling himself. Still, I did not let myself feel any hope. 

“Dammit,” he hissed and sniffed, “I should eat you for making me cry.” 

No. No no no no no. 

“But I won’t” he sniffed again and got out a handkerchief, “You’ve more than earned your life.”

I collapsed and started crying harder. I had done it. By the gods. I had fucking done it. I let myself melt into the table, half passing out. I didn’t want to feel or think for an entire week. I guess because he wasn’t going to kill me, the giant let me lay there. 

When I finally sat up he was making tea! I very much wanted to get the fuck out of there but the tea smelled amazing, almost magical. 

He noticed me moving. 

“I find tea helps after a harrowing adventure,” he said cheerfully. 

His demeanor was entirely different. His face was softer, his voice was higher, his dark brown eyes colder, but considering they had been blazing before, it was a friendly warmth now. 

That really had been an adventure hadn’t it. One that really made use of my skill set. One that was perfect to turn into a story. It had great pacing too, with just a bit of tweaking. I’d already started writing out the flowery prose and accompanying staging in my head. My interpretive dance was going to be way better in the retelling, but don’t say anything to the guild alright? Everyone embellished. 

I had to scramble away as he set the table, which meant setting down a smaller table and chair for me, and then bringing over his own cup and the teapot. He touched the sides of the pot that must be hot enough to scald skin from bone like it was nothing, pouring out near boiling tea. I watched mesmerized as he used a bit of magic to pour the tea into my teacup. 

“Let it cool,” he said, as he took a drink of his own tea, “I’m not normally a fan of sweetened tea, but I thought a little extra honey would do your throat some good.”

I gingerly stood up and got into the chair. It was normal sized of course, since he was giant. But here I felt like a doll that some demonic girl had set up for a tea party. 

“Thanks,” I said, and indeed my throat felt raw. I couldn’t wait to drink the tea, but it was still too hot. 

“I should be thanking you,” said the giant, smiling and showing off his fangs, but it no longer felt so threatening, “That was quite a show! You must be a really high ranking bard.”

My face turned very red, “I- well I’m on probation,” I admitted, “blacklisted. So really, thanks for-”

I saw his eyes glitter, literally. 

“You- you never meant to eat me did you?”

He grinned even wider, “No, but I trust you won't include that in your tale.”

I shook my head. 

“I very much enjoy playing the big bad giant,” he mused, “But I have other work; I can’t have adventurers showing up all the time.”

Now I was curious, “If I may ask, what else do you do then?”

There was a short pause as he considered whether or not to tell me. I wondered if it was a grand secret. 

“I’m a royal wizard,” he finally said, and there was a massive amount of pride underneath his tone. And resentment. That was concerning. 

My jaw dropped, “You- A Royal Wizard?”

This might be the most interesting person I’d ever met. How did a giant, or giant-esq thing become a royal wizard!? How did a royal wizard end up running an evil tower? 

“You already got one tale, but if you’re not inclined to leave so soon, I can give you another.”

I definitely knew where this was going and I definitely wanted this tale. 

“But on one condition,” he said. “You cannot tell it until either I or the Mystic King is dead.”

“Are- you dying?” I asked. 

He laughed, “No, but I am still a villain. I try to keep a fairly low profile, but any day a slayer could show up and succeed in killing me.” 

That made sense, but now that I was not mortally terrified of him, I saw that this man was much younger than I’d previously thought. He looked barely 24, a young man, and he had to worry about slayers! It also meant it couldn’t have been in this job for that long, being evil must really suit him. 

“Hopefully it won’t be for years, which will give you time to make this tale as grand as possible,” he continued. 

He drank more of his tea.

“I’m not great story teller,” he started off, “but I suppose the tale of how a foolish half-giant with dreams of becoming a wizard, and ending up a prisoner in the woods, might be a good one.”

Prisoner? Even more layers. Yes. This should be a good one indeed. 

Though he was right. Gods, wizards! They have no concept of narrative flow! They don’t leave out details! 

And yet. It was riveting. Yonah HaEsh, for that was his name which I finally learned, was half giant, half FireWitch. His father, the FireWitch, got interested in magic, but he wanted more structured study, beyond what witches can do. So he disguised himself as human to attend school. He was found out eventually, expelled and arrested for infiltrating the kingdom as a dangerous magical monster. He was almost executed before he was offered a job here in the tower! And amazingly, the Grand Master of the school had taken pity on him and allowed him to continue his studies here and graduate, earning the right to call himself a wizard. 

I had forgotten about my tea by the end and it had gone cold. That was an easy fix apparently: he pinched the cup between his thumb and pointer finger. A few seconds later it was steaming again. 

I finally took a sip, it was incredible. I made a mental note to write a poem or a song about it. But I had other things to think about, to talk about. 

“It’s a great story,” I said, with a cockiness I should have tried to keep in check, “but it needs a lot of work. It’s a good thing I’ve got a lot of time. I’ll need to go out and interview people.”

I stood up, “Which means, I need to hear it again.”

Yonah raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I should have been taking notes,” I said, “I need more specific dates and times and names! Oh and if you can tell me how your parents met, that would make for a great prologue.” 

He stood up too, clearing away his and my tea settings. But he didn’t clean them, just put them aside. 

“In that case,” he said, returning and offering his hand palm up, “We should take this upstairs.”

I still hesitated a bit, but I sat on his hand and was transferred to his shoulder. I’d never been on a giant’s shoulder before. I was tempted to touch his curly hair, since mountain giants don’t have hair, I thought it amazing that this half-giant had such thick silky locks. I settled to lean a bit towards his head for steadiness. Yonah didn’t say anything as he regathered the teapot and cups, and even got a few pieces of berry-nut bread and goat cheese. Then headed up to the workshop. 

Once again, he had a human sized desk that he set on his much larger one, and human sized pens (really nice ones), and a few human sized notebooks. Though I guess, since he can reduce to human size whenever he wanted (that was part of his “disguise”), and had many human friends, it made sense. 

“We can go in order,” I said, “But I think I want to start on what you got up to in school. We want people to really get attached to you and your friends so that they are on your side by the trial.”

Yonah liked that idea. I think he wanted this story to show him in a positive light, even if he was officially evil. 

We worked through the night. And my second cup of tea got cold. 

[FIN]

[PLEASE REBLOG and/or tell me what you think in an ask/message!]

FOR REFERENCE, HERE’S HOW THE SONG SOUNDS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VooU55wzSEc

Liked this Mystic Woods story? I have more!

For GT ONLY stories: gt-adventures.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story

[I have to mention, that I have many more Mystic Woods stories, however those contain safe/soft non-sexual v/o/r/e... But lucky for you! i have filed them them separately! and (when needed) Every story comes with detailed content warnings!]

For ALL mystic woods stories:

vo/re-scientist/tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story (take out the “/” in vo/re)

[one or two of my GT-ONLY stories are on my not so secret vo/re blog but from now on I’m posting the GT-ONLY ones here! hurray!]

[dungeons-and-divination]

CLERIC ARCANA Domain - TIEFLING Fierna heritage - Noble

So, I admit. This one goes a lot deeper on the card side of things and is a little bit leaner on the actual backstory. Still, it’s juicy! Lots of gossiping! I’ll leave you all to enjoy the read.

Name: Haloisi Grenmar (26 yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Ace of cups (reversed) I was pretty shocked when I got this card, I gotta be honest. For some reason while I was shuffling the deck I pictured Haloisi as a very bright and friendly person. And this card points out more of a closure towards meeting new people. But at the same time I understood why she would be like that. I mean I knew she had to have been raised as a proper member of high society since she’s nobility of some kind. It doesn’t come as a shock then for her to be well versed in faking being polite even towards those who are mean to her. And while the card might also suggest she’s repressing the hurt that those mean comments inflict her, I’m pretty sure at the end of the day she just has this deep desire of getting out of that very fake environment. (TL;DR: not an “I don’t wanna make friends” situation but more of an “I’m tired of fake friends” kinda vibe.) 

Body: Eight of pentacles (reversed) This one more in line with what I had in mind for her personality. That Haloisi was gonna be all over the place and lacking both in focus and confidence at this point was pretty much obvious to me. She lived all her life to the motto “fake it till you make it”, but she never really had a clue of what that “make it” was referred to. At the end of the day, we have this pretty materialistic girl, very insecure about what she’s capable of doing and how she looks like, but still plays the diva. She literally pretends to be the kind of girl that has the confidence to act like she owns the world, while questioning every single thing she says or does. The only things she’s sure of? Her family and her faith.

Spirit: Page of swords (upright) And there you go, just to close the circle. At heart Haloisi is a very protective person: she deeply hates injustice, but she also tries to avoid unnecessary arguments. She actually enjoys harmless gossip and she can for sure chat up someone like she used to do around the people that hurt her. But she tries never to be mean herself. Because she knows that words can do just as much damage as a good sword, and if she can avoid it she does just that. And sometimes people can perceive her as an insensitive spoiled brat when she’s a bit direct, but she much prefers to tell it how it is than to lie (because sometimes the truth hurts  too, but she knows people around her are lying and it’s frustrating that she has to deal with people’s gossip and the people that love her can’t be honest). She also kinda hate that people treat her like a bimbo. 

Past: Ten of pentacles (upright) I had a huge laugh at this draw. Not only is it a card that talks about old money in the family (which, you don’t say, she’s nobility, DUH!), but it also suggests to look back at your family tree so that you can discover a long lost family member, or something of the like. And Haloisi being a tiefling is pretty much it, since she has infernal heritage and I had yet to determine if there was any other member of the family that shared that with her or not (spoiler there was not, so… where did it came from?). It speaks of domestic harmony too, so I knew she would at least grow in a loving family, which was a relief.

Present: Two of swords (upright) Well, this one is pretty much related to what I was talking about before and pretty much cleared off my doubts related to her father since it’s a card about being torn about something. And family is the most important thing for her, it just made sense that it was probably the affection towards the father the grew her and the desire to leave behind the long years of denial of the existence of a father with which she share flesh and blood. And she’s the also struggling with the idea of leaving the safety of her home to try and find out what happened to said biological father, despite considering the man that raised her the only father worth mentioning. A very big struggle there for this poor insecure girl that has her family and her god as the true pillars she lives for.

Future: Seven of pentacles (reversed) I usually leave the “future” card for a general suggestion on how to play more or less what I wrote in the mess that were the five card before this one in actual gameplay. Like somewhat of a closure kind of thing. Yet, this card that has as one of the core meaning a change of plans, made me opt for another alternative too. I decided it was too good of a card not to build a bit more on her backstory with those hints of having setbacks on the more work related side of things. It usually points towards finding out that you managed things in a bad way in the past. And I had to pick just one card for her father, just to be sure that my gut feeling was guiding me in the right direction, to that that I hit the jackpot. Cause for Haloisi’s dad the deck gave me the Five of pentacles (upright), another card related to business failure, one that does a possible way out, with a little help from the right person. That’s it, anything else I’m gonna go more into detail on her actual backstory. As far as how to play Haloisi, I think I gave enough of an explanation of how I think her personality is with her mind and spirit card, anyway…

FULL BACKSTORY

A surprise from the moment she was born, Haloisi is the daughter of Baron Ferdumin Grenmar and his wife Baroness Riren Thulai Grenmar. While the local nobility immediately considered scandalous Haloisi’s birth because of her infernal heritage, her family didn’t seem to really care about what other people thought of it all. Haloisi was loved as much as her older brother Moru, and the twins Thioh and Lieh, just a couple of years younger than her (yet, none of infernal heritage). They all received an education worthy of nobility, but were always loved and cared for by their parents. They never felt neglected despite the many business related trips Ferdumin had to make and that Riren usually accompanied to. Despite the happy familial life, Haloisi was surrounded by the malicious gossips of the local nobility. She was aware that people thought she wasn’t related to Ferdumin and her siblings, and said that she was instead the child of an affair between the Baroness some wandering bard that apparently had charmed Riren at a party when Ferdumin had been gone for month for one of his trips.  Haloisi had quickly learned how to ignore the whispers and found ways to deflect people’s attention from those kinds of gossips with her own mostly innocuous hearsays, directed towards the people that tried to hurt her. One thing she always found refuge in were her studies on magic and her prayers. For a while her father tried to convince her to enroll in a school to become a practitioner, but she never really found that idea attractive. She was happy that she never enrolled into that school when a business competitor falsely blamed Ferdumin for fraud. The Baron ended up being framed for the crime and her father spent a couple of years in prison, despite the family attempts to prove his innocence and clean up their reputation so that they wouldn’t go bankrupt. They failed to prove Ferdumin’s innocence before the end of his sentence, and even once he got released from jail the family name was still disgraced and the family business was failing. Since her sibling were the ones that were taking care of the business, Haloisi turned more and more to her prayers. With the guidance of her deity and the abilities she received from them, she decided to try to restore her family names and wealth in a different way, finally leaving the nest for the first time. (And maybe, on her journey, she would even finally have the chance to meet that long lost father that she’s been so long in denial of wanting to actually get the chance to know.)

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Wisdom and Charisma (pretty decent Intelligence), Low Strength (I do suggest dumping Dexterity too, if you are comfortable with that; just to really embrace the “noble girl that lived a very sheltered life” stereotype. Cause why not!). Skill proficiencies: Insight and Religion Gaming set proficiencies: Chess Other: I obviously did not pick a specific god cause that really depends on the setting. But just to give a general idea with Forgotten Realms: more of a Mystra vibe than Azuth. 

Suggested Characteristics Trait: I take great pains to always look my best and follow the latest fashion. Ideal: It is my duty to protect and care for the people beneath me. Bond: Nothing is more important than the other members of my family. Flaw: I often reference how my mother would feel about a topic in a conversation.

[mattkenzie]

So with a lot of changes going on in June with all this talk about racism being a hot button topic indeed, WotC (Wizards of the Coast) wants to revamp and update the diversity of Dungeons and Dragons especially those that are centred around the orcs, drow and the Vistani

So one of the biggest things I would change about the real world is to have fantasy races (elves, dwarves and orcs... etc) but my biggest fear is that deep down... humans can sometimes be racist to one another and I’ll be adding even MORE racism into the world if my dream and ideas of fantasy races lived in the real world would become a nightmare. 😢

So the first thing I will want to address is our mean, green fighting machines (the orcs); So it all started when J.R.R Tolkien wrote the Lord of the Rings Trilogy so we were introduced to the orcs there and soon the orcs have became the staple of fantasy novels henchmen, brutes and thugs for our heroes to fight against. It’s sad that we have to picture them as stupid brutes and when I was younger in my Warhammer 40,000 and Warhammer Fantasy days (I was about 12 or 13 at that time) I hated the orcs because of how the books considered them to be these dumb brutes (nobody wanted to play with them because in 40,000 they have the lowest Armour Saves you have to roll a d6 and prey to the dice gods that you’ll get a 6 if your opponent doesn’t use an AP 6 (Amour Penetration) weapon (+5 if they have scrap armour) and in Fantasy Battles if you have a Dwarf Army (with I did) you get to reroll your failed rolls to hit giving us more chances roll to wound (eventually I stopped using the Dwarves ‘hatred’ rule that the other players say that I am the easiest person to win against because I choose not to use the hatred rule. (I just don’t know why I never heavy rely on the Hatred rule, why should hate win?)

When I started playing World of Warcraft after my college years (For the Alliance) I loved the Draenei but eventually there were times I wanted to know what it was like being the Horde. (you have your Undead, Tauren, Trolls and Blood Elves but what stood out more are the Orcs.) I sometimes want to know how the other half lives that I have slowly became accustomed to the Orcs, sure the Alliance had their Paladins as their exclusive class but the Horde had something different and I love the fact that they are spiritual (shamanism), No I have never seen the movie. But as a human, I started to find tusks appealing.

It’s funny how in the real world, eventhough I am a Caucasian male, I wanted to know what it’s like to be black. (with all that “Black Lives Matter”, I will admit that I used to think that all lives matter... but that is not the case anymore because some people aren’t treated as equals. We portray those who are different from us ‘savages’ even in modern media (of television, movies and video games) we portray people in the Middle East as Terrorists ever since the 9/11 attacks (September 11th) and we portray people who are black as gangsters and thugs and one of my favourite shows happens to be The Boondocks and while Riley Freeman plays the stereotype (that portrayal needs to stop), my favourite character is Huey Freeman and for a fictional character, he challenged the way I think about things). I have made some awesome friends at Church who are black but they’ve broken that mould. I went to college with them (but we didn’t go to the same department mind you) while I was getting a higher education, they have been studying to become physicians (they are smarter than me). They go to interviews to not get hired (instead they hire someone less qualified) they have been stopped by the police for driving cars they shouldn’t normally have (but earned it fair and square).

Heck there were times where they didn’t fit in the black community because they acted white. “How!?” (I’m sorry, how you can be rejected for being black on the outside but have personality traits of a Caucasian?) just to be called a ‘Sell Out’ or a ‘Bounty Bar’.

So anyway back to my D&D discussion, to me when I’ve played my first ever D&D 5E game with a gaming group known as the “Natural Oneduhs” my first character that I’ve created is Kamui, the Half-Orc (my DM wanted Kamui to either be a shade of green or grey, but I was having none of that “All orcs should be green or grey.” so I chose to stick to my guns to be Caucasian). I played against type because orcs in a fantasy setting (with their +2 Str and +1 Con they would be suited to play as Barbarians or Fighters) so because orcs aren’t an intelligent race I thought I’d kick things up a bit so I chose to play as a Bard. After these sessions with the (playing in the DM’s world and no stories for the individual players) Kamui grew up in a human society because the orcs rejected Kamui for not being an orc, but is always portrayed as a monster no matter the colour of his skin, (in 2nd Edition orcs aren’t a playable race, it was later introduced in 3rd Edition) sick and tired of the prejudice he sees where people see Kamui as an orc and not an actual person only one person accepted Kamui.

“What I hate about society is people tend to use violence as a weapon to get their point across (which ends up breaking into war) instead we need to use our voices and our own words to speak volumes.”

So the books that I have read where the orcs/half-orcs have became the anti-heroes is The Grey Bastards and True Bastards by Jonathan French (it’s the most boyish book I ever read) so I have Volo’s Guide to Monsters and the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount.

Now the Vistani (they are a travelling group of gypsies commonly found in Barovia in any Ravenloft campaign) and in the real world we look down upon the Romani gypsies because they couldn’t follow our “rules of society” by dumping their old trailers (fly-tipping), setting up camps in public spaces and being in large groups (I’m a large man, but I’m scared of getting ganged up on or mugged by them when I am walking down the road) not exactly Esmarelda from Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I don’t know why, but I tend to see them hanging out in boxing clubs and riding (or racing) in those 1 horse carriages or sometimes having lunch in the carvery (and ignore social rules like changing a baby on the dinner table) which is gross, “We having changing facilities!”, Oh it’s your kids birthday and you let them watch a 12 rated movie instead of a U rated film yet your kids choose to cause havoc in the cinema “Yep, still ignoring the rules of society!” and then having the audacity to be dumping popcorn on me when watching Avengers Assemble because your kids couldn’t follow the rules! in this TV show on Channel 4 My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. I never played a Vistani before but it would be interesting to see more variant humans in the game.

In real life, with what I had to put up with, I think I would be scared to make a friend with the Romani (learnt behaviour) but I admire them for being a tight knit group, you don’t see that in modern day society, we are all wrapped our heads around social media.

I can picture them with Animal Handling and Performance as their skills, have a proficiency with a musical instrument.

The Drow (Dark Elves) have been painted as sadomasochist and well... “evil” but what I find fascinating and appreciate them is their religion because they have female priests. What I am saying is that in the real world, it’s a rare sight to see a female Vicar (I feel that it’s quite progressive but other people (old men and traditionalists) are apprehensive about having a woman to preach about the gospel.) Look at Matthew Mercer’s Critical Role campaign 2 and take a look at the Krynn Dynasty.

I never played a drow before and I don’t think I shall anytime soon. I know that a popular drow that is well known is Drizz’t and to fight against the stereotypical world view that all drow are evil because of Lolth, the Spider Queen... I don’t think a religion should define you. But it’s like I said, I believe that this has ushered in having a female priest (if you’ve seen the Victor of Dibbley you might understand where I am coming from.)

For me the Orcs in my world are indeed a tribal society (and I give them a Polynesian/New Zealand/Aztec/Hawaiian flair to them, instead of “Makin’ um as da dum broots dey are”).

[purplefairywriter]

Maknae Line BTS as RPG Classes

And I’m back! If you’re starting here, here’s the gist: This idea has been wandering around in my head for a while so I finally decided to release it into the wild world. This is based on D&D for the most part but I opted not to go into details about their races, so this is just going to be a run down of their classes and alignments. If you don’t know what classes are alignments are, I’ll explain it as I go through the members of BTS. Alignments are only meant to be kind of a guide to your characters and not a blanket statement for how characters will act. SPOILER ALERT: most of them are on the good spectrum alignment wise. Hyung Line

JIMIN

Blurb Jimin sat on the bridge, with his legs dangling over the steady river below. He heard the footsteps of many other adventurers and wanderers cross the bridge. He was at peace until he heard crying. Not just any crying, but a crying he had come to recognize. The crying of heartbreak. He slowly stood up and turned around to see a rather attractive woman standing at the bridge, crying her eyes out. He walked over and greeted her. When she looked up at him, he recognized her as an old acquaintance of his that he always had liked in a romantic way. But he realized she viewed him as nothing more than a friend long ago, as many women had. They saw him as a "cute, fluffy puppy" as one woman had put it. It never bothered him, the only thing that mattered to him was that he made people smile. Other people's smiles were the only thing keeping his inner darkness at bay. Jimin knew he had the power to make women swoon over him but he rarely used it. Now was not one of those times. He took the instrument off his back, and with a smile asked: "Would you like me to play a song for you?" The woman stopped crying and nodded. After hearing him sing, she knew all she needed to do was think of Jimin and smile if she ever got sad again... Class “The bard is a master of song, speech, and the magic they contain... Only rarely do bards settle in one place for long... Bards thrive on stories, whether those stories are true or not.” This is BTS’s 2nd full on bard. Unlike the stereotypical bard, he's not gung-ho, flirting 24/7. He may tell a dirty joke here and there, but he most comes off as shy. Which works great as an advantage. With your average bard, you can spot them a mile away with their general swagger. Jimin, however... he can be sitting there, in the tavern, gaining someone’s trust by making them think how cute or how much of a non-threat he is only for them to be astonished by how he can actually hold his own, fight, and be sexy as anything while doing it. Which makes him a whole other kind of threat! I have a feeling that if Bard!Jin and Bard!Jimin ever met the two of them would get into a fight over who was the best bard. Alignment Neutral Good (he would work to do the best good he can without disregarding or upholding every law).

V

TW: implied attempted assault (not described - not V’s doing), swearing (not V’s doing), violence (I think most of us would agree really deserved violence but I’ll let you decide that) Blurb V sat on what used to be a great oak tree. Now all that remained was a stump, worn away by time. His bow and arrows were close by. As they always were. He held a piece of wood in his hand as he whittled a slight heart shape out of it with his knife. He knew these woods like the back of his hand. He could walk through the forest blindfolded, he had bragged once. Back when he had friends. Life was far more comfortable for him now that he had separated himself from nearly everything. All he needed was the forest. Or so he reminded himself nightly as he slept under the stars. A loud scream from the distance made him jump to his feet. He grabbed his weapon and wandered towards the source of the noise. He had expected it to be some poor idiot who managed to get themselves mauled by a bear. Instead, it was a young woman who had run into a lone bandit. "Let go of her." V demanded. "Why should I, ranger? Fuck off." The bandit said as he pulled the young woman closer to him. She was crying, crying in a way that made V's skin crawl. He could tell from the way she was dressed that she was nothing more than an innocent villager who had either gotten lost or had wandered into the woods. "Last chance. Let her go or we'll have a problem." V said, not wanting to distress the woman further. "Fuck you!" The bandit said. That was the last thing the bandit ever got to say as he found himself with an arrow lodged right between his eyes. The bandit dropped dead, releasing his hold on the woman in the process. "You okay?" V asked as he approached her. She nodded, still a little distressed. "I'll show you how to get back to your village if you need me to. Don't wander in the woods like that, not unless you're properly prepared." V said, accidentally showing a little care as he spoke. He turned around to lead the way. When she said something that made him stop in his tracks. "But... but my father's been taken by a fae!" Class “Warriors of the wilderness, rangers specialize in hunting the monsters that threaten the edges of civilization—humanoid raiders, rampaging beasts and monstrosities, terrible giants, and deadly dragons... Many rangers, though, are independent almost to a fault, knowing that, when a dragon or a band of orcs attacks, a ranger might be the first—and possibly the last—line of defense.” Ranger. I don’t know why, I can just see V wanting to sleep under the stars each and every night (as if that isn’t true for other members of BTS...) Also, with his IRL family being farmers, I’d think that in an RPG setting, V would naturally end up becoming a ranger somehow. Why not a rogue, like Suga? Unlike Suga, I feel like V would want to feel truly alone. Suga would want to share his music if he ever got the chance, he would want to be around people to watch and talk to. Suga would thrive off the metropolitan lifestyle of cities. V would like to at least think he’s alone every once in a while which would be harder to do in a city. Alignment Chaotic Neutral. He’d follow his whims most of the time, wanting to just be left alone so he can do whatever he feels is right. However, I do feel like he’d lean towards the ‘Good’ side with most things, so like Suga, he’d start off as more Neutral before becoming more Good. However, if he felt like he was doing something for the ‘right person’, he would probably do it, regardless of the alignment that action is assigned to.

JUNGKOOK

Blurb

Jungkook stood at the bar of the tavern, pondering over what to drink. He heard a group of rowdy men behind him, boasting of their adventures around the world. That perked his interest. He picked up his weapon and wandered over to the group. He listened in for a moment before finally entering the conversation. "I fought a bear once!" The men glared at him, seeing his unscarred face and body (the parts of his body they could see anyways), and said nothing. Until their leader scoffed. "You're nothing but a boy! You'd best save your tall tales for your mother, shouldn't ya?" Jungkook was taken aback by the response, as he had fought a bear. He beat it fair and square too, unlike half of those men who relied on magic or trickery. "I'm telling the truth, I did fight a bear. I've beaten an orc, too, once. He was drunk, and I made the mistake of calling his tusks small-" Jungkook began, excited that he could finally tell his stories as well. "Go tell your mother, boy. Leave us men to talk business." The leader said. Jungkook frowned. "Fine. You're the leader of this warrior guild, right?" "Right." The leader replied. "Then fight me. If I beat you, I get to join you guys on a real adventure!" "And if I lose?" "Then I'll go home and never bother you guys again." Jungkook said that in a way that made the leader roll his eyes. "Awful cocky for one so young... fine, it'll serve a good lesson to you when I grind you into dust, boy." The leader said as they headed outside to duel. The leader got his ass handed to him in a tough but fair fight that Jungkook won by relying on his pure strength alone. From that day forward, Jungkook became like a son to the warrior guild, who raised him to be strong and brave. Although they never quite got him to stop being so cocky... Class “Fighters learn the basics of all combat styles... Some fighters feel drawn to use their training as adventurers. The dungeon delving, monster slaying, and other dangerous work common among adventurers is second nature for a fighter, not all that different from the life he or she left behind. There are greater risks, perhaps, but also much greater rewards...” Fighter. I don’t think Jungkook would be much of a Barbarian, he’d have to have order and reason. I think Jungkook would have a bit of a higher charisma score compared to other fighters, which gives him an edge over other fighters. Alignment For Jungkook, a lot of that is up to the party he’s in imo. His ‘natural’ (if you can call an alignment that, I’m not sure) alignment would be somewhere on the good spectrum, probably neutral good to start out. I could see Jungkook ‘breaking alignment’ for a friend in need. That’s it for now! I may do some actual character sheets (as in a full-on character build with races, stats, the whole 9 yards maybe) or even write the whole situation regarding the blurbs!

[deaderwrites]

A1, A2, A4, A5, F1, F4, J5, X3, Y5 - For Tiini, Grok, and Venn/Sterling

A1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

“Muukuiini” is a hide-and-seek champion! She’s kind of the stereotypical rogue thief, really. Originally this was all just the standard firbolgs of the forest thing, fading into the trees, hiding in the shadows, but obviously now that she’s left the woods it’s going towards the Big Goal of becoming The Greatest Thief Of All Time!

Grok has always had a solid left hook. She’s become a competent mage with time, but that’s far more recent. Originally, she was just a kid who liked to punch and bite.

Venn’s a natural athlete. Scrappy, small, and very good at any sport you throw at them. A fantastic gymnast too, but that’s less fun than sports of all sorts.

A2. what activities have they participated in?

“Tiini” did… firbolg things. I’m starting to see at least one major area of her life I need to flesh out. Anyway now she mostly does grave robbing.

Grok’s a plant expert and has a pretty good idea of how those plants can be used for medicinal purposes, at least for other orcs. Whether they have the same uses for other humanoids isn’t something she’s explored in any depth yet. She’s also pretty good at giving herself tattoos. 

Venn is a duelist, and a big fan of poker. They’ve also taken part in most tasks expected of any gentleman of the court, dancing being the most fun.

A4. what things are they bad at?

“Tiini’s” weak and not really much of a fighter which is frustrating for her because “fight”is her main response to stress.

Grok is… well she’s. Y-you see she’s very… well, you know. it’s. it’s hard when you’re under. pressure. to. t-to talk. And and people are looking. at you. and. she’s. just. going to run away now. And she’s gone.

Venn has been disguised as a himbo for 15 years but it really wasn’t a difficult act because they are so very stupid and they’re tired of people expecting them to be smart. Is it the accent? The posh accent? The accent is fake. Please stop asking them trivia they have literally never gone to school.

A5. what is their most impressive talent?

“Tiini’s” still searching for a great talent. Expertise in 4 different skills but not a standout yet. It’ll come about through play.

Grok’s most impressive talent is tanking for her party. She’s the wizard.

Venn’s so good at boats.

F1. what do they do for fun?

“Tiini:” Thievery! Dice! Scoping for the next big steal! Pan flute!

Grok: Tending to plants. Studies. Hanging out at the bar. Arm wrestling.

Venn: Fencing and gambling, mostly, but also sailing. They love to fish, and being on open water in general is thrilling!

F4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

“Tiini”: No.

Grok: Always

Venn: They’ll manage.

J5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

“Tiini”: The thought of becoming the greatest thief the world has ever known! And impressing her dad in the process. 

Grok: Just being able to have a chill day with no problems. And also revenge fantasies. But mostly being chill.

Venn: Fucking up a bully’s day.

X3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

This is a fantasy world with not a lot of bard npcs so no not really for any of them. Actually Grok likes her friend Merilinieth’s singing but she doesn’t do it very often. 

Y5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

“Tiini”: So, if you were wondering why her name’s been in quotes, the fact is that Tiini doesn’t actually have a name. Firbolgs do without them, but people on the outside insist. So, given a plethora of options for naming herself, she decided to pluck the name of the powerful sky being right out of the lore guide and use it for herself. She has stolen the name of a god.

Grok: I love that she’s just this shy awkward nerd but she looks like she’ll rip your arm off

Venn: I love their relationship with the divine. A paladin who’s also more or less a strict nonbeliever was a lot of fun to play. They believe in the gods, sure, but they don’t believe they have any interest in mortals, or at least in them. Even though they’re imbued with this divine power and their friend is a literal (infant) god.

[ftlo]

Patti Smith’s Just Kids captures the epicenter of art and grime that was New York in the 1970s. She centers the story upon the unorthodox girl she was in her twenties, and her predestined relationship with the late photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. The story Smith unfolds is a mesmerizing cluster of moments, each as brilliantly imaged as her cherished blue star. While her autobiographical account is rooted in the happenings of her intimate routine, the novel is read as a field guide to her version of the vast city. Yet, Smith disregards the objective city by blending the real and the otherworldly in her seamless streams of consciousness. The constant that threads together the contradiction of her city life is her love for Robert. Their relationship is celestial; they are two soulmates brought together almost divinely, and yet their closeness is physically distant and intertwined with the figures around them. Intimacy and multiplicity are figuratively mutually exclusive yet in practice interdependent in Smith’s depiction of New York.

The structure of Just Kids is artefactual, organized by a series of moments through which the reader is guided like an observer in a museum. Smith is a skillful curator, constructing her personal enclave within the larger city. One of these moments is Christmas at her and Robert’s first apartment:

“He liked the boxes of Joseph and often transformed significant bits of jetsam, colored string, paper lace, discarded rosaries, scrap, and pearls into a visual poem. He would stay awake late into the night, sewing, cutting, gluing, and then adding touches of gouache. When I awoke there would be a finished box for me, like a valentine. Robert made a wooden manger for the little lamb. He painted it white with a bleeding heart and we added sacred numbers entwining like vines. Spiritually beautiful, it served as our Christmas tree. We placed our gifts for one another around it.” (Smith 51-52) Smith illustrates moments palpably to craft their intimate world. She and Robert physicalize their isolation from the outside; the act of making their own original talismans mimics creating a new reality. Smith’s description of Robert fashioning the manger is almost ironic: it depicts him in reference to the stereotype of handy man of the house, constructing practical objects for his family. Their concept of practical or necessary, however, is unusual. Smith cherishes the manger painted with a “bleeding heart” and “sacred numbers”, despite having little functional furniture in their apartment. (51-52) The manger serving as a Christmas tree also holds meaning. The two Catholics are at once rejecting the tradition of the classic decorated tree and celebrating their own eccentric version of the popular holiday. Thus, Smith’s capture of this creative moment is both decidedly intimate yet still connected to the multiplicity of daily life.

These snapshots of creation may appear to some readers to trivialize her journey of self-discovery or render it superficial, but they do not. In broad terms, the moments she writes are the intricate pieces of the mosaic that is her perception of New York: each piece is different, entirely sustainable as a world of its own, yet fits perfectly within the grand scheme. Hence, Smith’s structure enables the formation of her intimate world but grounds it in the colorful context of the city, successfully interconnecting intimacy and multiplicity.

Furthermore, Smith’s novel entertains a duality between the real and the unreal. Her dichotomized place in New York is introduced in early stages of Smith and Robert’s relationship, as Smith describes:

“One Indian summer day we dressed in our favorite things (…) we took the subway to West Fourth Street and spent the afternoon in Washington Square. We shared coffee from a thermos, watching the stream of tourists, stoners, and folksingers. Agitated revolutionaries distributed anti-war leaflets. Chess players drew a crowd of their own. Everyone coexisted within the continuous drone of verbal diatribes, bongos, and barking dogs.” (Smith 47)

This scene offers an image rife with energy and movement in the public environment. Yet, while Smith speaks of coexistence, she refrains from placing herself into the context she defines. She serves only as the observer, sipping coffee with Mapplethorpe gazing onto the outside from within their transcendent experience, displaying an otherwise dynamic sequence as coldly as a still-life. It is only when an older couple comments on her and Robert’s roles that Smith closes their distance from their surroundings. The woman tells the accompanying man to take a picture of the two characters that seem like artists to her. “’Oh, go on,” he shrugged. They’re just kids.” (Smith 44) Significant enough to inspire the title, this encounter introduces the ideas of intimacy and multiplicity within Smith’s world and the city around her. As much as she and Robert seek to elevate and enchant their realities, they have become stereotypical, two of many inhabiting the city. They may present themselves as the personas associated with their alternative lifestyle, but ultimately Smith recognizes their commonality. In this way, she calls the distinction between intimacy and multiplicity into question, refusing to abandon one to obtain the other.

The line between real and unreal is rendered particularly nebulous in the context of the Chelsea Hotel.

“In between I clock the action. Eyeing the traffic circulating the lobby hung with bad art. Big invasive stuff unloaded on Stanley Bard in exchange for rent. The hotel is an energetic, desperate haven for scores of gifted hustling children from every rung of the ladder. Guitar bums and stoned-out beauties in Victorian dresses. Junkie poets, playwrights, broke-down filmmakers, and French actors. Everybody passing through here is somebody, if nobody in the outside world.” (Smith 91)

The graphic use of italics here visually signals a shift in Smith’s narrative. It underlines the dreamlike sequence that is Smith and Mapplethorpe’s experience at the Chelsea Hotel, distancing the people and happenings in the hotel from the urban exterior. The mention of “stoned out beauties in Victorian dresses” widens this distance by adding an epochal dimension to the hotel’s otherworldliness. (Smith 91) Lastly, the last sentence draws a boldly strict line between the hotel and the “outside world”. (Smith 91) Yet, the ideas of being “somebody” at the Chelsea and “nobody” in the vaster realm of Manhattan are inextricably linked. (Smith 91) Within the environment of the Chelsea, Smith belonged to a circle of drug-infused artists and patrons: society’s misfits bound together through shared estrangement. They had become somebodies amongst themselves evidently because they had all experienced the isolation of having been nobodies. Therefore, Smith underlines a causal relationship between the intimacy of the Chelsea Hotel and the inhabitants’ incongruence with New York city’s multiplicity.

Smith’s definition of intimacy is explored in distinct instances of Just Kids. It is a central theme to Smith and Mapplethorpe’s epic love story. It appears that their relationship guides the plot’s development, and hence mirrors Smith’s grander depiction of the city in terms of intimacy. From the moment they meet, Smith and Mapplethorpe are drawn to each other. Their initial encounters recall fairytale lovers who credit fate for their meeting. Disregarding courtship, they readily accept each other into their lives, as Smith states not long after their first meeting, “(...) I understood that in this small space of time we had mutually surrendered our loneliness and replaced it with trust”. (Smith 40) From this moment, much of Smith’s writing about their relationship is description of their routine. Painting and creating side by side was their ritual; in this way their daily lives were engulfed in the other’s. Despite this, Smith consciously refrains from including information that would define their relationship. While they were in love or perhaps they cared profoundly for the other, the lack of romantic intimacy conveyed alluded to the idea that their relationship was platonic. Smith’s ambiguous account of her and Robert’s bond calls intimacy into question, and perhaps deliberately pushes against its singular definition.

Multiplicity also plays a part in building Smith and Mapplethorpe’s intricate relationship. The number and diversity of figures they encounter allows them to create their intimate world away from reality. At the Hotel Chelsea, they meet an array of people including Mr. Bard, Harry Smith, Peggy Biderman, Ann Powell, Bruce Rudow, Sandy Daley, and Matthew Reich. Each person elicited a form of self-discovery for both Smith and Mapplethorpe. The introduction of these figures play an integral role in both of their artistic pursuits, and therefore reinforce their mutual creative inspiration for one and other. Thus, their intimacy is invigorated by the multiplicity of creative characters around them.

However, Smith and Mapplethorpe’s world undergoes growing tension throughout the novel. One instance in the novel that represents a striking turning point in their relationship occurs when Robert goes to an abandoned hospital and finds a fetus preserved in jar. Convinced he should transform the fetus into art, he steals the jar, but on their way home he inadvertently drops it. Smith describes the effect of this accident with the following citation:

“The purloined jar had sat on a shelf for decades, undisturbed. It was almost as if he had taken its life. 'Go upstairs,' he said. 'I'll clean it up.' We never mentioned it again. There was something about that jar. The shards of heavy glass seemed to foreshadow the deepening of our days; we didn’t speak of it but each of us seemed inflicted with a vague internal restlessness.” (Smith 69)

The jar appears to be a symbol that represents a tonal shift in Smith’s description of their relationship. Though Robert did not actually take the fetus’s life, Smith mentioning this represents birth and death simultaneously. The incident undoubtedly brought her own abortion and the trauma associated with it to mind. It could also be said that the scene underlines the limitations of Smith and Mapplethorpe’s nontraditional intimacy in terms of family-making. In this sense, the jar evokes the multiplicity within the intimacy, or the complexity that is the essence of Smith and Mapplethorpe’s feelings for each other, and for their perceptions of themselves. In fact, it is the very multiplicity within their relationship that eventually redraws its own confines. Thus, the “internal restlessness” Smith refers to foreshadows the increased strain on their world and the unease that accompanies these complexities. (69)

The themes of intimacy and multiplicity can be perceived to define not only the relationship between the two central characters of Just Kids, but also urban life itself. Manhattan is the singular backdrop for this story. This island, surrounded by water yet the heart of the world, is the essence of intimacy within multiplicity, of a patchwork of surface, sound, sight, scent, and taste. At any moment, this kaleidoscope of experience can collapse or delicately fold into the intimacy of a bedroom, a café table, a hospital bed. The structure of the book, the otherworldliness Smith references, and Robert and Patti’s complex relationship strengthen these interconnections between intimacy and multiplicity that are central to her New York story.

[vacationsoup]

New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/2019-confirmed-acts-for-the-edinburgh-fringe/

2019 Confirmed Acts for The Edinburgh Fringe

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is the world’s largest arts festival with performances spanning the whole of the artistic spectrum, including comedy, dance, musicals, opera, theatre, spoken word and cabaret. To be as inclusive as possible, the festival is open to all performers, both newcomers and big international names. In 2018, the festival ran for 25 days with over 55,000 performances. In 2019, the festival is set to take place from 2nd to 26th August, although some performances may start earlier. Here’s some of the acts who have already been confirmed for this year’s festival.

The Ticket Box Office

Comedy Paul Merton’s Impro Chums Star of BBC’s Have I Got News For You Paul Merton is heading to Edinburgh again with his highly-acclaimed Impro Chums, ready to take audience suggestions and turn them into something hysterical. Venue: Pleasance Courtyard. Dates: August 8th – 17th. Time: 4pm.

Henning Wehn: Get On With It The self-proclaimed German Comedy Ambassador, Henning Wehn has wowed audiences with his stances on being an immigrant in the UK and German stereotypes. Having appeared on several TV comedy shows, including 8 Out of 10 Cats and QI, he will perform his current stand-up show Get On With It. Venue: The Queen’s Hall. Dates: Every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday beginning August 1st. Time: 7pm.

Spontaneous Potter Whether you are a fan of the books by J K Rowling or not, it is impossible not to like this hilarious take on Harry Potter. A complete improvisation performed by the Spontaneous Players and based on the title of a fan fiction which changes daily, there is even live musical accompaniment to the play. Venue: Gilded Balloon Rose Theatre. Dates: July 31st; August 1st – 25th. Time: 9:30pm.

Daniel Sloss: X Beginning his comedy career at the age of just 16, Daniel Sloss has been a hit on the comedy circuit for over ten years. This year he is making a one-night return to the Edinburgh Fringe following the success of his two Netflix specials. Venue: Edinburgh Playhouse. Date: August 15th. Time: 7:30pm.

David O’Doherty: Ultrasound Well known for his musical comedy, playing songs on the keyboard he was bought for his Confirmation, David O’Doherty returns to the Fringe for the eighteenth time where he will once again attempt – and fail – to fix all the wrongs in the world. Venue: Assembly George Square. Dates: July 31st; August 1st – 12th; 14th – 26th. Time: 7:30pm.

Theatre Of Mice and Men Performed by Nigel Miles-Thomas and Michael Roy Andrew, John Steinbeck’s drama about two migrant ranch workers and their experiences during the Great Depression had a hit run in 2015 and is back by popular demand. Venue: Gilded Balloon Teviot. Dates: July 31st; August 1st – 12th; 14th – 19th; 21st – 26th. Time: 1:30pm.

Fawlty Towers the Dining Experience Back at the Fringe this year is the longest-running tribute show Fawlty Tower the Dining Experience. A fully-immersive performance, you will get served a three-course meal and be guaranteed non-stop laughs throughout. The show is 70% improvised so it is never the same experience twice. Venue: Imagination Workshop. Dates: August 1st – 2nd; 4th – 26th. Times: Vary; check the calendar on the Fringe website for more details.

Kemp’s Jig Steve Taylor stars as Will Kemp, actor and celebrity of Shakespearean England. Kemp has created many comedic roles for Shakespeare and wishes to explore these further, but as Shakespeare’s profile grows, the Bard craves respectability. After too many disagreements, the men part company, leading Kemp on a publicity stunt of Morris dancing up and down England. A must for fans of Shakespeare in Love or Upstart Crow. Venue: theSpace on the Mile. Dates: August 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, 10th, 13th, 15th, 17th. Time: 6:55pm.

Trainspotting Live Irvine Welsh’s classic is brought to life in this immersive theatre experience. Taking place in a tunnel underneath the city of Edinburgh, the audience are full participants in the action, including the famous toilet scene. This will be the play’s fifth time at the festival, after selling out four previous seasons; be sure to book ahead to secure tickets. Venue: Venue 150 at EICC. Dates: August 1st – 6th; 8th – 13th; 15th – 20th; 22nd – 26th. Times: Vary; check the calendar on the Fringe website for more details.

The Very Well-Fed Caterpillar A funny adult twist on the well-loved children’s classic, The Very Well-Fed Caterpillar tells the story of a caterpillar with a love for food who is struggling to turn into a butterfly. As his classmates make the change around him, he is still in search of a cocoon that fits his size. Venue: theSpace @ Surgeons Hall. Dates: August 12th – 17th; 19th – 24th. Times: Vary; check the calendar on the Fringe website for more details.

Under Milk Wood Following 2018’s hugely successful run of Sophocles’s Antigone, the Malvern Theatre’s Young Company perform again at the Fringe this year, this time with an adaptation of Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood, the funny and poignant tale of a Welsh seaside town and its inhabitants. Venue: theSpace @ Niddry Street. Dates: August 12th – 17th. Time: 3:50pm.

Musicals and Opera Gilbert and Sullivan’s Improbable New Musical: Less Miserable The Coily Dart Theatre Company present a show about Gilbert and Sullivan in the afterlife. Gilbert claims that as masters of the genre of musical theatre, all current musicals are just variations on their own plots. Sullivan then challenges him to a task: to tell the story of the longest-running musical but only using their songs. Gilbert accepts, but only if he can have his happy ending. As Gilbert takes on the challenge, you will be treated to music from each of their operettas and lots of dancing and singing. Venue: theSpace @ Niddry Street. Dates: August 2nd – 3rd; 5th – 10th. Time: 11:20am.

Songs For a New World Telling the story of a group of immigrants finding their feet in their new life in post-World War II New York, Simply Theatre perform a new adaptation of this rarely-performed song cycle with a cast of ten and live music. Venue: theSpace @ Surgeons Hall. Dates: August 2nd – 3rd; 5th – 10th. Time: 5:50pm. Best of the West End After selling out their shows the previous three years, American Performing Arts International return with a selection of hits from West End musicals to delight audiences again. The group will also be performing the Best of Broadway during the Fringe as well. Venue: theSpace @ Symposium Hall. Dates: August 2nd – 3rd; 5th – 10th. Time: 11:05am.

Elizabethan Based on genuine songs from the Renaissance period, David William stars as Tobias Bacon, who lusts and lutes his way through Elizabethan England with his three lovers, all with the help of the audience and some very silly wigs. Venue: theSpace @ Surgeon Hall. Dates: August 2nd – 10th; 12th – 17th; 19th – 23rd. Time: 6:05pm.

Verity Verity is not having a great time at the moment. She has just been ditched by her fiancé on their wedding day and it is quite possible she is about to be fired. And if that was not bad enough, her family are always on her back. Join Verity as she tries to put her life back together, which involves a spot of online stalking, drinking a hell of a lot of cocktails and making an unlikely friend. Venue: theSpace on the Mile. Dates: August 13th – 17th. Time: 4:50pm.

Music The Aretha Franklin Story Featuring the star of Thriller Live in the West End Cleopatra Higgins, you will journey through the life of the Queen of Soul and 21-times Grammy Winner, Aretha Franklin. Performed by Night Owl Shows, they deliver Franklin’s story and music in their own signature style. Venue: theSpace @ Symposium Hall. Dates: August 2nd – 25th. Time: 2:50pm.

Bala Baile Edinburgh-based Latin trio Bala Baile perform a unique blend of Cuban son, boogaloo and the blues. This year they will be performing their original music in the Jazz Bar, the perfect venue for a Latin party. Venue: The Jazz Bar. Dates: August 8th; 11th – 14th. Time: Midnight.

Brass Gumbo Plays the Music of the Beatles For a different take on the music of the Beatles, performed on trumpet, sousaphone, saxophone, trombone and drums, head to see Brass Gumbo. A Scotland-based jazz and funk brass band, they do a great job of making the melodies their own. Venue: The Jazz Bar. Dates: August 19th – 23rd. Time: 4pm.

Massaoke Mixtape A fantastic way to spend the late evening, Massaoke Mixtape has all the fun of karaoke, except you are doing it en masse. A huge singalong bonanza, you the audience will help the live band create the ultimate mixtape with the aid of giant video lyrics. There will be classic anthems, mashups, megamixes and more. Venue: Assembly George Square. Dates: August 1st – 4th; 8th – 11th; 15th – 18th; 22nd – 25th. Time: 11:30pm.

Rock Choir Live Described as the most popular choir experience available to the general public, Rock Choir has over 30,000 members across 400 communities and is the largest organisation of its kind to offer people the chance to sing without the need for an audition or the ability to read music. Venue: theSpace Triplex. Dates: August 2nd – 24th. Time: 7:20pm and 8:20pm.

Dance, Physical Theatre and Circus Cirque Berserk! Cirque Berserk! are Britain’s largest theatre-circus spectacular and are back at the Edinburgh Fringe after their highly successful debut last year. Bringing traditional circus acts bang up-to-date, the troupe have over 30 performers, including acrobats, aerialists, stuntmen, dancers and musicians. Venue: Pleasance at EICC. Dates: August 2nd – 20th; 22nd – 25th. Times: Vary; check the calendar on the Fringe website for more details.

Circa: Humans One of the most popular acts to perform at the Fringe, this year Circa’s show explores the human body, what it means to be human and how our bodies and aspirations are connected to the world around us and make us who we are. Performed by ten acrobats, the question of how much we can take – both physically and emotionally – is asked and pondered. Venue: Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows. Dates: August 2nd – 6th; 8th – 11th; 13th – 18th; 20th – 24th. Time: 7pm.

Ceilidhs in Lauriston Hall Ceildh is a social event with Scottish folk dancing, singing and storytelling, and this event gives you the opportunity to try this tradition yourself. Priority admission is given to those who come without handbags, rucksacks and bags, and although taking videos and photos is OK, the musicians are very strict on the use of mobiles for other reasons. As dancing and singing is thirsty work, there is also a bar there for your enjoyment and refreshment. Venue: Lauriston Halls. Dates: August 2nd – 3rd; 5th – 10th; 12th – 17th; 19th – 24th. Time: 9pm.

Black Blues Brothers A completely unique act, the Circo e Dintorni fuse together rhythm and blues with African culture to perform their version of the cult hit movie The Blues Brothers. Watch as the five acrobats perform dances, fire routines and make human pyramids using the furniture and surroundings as props. Venue: Assembly Rooms. Dates: August 1st – 25th. Time: 4:30pm.

From India to Triana A wonderful journey of dances around the world, The Rootless Company explore the similarities and differences of the globe’s dance styles, from the primitive sounds of India to the passionate flamenco. This performance is a glorious mix of world communities coming together to connect as one. Venue: theSpace Triplex. Dates: August 2nd – 10th; 12th – 24th. Time: 6:10pm.

Children’s Shows Children are Stinky All the way from Australia come the Circus Trick Tease who will bring you circus acts such as acrobatics, stunts and hula-hooping along with a great soundtrack and lots of belly laughs. Circus Trick Tease are a five-star act and are often sold out, so book early to avoid disappointment. Venue: Assembly George Square Gardens. Dates: August 1st – 6th; 8th – 13th; 15th – 20th; 22nd – 26th. Time: 1:30pm.

Lost in a Book Melissa loves reading her favourite fairy stories. But then one day, as she is rereading them, she goes from turning the pages to actually living in the stories themselves. As she jumps from tales such as Cinderella to Beauty and the Beast, she tries to fix the problems she causes. But with no way of controlling how the stories go, will she manage to find her own happy ending and make her way back home? Venue: theSpace @ Surgeons Hall. Dates: August 6th – 8th. Time: 11am.

Morgan and West: Unbelievable Science If your young ones love explosions and thrills then this show is perfect. Morgan and West are magicians, time travellers and all-round great chaps but they have a secret – they are also amazing scientists, super qualified in the fields of chemistry, biology and physics. In this show, you will see them conduct experiments right before your very eyes. Venue: Assembly George Square. Dates: July 31st; August 1st – 20th; 22nd – 25th. Time: 4:30pm.

The New and Improved I Hate Children Children’s Show A multi-entertainment show including live music, jokes, magic and family time, this show aims to tease and embarrass the teenagers in order to get a giggle out of the younger audience. A fun experience for all the family. Venue: theSpace @ Surgeons Hall. Dates: August 2nd – 11th; 16th – 18th; 23rd – 25th. Time: 1:25pm.

Shark in the Park Based on the books by Nick Sharratt and performed by the Nonsense Room Productions, the creative team behind The Hairy McLary Show, the family-friendly musical tells the story of Timothy Pope as he goes on three adventures with his telescope. Venue: Assembly George Square. Dates: July 31st; August 1st – 13th; 15th – 18th. Time: 10:30am.

Splash Test Dummies From the makers of Trash Test Dummies comes a new show all set around the theme of water. Watch as they perform acrobatic stunts such as diving from bathtubs to beaches and make you roar with laughter with their slapstick silliness. Venue: Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows. Dates: August 3rd – 11th; 13th – 18th; 20th – 24th. Time: 1pm.

Here’s just a sample of what’s going to be on at this year’s festival. More and more acts will be announced every month in the run-up to August. Keep an eye on the Edinburgh Fringe Festival’s website to stay updated.