#so instead of carrying around the totem you can carry a rat

[leaf4e]

Rat from a texture pack i'm making

[soothinglee]

hello, could I request platonic c!dt or c!benchtrio hcs with a pvper reader, but the reader is short and physically weak so instead of relying on swords or other normal stuff they specialize and rely on poison?

❝ YOU'RE WEAK, HOW CAN I HELP? ❞

warnings: just fighting, some curse words.

genre:: fluff (hcs)

summary:: hcs of the benchtrio (+ philza and techno) helping you make poison for fighting

a/n:: DUDE I AM SO SORRY LMAO, accidentally read the ask wrong, i thought it said "c!sbi". I don't know how, it's been a long day. so you get two extra characters! thank you for requesting!

m.list - ask - series m.list

PHILZA;

philza would spend hours in his brewing room trying to find things to accommodate you when fighting.

he thought of everything.

how fast could you pull it out, how quick could you throw it at your enemy while dodging their attacks?

he used ghast tears, blaze rods, glow stone, gunpowder, basically anything he could get his hands on.

he would always make sure you hand extra on hand incase an enemy were getting immune to the formula. (ahem, dream)

he knows that people would target you for your weak nature and the ability to NOT pick up a sword. the only one you could use was a small wooden toy sword meant for toddlers.

if I ever see someone stroll in with a fake sword looking like Luz Noceda from Owl house I'd would laugh in your face, no offense.

most likely then not he'll give you fighting lessons, he's the type to sit you down like its a school lecture and teach you the 'old school style'.

meaning from a 1,000 year old book he picked up on the other side of the world.

if you had to battle with someone twice your size he'd most likely be hiding in the trees somewhere, waiting for you to give him the hint that you're losing the battle.

if you're too stubborn to call it quits, and he can tell that you're losing severely, he'll swoop in without a second thought and finish the fight for you.

overall he has a very caring personality and would do anything to make sure you can protect yourself.

TECHNOBLADE;

believe me when I say you'll be carrying potions that will make you weigh 10 times more then you do now.

like I'm talking about your pockets, sleeves, socks, shoes, and your hair will be filled with them in secret compartments.

he always make sure you have atleast 5 totem of undyings in your inventory.

you always ask where he gets them from and he'll just look at you, blink and slowly back out the room.

you'd ask phil and he'll just shake his head and say "it's best you didn't know."

...

anyway, he'll find a way to make a netherite sword light for you because he will NOT let you walk around with a wooden sword.

makes sures everything you own is maxed out in enchantments.

potion wise he put EVERYTHING he could find into one potion. just drinking it alone without any armor would most likely make you the strongest person in the server.

he knows you can take your opponents but would still give you a 30 day bootcamp on fighting.

you'll be wishing you never took up pvp in the first place.

this man is relentless.

like I'm talking your arms, legs and back would be black and blue from the constant fighting.

sure it'll help in the long run but you got both mentally and psychically exhausted that you just passed out. (fic coming based off this soon?)

he'd give you a break but all this payed off in the long run because you were able to master a lot of thing you couldn't have ever done before.

like phil, he'd mostly be in your ear, watching from afar, telling when to strike and how.

you know ratatuoe (I'm not even going to begin on spelling ts right) where the rat is in the guys ear helping him cook?

that's you and techno except he's not pulling your hair controlling you..

yeah okay anyway, he'd make you the most feared person despite your size, you were walking proof that even if you're small you can do anything you put your mind to.

and hey, dream and his goons are kinda-somewhat, scared of you now.

so good for you :)

TOMMY;

to be honest for him I'm not really sure what he'd do.

like, do i want to go for the sweet, caring friend road or the gremlin, "who cares" mentality, evil road?

for the sake of this I'll do the first.

OKAY, he doesn't really know anything about potions (or poison pick your word they're the same) except for the stuff he made in wilburs van those days ago.

do the research needed to figure out what potions did what and how long they lasted for.

knowing him he most likely mixed a invisibility and a strength potion together and blew up Philzas' lab area, later blaming it on Techno.

though he couldn't fight himself he would do his best to teach you from the things he saw during war times, mixing in what techno taught him those years ago.

and although he is kinda rusty, his tactics worked well and you incorporated it with the stuff you already knew.

he was very taken aback by how badass you were.

he never knew someone so tiny and couldn't even open a pickle jar could fight a grown ass, 6'1 man with just leather armor.

would use you as a lab rat for his work-in-progress potions.

he'd hand you the most revolting thing.

I'm talking about mold, green goup, spiders eye, bamboo ass shit in a tiny glass bottle.

thank god for your immunity to poison because that looked radioactive.

"so? how does it taste?" he asks, lifting up the protective googles that started fogging up from the humidity in the room.

you swallowed the rest of it, placing the now empty bottle on the table. watching as he watched you expectantly. you swished the slug in your mouth and held your breath. the taste was something indescribable.

as you went to talk a hiccup came out instead, it came out green. you smiled at him, waving your hand in-front of your face. "well, I don't feel like dying-" another hiccup cuts you off, this time along with the sudden impulse to smash a book on the table.

you reached for the book and tommy watches you in awe, nothing about your psychical form changed but as the book collided with the ground and everything broke into pieces, tommy knew he had accidently created a ultra potion of strength.

it only took 7 minutes to wear off but in those minutes everything around you were either across the room or demolished.

he is very helpful but at the same time very risky. so if you ever choose him to help -or he chooses you- just take the safety percussions necessary.

RANBOO;

you really think that he is going to even touch a potion?

this man is afraid of EVERYTHING

would watch from behind you as you cooked something up.

if you even asked if he wanted to help he'd give you the most deadpanneded look and straight out tell you no.

he wouldn’t help you make them but he sure as hell would get you the supplies you needed when you ran out.

he knows that they are vital for your fighting because of your small stature so he makes sure nothing is missing and no one is bothering you while your working.

though he can’t provide much, he is great at finding ender pearls which he gives to you.

he doesn’t know what it could be used for but he thinks it’s a nice little gift.

ranboo being half ender man means that he hoards a lot of stuff so whenever you need you’ll go to his little house and take whatever you need.

9 times out of 10 there would be some really messed up stuff that he said he just “found lying around” but we all know that that’s probably not true.

he looks up to you (even though he should be looking down) because of how confident you are despite your size and weakness

He likes that you use it to your advantage and asks you to help him get the confidence that he needs.

if you ever need help during a fight just whistle- which is a signal that you need help- and ranboo will teleport to you and swoop you up.

he is very helpful despite being afraid of a lot of things.

TUBBO;

the both of you are pretty short so he can understand why you use poison to knock your opponents down.

is all for it to be honest, tells you to rest while he tries some things out.

like tommy he will put the most horrendous shit in it but will cover the smell up with berries and purple dye.

he tries to stay away from fighting, having a bad past with it and all but he will definitely sit on the sidelines and watch as you try and practice.

assures you that he will always stick by your side, in battle and out.

though he doesn't have any practice in pvp except for the wars he doesn't really have any tips and tricks. but is happy to help you come up with new strategies.

is very adamant about you not overworking yourself, will make you carry around extra potions of strength to make you heal faster.

you have this little book filled with recipes of different poisons you created over time and some times tubbo finds himself marveling over the things you've created.

tags▼

[anarmel]

i’m on my d&d jatp bullshit and i just wanna write down how i conceptualise characters in one post(sorry)

Julie(starting alignment lawful good)

-is a half aasimar(mother’s side)/half sun-elf(father’s side)

-she is a multiclass of bard(college of benevolence) and paladin of Sun(oath of radiance) (in my world building there is no particular named gods there is just forces of nature, spirit and belief and separate domains of heavens where celestial beings realm. For example Sun is sentient force of life and burning illumination it gives life but only in tandem with other powers of nature, alone it just burns and gradually consumes you in its warmth until you notice you’ve been burned with it. There is no inherently good and bad forces it’s all in blinding shades of neutral morals and ambiguity and it’s people who tip the scales of balance using powers in their reach for their own agendas)

-her preference in weapons is a sturdy versatile sword and a shield. she is a fierce and focused fighter but she will always find time to heal and inspire her allies

-her bard magic comes through her angelic voice that can bring dead back to life. Her magic is sun flavoured bright and enticing.

Flynn (starting alignment chaotic good)

-is an eladrin elf her season changes depending on her mood but most of the time they’re in summer

-they are a wild magic sorcerer(chaos flavour). her magic focus is her own blood, magic flows through them

-was feared for her chaos magic and was not permitted to use it. Flynn kinda didn’t care for that rule and her magic never caused anyone any harm(yet) and was kinda fun. they want excitement in a life of adventure, they want to help in a fight and not be useless. it’s a risk but she isn’t afraid and Julie always by her side so it can’t be that bad

-fights are fun until they’re not. Flynn will support anyone in a tight spot and will not hesitate to throw her chaos bolt at the opponent

Nick (starting alignment neutral good)

-is a firbolg(not a full blood one because his too short but no one knows his lineage)

-he is a multiclass of fighter(arcane archer)and ranger(monster slayer)

-his preferred weapon is a long bow but he always has a long sword on his person. he’s ready for everything. a very tactical and rational fighter. prefers not to fight at all if possible. but if someone he loves is hurt he will put an arrow through a skull with surprising accuracy and precision

Carrie (starting alignment lawful evil)

-believes she is a high elf but something’s off(she is a changeling and doesn’t fully know it because she doesn’t want to know and that will make her not “perfect”)

-she’s an academically trained rogue-assassin

-preferred fighting style quick slash of two poisonous daggers and an instant death of an opponent. in a long fight may shoot darts or to restrain a target will use her whip

Bobby (starting alignment true neutral)

-is half high elf(father’s side)/quarter orc(mother’s side)

-he’s a multiclass of rogue(scout) and barbarian(totem warrior)

-as a child went through the same training as Carrie and when he left home he picked up new skills as he wondered through nature following birds wishing he was as free and independently happy as them and this wish just made him more angry at his situation because he doesn’t know how to achieve what he wants

-dual wields two swords and throws javelins when necessary. will jump into battle to release his pent up anger but his first priority is to protect those around him and feel useful

Luke (starting alignment chaotic good)

-is a satyr

-he’s a multiclass of bard(college of eloquence) and fighter(eldritch knight)

-his parents wanted for him to follow in their footsteps and be a good servant for a forest spirt but he’s an adventurer and a creator at heart and needs to share himself with the world so after an argument with his parents left his home in anger

-in fight he wields his soul bound greataxe-guitar

-loves to fight it’s just another performance where you get to inspire allies and bring good to the world. it’s a competition not just between you and your opponent but also between people on your side to see who does the best Luke always convinced it’s him because he gives a part of himself to his allies through inspiring song and he gets to slash some head off

Reggie (starting alignment neutral good)

-is an asmodeus tiefling which gives him an intimidating look but his a soft marshmallow

-he’s a wizard(school of illusion)

-left his home in search for peace but then he met Luke and got inspired to bring peace to others

-sometimes he feels like he’s underwater and lost and only his friends make him rush to the surface for so much needed air

-an imaginative caster will distract opponents with their fears and desires as his friends deal damage. not an aggressive fighter more of a useful distraction but always has a fireball up his sleeve that he’s timid to use

Alex (starting alignment lawful neutral)

-is a fallen aasimar banished from his home. doesn’t talk about it at all

-he is a cleric(grave domain)

-wields a shield and a quarterstaff. in a fight prefers to deal damage and deal with the problem at hand instead of healing the stupid wounds his friends got in a dumb way.

-his magic is radiant and necrotic flavoured.

Willie (starting alignment chaotic neutral)

-is an air genasi

-they are a multiclass of wild magic sorcerer and warlock(archfey patron)

-never had a stable home or family. always new faces with every new “control” group. it started since their childhood. one of the magic serges caused a tornado that had casualties. Willie didn’t choose this magic but he’s understand what they caused needs control but in “control” groups they are like a lab rat and Willie’s tired and wants to live their life in adrenaline of adventure. they feel like an air in an old hot room where someone desperately needs to open a window and let it out. and after his last magic serge that someone finds him and lifts his curse giving him new power

-doesn’t experience magic surges anymore as a side effect of his pact with Caleb

-in a fight Willie’s unexpected and always has a plan that only they know

-uses magic as well as dynamite sticks(a bit of an arsonist)

-flavour of magic: air, charged air(lighting)

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

100 words (or people aren’t letting Jamie sleep but she doesn’t mind because she loves them)

The part Jamie is super mad about, is that if Peter Fucking Quint hadn’t existed, she would never have realized she was in love with Dani.

It is an irrational sort of exasperation, she knows, one that doesn’t even come halfway up the massive totem pole of problems that the man caused and in theory there are a lot more things she should have been mad at him about, she knows, but this, this tiny fact irks her most. She knows she should be madder about the fact that he was stalking them all at Bly Manor, that in his misguided belief that they, rather than he himself, had caused Rebecca to kill herself, he had attacked Hannah, and Dani and nearly kidnapped Flora but. Well.  

(Guess it is easier to be furious about irrelevant things. Jamie supposes if she gives an of the above things more than five minutes of thought, she really will start boiling over with uncontrollable rage like some sort of demented teakettle.)

It is certainly easier to loathe the fact that Peter Fucking Quint will now forever be a part of their love story, one that she might quite possibly be telling her children at some point.

(A long, long time into the future, she will be telling this to Dani as they sit in their apartment, eating pancakes together.

“Children?” Dani will ask her, one eyebrow raised, lips pressed together to keep from laughing. “I don’t remember agreeing to having children with you.”

“Who else are you gonna have them with? Edna from next door?”

“Edna’s already got a husband.”

“Oh, that’s what’s stopping you?”

Dani will roll her eyes, hard and Jamie will note that it is not exactly a denial)

*****

Things have barely settled down at Bly Manor after what they’ve collectively dubbed as “The Peter Incident”, when Owen proposes a sleepover.

Everyone knows why that is. He hasn’t been able to let Hannah out of his sight for more than a couple of hours ever since she was attacked by that rat bastard. Neither has Miles. The poor kid is so wrapped up in all sorts of guilt and anger (the latter directed at Peter) that he’s been trying to make up for it by helping Hannah when she’s cleaning. They’ve tried to talk to him, but in his very young head, once he gets an idea, it’s almost impossible to talk him out of it.

And so Jamie finds herself lounging on the couch, playing cards with him, Owen and Hannah while Dani’s gone to the kitchen to get them another helping of the giant chocolate cake that Owen had baked earlier in the afternoon. Flora’s already asleep on the giant rug in front of the fire, having tuckered herself out by making them all chase her around the hall.

“You’re cheating,” Miles says, eyes narrowed.

“I most certainly am not!” Owen replies, indignantly. “I’m Owen.”

Jamie groans, and immediately gets shushed by Hannah.

“Control this man, please,” Jamie begs. At this rate she’s going to end up forfeiting by chucking all her cards at him and that would not be optimal to her ‘Impress Dani by being really cool at cards’ strategy.

Hannah just smiles fondly at him.

“You two are the worst,” Jamie grumbles. “Completely absorbed in each other.”

Of course, the statement is completely devoid of sting because that’s the moment Dani walks back in again, arms delicately handling four plates loaded with cake, and Jamie loses focus.

(Okay, so sue her for not caring about a stupid card game when her girlfriend was walking. Or breathing. Or simply existing. Everything Dani does is a glory to behold.)

She’s wearing Jamie’s bomber jacket, a jacket that is entirely too huge for her delicate frame. The sleeves have been bunched up close to her elbows, so they don’t cover her hands and the end of the jacket falls somewhere approximately mid-thigh, and Jamie is so floored by her that she forgets how to breath. The air freezes in her lungs, a product of the strange things her stomach seems to be doing inside; the blood rushing through her veins speeds up in response to the overtime beating of the very smitten organ inside her chest, and it would not be an overstatement to say that Jamie disintegrates into an enamored puddle in her seat.

“Gross,” Miles whispers, and the spell’s broken.

Owen and Hannah laugh quietly in the background, but Jamie can’t see past Dani, can’t hear anything besides the gentle ‘Hi baby’ that is whispered in her ear as the girl of her dreams settles in next to her.

The game continues.

“I don’t even know why we’re even playing,” Owen says, a few rounds later. “I mean, Jamie’s probably going to win anyways.”

“What? Why?”

“I mean, I’m sure you have a spade!”

There is a lot of staring.

“Because,” his shoulders are already shaking in laughter, “she’s a gardener!”

Hannah sighs.

“Get it?”

Dani’s the one who ends up grabbing all of Jamie’s card and throwing it at him in the end. The idiot is still laughing.

*****

Jamie watches Dani follow a trail of chaos all the way up to her room from Miles and Flora’s, picking up all sorts of things lying around. She sits, cross-legged on the bed, wrapped up in the blankets, and smiles brightly every time Dani looks up at her.

“You could help, you know?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just the gardener,” she replies, cheekily. “I’m just gonna sit here, all warm and bundled up and watch you do the child-rearing blah.”

Dani sticks her tongue out. “I’m all warm and bundled up too. And just because of that bit of cheekiness, your jacket is now mine. You’re not getting it back.”

I don’t want it back, she thinks, feeling very much like a crumpled-up piece of paper at the precious sight of her girlfriend in her clothes.

“Only if you pay me in kisses for it,” she tells Dani, solemnly.

Dani raises an eyebrow, advances, very, very slowly until she’s right up to the edge of the bed, pushes at her shoulders, until Jamie’s lying down. And then in a flash, she’s hovering over Jamie, so close that all she can see is the intense, bright blue of her eyes, all she can feel is the comforting weight of Dani on her, and the steady in and out of her breath hitting somewhere on her neck.

Jamie shivers. “Oh,” she says, because her mouth is apparently only capable of forming single syllables in the moment.

“Tell me, Jamie,” Dani asks, very quietly, the small puffs of her breathing making her feel very dismantled, “where, exactly, do you want me to kiss you?”

(If anyone asks, no, Jamie does not pass out for almost a minute. Nope. No sir. That is definitely not a thing that happens)

*****  

Jamie is dreaming of flying through the village with steel wings, so it’s a surprise when all the people start hurling stones at her.

It’s the uneven tap-tap of the pellets hitting her wings that wakes her up, and even in through the groggy haze of consciousness, she realizes the sound, hesitant as it is, is actually coming from the direction of the door.  

Disentangling from Dani is a task. An arduous one at that, mostly due to the fact that she’s so warm that Jamie kind of never wants to leave. Also because her girlfriend sleeps like a koala, completely wrapped around her. Her leg was resting on Jamie’s thighs, and she had an arm thrown over her stomach. When Jamie finally manages to get out from under her, she makes a noise in her sleep that has no business squeezing at Jamie’s heart the way that it does.

She tiptoes to the door, opens it very quietly, and then immediately drops onto her knees, looks at a very small-looking Flora.

“What,” she asks, frantically checking for she doesn’t know what. “What happened? Are you hurt? Is Miles okay?”

Flora blinks up at her. “I had a dream.”

Jamie’s hands still and come to rest on Flora’s shoulders. “Uh huh.”

“A scary dream,” Flora elaborates.

Oh thank God, she thinks, and on the heels of that, Fuck Peter Fucking Quint. She gently pulls the door close behind her and picks up Flora in one fluid motion, carrying her towards her room.

“What was the dream about?” she asks, once, she’s deposited Flora onto her bed, and complied with her request to let her hold one of the dolls.

“Peter,” Flora says, her eyes wide and serious.

(From the bottom of her heart, fuck Peter Fucking Quint)

“Peter isn’t here, though,” she says, getting up from the bed and making a huge show of bending down to check under the mattress. She walks over to the closet, and pulls it open with a flourish, turning her head in an exaggerated motion from side to side to scan it. “See? Nothing.”

“Behind the dollhouse,” Flora points.

“If he were behind the dollhouse, your dolls could easily beat him up,” Jamie tells her, and Flora giggles. She checks, anyways.

“Jamie, I’m awfully sorry I woke you up,” Flora says once she’s next to the bed again, and Jamie feels an invisible hand nudge something into place around her chest at the look on her face.

“Well, I’m not sorry you woke me up, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

Flora smiles.

*****

When she walks out of Flora’s room, she nearly get another heart attack at the sight of Dani standing, motionless, just behind the door.

“Jesus fucking—” she gasps, hand on her chest. “What is with the members of this place trying to scare the fuck out of me?”

“You’re a giant baby,” Dani says, already falling into step beside her, hand instinctually coming up to wrap around Jamie’s waist. “And I thought I was supposed to be the child-rearing expert, huh?”

This is Flora, she thinks. She’s grown up in front of me. I’ve watched them shoot up like my roses. I’ve loved those buggers a thousand times more than any flower I’ve ever raised.  

“You’re an eavesdropper,” Jamie retorts, instead.

“And you’re a leavesdropper,” Dani announces, and immediately starts giggling. “Because you trim the plants.”

Jamie sighs.

*****

They stand by the window in the middle of the night, looking out over Bly Manor grounds. Jamie has dragged the blanket out of the bed, and wrapped it around them, as she rests her chin on Dani’s shoulder from behind.

“Has Owen worked up the courage to kiss Hannah yet?” Dani asks, as they watch them crashed on top of each other next to the fire burning near the lake.

Jamie chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“What a loser.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she deadpans, pressing a quick kiss to Dani’s red cheeks. “Some people like taking it slow. Unlike others who propose sleeping together on the first date.”

Dani tips her head back, looks at her, her eyes bright and full of laughter. “You didn’t sound like you minded very much. In fact, if I remember well, you sounded a lot like—”

Jamie holds her palm over Dani’s mouth. “Shut up,” she says, blushing.

Dani maneuvers until they’re facing each other, presses her forehead to Jamie’s. “No regrets?” she asks, and the question is casual, but her eyebrows are drawn together.

Jamie smoothens her brow. “None.”

Dani kisses her. “Same. Every shitty thing Peter did to us, I’m — I’m still okay with it in some weird way because it led me to you.”

The girl of her dreams stands in her arms in the middle of the night, sleepy and earnest, and Jamie feels her world tilting for a minute. It settles on a new axis; the air shifts to make space for all the extra tenderness she guesses is probably pouring out of her right now; and Jamie realizes her world will never be the same again.

(There’s something finally prettier than the moon in her universe)

She opens her mouth, almost says three words.

“What?” Dani asks.

Jamie shakes her head. Too soon.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, instead, and things are as close to perfect as they could possibly be.

[sebastianshaw]

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes  For Jenny/Roulette--- For DnD, I think she’s a human rogue. It’s true she prefers big disasters over stealthy moves, but I think she could work really well as a rogue that specialized in distraction. Like how can she be anything BUT a rogue, really? I don’t see her fitting too well in any of the vampire clans? I think she seems like a Brujah troublemaker on the surface, but she’s a rebel without a cause. Admittedly, many modern Brujah are, but...I dunno, I just feel like it takes more than a bad attitude to be a Brujah. She could also have been Embraced by a Toreador who saw her knack for pranks and chaos as an art, since anything can be an art depending on the Toreador who is judging it. I know I’m picking Brujah and Torries a lot, but that’s because part of the setting is that they do make the most Embraces when they’re permitted, and have the widest pool of “types” of people they Embrace, since they’re very personal and indivudla in their choices, rather than the clan as a whole seeking a specific type of person, so like...no matter who a person is, you can often find a reason why a Brujah might Embrace them, and you can ALWAYS find a reason why a Toreador did. For the “Werewolf: The Apocalypse” setting, she is ABSOLUTELY a Ratkin. They are saboteaur extraodinares with a legendary affinity for chaos ( “Whenever human civilization grows too strong, we are the ones who must correct the balance” - The Ratkin breedbook) and fuck-you attitudes to everyone else, called on by Gaia and the other shapeshifters to do the dirtiest deeds that the others won’t dare sully their paws with, leaving it instead to those they see as the weakest and lowliest, the rats. And the rats are ready to do it for Gaia’s sake, but just as ready to bite back at the other shifters, especially the cruel and proud Garou who tried to wipe them out long ago during the War of Rage, when the wolves tried to exterminate all other werebeasts (and succeeded with a few---but not with the rats! I think also fits her canon backstory of being the baby in a family of six kids and no mention of a mother, just a father. My idea is her mother was a Ratkin who kept having children with this human, hoping one would be a Ratkin, but they all came out kinfolk, until she got lucky at last with Jenny, and now that she’d made sure she had an heir, she ran off to face the Wyrm one last time. I can’t recall if they can tell at birth if someone is going to be a wereanimal or just kinfolk (the human and animal family of a werebeast) but I think there’s some kind of spell or ritual to detect it? So that way she knew long before Jenny’s First Change. I her background as having been running with a gang before Emma found her also fits well for a Ratkin. The Ratkin have a story about how they came to have their human Kinfolk--- “The werewolves were filled with a furious anger, and terrible pride, and they herded humans in great masses. All of the Changing Ones could breed with beasts or men of their choosing, but the Garou seized the best breeding stock for themselves. They were more than masters, and their humans were less than slaves. The Garou considered these human tribes their flocks — little more than walking sheep. The Garou herded humans together to watch over them. Throughout the world, they formed many different tribes, and each of their human Kin — their Kinfolk — adapted to their ways. [...] Once all the tribes had been formed, the last and the lowliest, the smallest and the most quiet scavenged for food with the Rats. Those who were desperate to survive sought out our nests and begged for food. Our children have lived on the fringes of human society ever since, living in terror of the werewolves in their midst [...]  Assassins, thieves, whores, cutthroats — when we were desperate enough, we’d be willing to do anything. Before long, our human Kinfolk had thoroughly infiltrated the lowest castes of human society, waiting for the liberating call of their brothers and sisters among the rats.” Basically, the scavengers and criminals, the homeless and outcasts, the kinds of kids who wind up in gangs because they have no support system, that’s the family the Ratkin have, the company they keep, the few humans they call their mates and children among the hated mass of mankind they otherwise despise as much as they werewolves. No wonder Jenny would be drawn to them.   Of the eight Ratkin aspects, I see three possibilities for Jenny---Tunnel Runner, Knife-Skulker, or Warrior. Tunnel Runners are the mavericks of Ratkin society; they act as the scouts and spies of the swarm.  Knife-Skulkers hire themselves and their packs out to any who would pay their price. The distinctions and taboos of supernatural societies mean nothing to them; justice is all-encompassing. As assassins and thieves, they will make and break contracts with anyone. Warriors wield their Pain Daggers with rapturous abandon; masters of guerrilla warfare, pack tactics, and swarm strategies, they prove Rat’s rightful position as a Totem of War. Their methods of killing range from the imaginative reconstruction of modern-day ninja to the elaborate strategies of survivalists and militias. Jenny’s bad luck discs could probably translate to some kind of Home Alone level of chaos engineering with anything she has at hand, combined with the supernatural rituals that wereanimals can do and neat little powers they have called Gifts (ex: One basic Ratkin gift is the gift to carry way more in your pockets than should be possible!) There are a few things that don’t fit---namely that Ratkin burn with madness and rage. Ratkin HATE. They hate humans, they hate the Weaver, they hate the Wyrm, they hate the werewolves, and they have good reason for ALL of it. They really truly want to bring civilization crashing down around our ears. Jenny, I don’t think, was ever angry. Jenny didn’t hate anyone. Jenny didn’t want vengeance. Jenny didn’t have a goal. Jenny was just a high school bully because she came from a rough background and was too young to truly understand the consequences of her actions, and was in an environment that encouraged her cruelty against others. But, I think that can work for a young new Ratkin too. Much like when Emma recruited her, this is all new to Jenny, she doesn’t understand what she is or what she can do, but the other Ratkin are going to turn her into their weapon, not because the Ratkin are evil but because ALL the wereanimals in this setting are compelled to defend Gaia and fight the Wyrm, it’s just...what you do, there’s no opting out. And I don’t think Jenny likes being told what to do----but she CAN have fun doing it!! (Mindmeld is also a Ratkin)

[creativenicocorner]

I...I hesitantly want to believe I’ll manage to have ch13 of Terpsichore out by the holidays, and perhaps typing this out into the world wide webbo will help will that into reality. Or maybe it won't - time will tell lol

In the meantime have a collection of disconnected and short Terpsichore sneak peeks:

//

Walter stared down in transfixed horror and shame, his hand hovering over her back, before slowly, hesitantly, rubbing her heaving back.

Walter Strickler squeezed her close as much as his strength allowed.

“Was it real? Was any of it real?” asked Barbara in a whisper so low, unable to look the changeling in the eye - hesitant to relinquish her lasting hold on the thin thread that tied them together.

“Every bit of it.” came Walter’s voice, this time without any sort of pause, with enough reassurance that broke Barbara’s heart and caused her to close her eyes with a blob of fresh tears.

“Walter” she said with a crack in her voice, the dreaded ‘End is Nigh’ in sights.

“It was,” admitted the changeling, holding Barbara close, “one of the most real experiences of my life. Yes it was real. Of course it was real. From being pushed out of your window, to watching Star Trek together, to you getting a bikini wax.”

Barbara gave a knee jerk laugh cry at that, sobbing a cackle into the changeling’s chest. “Oh my go- that’s right, you felt those?!” asked Barbara looking at Walter at last.

His face was warm, and gooey. Not the sort of face she’d ever expect to be an assassin, or some sort of part troll person.

With a gentle brush through Barbara’s hair Walter said, “Every strip.”

This caused Barbara another fit of laughter, fresh tears falling and reddening her cheeks. Streaks of tears fell into the creases of her pained smile. Barbara laughed and hated Walter more for being able to, even now, despite everything, make her laugh.

“Good.” she sniffed, rubbing her nose into his sweater. A final act of close familiarity shared, of held and being held.  

It ached how painfully easy it felt to slip into a sense of before - to warm idle chats with scones, and sitting side by side on a swing-set at the playground on the hospital grounds during her breaks. Though really, their chats were always warm, no matter the setting.

Mustering her strength Barbara pushed herself out of Walter Strickler’s embrace.

To Walter’s wordless, ‘you good?’ Barbara nodded with a sniff, and sat upright once more. Her spine felt cold though.

Then, after a delicate pause, scratching the side of his nose and watching Barbara sniffle, Walter reached into that near Mary Poppins level inside pocket of his, and pulled out a handkerchief for her.

The kind gesture burned at Barbara’s heart like a wild fire. It pained her to smile, nod, and take it.

“Do you still want me to kill Andrew Wakefield?” asked Walter Strickler, leaning to the side some to be at her eye level, but with still a bit of distance.

Barbara’s nose blowing sputtered into an escaped laugh. Dabbing her nose she bit her lip and closed her eyes. “That,” she said in her classic ‘more mad at how such a joke could make me laugh’ look Walter knew so well, and a wave of her finger. She tried with all her might to not be amused, “that’s not funny.”

“I have the connections.” he said, like a used car salesman trying to bribe a smile out of her.

“You’re probably over qualified.” she couldn’t help but snark in equal dryness. Then sighed, lowering her hands into her lap, “…I suppose you can kill him, hu?” she considered aloud.

Slowly, like an arctic wind she knew was in the forecast but hoped would just go away and be mistaken about, she realized, with a cold drain of blood and warmth from her features, the unforgivable as a mother.

“Then that means,” she said with disinfected coldness “it’s also true that you tried to kill my son.” with a look in her eyes that gazed into Walter Strickler’s like an obituary.

//

“Right.” said Vendel at last. He turned to Shuri and said, “Take her to Heartstone. I’ll have to inform the Trollhunter. Come on you.” he added with a click of his staff to the ground at Strickler - waking him from darker thoughts.  

Strickler knew he was walking, but it felt more like a distant experience, observed from elsewhere outside his body. He winced at the neon light of the main medical ward, but didn’t wait for them to adjust - instead he felt himself move toward Barbara’s direction.

Her pained simpers speared through his ears and dug at his heart.

Vendel’s staff intercepted the changeling, a sour faced and all.

Strickler didn’t have any quips left, the wind out of his sails. He had other things to care about. Leaning to the side, and with a hand floating up curl gingerly around the sling, he said, “A blanket. The..heartstone it’ll be warm, I suppose, if the staff felt warm to me, but…” Walter Strickler took a step back and croaked, “What have I done?”

Sympathy was not found in the old troll’s eyes, nor as he inhaled slowly through his nose. “Enough. I’d say you’ve done enough.”

The changeling didn’t move, but watched misty eyed as Shuri carried a groaning Barbara out a side door.

“A funny thing, consequence.” Sniffed Vendel. “You will have plenty of time to think of that soon - for now it is imperative the bond between you is broken.”

“What if the heartstone won’t work?”

“Changeling, are you listening?”

Walter’s mouth felt dry, his throat lumpy and in need of clearing, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “Gumm-Gumm magic. The bond is made by Gumm-Gumm magic…”

Vendel gave the changeling a look that was the closest to the trollish equivalent of a dryly delivered, ‘no shit Sherlock.’

Strickler continued, “I had Angor carve it into totems...what I’m saying is - they’re could be backfires - erm,” he paused to think of a better word, his fingers snapping quickly as if it’d help speed up his mental search “side effects.”

“Heartstone is more powerful than anything you, your kind, and your Gumm-Gumms could possibly divine. I have faith in it, and so should you.”

“What, cause my blood glowed? Sound thinking, that- sure. No further research needed - case closed - treatment : Glowing rock, side effects: hopefully tickety-boo.” to which Strickler crossed his fingers at Vendel and smiled gruesomely. “While we’re at it why don’t we rip out the entrails of a dead rat and see what the horoscope for the month will be, hm?”

Vendel looked down his nose at the changeling, and said nothing. Then with a tap of his staff and a gesture of his arm, had the changeling walk in front of him - where the Trollhunter and others were waiting.

//

It was during one of these moments that a pair of trolls hurriedly crossed to the other side of the road tugging at a child in hand. Unfortunately the child stumbled in Strickler’s path.

The trolls held their breath, as if anticipating a sort of bomb to go off.

Strickler slowly turned his head to look solemnly down at the young troll. Their eyes were wide. Their breath quickening in horror. Looking up into the face of the flesh and bone creature that had heavy unblinking eyes.  

But Strickler didn’t act, or move, or did anything - he just waited, either for the troll to pick themselves up, or for someone to help them up. He even took a moment to look at Blinky to see if he would do anything, but the troll seemed momentarily distracted with a bookseller.

When nothing happened Strickler sighed upward, unable to refuse his teacherly paternal like nature, and leaned leaned forward with an outstretched hand. The bare minimum, really.

The young troll flinched away, covering their face as if that would cast the pretend troll out of existence. They tried hard not to think about what it must feel like to walk with a soft outside and rocky inside - and she tried not to think about how strange this fleshy creature walked without a sound without rattling with the bones inside…surely bones rattled, right? Or were they more like trolls but with their insides stretched on their outside?

Curiosity getting the best of them, the child peaked through their fingers. Eyeing the offered soft hand with hairy knuckles.

“Are you inside out?” asked the little troll.

“Not presently, no.” said Strickler “But the future is full of possibilities.” and then he gave a small ironic sort of smile.

The little troll removed their hand from their face and, found themselves smiling in return. Then slowly…hesitantly…reached towards Strickler’s hand.

//

And onwards they continued. They moved discreetly through a winding stretch that became more desolate with every step, tented carpets, and around a wall of piled televisions which Strickler couldn’t guess the reason of it being there for the life of him. If the circumstances were different, he might have asked Blinky.

There were less neon signs near the stronghold, as if preserved in an area that found light and electrical currents moderately suspicious at best. Not that either Blinky or Strickler found this to be a problem, the slow decline of lights helped in favor to their eyes adjusting. Sharp greens and screaming purples and icy blueberry blues diminished - replaced by one tone browns, a splash of yellow, and perhaps the idea of orange.

The trolls guarding the threshold were at shoulder height the same size of an average moose, and frowned with the grace of a snarling gargoyle as they passed.

Here, none of the guards seemed surprised at the sight of the changeling. Their primary reaction being a tighter grip on their halberds, and a low growl that rippled bear like past their jagged yellow teeth.  

“Cheerful.” commented Strickler dryly, “Like being greeted by sadistic bellhops.”

“Show any sign of a trick, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy their version of asking for ‘a tip’.”

Strickler held his wounded arm closer to himself with a dry gulp, “Well, I give shoddy advice at best.”

“No not that kind of-!” Blinky turned and looked at the deceptively calm expression on his face - patient as an iceberg. Blinky’s frown deepened. “Oh, you’re joking.”

The changeling gave an ironic, serviceable bow.

//

And that’s probably it for sneak peeks until the chapter is released (maybe)

[rickhiebert]

Warning: Newspaper at Play (featuring “Patty Hearst” )

The Magic Blue Editor’s Dress. Did you have it around during your own years at The Ubyssey?

Anyways....people at The Ubyssey used to have the money, editorial space and inclination to overtly try to have fun with what they were doing.

For example, in 1964-65, future Prime Minister Kim Campbell was a darling on campus as the first year student’s representtative on the AMS council.  She was always getting covered in the paper, had her picture taken, and such. 

In March 1965, she turned 18. In the March 11, 1965 issue there was a photo of  a male student holding up to her a giant sign saying “18 Now you’re...”with a picture of the silhouette of a back panther that they used to use to show that a film was “RESTRICTED” and only those 18 an above could go see it. Fortunately it was a big sign that the possibly naked guy holding the sign right in front of him was showing to Miss Campbell...

Campbell took life with the ‘geers’, UBC’s Engineering students, in stride, As part of her AMS responsibilites, she had an office. She quipped to a Ubyssey reporter that she had “an open door policy” because the ‘geers had swiped the door to her AMS office.

The Ubyssey played along with another prank by the ‘geers. In February 1963, several abstract statues of nude seeming figures  appeared on campus.

Late that month a picket appeared beside the statues. “Ralph the mystery picket” was protesting with signs around the statues complaining that they were indecent. “Ralph” and some friends put clothes on the statues.

In September 1963, eight brand new statues mysteriously appeared on campus. Some of the statues were near or next to the genuine ones that UBC had put out in the spring.

On Ctober 2, the engineers struck. Several dozen of them took crowbars and sledgehammers to the brand new statues, not, please note, the old ones. Photos of the destruction were run in the Ubyssey.

The Ubyssey revealed that it had been a glorious prank and the paper had been in on it. Students and faculty had been talking about the newer statues for weeks, but, The Ubyssey reported “no one had bothered to find out if they were real.”

The paper added that the statues “were fakes put on the campus by the engineering students to prove that UBC didn’t know junk from art.”

The Ubyssey also used to cover the T-Cup football game in the spring. Surely, this tradition is long gone...Female students in the Nursing and the Family and Nutritional Sciences faculties would suit up and play a game on a big field.

The ‘geer’s love of shells of old Volkswagen Beetle cars, was usually covered by The Ubyssey. Such as the amazing places they would be put, such as on the top of Buchnan Tower, the student residence, or hanging from the Lion’s Gate Bridge.

The Ubyssey scored big in 1975. The Engineering Undergraduate Society used to have a newpaper called The Red Rag. The Red Rag was typeset at College Printers, the same place where The Ubyssey was also typset and printed. [My very first year at the paper, we did “contra deals” with restauraunts. The Ubyssey will trade an ad in the paper for the restaurant feeding a table of Ubyssey staffers on production night. We’d eat and then carry on to Collge Printers where we’d “put the paper to bed “.]

So, 1975. The Ubyssey staff gathered at College Printers. They noticed that a special edition of The Red Rag was laid out on “flats” to be put out soon during “Engineering Week” So, they got out a typewriter, hand drew some cartoons and had some new “headlines” ypeset and all of a sudden, The Red Rag had become Maoist.

The Red Rag was published before the next Ubyssey. While students laughed at the Red Rag complaining that the UBC administration was “revanchist” The Ubyssey primly had a story wondering who had done the foul deed.

From the 1920s to 1940s, the Ubyssey had regular humour columns, Eric Nicol got his start at The Ubyssey before becoming a famous Canadian humorist. In 1947, Nicol had a prank played on him by fellow Ubyssey staffer Les Bewley--the latter would become a judge and then a ideologically conservative Vancouver Sun columnist.

During my own time at The Ubyssey, I did a story on one of Nicol’s later books. I’d heard of the prank and asked Nicol about it for a sidebar story.

Bewley, Nicol told me, took a donations can and collected money. When he had enough money, Bewley went downtown to Birks and had a plaque made. It was erected in Brock Hall As of the 1990s, the plaque was still up and I took a photo of it for The Ubyssey, which it ran with this story.

Nicol remembered that UBC professor G.G. Sedgewick was persuaded to officiate at the grand unveiling of the plaque, which read : “In Loving Memory of JABEZ (Eric P. Nicol) beloved campus humorist who for a full decade gave to his fellow man the precious gift of laughter.”

Sedgewick was not impressed.

Nicol remembered: “It was a very small gathering., around lunchtime, and Sedgewich was fed up with the whole thing too, and figured that it was some kind of a lark. All he could do was tear the cloth off the plaque, mutter a few obscenites, and stride off back to his classes.”

The Ubyssey has always had a sense of humour about itself.

For example, when The Ubyssey’s offices were much more of a place to hang out and get to know people than it seems to be these days. They would have year end dinners.

There. staffers would get joke “awards” that gently teased them in good humour. Over the years, I got and kept several of them..

Here is one I got:

I can’t forget The Magic Blue Editor’s Dress.

At the very top of this post, you’ll see a photo of an innocent Ubyssey staffer who had been dared to try on the dress, went to the bathroom and came back wearing it.

He had to know that a camera was witing for his return.

Anyways, several swarthy guys were featured in various staff recruitment ads over the years wearing the MBED. It has to be long gone, and current Ubyssey staff probably have no idea that it ever existed. Just like the framed photo of Enver Hoxha that we had to use to illustrate a news story one night.

Cub reporter Tom Wayman (yes, *the* Tom Wayman) found SFU in 1963, as it was being built. A series of “gag’ photos followed Wayman on his quest over the next two weeks on his quest to find “Simon Fraser Academy” or SFA” as the waggish Ubyssey dubbed it.

The series ended with a composite faked picture of future SFU chancellor-to-be Gordon Shrum isitting at a desk in an otherwise empty clearing. 

“Shrum” is quoted as saying: “This, all this is mine. All this is SFA” (Hint: not “Simon Fraser Academy)

The Ubyssey still likes to do parodies of print media today. During my own years there, it parodied The Completely Straight (Georgia Straight), The Vancouver Stunned (Vancouver Sun) The Gripe and Wail (Globe and Mail) and The Provincial Enquirer (Province).

I’ll finish with an old Ubyssey tradition that it doesn’t have the space for any more, the “joke story”.

It read as if it could be plausible...until you read the “turn” of the story on another page. In my time, there were two phone lines in SUB 241K, with two different phone numbers. One year, we did a “joke story” that students were going to get an extra GST cheque. We gave a phone number for getting information about the cheque and it was the second number, which we never printed in the paper. We got calls for two months on that line after the “GST” “joke story ran. I know. I fielded lots of them.

Of course, the kicker was to read the “turn” of the story.. When The Ubyseey went on to quote The Queen, Moammar Quadaffi and The Pope all saying ridiculous things, the penny was supposed to drop.

The story that ran on page one of the Nov. 26 1974 Ubyssey succeded spectacularly. People neded to “read the turn” and think about it. But they didn’t.

A journalist should have smelled a rat. First, the story is the bottom one of the page instead of trumpeting a scoop.

Here is a hyperlink to that paper as saved on the UBC Library’s online PDF files:

http://www.library.ubc.ca/archives/pdfs/ubyssey/UBYSSEY_1974_11_26.back 

Heiress Patty Hearst, older readers may recall, had been kidnapped in February by the Sybionese Liberation Army. After participating in a bank robbery, the FBI was avidly looking for Hearst.

Then The Ubyssey was naughty. It reported that Hearst had come to campus for a couple of hours and given an impromptu speech to ‘students in “Totem Park cafeteria”.

A murky photo of a long haired woman--shot from the back and cradling a shotgun in one arm--ran withe the story. A Ubyssey staffer of course.

A cassette recording of “Hearst’s” speech reportedly mysteriously appeared in a Ubyssey mailbox. in it she says “The dark majesty of proletarian oneness could not be shaken loose.”

The “story” goes on to note that “Hearst” got a standing ovation for her speech. However, the “turn” of the story quotes the UBC “Food service director as being asked why cafeteria workers hadn’t noticed “Hearst” in the cafeteria. And some other people being silly. A tip off that it is “fake news” as the term is today.

So there you go. Two days later, two letters in The Ubyssey had fun with the story. One letter says “I happen to know personally that Patty Hearst is dead....So stop looking for her. Sign me ‘anonymous’ Patty Hearst Windsor, Ontario.”

One last piece of Ubyssey lore about this “joke story”. In my day, there were huge plywood desks in SUB241K. One had a big gash in one side. I was told that it was where an angry news cameraman, part of a crew that had driven up from KOMO TV in Seattle, had kicked it. 

[leaf4e]

I made a rat texturepack for Bedrock

EDIT: Java version is linked on the page, just follow the link and its at the top of the description

It changes totems into rats

Download:

Pics on link, and below:

+ ingame screenshots:

[leaf4e]

Rat Totems is also now on Modrinth

its probably much easier to download from here than planet minecraft

+ a new icon for the planet minecraft pages