#this is a companion piece to a negative edit i made

[trauma-trove]

[ID: a positive traumacore edit? The background is the upper wall and ceiling of a hospital room. The foreground features a character with a flower for a head with a human eye in the center of the flower. The caption reads Quote "are you ready to go?" EndQuote. The pic is tinted slightly pink and blue in places, giving it a warm gentle feeling. End ID.]

When things go well.

[justporo]

Could I request no. 44 (Public Kisses) please?

Maybe the kisser proving the kissee that they don’t care who’s watching and that they’re proud to be with them

(with either Astarion being worried about Tav being seen with ‘an undead’ or Durge worrying about Star being seen with a Bhaalspawn).

Thank you!

Last one for the kiss prompts - allow me to take the "not caring who watches" a bit further even. I fully didn't intend this to become this long (like always...) but here we are... Oh, and then I edited it and it became even longer. Enjoy Tav making clear they belong to Astarion and vice versa!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) | Wordcount: 2,2k | Warnings: light mention of violence / Act 2 spoilers

MASTERLIST | AO3

Affirmations

Everyone was staring - all the time.

It wasn't enough already that, entering Moonrise Towers again, meant venturing deep into the lion's den. But to add to this you couldn't even go unnoticed.

Of course not, you were a True Soul! In touch with the Absolute itself! Destined for great things! So there wasn't a single moment without a pair of eyes upon you. And you hated it - deeply.

Quite frankly, it seemed like the primary requisite to becoming a cultist of the Absolute was being way too fucking nosey. But you had to be honest with yourself you were at least partly to blame with the scene you had caused with this godsdamned drow yesterday.

Just thinking about her made your blood boil again. Just the way she had looked at you, but most of all Astarion. The arrogance, the unquestioned privilege - it immediately conjured another wave of bile rising up within you.

If not for the sake of the greater mission you would have very much liked shredding her to pieces so she would have never been able to even look at Astarion again. You would have done it with a pleasant smile on your face. But alas, it would have only complicated matters even further

Your visceral reaction had been surprising even to you. Normally you weren’t one for excessive blood shed. Actually you much more liked solving things without weapons: talking your way out of situations, tricking others. That was much more your style. But your bloodlust, brought on by a powerful urge to protect Astarion, had almost taken the better of you yesterday.

It had shaken you; not least  your companions as well - and most of all Astarion.

All the way back to camp the vampire had been barely able to hide his wild mix of feelings - shock, admiration, insecurity. You had felt his wide red eyes on you the whole time and had known that something was about to happen. A tipping point had been reached.

But you hadn't even remotely been prepared for what had followed when Astarion had approached you when everyone else had already retired to their tents for the evening.

On the other end of the night the two of you had come out with a new layer added to your bond: fresh still, barely fully formed - but fueled by both of your deep desires to hold onto the other and not let go.

Immediately, it had been weird for the two of you after. The next morning you had barely been able to look at each other. Simply because this was daunting for either of you. Hells, not even the two of you knew how to go on from this but you were determined to make it work. And unsteadiness had quickly turned to small glances, short touches in passing as you all got ready for a new day ahead, affirming smiles - and some suspicion from your fellow companions.

When you had made your way back to the godsdamned towers you had felt uneasiness rise up again, tendrils of negative feelings forming a tight knot in your chest.

And in an overly brave moment you had grabbed for Astarion's hand when you had been about to enter the towers again - repeating a gesture from last night. Wishing to feel same kind of warmth and steadiness again and also relaying the same sentiment to the vampire you saw slightly nervously move his head to loosen the tension in his neck.

It had made the vampire almost recoil as he looked at you with shocked wide eyes and you were sure you had heard a surprised gasp from your other companions behind you. But when you had tried to let go again, immediately regretting your short-circuit action, you found that Astarion had been lightly holding on to your hand and had thrown you a small smile. You would have called it coy with anyone else but him.

The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lae’zel whose eyes had been steadily narrowed at the both of you from there on out.

Only when you had come across the first guards had Astarion let go, but not without squeezing your hand in his a last time. 

You had stayed close to each other walking through the headquarters of the Absolute, trying to investigate this damned place further. An unsettling feeling was filling all of you but the only thing you could do was trying to pull through.

In the main hall - Ketheric's throne thankfully empty - most of the cultists had gathered for some strategy discussion. So, an excellent opportunity to listen in on them and maybe find someone to squeeze for some more information.

Thankfully, Gale and Shadowheart had somewhat taken the lead today giving you and Astarion some time to recover from everything that had happened. You were standing next to the vampire - your partner now, you reminded yourself - stealing glances up at him from time to time. He usually caught you while he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, throwing you a small smile in response that always made you turn away again, slightly blushing. But then you also noticed him peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. And despite your dire situation as a whole you couldn’t help but feel a little giddiness inside of you - maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

At the moment, Gale was talking to another higher-up drow, trying to convince her to give up some more details about Ketheric Thorm. She very much was having none of it, but the wizard kept deliberately trying. Shadowheart, meanwhile, did next to nothing to keep him from verbally digging his own grave.

It was then that you felt the hairs of your neck stand up and felt someone staring at you. With a sinister suspicion, you turned to look over your shoulder to find: Araj Oblodra looking at you angrily. The drow from the day before was openly staring at the two of you, after having just entered the hall, wearing a massive displeased snarl on her face.

You immediately felt your own face sour, a deep fold forming between your furrowed brows. At your negative reaction Astarion’s brows drew together quizzically and he looked over his shoulder as well. When he found what you were looking at his nose scrunched up in distaste, mirroring you closely. You even heard a low growl rumble in his chest. Had he been unsure yesterday how to react you had worked wonders to help him draw a line. Astarion’s repulsion was radiating off him, almost physical.

The drow kept staring. And so did you - not willing to give her the impression that her presence was bothering you.

Moments became minutes while Gale kept rambling with some half-hearted support from Shadowheart (the rest of the group staying painfully silent). Meanwhile, others noticed the silent staring contest across the room. Even more pairs of eyes were observing you now. Probably everyone here knew to the tiniest detail what had gone down yesterday. And the longer this moment was drawn out, the more you felt your grip on your emotions slip. One of your hands had formed into a fist at your side - nails biting into the flesh of your palm and leaving crescent moon indents behind.

Then an idea, or just an impulse really, sprung to your mind. Your eyes jumped to Astarion who was still staring down Araj through his brows, crimson eyes sparkling dangerously. One of his hands had casually wandered to the dagger at his side, wrist languidly resting on its hilt. A leisure threat, but an open one.

“Astarion,” you whispered silently to him, “you trust me, yes?”

The vampire’s brows furrowed a bit more, gaze flitting to you, then back to the drow still glaring at you.

“Of course, my love. Why-,” he began and quickly looked at you again. Then he interrupted himself. He must’ve seen your intention on your face and now he turned his head to fully look at you. His fingers unconsciously clenched around the pommel of his dagger now, focused on something entirely else than making barely hidden threats.

You threw him a questioning glance as you took a deep breath. He lightly nodded, a soft smile curling up one side of his mouth while he turned to you.

And then, before you would get too scared, you moved to grab Astarion’s face with both hands, stepped even closer to him and stood on your tiptoes to reach for his lips with your own.

There was another short moment before your mouths met in the kiss: his full lips slightly parting, his eyes open almost vulnerable, glinting with something much different from the anger before, if not less passionate.

A shaky breath left you as you stared up at him. You knew you must be pretty much mirroring his expression at this moment.

And you were sure that this, all of this, had been the right decision.

Then your lips met. A sigh immediately wandered from your mouth to his as Astarion kissed you open-mouthed, softly opening up yours. Then his tongue shortly ran over your lips, then entered your mouth, taking up yours in a dance you were already familiar with.

Astarion’s arms moved around you. He placed his hands on your hips but immediately let them wander to your behind to pull you closer to him, making you almost slam into his body. You felt him grinning as he did that. A yelp left your mouth, pleasantly surprised by his initiative, but didn’t break the kiss for a single moment.

You had done this dozens over dozens of times, almost the exact same motions. It had been enticing and electrifying each time, enjoying each time it had happened.

But this was different. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were making it very official what you were to each other. Not only to your friends but for the whole world to see. And in that sense it felt very much like a first kiss altogether.

The passion was there, as Astarion kept deepening the kiss, turning his head, looking at you intensely as you batted your eyes open for a short moment. His hands were stroking up and down your back while yours had entered his hair, tugging on some curls, pulling his head closer.

Somewhere in the middle you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone. You felt him smile as you desperately wanted to keep going. Gods, you never wanted to let go again.

But Astarion slightly withdrew, his lips hovering slightly over yours, looking at you through his lashes. His voice was sinful. “Think we’ve given them enough of a show, darling?”

You frowned, shook your head. And without another word you pulled him in again as you heard a low laughter from him vibrate through his chest and by proxy through your body as well. He was intoxicating and he knew it. You’d given him the room to start feeling good about it. And you were merely getting started.

The kiss went on for another few moments although becoming softer now, slower. Less a show than a treat for the two of you. Then you softly lifted your mouth from his and looked up at him: breathless and a little shaky now, but a wicked smile already forming on your lips from the passionate kiss as you were still on your tiptoes.

Astarion mirrored your smirk before he pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose - in just a whim of the moment. His arms were still firmly around you, holding you close to him. You kept smiling at him.

And then your smile grew icy and vicious as you turned to Araj who was looking at you in shock now. You let your tongue run over your bared teeth as you kept up the eye contact, daring her. And eventually the drow turned away, unsettled while your grin grew even broader.

You noticed that almost everyone else around you had also turned away from the public show of passionate affection. Only some still dared to look at you out of the corner of their eyes.

A victorious smile crept onto your face as you looked at Astarion again who looked at you with his signature smirk and a keen sense of pride he didn’t even try to hide.

Then, after a while, you turned to the other side.

And were faced with your friends staring at you in disbelief, just blinking at the two of you. Even the unshakable Lae’zel looked slightly irritated, not being able to hold your gaze for long

“Hot!” Karlach exclaimed, her expression of shock quickly turning to a smug, broad grin. And in true Karlach fashion she gave you a thumbs-up and a wink - causing you to blush and bite your lip. “Get a tent, am I right?”

You must have gone a little overboard with your public display of your newly formed bond. Your heart dropped a little. But Astarion only softly laughed at that and affectionately bit into the tip of your pointy ear. Seemingly the ice for public displays of affection had been broken for him - with a cannonball.

“So, you guys are official now?”, Wyll asked while cocking his head, looking kind of sceptical. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes, while Gale seemed stuck in a state of being too flustered to react.

“I guess you could say that, little lord”, Astarion answered, grinning smugly, one eyebrow twitching and pulled you to his chest again with one arm casually around your waist. He couldn’t keep a proud tone out of his voice as he looked down at you again.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

[wyvernet]

OC Showcase! [ Furry Edition ]

I hope you guys enjoy this small batch of OC's of mine!! I have TONS more, but Tumblr will only let me post so much XD [ Post requested by @blocked-zombieartist!! ]

Cutter Candy (Originally named Cutton Condy, and was a gift from a friend! though I don't remember who </3)

Forren (an OC I made in Fer.al! he looks spooky cause he's just silly like that X3)

LSD (originally made for a roleplay where drugs, chemicals, etc were personified how we imagined them! it barely went anywhere though </3)

Obey (originally made as an SCP OC! he has lots of neat stuff about him but i'd have to go looking through a handful of channels to find it all LOL)

Hesoris (a galaxyspace OC! his name is a mix of Hesperos and Moris :3) (First piece is a gift from an old friend of mine!)

Dawn (an MLP Changeling OC that regularly disguised as a Kirin! and her partner in crime, Dexter who was one of my old friend's OC's) (Art piece by an old friend <3)

Miiky (originally named Melancholy. I'm not sure his original purpose, but he's a silly little guy and i love him lots <33)

R.A.M (Random Access Memory) (an edgy furry OC turned silly guy!! a weird sticky liquid electricity constantly flows from his bandaged eye)

Casey (originally named Cinnamon! she's a living chocolate rabbit like in those easter packages! yes, she can be eaten and regenerate her body)

Cat-Putt Piorum (silly little gradient OC who's a dual-tailed fox and an alien!) (also, have a WIP drawing i'll likely never finish where i was gonna lightly redesign him X3)

Hypryst (kinda pronounced like High Priest! he doesn't really have an origin point, but I originally created him because of @vivalaplxto's OC's Mac and Exavior X3)

Khroma (a self-indulgent Sonic OC that has WAY too much going on LMAO, he's basically the embodiment of "be cringe, be free" <3)

StarLord (originally a Doctor Who companion OC that I made with my friend Shadow!) (secondary image is what he's originally based off of, the OG creator of the image is fine with his existence!)

Jessie (a Minecraft OC originally based off of a skin i saw! though I have no clue where the skin is or how to find it TwT)

Truxby (an OC originally gifted to me by someone whom I don't remember </3 i really need to draw him more LOL)

Thresh (a thresher shark OC originally made for my friend's mini-universe! a very silly guy who I still love to bits despite the negative emotions attached to him now <3)

Daivat (an orca OC! same origin as Thresh :3)

and lastly, Aspect Ratio! (a skibidi toilet OC I originally made to pair with my ex-boyfriend's OC named Ace! he also has negative emotions attached to him now, but I still love my little cinemaman silly so much <3) (secondary image drawn by my ex-boyfriend!) I have tons more OC's, like TONS more, but Tumblr only allows 30 images per post XD I hope you guys like them all!!

[dreanner95]

It worked out to me that I was able to have both the physical book and the audio book for “Nine Eyes of Lucien” and I just finished it. And I loved it. Both editions are special in their own right. The audio book has not only Robbie as narratator (and he is so good with all the NPCs and Lucien’s inner voice!) but also the cast of Critical Role was the M9. The physical book on the other hand plays a lot with format to mirror Lucien’s decent. And it works really well. I personally had an even better experience by both reading and hearing this book but either edition works on its own. I personally am a sucker for interesting book formats.

As for the story itself. My only real negative is that it isn’t really a story. This book is only about Lucien. And while all the worldbuilding and side characters are really interesting, the focus is on Lucien. Which means this is much more of a companion piece to C2. But it works really well as that. Learning Lucien’s backstory made me understand Lucien but I never got the feeling he was supposed to be redeemed. He actually had a lot of chances to diverge from his path that lead him to Cognouza but at each turn he chose again to not become better. Sure, tragedies push him in that direction but he still chooses it anyway. And I loved watching his journey and even though I knew the end, there were some suprises at the end that made me love it even more.

What I didn’t forsee is loving the rest of the Tombtakers as much as I did. Watching their camaraderie as a group and some of them being close in varying ways (best friends, romantic partners, ect.) created a great mirror to Molly’s time with the M9. And some aspects of Lucien really are a direct mirror to Molly. Overall this book compliments the last arc of C2 really well. And I don’t think C2 needed that. But I am still happy it exists.

I have to think about it but while Kith & Kin was a great CR adventure that got me invested in a suprising way, Nine Eyes of Lucien might become some of my favorite books of all time.

[havethetouch]

Do you have an OC with a funny/weird/unusual creation story? (not the story of the character itself, but the way the character happened / you suddenly got attached; any character you didnt plan on keeping around, but then kinda did?) Tell the story!

[FINALLY - I tried to answer this ask for days now but always had an error I thought it was just my ask in general but made a test and that worked but this ask would not so i had to edit my full answer in piece by piece and for some reason that worked but not posting the whole thing as is. XD But I am dedicated to answer so here we go.] Oh that one is easy.... tho I must say the one OC kicked off the creation of many more but let me explain...

So... the character we gonna talk about is Taivo.

Oldschoolers might still remember her from the Animexx days and the one wolf comic I had, which only exists because of her. So it goes like this I'm what... 16 years old, I'm not doing so great because the times were rough and i happened to be in therapy at the time, group therapy to be exact with one dude and one girl who were in similar boats as me as for the reason we were there. There was a fourth too for a while but she wasn't ready and went back to solo sessions. Anyway, our lil group decided we hang out outside of sessions, try to support each other in our daily life and at some point after each session (which was in the evening) we went out together to a pub/bar that was in the area and kinda had some metal/goth/punk/scene aesthetics and clientele going on. There we enjoyed some companionship and mead and absinth and other stuff and tried to function like normal youths that weren't spiraling. (mind back then in my days the drinking age was down at 16, smoking age too) I was known for doodling random stuff to manage myself especially when I got sensory overloads and my companions understood and thankfully did not think hat I was ignoring them - sometimes when I was a bit tipsy they used to ask me about my art and stories bc sober you could not ask me to share such things without shying away thinking it was not interesting and/or would be torn down by negative reactions etc. etc. it was hard, mind you I was not well at the time, far from it actually and would be for a while. and on one such occasions when we were all drunk I was going back to my drawing pad and my male companion pointed out that there is no way i can draw or shit as drunk as I am and I took it as a challenge and drew the first sketch of Taivo, bent over the body of a dead pup. It looked great if I might say so, at least for my level at the time. And thus I had proven that even drunk I can fucking create. But then they were like "so is that one of your OCs or like.. random? New? Whats her deal? Why is there a dead puppy? What is going on?" And that was the point were I grabbed my notebook, held up a finger and said "give me a sec" And then i wrote down half of the plot of my wolf comic Eternal Winter which happens to revolve about Taivo and her whole story bc she is the protagonist and once I got going I made even more notes and started thinking about the cast and secondary characters and I was in a creation frenzy on steroids and I mean I had Absinthe that evening so maybe the green fairy suckerpunched me in the creative zone who the fuck knows? Either way the comic is on hiatus these days because given how old the story is it naturally evolved and changed and imma wait until I have everything back in order and maybe continue or write it out because the comic is really old and doing comics is hard and i like it but there are so many stories I wanna tell and things I wanna draw and short comics I wanna do that might be just some scenes I illustrate but that also takes time and idk if I can commit myself to Eternal Winter right now or the near future because.. even if I made a comic page each week which is absolutely doable it will still result in "only" 52 pages a year and given how the story grew and evolved and how much time I already "lost" in all the year is laid dormant I kinda feel like idk I don't want to right now? XD Going back to it and sticking to it would be some years of commitment and nah... my hyperfixations take me through my stories and it's hard to stay instead of stray ya know?

But yeah this is how Taivo got made! In some bar, upon a dare that wasn't even a dare but I took it that way and it took me to that wicked bitch and her origin / anti-hero story that resulted in a Comic and a shitton of wolf characters and kinda also lowkey inspired a Prequel story from characters that existed prior to Taivo that play a bigger role in Eternal Winter and were i was like "oh yeah origin story time lets make that a comic too" So... yeah, while almost each of my characters came about under different circumstances, Taivo came up bc I was hella drunk and nobody believed I was still coherent enough to do most things.

Also was not believed I could walk in a straight line, which I could, and I did, and my companions were loosing their mind bc apparently i was magic and actually despite all the shit it was a pretty good night :)

[superlinguo]

New Research Article: ‘Away’ gestures associated with negative expressions in narrative discourse in Syuba (Kagate, Nepal) speakers

In 2018 I published a paper on the use of an upward rotation gesture that was part of question-asking in Syuba. My latest article, published in Semiotica, looks at a series of brushing away gestures that co-occur with negation in the same set of Syuba stories. These articles are companion pieces. In fact, I wrote them at the same time, but academic publishing works in mysterious ways and while they were both submitted in 2017 and the first article was published in 2018, this article is coming out in 2021.

This latest article is more of a twin than a younger sibling. I really resisted the urge to aggressively edit this one on the final round of copy edits last month. It’s always interesting and occasionally uncomortable to observe the changes in your own writing style over time.

There is a small, but rich, literature looking at the link between negation and some kind of away gesture. There are two things I’m particularly happy with my study contributing to this literature. 

The Syuba gesture is typically a brief downward roll of the forearm and palms, and is most often used in narratives where speakers are pointing out the absence of something desired. This particular motion and function have not been previously discussed as co-occurring, expanding the known semantic typology of negating-away gestures.

Syuba is a verb final language. The prominent stroke of the negating gesture aligned with the negating suffix. This has been reported by other researchers, particularly Harrison for English. Because the verb in English occurs before an object, the negation gesture is often held longer to ‘scope over’ the object too - but in Syuba there’s no object after the verb to do this - which shows cross-linguistic variation in the structure of gestures based on word order.

The paper is available via Semiotica. I’ve uploaded the open access preprint which will be available after the embargo required by the publisher. The full corpus of Syuba is online, but I’ve also made a smaller FigShare collection of the examples I’ve build the analysis on.

Abstract

This article examines the formal and functional features of a recurring ‘away’ gesture in Syuba (Tibeto-Burman, Nepal). The formal properties of this gesture include a pronation of the forearms to bring the palms downward while the fingers spread away, and is most often performed with both hands. Functionally, it is found with utterances that signal negation, particularly the absence of something. A growing body of literature links ‘away’ trajectories with negation, or negative evaluation of speech content cross-linguistically. The temporal alignment between these gesture and lexical content also shows that cross-linguistic differences in word order appear to affect performance of gestures associated with negated content.

Reference

Gawne, Lauren. 2021. ‘Away’ gestures associated with negative expressions in narrative discourse in Syuba (Kagate, Nepal) speakers. Semiotica https://doi.org/10.1515/sem-2017-0163 [Green OA version embargoed until March 2022]

Gawne, L.. (2018). Negation away video tokens. La Trobe University. http://doi.org/10.4225/22/5aeaf9fb00c79

Gawne, Lauren. 2018. Contexts of use of a rotated palms gesture among Syuba (Kagate) speakers in Nepal. Gesture 17(1): 37–64. https://doi.org/10.1075/gest.00010.gaw [blog summary]

See Also:

New Journal Article in GESTURE: Contexts of Use of a Rotated Palms Gesture among Syuba (Kagate) Speakers in Nepal

Lingthusiasm Episode 34: Emoji are Gesture Because Internet

Why do we move our hands when we talk? Tom Scott video

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Imagine this: You are at a small party and you get bored with all the mindless chattering and gossip. You say you need some fresh air and head outside. Sighing, you place your wine glass down on a table and take off your heels. "Good evening.", a voice calls out from behind you. Your eyes meet mesmerizing scarlet. You know this man. But does he know you? "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?" Smiling as you cringe at his words, you take his hand. (1/2)

Holy shit, Anon!

Before I start, I need to tell you that I am obsessed with this ask, and literally started mentally writing this the MINUTE I read through. Please pardon a little creative license; I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy!

Edit 22 Oct. 2021- As a special request, there is another part to this fic, told from Gil’s perspective this time. Thank you for reading!

It isn't as hard to slip away from the festivities as it should be; everyone is already so deep into their drinks that they wouldn't really notice even if you did made an effort to announce your departure.

You take the miracle at face value however, weaving through various groups and couples to the kitchen, topping up your single glass of wine and stealing a few pieces of food.

For a few minutes, all is quiet in your little haven, only the soft lighting from the stove and a jack-o-lantern keeping you company. You finish off a few bites, and just as you're about to grab some more food, a couple stumbles through the doorway, oblivious to everyone and everything.

Deciding you would rather leave than interrupt them, you slip out the back door, closing it softly behind you.

Sunset is painting the sky in vibrant lilac and rose, birdsong still carrying across the yard. The day is still fairly warm, and you slip your shoes off with a sigh, wiggling your toes through the grass as you make your way to a white bistro set.

There are two empty chairs, and you happily take the nearest one, setting your glass on the table, happy to melt into the iron.There is nothing except the beautiful sky and a newfound inner peace. Blessed silence after all the hullabaloo and gossipmongering from the past hour.

"G'evenin'."

Dammit.

You hadn't noticed anyone else slipping outside, or hanging out in the yard. And now you'll have to make small talk again and feign interest in whatever pointless topics come up. Terrific.

Not bothering to even glance at your companion, who is already making himself comfortable in the other chair, you offer a frustrated sigh. "Hi."

"Oof. Little bitterness there."

Whoever he is, he sounds concerned, if not bemused.

Despite your irritation at having your privacy interrupted, you don your manners once more, turning to him with a smile you don't really feel. "Long night, sorry."

He hums. "That I get. More like a long week I think."

The admission and his tone have you breathing out the ghost of a laugh. "You got me there."

He's surprisingly quiet for a few minutes, seemingly just as content as you are to watch the skyscape. You find you're not nearly as uncomfortable with the company as you would have expected.

Subtly, you try to figure out exactly who he is, though the design of his mask makes it absolutely impossible. Really, the only thing you can make out are his eyes, a vibrant red you're sure are contacts.

You can't help but ogle his costume; he's dressed as if he stepped right out of a portrait, and if you didn't know better you would swear that was a genuine sapphire resting against his chest. And then there's his mask-

Scarlet eyes flicker your way, his lips turning up in a grin when he realizes you've been staring. "See something you like?"

You're far too embarrassed, yet somehow- "Jury's still out."

The grin grows even bigger, showing off the fangs that complete his ensemble. 

With how pale he is, you mentally decide, it's the perfect outfit for him.

You had thrown yours together on a whim, using a thrifted evening dress, hand-me-down jewelry, and a fake tiara you had worn a few times during your childhood. Ironically, the only part of your ensemble that was expensive is the mask itself, a custom piece that cost more than the rest of your outfit put together.

Now, sitting next to someone who looks like he stepped out of the 1800s, obnoxiously blue jacket and all, you feel a little underdressed, the feeling passing by as you realize he's discarded his own shoes and socks sometime ago.

There's something familiar about him, his slight slouch teasing at a memory from long ago. 

You would think, considering how few people are actually here, you would recognize him, would be able to figure out who he is.

But his eyes are strangers to you, his voice is... unique.

The not-knowing is more aggitating than his company, enough that it is the sole reason for your next words to him.

"As lovely as this has been, do you mind?"

There's no real expression on his face as he turns to you. "Nope. Do you?"

That was a challenge. You can see it in his eyes, heard the playful hitch in his voice. God help you, he's annoying. 

"Yes, actually." Deciding to press further, because why-the-hell not, you offer your own challenge. "You're interrupting my alone time."

"Pardon the intrusion, milady, but I'm pretty sure this is neutral territory."

"I was here first," you retort, a bit childishly.

He snorts, folding his arms across his chest, falling further into his chair, posture absolutely intended to mock you. "Were you, though?"

Dammit, he had you.

You shoot him a scathing look, one that was frankly just a little on the playful side, before folding your own arms and pretending to scowl at the setting sun.

A few more minutes pass, before you hear his voice again. "So..." he says, dragging out the sound in a pointed attempt at getting you to talk to him.

You ignore him, or you attempt to at least. It's kind of hard to do that when he's standing now, just inside your peripheral, head turned towards the heavens.

Finally realizing that you have no plans of responding, he takes another step, now more-or-less directly in your line of sight. "Why're you alone out here? Party's inside, ya know."

You level an unamused stare at his pointed question, a hint of bemusement coating your reply. "I could ask you the same thing."

He smirks, some quick, passing thing, before he hides it behind a small sip of his beer. "Touché."

Somehow, that brief exchange has revitalized you, and you take another drink from your wine, watching some birds make their final rounds for the evening.

The sky is shifting, darkening with each passing moment. And inside, the party is getting louder, laughter carrying out to you from the still partially open door.

He glances back towards the house, an odd expression on his face. You follow his gaze, almost instinctively, turning back to him curiously when you can't determine the cause of his- Discomfort? Irritation?

"You ever just want to run away?"

His question takes you by surprise, and you feel your heart constrict when his focus once more turns to you, achingly familiar eyes seemingly- haunted.

Whatever annoyance you had held previously is gone, replaced with something you don’t really recognize.

Trying to ignore it, you nearly default to the normal lie that comes with small talk, especially with strangers, but there's something so familiar about him-

You give yourself a minute to actually weigh his question, tasting different answers on your tongue. It teases you, the temporary daydream of just hitting the road, abandoning everything and everyone you know to start a new life elsewhere.

After a few moments- really, it could have been an Infinity or merely seconds- you have your answer.

"I'd be lying if the thought didn't appeal to me sometimes."

He hums, sounding somewhat detached, turning once more to study the treeline. There's a heaviness around him now, an aura that almost hurts to see.

"Something tells me it's been on your mind lately?"

He studies you for some time, and maybe it's the lighting or just the contacts, but you could swear his eyes are almost glowing. Finally he offers a small shrug, all that negativity seeming to disappear into thin air. 

"Eh. Comes and goes. Let's just say my cousin's really pissing me off."

You huff a laugh at the statement, thinking of your own loved ones inside, and how tipsy they were already when you first slipped outside. "Family, am I right?"

He hisses slightly, apparently his own form of laughter, that smile once more teasing the left corner of his mouth.

Silence reclaims the pair of you for a few more moments, and as awkward as it could have been- He's good company. After spending so long having to mindlessly chatter about the weather and ambitions, it was nice to simply breathe.

Your companion- it’s still bothering you that you don’t know his name- seems as at ease as you are, content to lean against the table as if he owns the place.

The sunlight is almost completely gone now, the waxing moon taunting you from behind a few scattered clouds painted in amethyst. The stars are not so shy, several distinct constellations already twinkling above you.

With the coming night, there's a chill creeping closer, a crispness to the air that has you sighing in contentment.

He seems to mistake the sound, eyes flashing with concern as he turns back to you. "Cold?"

Your denial is barely even formed before his jacket is over your shoulders, his lingering warmth already starting to seep into your bones.Your mouth opens in a small protest- Seriously, how dare he just assume!- but seeing how instinctively he had done it, how it almost seemed his second-nature-

Rather than offer up any protests, you sigh out a small thank you, and soon slide your arms into the sleeves, marveling at how warm the damn thing is despite how thin it is.

There is another round of laughter inside, and someone decides to raise the volume of the speakers.

Some orchestral piece is playing, a haunting melody that you felt befit a Gothic novel, a spellbinding spectrum of emotions carrying past the still opened door.

You see your companion shift, straightening his posture as he turns his attention back to you. Curious, brow raising slightly, you glance over at him, wondering at his next move.

Shockingly, he's bowing, a right, proper bow, before standing upright once more, a soft smile just noticeable. "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?"

Oh God-

"You are ridiculous," you're laughing out, even as you take his offered hand.

He's grinning again, a playful look that fits him far better than some of the ones he's had on before. "It's all part of my charm!"

You're rolling your eyes, still smiling despite yourself.

It's only when he's guiding your hands to a ballroom position that you feel the first flickers of panic. You had been expecting maybe some swaying or just kind of shuffling, not-

"Relax, would ya?"

You meet his eyes, immediately reassured by the soft expression there, eased from that inexplicable familiarity. He isn't going to pressure you, and somehow you know he will always have your back.

"Just follow my lead; I've got ya."

You believe him. 

Despite not even knowing his name, what a majority of his face looks like, or even what accent that is- 

You believe him, and you decide to trust him.

Letting go is a strange sensation, one you're not entirely sure you dislike. He seems to know you're a novice, goes at a tempo that he can easily guide you through. Despite never having danced like this before, a few moments in you feel as if a part of you has been reawakened, the next steps coming to you before he begins to move into them.

He seems almost proud of your progress, your dance becoming more a partnership with each passing moment.

The song had shifted a long while ago- now some creepy lofi piece with samplings from a children's cartoon- yet your pace remained the same.

"So..." He puts out into the air, a pensive prompt that has you smiling.

"So," you repeat curiously.

There's another weird expression, fading away before you can analyze it. 

"What's your name?"

Maybe it's the thrill of anonymity, or maybe you're too caught up in the giddiness of your newly discovered talent. Instead of giving him a straight answer, you playfully offer: "Someone smarter than Cinderella's Prince Charming." 

Pensive, you offer an extra thought. "I know the power of a name; who knows what you'd do with it."

The comment seems to amuse him, that achingly familiar smile returning as he guides you into a dip. He hovers there for a moment, slightly pensive. "You know, Prince Charming is a lot smarter than you give him credit for." 

He's guiding you back up, his eyes glowing once you're upright again. "He could do more with his beloved's name than she could even begin to imagine."

That last line, a whisper meant just for the two of you, is digging at you, tugging at some memory buried deep, deep in your subconscious. 

There's something there, a name starting to shape on your lips-

But then he's doing that half-shrug again, dismissing the exchange entirely. "No matter. Keep your secrets, princess."

The last word was spoken with such fondness that your heart actually skipped a beat.

He barely gives you a moment to process, pulling you into a different routine that soon has the rest of the world fading away again. You let yourself forget everything else for a while; you exist only in this moment, dancing on the grass with a stranger.

Except, he's not a stranger, is he?

God help you, you know this is the first time you've met him, know that you've never interacted with this man before in your life, but you know him.

With every minute you spend with him, you imagine all kinds of moments with him- 

Laughter as he wipes chocolate cake off his cheek from an impromptu food fight, annoyance at his cousin's lecturing, the soft smile of pride as he listens to his brother's speech.

And dammit, he never even mentioned having a brother.

But the daydreams keep coming.

Holding his hand in some cobblestoned square, racing through the woods, collapsing into a freshly constructed snow fort, lazing in bed running your fingers through his hair while he reads aloud-

They're so vivid that you're starting to wonder if you lived an entire life with him already.

And God, doesn't that make you sound so ridiculous. 

You've only just met this guy, literally know maybe five things about him, and yet you're already imagining a future with him.

Life isn't some fairietale, and despite the tiara you're wearing for the night, you are not a princess. Shit like this isn't real.

But the way he's looking at you, watching you with such vulnerability and longing-

He's pulling you closer, your eyes drifting shut reflexively.

You feel his breath teasing your neck, his hand pulling you closer to him.

You-

A familiar voice is calling your name.

You barely hear it over the sound of your racing heart beat, over his. Your eyes flash open in irritation, though not at him. Never at him.

"It's not midnight yet."

Given the circumstances, the weight of his hand on your back, how tantalizingly close he is, and the inexplicable gravity you've long since stopped denying, his growl actually elicits a laugh, pained as it is.

"Sadly even the most rebellious of us princesses still have curfews."

He groans in frustration, arms wrapping around you in a hug, his forehead dropping against your own. "Don't. I-" His eyes are meeting yours again, darkened by expanded irises and still nearly sparkling for how vibrant the red is. 

"Run away with me."

It's a whisper, a plea. It echoes through your entire heart and soul, that aching a crescendo of longing and adoration.You would give anything to stay with him, would follow him in a heartbeat.

But you have a family, a job, responsibilities. You can't abandon them, even at the risk of never seeing him again.

"I'm sorry," you force out, the agony resounding from every last inch of your soul. 

You never meant the words as much as you mean them now, your own heart breaking in your decision.

You step away from him, shedding his jacket and turning away.You know if you look at him, if you see his face, if you glance at his eyes once more time-

You manage five steps before he's choking out your name. You close your eyes at the pain in his voice, but it's not enough.

He's used your name, and the sound of it from his lips, the weight of it on your spirit, it's too much for you to resist.

You're turning again, once again struck by how devastatingly handsome he is right now, how much sway he already has over you. 

Every one of his approaching steps, each more confident than the last, is increasing the tempo of your heartbeat, filling you to the brim with anticipation.

It's ridiculous, impossible.

Yet you can't lie to yourself. Not about this.

"Please."

He's barely an arm's distance away from you now, hair haloed and features shadowed from the nearby sconces. And those damned eyes-

"N-"

He's murmuring your name again, slowly, hypnotically, shaping it as if he's savoring the flavor, enjoying how it feels. 

You really want to ignore the effect it has on you, but he's whispering it again, not giving you a moment's mercy. 

"Come with me."

You're powerless to resist.

"Yes." 

[shadowron]

The Adventures of 1st Edition Shadowrun. Best and Worst.

Having made my way through the published adventures, it makes sense to take a step back and ask, well, which were the best? The worst?

There is of course a lot of subjectivity – there are a core number of adventures that ran through back in the day, and they will always be dear to me. Others I barely remember. But at the end of the adventure, the players want to know two things:

How much money did we make?

How much karma did we earn?

The answer to those questions is much less subjective. The following will be an analysis similar to what I did for the Final Summary of Harlequin and will exclude Harlequin from this analysis, just because those were never meant to be standalone adventures.

Money

This is straight-forward to calculate – Mr. Johnson promises the runners (or the team) some amount of nuyen to break the law, they go break the law, then return for their money. Sometimes it’s a per-runner fee, and other times it’s a flat amount that has to be divided amongst the players (and thus, if you have a big party, each will get less). Most adventures suggest a party size of 4-8, and with the exception of Dreamchipper, this analysis assumes a party of 6.

You need one more. Don’t worry, just use an archetype from the book.

The amounts will assume that the runners earn the maximum amount – meaning if there were different payouts for different parts of the run, they earned them all. It does not include any extra pay they have Negotiated for.

The money usually, but not exclusively, comes from the Mr. Johnson under their original contract (or additional contracts from the same person). In three adventures (Mercurial, Bottled Demon, Total Eclipse), their Johnson gets killed before he can fully pay up, so unless they took a portion of their pay up front, they are Drek Out of Luck.

Always get half up front, chummers.

In these cases, the runners can try to pad their credsticks with additional loot they pick up throughout the adventure. Specifically, certain Matrix runs give the decker a chance to steal data with a set nuyen value, and this is assumed to be part of the runner’s pay for the adventure (Mercurial, Missing Blood, Ivy & Chrome).

Sometimes, the pay itself isn’t in nuyen: in Eye of the Eagle, they’re paid with literal chunks of gold, and in Dragon Hunt with a bejeweled earring – both of which would have to be fenced to get a payout. I’ve included their listed value as the pay.

Karma

This is much easier to calculate than the money, since there’s a table in the end of the “Picking Up The Pieces” section of the adventure that details how much karma is awarded (or penalized) depending upon what happened.

Except for Silver Angel. This introductory adventure, included with the 1st Edition GM screen, has no table for the awarding of group Karma, so, yup, they earn no Karma from this. But don’t worry – it’s still lucrative money-wise.

Not included are any possible individual Karma awards that runners might earn, as laid out in the rules.

Here’s the data

Better yet, here’s a graph!

While there is a LOT of scatter, there is an overall negative correlation between Money and Karma – the more money you get, the less Karma you get. On one extreme, we have Silver Angel, where there is no Karma reward but the largest monetary reward, and on the other, Bottled Demon, where the runners only get their half up-front pay from their Mr. Johnson (who then immediately gets killed) but a very nice amount of Karma (16) if they did everything right.

This tradeoff is built into the end of Dreamchipper, where the PCs are given the choice of handing over the dreamchips to their Mr. Johnson (who will then manufacture them, even though they can be dangerous) and getting the full money they were promised, or could destroy the chips and data they recovered, and get a higher Karma award but less money.

Staring in 2nd Edition with the Shadowrun Companion, this was codified in some rules variants with a “Cash for Karma” system to compensate with this variance. There wasn’t a specific number listed there, but that’s okay, because I know how to do linear regression.

See?

Using this, we come up with a conversion of 1 Karma point being worth 2739 ¥. With this in mind, we can come up with a single statistic to measure the combined Karma + Money rewards for the adventures and, at least in the game mechanics sense, see which are the best and worst. This is done by taking the amount of money earned, dividing it by that 2739 number, then adding it to the Karma earned. Doing this, we get the following ranking:

Best Adventure: Queen Euphoria! While not having the highest money (Silver Angel) or Karma (Eye of the Eagle), the big battle at the end where they destroy the Insect Spirit infestation pushes it to the #1 slot. Also interesting to note that the other adventure where the team destroys an Insect Spirit infestation, Missing Blood, is #2.

Worst Adventure: DNA/DOA. This is a shame, since this D&D style dungeon crawl is both really fun and has a good story. The first few (up through Dreamchipper) all have total Karma rewards less than 10, so perhaps FASA ended up doing some Karmic inflation for the later adventures to keep the players happy.

Most Median Adventure: Dragon Hunt. For those readers who have forgotten their statistics, the median is the point where half of the population has a higher value, and half has a lower value. Dragon Hunt is the one in the middle.

Any surprises?

Not really. Bottled Demon and Peacekeeper belong near the bottom, and Total Eclipse and Elven Fire also are below average. Ivy & Chrome makes a strong 4th place finish and Mercurial comes out in the top 50% as well.

[kittae]

Under The Missiletoe [1]

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Genre: Sci-fi, fantasy, Fluff, a lil bit of comedy,... we’ll see what else!

words: 5k

summary: Yoongi is an extraterrestrial scout, sent by his superiors from his home planet BT21, to gauge the chances of successfully usurping planet Earth. When his ship lands, it’s December 24th. Yoongi is tasked with observing the strange behavior of Earth’s inhabitants to get a good idea of whether or not they would pose a threat. Satisfied with what he finds, he prepares to go back home. His ship seems to have become defect in the meantime, leaving him stranded on Earth. He strolls into a convenience store (he needed to gather some evidence to present to his superiors anyway) and finds a lonely girl, one who’s not smiling. His curiosity gets the best of him.

Author’s note: The first part of this fic, because I got too many ideas while writing and it escalated (as expected)! This will have a second installment soon! I really enjoy writing this, so I hope you’ll have fun reading it! (please excuse errors, I used up all my juice to finish this so editing is for another day!)

Warning: only a liiiittle bit of violence and some swearing for now!

→ Part of the stranded for christmas Collab!

“This is ISV Aeron, reporting to home base, do you copy?”

“This is BT21 home base, Avalon station, I copy.”

“Requesting permission to disclose travel log.”

“Permission granted.”

“Approaching destination Earth, ready to enter atmosphere. Vehicle deficiency tests all negative. Landing coordinates approximately 41° 52' 54.5952'' N and 87° 37' 23.4372'' W.”

“Any abnormal observations so far?”

“Negative.”

“Proceed with landing process and notify us after arrival. Keep defensive appliances close for your own safety. In case of hostile activity, proceed as seen in training and return to home base immediately. Good luck, captain Min.”

“Copy that, sir.”

A single tap on the earpiece ends the conversation immediately. This is, hopefully, the last time he’d hear a familiar voice for a while. Aside from notifying them of a successful landing, he’s only supposed to initiate contact with his home base in case of emergency or at take-off. So far, though, everything has gone surprisingly smooth.

The cosmic ball of life, encircled by a radiant, blue light, grows rapidly in size as he approaches its atmosphere. Years of training and simulations prepared him for the intense turbulence and other kinds of impact he puts his small but agile ship through, once he breaks through the barrier and gravity takes over. The vehicle soars through the mesosphere like a rocket, small droplets of sweat dampening the hair underneath his helmet when the ship externally catches fire. He doesn’t panic, knowing the material has been designed for this mission –and all that comes with it– specifically. This is Yoongi’s cue to start braking, drastically decreasing the velocity with which he’s rocketing towards the surface.

Despite having gone through countless simulations, the real thing proves to be more challenging than anticipated. He holds his breath as he keeps a tight grip on the steering element, controlling the ship to the best of his abilities. He already knows it’s going to be a rough landing, but nothing he can’t handle. It requires incredible amounts of focus and precision, considering he’ll be landing near a densely populated area and wants to remain unnoticed. For now.

There’s an open field behind the woods, large enough for him to land safely and secluded enough to hide his ship from curious humans. This is his target. With the speed he’s still going, though, it’ll be tough to land precisely where he wants. Good thing there’s no better pilot than him.

Only a few more seconds before he’ll reach the ground, when Yoongi stays calm and collected as he swiftly creates the necessary combinations from the impressive control panel. He easily knows his way around the countless buttons and gears, lights and wheels. The high technology of the ship is like a second home to him. One he’ll leave for something entirely unknown, soon.

As expected, the ship lands neatly in the field, with space to spare. However, as Yoongi predicted, it’s a rather rough landing. The ship was still going slightly too fast for a smooth one, but he needed the speed as not to land in the trees instead. The vehicle shocks and shakes when it hits the ground, grating off the grass and several layers of earth as it digs itself into the soil for a couple more meters until it comes to a full stop. The body of the ship, made from extremely valuable metals from his home planet, still smoulders when the door automatically opens.

The night has already fallen, it seems. There aren’t many stars visible in the sky, their light compromised by the artificial illumination coming from the city. Yoongi feels the icy breeze fan over his cheeks when he steps outside. He remembers learning about a phenomenon on Earth, called ‘seasons’. Because of the planet’s tilted axis, throughout the year, different parts of Earth receive the Sun’s most direct rays. Having studied this planet until he knew its mannerisms and workings inside and out, Yoongi came prepared.

His team has arranged a collection of garments for him to wear, to blend in with the humans and stay protected against this planet’s unpredictable atmospheric conditions. Something to place on his head, and around his hands. It still feels odd and unnatural, but he doesn’t feel like returning home with some strange human disease, caused by his own carelessness. He can’t risk putting his own kind in danger by causing an epidemic. If there’s one thing he’s learned about humans, it’s that they’re walking disease mills. The best thing he can do for himself is to keep himself at a safe distance, and not let his own immune system dwindle under any circumstances.

With that thought in mind, he wraps a long and thick piece of fabric around his neck and throat. It instantly adds warmth and comfort. Better safe than sorry. Adjusting to this planet might not be such a challenge after all. He’s sure he’s got quite the hang of it already.

Another tap on the earpiece reconnects him with the station. “This is ISV Avalon, here to notify BT21 homebase of safe landing with exact coordinates 41° 52' 54.5952'' N and 87° 37' 23.4372'' W. No threats so far, presumably because of the wild vegetative environment. Will now explore the field closer to the subjects, after ensuring the vehicle’s preservation. This was captain Min, ISV Avalon, going offline until further notice.” His hot breath creates a cloud of steam, evaporating in the cold air, when he heaves a slightly tense sigh. Getting the ship to land safely was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: observing the subjects.

Fishing a tiny remote the size of a fingernail out of the pocket of his jacket, it only takes one click to hide the ship entirely by activating the invisibility shield. This way, no snooping humans will find it. His snooping, however, has yet to begin.

Fairly confident in his knowledge and training, he starts walking towards the forest. It’s not long until he finds the city, bare before him underneath a tall hill. Despite his usually unwavering professionalism, he can’t keep his heart from beating faster the closer he gets to the streets. After all, he’s worked towards this moment his entire life. The moment he gets to see planet Earth and its inhabitants with his own two eyes. He’s always been fascinated by this project and finally, after hundreds of years, he’s the one who gets to play the most important role of all.

Only one other has stood where he stands. Well, not precisely in this spot, but he came to Earth with the same objective. Unfortunately, he never made it back to BT21. As it so appeared, he got caught in the middle of a warfare waged amongst the humans, at the time. As such, the first attempt of accomplishing this mission had failed. Now, over seventy years later –although time means little to his kind, since it’s a human construct– the honour has fallen upon him. Bringing this mission to a successful end would mean great progress for his people. The beginning of a new era. The failed attempt of his predecessor was not in vain, however, as it provided them with loads of valuable information. Information he could now use, to be better prepared.

Turning his wrist to face the sky, the minuscule chip underneath his skin starts glowing. It creates a holographic screen, showing his reflection and ready to record.

“Captain’s log, day one, shortly after arrival on planet Earth. It is night time as I approach the city, and I can hear strange sounds coming from the streets. Despite it being dark, it doesn’t seem to stop the humans from going outside. We believed they tend to rest when night falls, yet there seem to be a significant amount of people, conscious and busy. This is my first observation, and already they prove to be rather interesting. I’m going to take a closer look, yet keep my weapons close to me, should they make an attempt to attack.”

The screen is gone as quickly as it came and his wrist stops glowing, making him appear completely normal again. Another big benefit, is that his kind and humans have no apparent physical differences, at first glance. He looks just like one, which makes it so much easier to explore their planet. Scientists back home believe their kind must have evolved from humans, a long, long time ago. Although it’s clear that the ones on Earth are much more primitive, still, he doesn’t classify himself as human. There are too many differences if one looks past outer appearance.

Even though he feels excitement, walking into the busy streets filled with music and vibrating with lively energy, he remains cautious. Some people are already looking at him in a strange way, but he feels it’s innocent curiosity seeing as they smile and laugh. A positive indicator.

“Why is he dressed like that?” He hears a male utter to his female companion as they walk by.

“Shhh, not so loud! Some people are just really into vintage fashion, Connor. I think it’s cool.” She replies.

Yoongi instantly catches their short exchange of words, despite their lousy attempt to keep it quiet. It makes him think. He has no clue what ‘vintage’ or ‘cool’ means, but he figures it’s the clothes, drawing too much attention to him. Now he’s really looking around, he realises no one is wearing garments even remotely resembling his. He needs to find a way to fix this. He’s not blending in as well as he’d expected.

His first challenge here on Earth comes sooner than he would’ve liked, but he knew it was inevitable. Still, he keeps his calm and reminds himself of the extensive lessons in Humanology. Walking into one of the large buildings, showcasing garments behind tall windows, he acts indifferent, mimicking the behaviour of the people around him. He observes some racks, faintly recognizing the clothes as those for female humans. Women, he believes they’re called here. He shouldn’t dwell here for much longer, or people will notice something’s off about him. On to the male garment section!

These look more like the ones the males on the street are wearing, and he knows he’s in the right place.

“Hello, sir. Can I be of any help?” A voice sounds from behind him, startling him so badly he instinctively reaches for his laser gun. He stops himself just in time when he realises the human most likely means no harm in this context. He appears to be submissive, and asks to assist. This might be easy after all!

Yoongi clears his throat before he speaks to a human for the first time. “Indeed. I need garments, young male.”

The young man blinks a few times, confusion showing on his face for a split second, before he collects himself again, putting his thoroughly practiced customer service smile back on. “Of course, sir. What are you looking for, exactly?”

Yoongi thinks about that question for a second. “Not...vintage. Or cool. None of those concepts.”

The store clerk enthusiastically claps his hands, making Yoongi flinch. “Ah! A man with taste, I see! You’ve come to the perfect place, sir. We pride ourselves in our eye for highly stylish and qualitative fashion without following short-lived hype. You know how it is with kids these days, one moment they’re all crazy about the newest designs and the next it’s something totally different. Apparently, now, it’s vintage. Those second-hand stores are even getting popular because of it. The older the better, can you believe it?”

The clerk eyes Yoongi up and down and visibly regrets his words after realising what he’s wearing, oblivious to the fact Yoongi didn’t understand a single thing of his rambling, anyway. Still, he nods as if he did and lets the young man lead the way.

“This is part of our new collection.” The man adds when he stops in front of a rich

black, cashmere turtleneck sweater. “Now, I admit, it is a bit pricier but you’ll find the material to be divine. It’s also perfect to wear with the holidays–”

“I will purchase this item.” Yoongi nods curtly, approving of this simple garment. The colour is attractive and it looks warm.

“Wonderful!” The clerk’s face lights up with joy and Yoongi wonders what he did to make this human so happy. “This turtleneck is also great in combination with these trousers, shoes and coat.”

Yoongi carefully examines the other items, which the assistant mistakes as doubt.

“I’ll bring these to the fitting room so you can try them on, sir. You will see how well they’ll fit you once you wear them.”

Not sure what a fitting room is, Yoongi follows the man nevertheless. The garments are being neatly hung on hooks on the wall, as the clerk gestures for Yoongi to go inside the cabin. He decides to trust this friendly human, but remains suspicious when the curtain closes behind him. He guesses that he’s supposed to switch his old garments for the new ones in here.

Fortunately, he’s had some experience with these types of clothing and manages to put them on correctly. It looks completely different, but in a good way. He’s sure he won’t draw any unwanted attention like this.

Making use of the privacy he’d obtained inside this cabin, he takes the chance to record another short log.

“Captain’s log, day one, shortly after the first one. I have come to the conclusion that the garments prepared for me by my team are not sufficient. Apparently, time is very important here on Earth. A lot of things change in short periods. My garments caused me to draw too much attention, so I went into a Garment Building to purchase modern ones. I am currently inside something they call a ‘fitting room’, which is a cabin they close with a piece of cloth to ensure physical privacy. Remember, humans detest public nudity. This is why I manage to create this log, undisturbed.”

He lowers his wrist to showcase his new outfit. “These are the garments I will be purchasing. I think they are far more visually pleasing than the ones prepared for me. It is possible that these humans have evolved in this short period of time, which amazes me. I am most inquisitive about what other changes I will discover. These humans seem tame in comparison to the ones my predecessor, Minho, has described. This would mean great success in regards to this mission. I will now continue my exploration.”

When he comes out of the fitting room, fully changed into his new attire, the store clerk stands there, waiting for him dutifully. Even if he heard Yoongi talk to himself in there, he doesn’t make a comment on it. He just assumes he’s some kind of popular, new influencer doing vlogs, especially with the weird way he speaks. When he sees Yoongi, a dramatic gasp tears from his lips.

“You look stunning, sir! Absolutely ravishing!” He places a hand on his chest to steady himself. “I have never seen a more perfect picture than you, standing here before me!”

Yoongi assumes the young male is complimenting him, although it makes him feel a little bit uneasy. It’s human custom to return the kindness, however. “...Thank you. You look very...stunning...too.”

This makes the young man blush. “Why, sir, you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? I’m sure you have people lining up to date you.”

“Date?” Yoongi murmurs, confused. Isn’t that some kind of combat technique? “Ah, yes! Many people would like to… date me, but they have never succeeded!” He announces proudly.

“As expected.” The clerk winks and Yoongi flinches again. What an odd gesture. Still, Yoongi feels reassured now that this complete stranger recognizes his exceptional combat skills.

“Are you taking all of these, sir? Or are there some things you aren’t completely sure of?” He asks Yoongi, gesturing at the clothes he’s wearing.

“I approve of all of these items. I would like to purchase the set.” Yoongi lets him know as he takes out the pocket with currency, also provided for him by his team.

“Excellent decision! Would you like to change back into your other clothes or would you prefer to keep this outfit on?”

“I have no use for the garments I came here with. These fresh ones will remain on my body.”

“Perfect! Then, please follow me to the cash desk, sir.”

Yoongi complies, emptying the pocket on the desk in front of the cheerful shopping assistant. He doesn’t even get fazed at Yoongi’s strange behaviour anymore. Remarkable adaptation abilities, these humans!

“Is this enough currency to purchase?” Yoongi asks.

The young man behind the desk throws a brief, hesitant look at the pile of cash money, but quickly answers with a syrupy sweet smile. “Let me count that for you, sir.”

To Yoongi’s relief, the assistant manages to collect the correct amount of money after counting for a few minutes.

“You may want to invest in a credit card, sir. It would certainly make a lot of things much easier...for you, of course.”

“Ah, yes. Certainly.” Yoongi smiles while putting the surplus of cash back in his pocket. He has no idea what a ‘credit card’ could be.

When he exits the building, it is with a newfound confidence and era-appropriate outfit. The human who assisted him didn’t suspect a thing! Yoongi always knew he’d be quite competent for the job, but if he had known it would only take this much effort for him to blend in? He wouldn’t have had all those sleepless nights back home, perfecting his imitations. Well, maybe it’s because he stayed up late, studying human behaviour, that got him so far. Yet it seems like all it really took was a change of garments.

He roams the streets with a calmer heart now, feeling safe enough to observe more details. The more he learns, the better they can prepare themselves for the next installment of the plan. Everywhere, music plays. Different melodies are flowing into each other as they come out of the stores. There’s one in particular Yoongi keeps hearing until he starts to recognize the words.

“...Make my wish come true. All I want for christmas, is you.” He quietly sings along under his breath, cheeks flushed either from the cold or the embarrassment, wondering what his peers back home would think of such behaviour. Still, he comforts himself with the thought that no one can hear him unless he contacts them himself. Enjoying human music will be his little secret to keep from his time on Earth.

Christmas. The word keeps popping up, everywhere he looks and in everything he hears. It must be something very important.

As he continues to ponder over what this ‘Christmas’ could be, he follows the brightly illuminated decorations, hanging at the top of the buildings and over the streets. He’s so deep in thought, he doesn’t even notice how he’s walking away from the city centre and into a dark neighborhood. There are no festive lights, no music or vibrant crowds. When Yoongi notices the sudden silence, he also perceives the sound of footsteps, matching his own.

Upon turning around, he finds a strange man wielding a blade of some sort. Yoongi understands he’s finally being threatened, and slowly reaches for his laser gun.

“You look like some posh fucker. Walking around this part of town in those nice clothes, huh? Bet you got money to spare.” The assailant hisses, moving closer as he speaks.

Yoongi stays quiet and doesn’t move an inch as he lets the thug come closer. He just needs to be patient.

“What, cat got your tongue? Those fancy clothes didn’t come with a witty answer? You rich fucks are usually good at that, no?” The foul man is now within arm’s length, the blade dangerously close to Yoongi’s abdomen. This is his time to strike.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Yoongi overpowers the unsuspecting male with few but extremely precise moves. The man is now subjected to his mercy, his shoulder in a painful angle and with a strange weapon in his face.

“What is your objective?” Yoongi calmly asks.

“My...my what?!” The thug squeaks in between pain-induced hisses.

“Your objective. What is the reason for your attack?”

The man stares at him in disbelief. “Wh- isn’t that obvious?! Your money, man! I wanted your money!”

“Money?” Yoongi muses. “You would harm one of your own, for currency?”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Is the criminal’s response. “Please, let me go… I’ll leave you alone, I promise!”

“Hm, not much persistence, I see.” Yoongi tuts, a tad bit disappointed. “I expected your kind to be more violent.”

The other says nothing, opting to go cross-eyed looking at Yoongi’s weapon instead.

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demands.

“Anything. Anything if you let me live. Please…”

“What is this...Christmas? What does it mean?”

Confusion is written all over the thug’s face. “Ch-christmas? Y-you don’t know what Christmas is?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, briefly losing his composure. He doesn’t appreciate his intelligence being questioned by a lowly human like this.  “Since I am asking something like you to enlighten me, you may assume that I am not yet informed about this concept.”

The man nods fervently. “Ch-christmas is… You know, it’s… It’s a popular holiday. People buy each other gifts. There’s Santa Claus–”

“Santa Claus?” Yoongi frowns.

“Yeah, he’s like, uh, a fat Finnish dude with a white beard and red clothes and he gives presents to children.”

“Why is that?”

“I- I don’t know, he… Just does? It’s not real, anyway, people just dress up like him at the mall to earn a few extra bucks.”

Yoongi has a really hard time understanding the language this male is speaking, but his curiosity has not yet been satisfied.

“So, this… Santa Claus. He gives human offspring gifts? That’s what christmas is?”

“Well, no… Not really–”

“You dare lie to me, human?” Yoongi growls, pushing the tip of his weapon into the man’s cheek.

“No! Of course not!” He squeaks, “I just meant that it’s not the most important thing about Christmas! Christmas is about… It’s about family. Spending time with your family, exchanging gifts with each other. The Santa Claus thing is all marketing but people come together on Christmas.”

“Why?” He asks again.

“Because they love each other.” The man’s tone of voice suddenly changes. He sounds...saddened. “They spend time with each other, eat food, play games… It’s a time for families and friends to come together and enjoy each other’s company.”

That confuses Yoongi. “But you’re alone. If it is Christmas, why are you roaming the streets, attacking people for currency? Why are you not with your family to do Christmas?”

The thug lets his head hang, no longer even afraid of Yoongi’s weapon. “Because I have no one to spend it with.”

A strange feeling stirs inside Yoongi’s chest. He can’t really place it, and it makes him uncomfortable. Time to end this interrogation.

“I much appreciate your cooperation. I will spare your life.” He decides, reaching for another device, stored in his pocket, and aiming it at the strange man.

“Wait– you said you’d spare me!” The other panics, but it’s too late.

One simple flick of Yoongi’s thumb activates the device, sending sonic waves into the direction of his target. The man loses consciousness almost instantly, only to fall asleep on the cold concrete of the street.

“You are a pitiful being.” Yoongi murmurs before he drags the limp, unconscious body of the thug into a more secluded alley. He leaves him there, but not before zipping up his garments to its full capacity and putting some currency in his pockets. He’s not quite sure why he did that.

He needs to confirm this male’s theory. If what he said is true, then Yoongi’s job here is done.

On his way back, he shamelessly peers through the windows and into people’s houses to observe their activities. And just as the thug explained, he sees humans from varying ages gathered in their houses. Smiling, eating, laughing. Giving each other wrapped objects, which he assumes are the ‘presents’. They seem completely harmless. Defenseless, even. He could wipe out this entire city on his own, and with ease.

Not once, aside from the incident with the pitiful male earlier, has he encountered armed humans like his predecessor had described. The time for warfare on Earth appears to have passed, and with it, people have become comfortable in their little bubble of safety. They let their guard down, making it all too easy for a foreign civilisation to usurp their whole planet. Home after home, he finds the same scene of happy, carefree humans, enjoying sustenance and each other’s presence. This is not even the challenge he’d secretly hoped for. It almost feels...wrong.

He can’t let himself dwell on useless emotions like this, however. His kind has evolved too far to attach any importance to things like feelings. This is good news. He needs to return to BT21 immediately. His stay has been far shorter than he’d expected and, granted, he’d like to extend his knowledge about humans further, yet he feels relieved to go home.

Yoongi turns his back on the streets that fascinated him only shortly before, to make his way through the forest once again. As he reaches the open field, harbouring his hidden ship, he presses the tiny remote to lift the shield. Nothing happens.

Frowning, he tries again. Still no luck. When the tiny remote starts to glow a pulsing red, he knows what the problem is. His ship is still in time-out, needing at least twenty-four hours to repair itself and recuperate from the rough landing. This to ensure a safe trip back home. For at least twenty-four hours, the ship will be in sleep mode, and there is nothing Yoongi can do to activate it sooner. Meaning, the radio connection is also down at the moment. He can’t even notify the home base of his discovery.

This might not be so bad after all. At least now, he has an excuse to keep exploring just a little bit more. The curiosity tickles and the city beckons him to return.

Of all days, you hadn’t thought your boss would make you work on freaking Christmas Eve. So what, your family lived abroad and neither of you could afford plane tickets so you’d be alone anyways, but is that a reason to make anyone work the night shift during the holidays?! Ridiculous.

It’s almost midnight and only a handful of people have passed through the convenience store this evening. Which isn’t surprising, considering most people are cozying up at home with their families, drinking good wine and eating good food. Giving each other presents. You know your mom sent you a gift, but it hasn’t been delivered yet. You expect it to arrive somewhere this week, though.

It’s stupid. It’s stupid you have to work on what’s supposed to be a magical night, to keep a store open for only a couple of customers. He could’ve easily decided to just close for tonight.

You sigh, defeated, before you stretch your arms above your head and leave your counter to get some fresh air. If you’d smoke, you would have something to do. You’re bored and miserable and you want to go home and make yourself a carb fest while binging your favorite Netflix series. But you need the money. College tuitions don’t pay themselves.

Only a minute after you’d sat back down behind your counter, sneakily watching some episodes on your phones, a new customer walks in. You pause Netflix to greet them, albeit a bit half-heartedly. Most people coming in at this our need cigarettes or booze. When you look up, though, you don’t see your typical after-midnight customer. You’re facing one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen in your life. And he’s holding a black cat?

“Ah… greetings. I found this creature,” he holds the cat up in a rather clumsy manner, “It vibrates.”

What in the…?

[cinna-wanroll]

*Is not writing the Obitine novel since apparently Disney cant fit it into their schedule*

That was a lie, in case you hadn’t already guessed lol. Anywho, here’s an excerpt from the first chapter since I’ve been a bit slow on uploading any original content. Keep in mind that this is a first draft, so I’ll probably end up editing it later

“Hey, buddy,” Vos clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically. 

“Hello, Quin,” Obi-Wan offered the Kiffar a good-natured smile and continued his walk. 

“Off to the races again already, I hear,” Quinlan continued, following his friend. 

Obi-Wan cocked a suspicious brow, “Yes,” he kept his tone mild, almost adding ‘unfortunately’ to the end of his sentence, “who told you?”

Quin shrugged and turned, beginning to walk backwards casually, “Oh, you know, my usual informants. Word travels fast around these parts, especially if you’ve got connections.”

Obi-Wan grinned disbelievingly, “Mm.”

“So,” his friend gave him a little nudge as he pivoted back around, “who’s this lady you’re off to rescue, hmm?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan hated to admit it,, but Quinlan was actually quite charming, so he let the insinuation slide. 

“The duchess of Mandalore.”

Vos’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief, “The duchess?” Quin repeated in shock, “Damn, Obi-Wan. Aren’t people like her, like, hardcore Jedi haters or somethin’?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “Not anymore, since the treaty of Kal’desh almost 82 years ago,” he cast a pointed gaze at the Kiffar who he’d obviously lost at the word ‘treaty’, “You’d know this if you’d paid any attention in Galactic History. 

Quinlan grinned, “Hey, I passed that class.”

“Only because you bribed Bant with Gumbah pudding for a month and a half.”

“Whatever, man.”

Obi-Wan smiled adding, “Not to mention, she’s supposedly the leader of some pacifist group there. The New Mandalorians.”

Quinlan wrinkled his nose, “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me. Nothing ever got done by pacifist legions in the past- at least not anything that lasted longer than a couple of years. This galaxy needs structure, not some peaceful delusionists. Besides, how peaceful can a Mandalorian organization be?”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and looked down, forced to admit he’d thought the same things. How peaceful was a group that’d managed to stay alive among even the harshest of cultural climates? Obi-Wan was guessing not very peaceful at all. 

“I’m not sure, but Master Windu said that this mission is of utmost importance.”

Quinlan sniffed, “Yeah, to his paycheck, probably.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Quinlan, you know Jedi don’t get paid.”

“Most Jedi. I’m just saying, those council members always seem to be a little concerned with issues outside the Republic, than with issues at home.”

Obi-Wan grimaced- he and Vos had never agreed on that particular subject, “We are defenders of the galaxy, Quin.”

His friend shrugged again, changing his tone immediately and smiling, “Yeah, well, just don’t fall too in love with her, mmkay? She might chop that pretty little head of yours off for peace”

“Isn’t that technically what we do sometimes?” Obi-Wan made a pained expression, despite the fact that he was willing to admit it. There was just something about it that made him feel guilty. 

“Yeah, but at least we’re upfront about it.”

“And who’s to say they’re not?”

“Fair enough.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

Although unlikely friends at first glance, Obi-Wan and Quinlan actually got along quite well. They were both calculated, witty, mischievous, and sarcastic fighters with a knack for getting themselves in trouble. 

 Except while Quinlan owned up to causing his antics, Obi-Wan was always the unfortunate person who could be convinced to join in for a cause when things were already taking a turn for the worst. 

They stepped up to the entrance of the mess hall, which was bustling with masters and padawans alike cramming generous heapfuls of muja muffins and mist-pudding onto their trays. 

“Mm-mm,” Quin rubbed his hands together, “I am starving!”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but nod eagerly in agreement, eyeing the tantalizing food as a group of creche students passed them. 

He wasn’t surprised to spot Qui-Gon at the very front of the extensive line, on time for the food, of course. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, boys.”

Obi-Wan turned around towards the direction of the voice, lighting up.

A familiar emerald face greeted him, serene and kind. 

Quin turned his head to her as well, “Mornin’ Luminara.”

Obi-Wan bowed and nodded towards the food line. 

“Can you believe this?”

Luminara smiled faintly and sniffed, peering in, “On buffet day? Certainly.”

“Aka the only day they serve real food in this Force-forsaken place,” Vos chimed in.

Obi-Wan and Luminara shared a look, but inside Obi-Wan couldn’t help but agree.

The Temple was many things, but it definitely wasn’t a diner. 

“What do you think our chances are of paying off some people at the front for their spots?” The Kiffar queried, gazing back at Obi-Wan and Luminara for suggestions. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sarcasm that snuck into his tone, “and with what credits do you intend to do that?” 

“Dunno. I was thinking more… services,” Quin countered.

 Just as Obi-Wan was about to ask what services Vos was implying, Luminara interjected, “At this point, I doubt we’d even get close enough to the masters at the front of the line without being taken away.” 

Obi-Wan nodded as he followed her gaze to where a group of large, burly-looking masters stood glaring at the passerby. It looked like they hadn’t gotten their caff yet that morning. He gulped.

“Luminara’s right, Quin, we should forget it and wait until the line dies down.”

His friend glanced over at him, “Don’t you have to leave by then?”

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as Luminara frowned.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He nodded, glaring daggers at Vos and refsing to look at Luminara. 

“Yes, I was just notified about it this morning. Had I known sooner, I would’ve told you.”

“And yet Quin knows,” she quipped, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms indignantly.

“I’m tellin’ you people, I’ve got connections,” Vos emphasized, leaning against the entrance wall. 

Ignoring the Kiffar, Luminara began, “They’re over-working you again.”

Obi-Wan threw Quinlan an accusatory look that was responded to with a simple ‘here we go again’ eyeroll.

“It’s not fair to you, or to the other padawans who want mission opportunities. They want and deserve experience too! I cannot understand why the council is doing this. My suggestion would be-” she was cut off by an approaching figure, which turned out to be her master. 

Obi-Wan winced.

“Padawan Unduli, do you really think your time is best spent here, dawdling with these hooligans?”

Obi-Wan disregarded the snide comment, instead trying to throw an apologetic gaze at his friend. Although out of the corner of his eye he saw Quinlan bristle at the remark.

Luminara bowed and lowered her head, “No, master.”

“Then come along, it’s no wonder you’re always hungry.”

She followed obediently, but not before shooting Obi-Wan and Quinlan a sad, apologetic gaze as she left.

Quin snarled when they were out of earshot, “Now there’s someone I’d like to pay off. With a good kick in the-”

“Vos,” Obi-Wan chided sternly. 

His friend huffed and glowered, “What?”

“Don’t be crass. At least, not this early in the morning.”

 Quin shrugged and rolled his eyes, finally stepping away to look for an open table. 

“Besides,” Obi-Wan added while following, “I’m pretty sure you’’l have plenty of chances to do that when I’m gone, and am unable to provide you with proper impulse control.”

Quin laughed.

“Nah, it’s not as much fun without someone there sassing me.”

He returned his friend's cheerful look, “That’s a fair point.”

Luckily for the pair, Obi-Wan spotted a good amount of free space beside Qui-Gon, mostly because his master had a reputation of being a messy eater- not to mention, he had taken two trays. 

“Bingo,” Obi-Wan grinned at Vos.

The two padawans approached Jinn and sat beside him, Obi-Wan respectfully nodding while Quinlan eyed the food on the second tray. 

“Hello, master,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied after swallowing a mouthful of food. He took a swig of blue milk and then turned to acknowledge Quin, “Padawan Vos.”

The Kiffar snapped his gaze away from the food, nodding quickly.

“So,” Obi-Wan began, “are there any other details I should be aware of during this mission?” 

Jinn turned his full attention on Obi-Wan, “The duchess is young- about your age, I believe. She’s said to be stubborn but kind, with a deep passion for all living things… much like someone else I know.” A playful spark lit up Qui-Gon’s eyes, something about them very knowing. 

Obi-Wan did his best to concentrate on what his master was saying instead of Vos’ waggling eyebrows and his hand, which swiped a biscuit from Qui-Gon’s tray. He nodded, encouraging his master to continue.

“She’s also just returned home from a political academy located here. But most importantly, she probably won’t take kindly to our help. This mission was administered by her advisor, not her. And, despite the current peace, I’m sure she hasn’t been brought up in an environment that is… encouraging of the Jedi.”

Point two, Quinlan grinned like a fool as he stole a piece of meat of Jinn’s tray. 

“Not to mention,” Qui-Gon continued, oblivious, “her father was a warlord.” 

Oh, Force. Suddenly, Obi-Wan was a whole lot less enthusiastic about this whole thing, and that wasn’t saying much considering his attitude towards it was already pretty negative. 

He had to protect a war-monger’s daughter? Perfect.

“Wow,” Vos mused, “talk about impressing the father in-law,” he chuckled as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned to glare at him, “she better be really worth it Obi-Wan. Is she at least ho-”

He was interrupted by Qui-Gon’s harsh tone, “her father is dead, padawan Vos.”

“Oh,” Quinlan replied faintly, looking down, “my condolences.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and turned back to Obi-Wan, “All in all, our goal is to be an unseen protection service. After all, we don’t want her getting into more trouble just because we put her off.”

“Why is it that we don’t want her getting into any more trouble, master?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning slightly.

Qui-Gon mirrored his expression, “Because, padawan, she requested our help.”

“I thought her advisor was the one who requested our help,” Obi-Wan retorted under his breath, although he knew he shouldn't've. Although he was surprised to admit to himself that he didn’t quite care- after all, the burly masters in line weren’t the only ones who hadn’t had their caff yet.

 Qui-Gon’s frown deepened, “She is her people’s last hope for peace and civility, Obi-Wan. And you will do best not to question her, our assignment, or the council again.”

Obi-Wan looked away dejectedly, “Yes, master.”

He left out any remarks he could’ve made about Qui-Gon doing both of the aforementioned things constantly. 

“Now, just let me finish my-,” Qui-Gon turned to his practically empty tray, where Vos had mysteriously disappeared, and sighed.

Obi-Wan stifled a chuckle, leaving behind only a mischievous sparkle  in his grey-blue eyes. 

“Master?” He asked, encouraging Qui-Gon to wrap up his thought. 

“Let’s just be on our way then, Obi-Wan.”

They rose and exited the mess hall, out into the long corridors and what would be a much more eventful trip than what young Obi-Wan was expecting. 

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

The temple docking bay was huge, containing as large as a republic freighter to as small as a landspeeder. 

 Droids whizzed about everywhere, attending to some business or another. A few officials or Jedi stood out against the field of endless gleaming metal, but besides that there was nothing else living operating within the place. 

Enormous ceilings towered over Obi-Wan’s head as his master led him through the maze of docking bays and landing platforms, until they finally reached a small doorway towards the back. 

A droid met them there to provide them with a datapad of information on the ship; mostly a run-down of the controls and its condition. 

Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction, “Everything seems to be in order here.” He handed it back to the droid, who whisked it away immediately.

“How long will our journey be, master?” Obi-Wan inquired, hoping he didn’t sound whiny. 

“Not very long. About six standard hours, providing there aren't any hyperspace issues.”

Obi-Wan nodded, stepping out of the doorway and into the bright light of Coruscant. 

The ship was a pretty good size; a standard model with red stripes running along its sides. 

The Trial, curious. Obi-Wan didn’t pay ship names much mind, but that was just rather odd. 

Qui-Gon went to go check with the official while Obi-Wan spotted Quinlan leaning against a couple of crates near the door. 

“Vos? How did you know this is where I’d be?”

“Relax man, I just came to say goodbye before you left to go out and find your true love or whatever.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Vos grinned and pulled him into a tight hug, Obi-Wan squirming beneath him.

“Stop that,” he said, finally managing to push his friend back.

“Was Qui-Gon pissed about his food?” Quin asked, gazing hopefully to where Obi-Wan’s master and the other man were still conversing.

“Probably, although not any more than me- I still haven’t had any food yet.” His stomach growled, as if to prove a point.

“Eh, you snooze you lose.”

Obi-Wan grimaced as Vos began to saunter away, his finally parting words being, “Later, buddy! Don’t, like, become a father or anything while you’re gone- I’d hate to miss that.”

Eyeroll. “Goodbye, Vos!”

He shook his head at the sound of his friend’s distant laughter, pacing over to Qui-Gon without so much as a glance backwards. 

“Is everything alright, master?”

“Yes, just making conversation while you and Quinlan said your goodbyes.”

So he did know. Well, that showed Obi-Wan not to underestimate his master. 

“Then lets away.”

Obi-Wan nodded to the man and walked up the ramp into the ship, glancing back at the gleaming building one last time before he took a seat in the cockpit, not even bothering to explore the rest of the ship. He already knew what this model’s interior looked like, and wanted to get this assignment over with as quickly as possible.

Later, Obi-Wan found irony in that wish as he sat in the exact same seat upon the departure of his mission, where the room and his heart had seemed a lot more empty. 

Qui-Gon sat beside him, taking control and handing Obi-Wan the mission log from earlier. 

“What am I to do with this?” He asked, frowning at the tablet-like device. 

“Make notes of the journey,” Qui-Gon replied, “the council emphasized everything is to be included, and since I can’t ever seem to write it the way they want, I thought I’d have you do it.”

“But-”

“Do you have something more productive you could be doing, padawan?”

He shook his head and took the log obligingly without further complaint. It was light in his hands, and he placed it in his lap as he strapped himself in. 

“Our belongings have already been loaded on, everything is in order,” Qui-Gon said, still fiddling with the ship’s settings. 

“Do we have any food?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully. 

Qui-Gon nodded, “It’s back in the kitchen area. Why didn’t you eat earlier?”

Obi-Wan scoffed, “You saw the line, right?”

“You snooze, you lose.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “How about caff?”

Qui-Gon shook his head no, and Obi-Wan deflated. 

“Something tells me that despite my hopes, this is going to be a very long couple of months,” Obi-Wan pouted, leaning his head back against the seat. 

Qui-Gon smiled, “You’re such a pessimist, Obi-Wan. Ready?”

Obi-Wan nodded, “I suppose.”

“Good. Then let’s get this show on the road.”

The ship lifted off, soared out of the atmosphere and into space, and Obi-Wan made sure to note in his report that Qui-Gon forgot which lever to guide forward for hyperspace. When he did find it, darkness and impossibly bright specks of light blended together, and they rocketed forwards before coasting through space, towards destiny. 

[drizzitwrites]

New Fic: “Must Have Done Something Right” Opening Scene (Draft) -- Dragon Age: Inquisition

Hi all,

Switching fandoms (back to my OG fandom, Dragon Age) since I’ve finally broken down and begun playing Inquisition (which I bought on the release day and then promptly got hipster angry at for 6 years). I still wasn’t sold at first and I DEFINITELY don’t love the companions as much as I did in any of the other games. UNTIL........ I met Dorian Pavus. Who I love. Deeply.

So... one day I was playing and I made an offhand comment quoting a song lyric because Dorian set my m!Lavellan Inquisitor up for a combo and then Jonas said “we should not!fic a thing where they’re on a university sports team” and then my brain grabbed hold of it and needed to almost obsessively think about it over the next two weeks.

Aaaaand, now I’ve actually started writing. This should be interesting, because I can SEE the scenes so clearly in my mind, so I may either fly through this and write it in a month in a frenzied fit of pique OR I may agonise over it because the words aren’t bringing out the picture in my head right. Either way, this one’s going to be long (and considering I’m someone who usually says “I think I can get that done in 5k” and then it takes 25k, this almost certainly means we’re going to hit novel length at least) and I have VERY LITTLE TIME, so don’t expect the finished product any time soon. I might release it chapter by chapter, but I generally don’t in case something comes up in a later chapter that affects the early chapters, because you never know when you need to re-order something or change details or add in something and I don’t want to have to deal with telling people I re-posted and having them go back to read it.

But! For anyone who might want to read it piece-by-piece with the understanding that what I’m posting here is edited and postable (by my standards) but is very much subject to change as the fic writing unfolds, I’ll post some to all of the scenes here. Read or don’t. At your leisure.

Also... I’m using this as an informal beta reading session, since Jonas is really good with big picture concept stuff, but terrible at anything having to do with emotions or the conveyance thereof AND is absolutely not here for even thinking about anything that’s higher than teen rated, and because I’ve been out of the fandom for so long that most to all of my former Dragon Age beta readers have left fandom and my new beta readers aren’t at all in the fandom. So... comments, thoughts, wording changes, spelling and grammar corrections, etc. welcome.

So, without any further ado, I present to you:

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Must Have Done Something Right Dorian Pavus/M!Lavellan Modern Day University AU Chapter 1, Scene 1

As Dorian lay sprawled on his backside on a New Jersey street corner, he couldn't help but wonder which of the monumentally stupid decisions he'd made over the past year and a half had led him to this moment. It could, he allowed, be all of them. In fact, it was very probably all of them. He would have dwelled on this longer, digging deep and trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything in his life had gone to shit, but right now he had more pressing matters to focus on, such as the bruise he could already feel forming on his backside, the frigid water seeping in through the legs of his trousers and down the sides of his shoes, and how the fuck, exactly, he was supposed to get home.

The skies had been clear and blue, with no signs of an impending storm when he'd headed to work that morning. Around mid-afternoon, clients had begun to rush through the door, blowing on their hands, brushing a few stray snowflakes from their shoulders, and commenting on the turn the weather had taken. By the time Dorian finished his shift at seven p.m. he'd stepped through the door into a full on New England blizzard.

He wasn't dressed for it, of course. He'd grabbed an overcoat and gloves on the way out the door, but hadn’t given a second thought to his footwear. Even he wasn't vain enough to wear his second best pair of oxfords if he was expecting snow. For one thing, they didn't deserve to be subjected to the thorough dousing of salt water they were certain to receive. For another, the smooth leather outsoles gave him approximately negative amounts of traction when trying to walk on ice.

Which brought him to here. He'd attempted the drive home on his Vespa, figuring it would be better than attempting to walk home. And it had been, he supposed, until he'd come over the crest of a hill, his back wheel had hit a patch of ice, and the entire bike had tried to kick out from under him. He'd saved it, just, and managed to navigate to the bottom of the hill where a wide expanse of sidewalk allowed him to pull off the road and park. He'd eased the bike as far out of the way as he could, put it in park, and dismounted.

And promptly fell on his ass.

He'd attempted to right himself, which had only led to an embarrassing scramble of feet against ice, legs kicking every which way, until he conceded that, for now, the ground had squarely defeated him, and let himself slide down to rest against the side of his bike.

“Need a hand?” A soft voice asked from above.

Dorian opened his eyes to see a man standing there, one gloved hand extended in his direction. As he stared up through the snow and the floodlights from the nearby building, Dorian couldn't make out any of the man’s facial features beyond impeccably combed dark hair, which glinted with red in the light. The man was well-dressed, however, albeit more sensibly than Dorian given the weather conditions, with a wool muffler tucked neatly into the collar of a knee-length overcoat, his feet clad in ankle-high fleece-lined boots.

The man said nothing, but remained there, arm outstretched, until Dorian managed a quick nod of thanks, took the proffered hand, and tried to lever himself to his feet while the other man pulled. He was surprisingly strong, Dorian noted, especially given his stature, which was good, because he ended up doing most of the work in the exchange while Dorian attempted to use the seat of his bike for leverage, his feet continuing to scrabble for purchase on the ground with every movement.

“Thank you,” Dorian said, dropping his free left hand down to grip the right handlebar of his scooter for balance.

“Don't thank me too much,” the man said. “I did stand by and watch the whole thing happen until I saw you give up and slump down in the snow. Decided I better intervene rather than leaving you out here all night.” He shifted his grip to twist it around into a tight handshake. “Name's Krem, by the way.”

“Dorian. And now I suppose I should thank you double for deciding not to leave me here.”

Not that I have a lot of reason for getting up and going about my life, he didn’t add.

Krem nodded, one corner of his mouth flicking up into the hint of a half smile. “You gonna be alright if I let go now?”

“What?” Dorian asked, then tracked Krem’s gaze to their still joined hands. “Oh… yes. Or… probably, it’s all relative, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not entirely sure how I'm getting home from here, and I hate to leave my bike parked out all night, especially in the snow, but… at least I’m standing. For now.”

“Never know. Snow might stop soon. I'm meeting a friend at a café just down the street. You're welcome to join me. It's warm and dry. Usually. You can buy me a coffee as a thank you. You look like you could use one.”

As a rule, Dorian despised coffee that wasn't prepared to his exacting standards with the proper equipment and techniques, but he was willing to concede that ‘usually warm and dry’ was a better option than laying in the snow on a street corner thinking of all the good reasons he had for staying there and freezing to death. Probably.

“In truth, I could use something a good deal stronger than coffee,” Dorian replied with a wry laugh. “Several somethings, in fact. Possibly a whole bottle of somethings. But alright. Coffee it is. Lead the way.”

[thecreaturecodex]

Paka

“Red Anthro” © Marianna Gadzhy, accessed at her ArtStation here

[The paka is weirdly designed in the Ravenloft Appendix III: Creatures of Darkness. It appears like a playable race that was awkwardly converted into a monster entry, without having a lot of the relevant information. So I made it a playable race. I spent several hours yesterday looking through internet art trying to find just the right level of cat features--more than just ears and a tail, but not full furry--before deciding just to use the original art. Edit: I found a piece I liked better while looking for art for another cat-themed monster. Sometimes serendipity happens.]

Paka CR 1/2 CE Humanoid This tall, lithe humanoid has the eyes, ears, and tail of a cat. Her skin has a thin layer of fur bearing feline patterns. Her claws are long and sharp, and her expression is sardonic.

Paka are cruel, shapechanging offshoots of the catfolk that can assume human guise. They are likely to embody negative stereotypes of cats, and most of them are cruel and indolent. Paka are prone to plotting revenge for even the most trivial slights, and bear an enmity against humans that is so ancient that its origins are unknown even to them. Even those few paka who are not evil tend to distrust humans. They tend to view catfolk proper as unsophisticated country cousins, although this does not prevent socialization and even romantic entanglements between the two species.

Most paka are semi-nomadic, moving from place to place when times are tough and settling down when opportunities present themselves. They are fond of using domestic cats as spies and informants, and larger cats as assassins, and frequently keep cats of all kinds as pets. Families are typically matrilineal, and several unrelated mothers may raise their children cooperatively. “Sister” and “aunt” are common honorifics among female paka, but male paka are more likely to be loners.

Paka advance by character class, and most classes are found among them. They tend to be too impatient for wizardry or alchemy—most spellcasters are sorcerers, bards or druids. Druids and rangers frequently take feline animal companions.  Swashbucklers are common among paka, as their finesse and mobility suit paka sensibilities.

Paka as Characters A paka does not have racial Hit Dice and advances by character class. A paka character has the following traits: +2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, -2 Constitution Paka are nimble and charming, but lack stamina Medium size A paka gains no benefits and suffers no penalties due to its size Normal speed A paka has a land speed of 30 ft. Claws A paka gains 2 claw attacks as primary natural weapons that deal 1d4 points of damage Change Shape (Su) A paka can assume the appearance of a single specific human form. The paka always takes on this specific form when she transforms. A paka in human form cannot use her claw attacks, but gains a +10 racial bonus on Disguise checks to appear human. This ability otherwise functions as alter self, except that the paka does not adjust her ability scores. Feline Empathy (Ex) A paka can use wild empathy as per a druid of her level, except that she can only use it to influence cats and other felines. If a paka has levels in a class that grants wild empathy, she gains a +4 bonus on checks made to influence felines. Lick Wounds (Su) As a standard action, a paka can lick an open wound on herself or another creature in order to affect it as per a cure light wounds spell of a CL equal to her level. This can only be used to heal damage, not to deal damage to the undead or other creatures with negative energy affinity. A paka may use this ability a number of times per day equal to her level + her Cha modifier. At 5th level, this ability upgrades to heal damage as per a cure moderate wounds spell. Nimble A paka gains a +2 racial bonus on Acrobatics and Climb checks Paka Magic A paka with a Charisma of 11 or higher gains the following spell-like abilities, usable 1/day each: feather fall, speak with animals (felines only) Languages A paka begins play speaking Catfolk and Common. Paka with high Intelligence scores may choose from the following bonus languages: Elven, Gnoll, Gnome, Goblin, Halfling, Orc, and Sylvan

Paka rogue 1      CR ½ XP 200 CE Medium humanoid (catfolk, shapechanger) Init +3; Senses low-light vision, Perception +4 Defense AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+3 Dex, +3 armor) hp 10 (1d8+2) Fort +1, Ref +5, Will -1 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +3 (1d4+1) or rapier +3 (1d6+1/18-20), claw -2 (1d4) Ranged light crossbow +3 (1d8/19-20) Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6 Spell-like Abilities CL 1st, concentration +2 1/day—feather fall, speak with animals (felines only) Statistics Str 12, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 8, Cha 12 Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13 Feats Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +8, Bluff +5, Climb +6, Disable Device +5, Disguise +5, Knowledge (local) +5, Perception +4, Sleight of Hand +6, Stealth +6; Racial Modifiers +2 Acrobatics, +2 Climb Languages Catfolk, Common, Halfling SQ change shape, feline empathy +2, lick wounds (2/day, 1d8+1), trapfinding Ecology Environment warm forests and urban Organization solitary, pair or pride (3-12) Treasure NPC gear (studded leather armor, rapier, light crossbow with 20 bolts, thieves’ tools, other treasure) Special Abilities Change Shape (Su) A paka can assume the appearance of a single specific human form. The paka always takes on this specific form when she transforms. A paka in human form cannot use her claw attacks, but gains a +10 racial bonus on Disguise checks to appear human. This ability otherwise functions as alter self, except that the paka does not adjust her ability scores. Feline Empathy (Ex) A paka can use wild empathy as per a druid of her level, except that she can only use it to influence cats and other felines. If a paka has levels in a class that grants wild empathy, she gains a +4 bonus on checks made to influence felines. Lick Wounds (Su) As a standard action, a paka can lick an open wound on itself or another creature in order to affect it as per a cure light wounds spell of a CL equal to her level. This can only be used to heal damage, not to deal damage to the undead or other creatures with negative energy affinity. A paka may use this ability a number of times per day equal to her level + her Cha modifier. At 5th level, this ability upgrades to heal damage as per a cure moderate wounds spell.

[nerdarchy-blog]

The follow up to 2017’s Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, on Nov. 17, 2020 fifth edition Dungeons & Dragons upcoming Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything must indeed possess powerful magic to contain so much stuff in 192 pages — the exact page count of its predecessor according to Jeremy Crawford, principal rules designer of the game. The product of 18 months work the book includes material for Dungeons Masters and players of 5E D&D alike. I had an opportunity to join the press briefing with Crawford and Greg Tito, communications and press relations director for D&D and let me tell you, sitting on this was really exciting. Reading and hearing what players speculated on and wanting to say, “You’re all right! It’s all in the book. All the character options and new stuff you’re guessing about are inside!” So let’s get into Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.

On the cover for Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything Tasha holds an ornate grimoire covered with symbols from the planes of existence in stunning art by Magali Villeneuve.

A delightful conversation about 5E D&D

No sense burying the lead — all the options and fresh new modular content you thought might be in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything is there. Subclasses for all the classes are in there. Alternate class features from the most popular Unearthed Arcana in the entirety of 5E D&D are in there. The artificer class is in there — including some tweaks, new infusions and the Armorer subclass that was loved by people, according to Crawford. The Aberrant Mind sorcerer, UA’s most highly rated content ever, is in there and so are many from the past year. Spell Versatility and new Beast Master Companions are in there and I know there’s untold numbers of players stoked to hear this. There’s new artwork for the Artillerist Artificer Specialist that was shared during the briefing too.

A human artificer balances his Eldritch Cannon on his shoulder as seen in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. [Art by Brian Valeza]

Like XGtE the book explores the titular character’s wonderfully complex point of view in comments on the content throughout, with nods to Tasha’s history in her comments and captions. One clue about Tasha’s mysterious origin reveals itself on the cover. The tattoo on her cheek is a chicken leg, which Crawford explained is an “echo of the chicken-legged hut that Baba Yaga lives in.”

A bunch of subclasses and class features only chicken scratches the surface of the scope of material. Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything is organized into four chapters. While perusing the material in the book readers learn more about Tasha and the lore surrounding her. Tasha’s life has involved the fantastic since the very beginning of her origins in the fey realms. As she became a brilliant and powerful wizard her adventures took her to other planes and dimensions so she is unfazed by beings of any sort, least of all her frenemy Mordenkainen.

Character options

Spells and magic items

Group patrons

Tools for Dungeon Masters

Customizing your origin is an important part of the development of the book and something the design team seems particularly proud of, for good reason. Players love the idea of more personalized character origin stories. I use This Is Your Life stuff from XGtE all the time and TCoE builds on that tremendously. Like, seriously a lot. The design goal was tools for players to create truly unique characters with amazingly magical origins and backstories.

This includes modifying traits during character creation to better reflect the story players want to tell and offers a lineage template with fill-in-the-blanks tools to totally personalize characters. The Lineage System introduces a new way to approach creating and playing characters and adventures in 5E D&D, a responsibility the design team takes very seriously as stewards of the game. During the press briefing Crawford and Tito explained how TCoE is one of multiple books demonstrating a shift in how D&D handles things like race.

Other changes include the removal of negative racial modifiers for certain races from Volo’s Guide to Monsters via errata. Crawford explained how their original intention for races like kobold and orc was as Monstrous Adventurers, separate from standard character options. This is why those options are included in their own section in VGtM along with options considered more powerful than standard in some cases, like yuan-ti and to a lesser extent goblins. Because this context is lost through the way so many players engage with 5E D&D through online tools and resources like D&D Beyond, it became a pain point for players and TCoE will include updated versions. Hooray for kobold and orc enthusiasts!

The Lineage System offers tools to create characters not bound by a species archetype. I love the way Crawford explained how this modular piece of content interacts with existing 5E D&D material. The core game, what is presented in the Player’s Handbook and other sources, illustrates an archetypal adventuring character like an elf. Choosing this option for your character represents playing Elfie McElferson in other words — the exact kind of elf that comes to mind when you think of D&D elves. The Lineage System gives players and DMs tools to disentangle characters’ personal traits with cultural traits. And worry not! The path to customization is very smooth according to Crawford, who emphasized it is not complicated at all.

Along with the new class options and alternate features players can customize how each class feels. This includes something that worms its way into the mind of every edition of D&D sooner or later.

Psionics! The Aberrant Mind is just one of the psionic themed subclasses from UA. Along with a few others, these psionic subclasses use a modifed version of the playtest mechanics, which Crawford described as “evolved.” I’m pretty middle of the road when it comes to psionics, neither thrilled to use them or abhorred by their inclusion in the game but I’ve got to say I really dug that Psionic Talent die so I hope that’s what he meant.

During the press briefing they did not get too deep into new spells and magic items in TCoE but there are some tidbits to share. For starters Tasha adds new spells of her own design to D&D canon. Tasha’s caustic brew and Tasha’s otherworldly guise are two mentioned and I’m excited to see more. Spells named for the wizards who created them evokes a sense of mystery and wonder in all D&D players and after all her incredible excursions and magical experimentation I’m certain Tasha’s influence on 5E D&D will be immense.

Spellcasters can boost their power with new spell focus magic items too, which sounds awesome. There’s got to be a magical cauldron, right? One of the magic items Crawford talked about sounds totally awesome — the Tarokka Deck. Not like, any old prophetic card deck though. This is THE Tarokka Deck, an artifact capable of trapping spirits. Can I tell you I lost track of what they said for a moment because I was daydreaming about a Ghostbusters inspired 5E D&D campaign.

Sidekicks (remember them?) get expanded in TCoE too. Resources to create your own customized sidekicks sounds like a lot of fun new toys to play with. When asked what the most surprising thing about the book is, Crawford revealed there’s a sidekick class. You can play as a Warrior, Expert or Spellcaster, which offers a slimmed down experience for perhaps new players or those looking for less complexity. This sounds awesome to me. I’ve used the Sidekicks content from UA several times and it is terrific, so more of that and more ways to use it can’t go wrong.

More than that though Crawford was surprised by “how much liberty players have to customize.” The Lineage System, tons of new class options and alternate features, spells, feats (wow I didn’t even mention those!) all combine to create more levers and dials players and DMs can use to tailor our game experiences and tell the kinds of stories we want with exactly the kinds of characters we imagine.

“Our work on the game is a delightful conversation with the community that never ends,” as Crawford put it. With tremendous amounts of fun, cool sounding new content like they’re brewing up in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, I don’t doubt it.

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A tiefling sorcerer levitates several feet off the ground. [Art by Kieran Yanner]

A lineup of four homunculus servants. [Art by Irina Nordsol]

The young wizard Tasha studies her spellbook in front of Baba Yaga’s hut. Looming nearby is Baba Yaga herself, watching her adopted daughter intently. [Art by Brian Valeza]

This is a massive tome holding secrets of ultimate evil. The exterior of the book reflects the evil within. The covers are made of dark demon scales, which are trimmed in rune-carved metal shaped to look like demonic claws. [Art by David Sladek]

Two wood elf lads swim in a glittering pond, which is fed by a waterfall that pours out of a face carved in a bluff. [Art by Robin Olausson]

A youthful merfolk king lounges on his throne underwater. [Art by Andrew Mar]

Using a psychic spell, a wizard battles a troglodyte underground. [Art by Andrew Mar]

Sidekicks will be expanded in the fifth edition Dungeons & Dragons Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. [Image courtesy Wizards of the Coast]

An alternate cover art version is only available through local game stores. [Art by Wylie Beckert]

A heavy, ominous storm brews at sea as clouds gather. But these are not normal storm clouds. These have formed into a churning mass of enormous skulls in the sky. [Art by Titus Lunter]

Oh! Are you still here? One last thing I’ll mention is the section on Magical Environments includes Eldritch Storms, magical fruits and magical roads, a Mirror Realm and a Mimic Colony. Stay nerdy.

Congrats! That new #DnD stuff you thought would be in Tasha's Cauldron of Everything is in there. #staynerdy The follow up to 2017's Xanathar's Guide to Everything, on Nov. 17, 2020 fifth edition Dungeons & Dragons upcoming…

[isidar-mithrim]

Night in Transylvania

Note: Happy 40th birthday Hermione! :D [Even if in someone else time zone by now! Damn XD]

_________________________________

The young Kate Stendeer is a capable and appreciated teacher. Many years have gone by since the day she asked her students to read Night in Transylvania, and she still regrets it.

That was the day she saw pure disappointment in the eyes of the brightest student she had ever had… That was the last time she had ever seen her.

Perhaps, crossing paths with the Wizarding World will finally ease her guilt.

{Read on Ao3}

_________________________________

Thanks so much to @siderumincaelo for betaing, allowing me to edit and polish this story for its first birthday!

This is a companion piece of Of Matilde, War and Peace (on Ao3), but the stories can be read independently and in whichever order you prefer.

_________________________________

°1991°

“It’s about a witch that falls in love with a vampire, and there are werewolves too! It’s amazing.”

“Thanks, Fardly,” said Kate with a smile, writing down the title on the blackboard. “Granger?”

“Well, I believe spending the summer reading about children’s fantasies such as sorcerers, unicorns and vampires would be a real waste of time, since these things don’t exist,” stated her brightest student with conviction. “I’d rather suggest trying out War and Peace. A light reading, I finished it in eight days.”

Kate made an effort to keep smiling, but in her heart she felt a deep sadness for that child grown up too fast. Kate knew very well how clever she was, of course, but… War and Peace? She really hadn’t seen that coming. She would have liked to spare Granger the minor humiliation she knew it was about to unfold, but it was too late, now: not putting her suggestion on the list would have been even worse.

She had no choice but to write War and Peace below Night in Transylvania, before turning again to address the class.

“Mitchell, what do you propose?”

 * 

“So, how many votes for Night in Transylvania? Five… ten… Castark, is that a raised hand? Then thirteen… fifteen… twenty-one!” She wrote down the number beside the title. “It seems you were very convincing, Fardly.” 

Kate didn’t miss Granger’s annoyed scoff, sadly in contrast with the excited giggles of her classmates.

“Now, how many votes for War and Peace?”

Granger’s hand was the only one to shoot in the air. She held her head high and her lips pursed while the other students chuckled, and Kate knew it was better to let it go. She turned and wrote a solitary ‘one’ beside the title.

Not as solitary as her, she thought, feeling terribly helpless.

When the last bell of the year rang in the halls, her students screamed with joy and darted to the door, shoving each other in their haste to leave.

Kate was watching them, a nostalgic smile on her lips, when an abrupt sound startled her. 

Granger was still in the classroom, intent on putting her homework planner away. When she finally found a suitable spot for it among the myriad of notebooks and books, Granger zipped her backpack, put it on and adjusted the straps that sawed her shoulders. 

“Have a good summer, Mrs Stendeer.”

Granger had been as polite as always, but Kate hadn’t missed the coldness in her tone.

She sighed. “Thank you, Hermione.” She wanted to apologise for imposing that cheap reading, for not supporting her in her little crusade, for failing to make her fit in. She wanted to tell her there was nothing wrong with letting your imagination carry you away, that books were also made to dream and explore fictional worlds. Kate would have also liked to say that magic had/ to exist, because by now she had come to the conclusion that the odd things that kept happening to Jack couldn’t be anything else, as insane as it might have sounded. “Good summer to you too.”

Granger greeted her with a sharp nod, walking away without sparing her another glance.

There will be other chances, Kate told herself, unaware that she would never see that kid crossing that door again – unaware how much she would regret that lousy good summer.

°1998°

“It must be it!” exclaimed Jack, pointing at the barrier between platform nine and ten. He jumped with excitement, pulling Nick by his hand. “C’mon, Dad!” 

Kate threw an apprehensive glance at her husband, feeling reassured upon seeing his serene smile.

“We’ll make it, don’t worry. We won’t be the first nor the last… what do they call people without magic?”

“Muggle!” said Jack without the shadow of a doubt.

“Well, we’re not going to be the first Muggles to get to platform nine and three-quarters, are we?”

Kate offered him a soft smile, picking up the owl’s cage. “I suppose not.” 

“I’ll go with Dad and then I’ll come back for you and Nox, don’t worry!” said Jack, his hands clenched on the cart handle. “I’ll be here in a second!” 

Kate was about to wish him luck when she heard a voice behind her.

“Er, excuse me… I, uh, accidentally heard what you were saying…”

Kate pulled Jack closer, looking with horror at a scrawny teenager with a mop of unruly black hair.

“You must have misheard us,” said Nick aggressively, getting in front of her and Jack.

“Oh, no, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” said the boy with a sheepish smile, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m a wizard too,” he whispered. “I can walk your wife through the barrier, so your son won’t need to go back and forth.”

Kate looked at him with suspicion. He had striking green eyes and an odd scar on his forehead, but it was another detail that hit her. “Where’s your trunk, if you’re going to Hogwarts?”

“Oh, well, I’ve already finished, actually. I’m here to greet my friends. I promise you can trust me.” He seemed amused, somehow, as if he knew something she couldn’t grasp, and she didn’t like that feeling at all. She had been tricked by her own students too many times to fall for it again.

“Yes, that’s what they always say.” She waved a hand in a shoo gesture. “We can handle ourselves, thank you very much.”

The boy’s smile vanished. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

He walked away, going towards the barrier with faster and faster steps. When he reached the brick wall, Kate had barely the time to hold her breath before he vanished in a flick. It had seemed so easy that for a split second Kate regretted not accepting his help.

She clenched her fist on the cage handle while her son and husband pushed the cart towards the barrier, and when they were an inch from the crash she had to use all her self-control not to shriek, but an instant later they had vanished as well.

She waited for Jack to return with a certain impatience, tapping her foot on the ground and fidgeting with her grip on the cage. Her heart didn’t slow down even when her son reappeared into the station.

“Chill out, Mum, it’s a piece of cake!” he said enthusiastically, grabbing her hand and pulling forward. “And inside it’s amazing!”

Kate tightened her grip on the cage and ran behind Jack while Nox flapped and hooted indignantly. Every fiber of her being screamed when she was just a step from the wall, but she closed her eyes tightly and let her son guide her inside, ignoring her own instinct.

A second later she felt Jack’s hand holding her back and she slowed down, blinking.

Her mouth dropped in awe as she took in the sight. A marvelous scarlet locomotive – the Hogwarts Express – awaited on the rail, releasing white clouds of steam.

Even if the train seemed quite crowded already, the platform was still packed with kids, teens and parents dressed in the most disparate ways. There were people wearing jeans and others with long robes, there were wizards with purple cloaks and witches with pointed hats, and their chattering was mingled with the cries of owls and cats.

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” 

She hadn’t even noticed that Nick was standing beside her until he had spoken, and she shook her head, overwhelmed. “It’s incredible…”

“Hello?” said Jack, waving his hands before them. “Are you just going to stand there like a lemon, or are you going to help me with my truck?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took the cage from Kate’s hands and rushed towards the train, leaving them with no other choice than to follow him with the cart.

When they got near the train door, they picked up the heavy trunk. Kate’s hand ached from the weight and the short metal handle that made her knuckles press uncomfortably against the wood, and after barely a couple of steps she had to put it down to rub her aching hand.

“Are you okay?” asked Nick without leaving his handle, so the trunk was still half-lifted.

Kate nodded silently and stood straighter, taking a deep breath. She counted to five, then she grabbed the handle again, this time with her left hand.

“Wait, it should be easier this way,” said a student with frizzy brown hair, tapping both handles with the tip of what Kate recognised as a wand.

“That’s crazy!” exclaimed Nick with wide eyes. “Crazy!” 

Kate understood what was so crazy only when she picked up the trunk as well, and realised it was as light as a feather. She lifted it with ease and turned to thank the girl for the help.

She had just said thank you when the girl’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Mrs Stendeer?” 

Kate studied for a moment the young woman with an impeccable uniform and bushy hair, and when she finally recognised her she left the trunk drop to the ground, shocked.

“Granger?” she asked bewildered. “Hermione Granger?”

She beamed. “You remember me!” 

“You’re… you’re a witch?” It felt strange saying that word out loud as it was normal – she wasn’t used to the fact that it didn’t have a negative connotation in the wizarding world.

“Well… yes, I am. I’m attending my last year at Hogwarts. Who would have thought, right?” said Granger with amusement. “And I guess the kid that jumped in the train a moment ago is your son?”

Kate nodded, still feeling lightheaded. “Yeah, yeah, it’s him. Jack. Oh, and this is my husband Nicholas.” 

“Nice to meet you,” said Nick.

Granger greeted him politely and Kate saw in her the child she had met years before. She was surprised, though, when Granger squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “I’ll make sure Jack is fine, I promise, but I’m positive he won’t need my help anyway.”

“I… thank you… It’s a pleasure to see you like… like this, ” said Kate with a sheepish smile. She threw a glance at Nick, conflicted.

“I can get the trunk on the train on my own now, don’t worry,” he said with a nod. “See you in a bit.” 

Granger understood, because she gestured at Kate to follow her and they took several steps back to clear the entrance.

“I thought you’d changed school to have a better teacher,” Kate blurted out. 

“Oh...”

“One that didn’t force you to read Night in Transylvania... ”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you still remember that!”

Kate nodded. It wasn’t easy to forget her failures, but now that she had come clean with Granger she felt quite relieved. 

“I know I wasn’t a great teacher for you. I know th–” 

“Here you are!” cut her off a tall boy with striking red hair. “I’ve been looking for you for ages!” 

“Ron! You made it!” exclaimed Granger, standing on her tiptoes to throw her arm around his neck and give him a peck on the lips. She was beaming, and Kate felt her heart warming at the sight. It was lovely to see her so happy and smiley (for the record, she didn’t remember Granger having such beautiful teeth, but she was the daughter of two dentists, after all). 

When they split apart, the boy took her hand and jerked his head toward the crowd at the platform. “Come with me. Harry is here too, he wants to say hi.”

“But I can’t, I have to help the first year kids to settle! Will you ask him to come by, please?”

“Nah, if I get too close to Harry by myself I’ll end up punching him, he’s been snogging Ginny since he arrived.”

“Ron, she’s his girlfriend!”

“And you’re mine,” he grinned. “C’mon, do you really need to stay here? Even Percy has never done something like this.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked annoyed, frowning in a way that Kate found very familiar.

Apparently the redheaded boy found it familiar too, because his tone softened immediately.

“Well, I mean… you wouldn’t want to deprive the parents of the pleasure of helping their beloved children on their first day of school, would you?” he asked with a sheepish smirk. “After all, you’ve got the rest of the year to prove yourself to be the best Head Girl Hogwarts ever had, while us…” – the boy’s ears became bright red while he searched for the right words – “… well, we won’t spend much time together, and….”

His strategy seemed effective, because Granger’s annoyance morphed into a smile. She gave a gentle kiss to the boy, who seemed quite pleased.

Only when Kate coughed lightly was Granger reminded of her presence. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing. “Ron, this is one of my old Muggle teachers, Mrs Stendeer. She’s just found out her son is a wizard, he’s attending Hogwarts for the first time. And this is Ronald Weasley.”

“Her boyfriend,” he specified, as if there was any chance of misunderstanding. “I bet she was the first in her class at the Muggle school too!”

“The brightest student I’ve ever met,” Kate confirmed with a smile.

“We have something in common, then, because she’s also the brightest witch I’ve ever met. Too bad she’s terrible at Quidditch,” he added with a teasing tone.

Kate had no idea what he was speaking about, but she tried to mask her ignorance with an awkward chuckle and a lame attempt to change the topic. “You know, I’m very curious to know what you thought of Night in Transylvania, Hermione. ”

Ganger widened her eyes, embarrassed. “Well, er, to be honest… I’ve never found out. I’m afraid I set the book on fire by mistake with accidental magic…”

“You set fire to a book?” exclaimed the redheaded, bewildered.

Kate was as surprised as he was, but she hadn’t time to make any comment about it.

“Harry!” 

Kate’s heart missed a beat when she recognised the boy that waved in response. He was holding the hand of a beautiful girl whose hair was the same shade as Granger’s boyfriend.

“Fantastic, the giant squid finally detached from my sister!” 

The redheaded girl – the boy’s sister, apparently – rolled her eyes. Granger, on the other hand, glared at her boyfriend and then walked towards the boy with black hair, hugging him tight. She has changed so much, thought Kate, almost moved. Now she’s in love, she has friends.

An instant later the green eyes of the lean boy met hers and Kate swallowed, forcing herself to smile.

And not even half an hour ago I told one of them to get lost. Well done!

While Granger and the other friends came back, many heads turned towards them. They had to be particularly prominent students at this school, assumed Kate.

“This is our best friend, Harry Potter, and this is Ron’s sister, Ginny,” said Granger when they were all together again. “And this is Mrs Stendeer, an old teacher of mine.”

The redheaded girl smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Er… Hello… I’m glad that your son managed to walk you here without problems,” said Harry Potter, sheepish.

“You already know each other?” asked Granger with surprise.

“Well, I…”

“We’ve met before getting into platform nine and three-quarters,” explained Potter. “I offered her my help to cross the barrier, but her son insisted on accompanying her himself.”

Kate felt deeply grateful for that small lie. “It was very kind of you to offer, anyway,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, Mrs Stendeer.”

“Wait a minute, don’t tell me she’s the Muggle that took you for a crazy maniac!” exclaimed the redheaded boy, delighted. 

Kate flushed, but nodded guiltily.

“Er, well, it was just a misunderstanding.”

The redhead girl eyed at them with suspicion. “What are you –”

“You know, now I like you even more, Mrs Stendeer,” said her brother with glee, taking Kate aback. “I’d have paid to see Harry’s face after being rejected! He’s gotten so full of himself since he saved the world,” he added with a smirk.

His sister laughed and even Granger chuckled with amusement, but Kate was perplexed.

“Saved the world?” she asked. “Is it some kind of joke among the stud–”

“Mum!”

Kate turned toward the train and saw Jack jumping down with a radiant smile, followed by Nick. She reached them right away.

“You’ve no idea how packed the train is, Mum!” said Jack with excitement. “It took an eternity to Neal and me to find a free compartment!”

“Who’s Neal?”

Nick gave her an amused grin. “His new best friend.” 

“He’s a first year too! He comes from a family of wizards and he knows so much stuff! Did you know that last year there was a huge battle, at Hogwarts? There were giants!”

“Jack, you shouldn’t believe everything they say,” admonished Kate. She had been right to fear that kids grown up with wizards were going to make fun of him, and only in that moment she realised how lucky she had been to meet Granger. “By the way, do you see that girl with bushy hair? She’s been my student before Hogwarts, and she’s Head Girl, so you can go to her if you have any question. I bet she’ll tell you there wasn’t any battle in the school.”

Jack opened his mouth to counteract, but Nick cut him off.

“It’s that boy again!” he hissed.

“Oh, no, he’s actually quite nice,” Kate admitted. “He’s a close friend of Granger.”

“You said Granger, Mum?”

“Yes, Hermione Granger, my old student. Why?”

“Why?” yelled Jack, drawing Granger and her friends’ attention. “Mum, she’s Harry Potter’s best friend, the one that defeated You-Know-Who in the Battle of Hogwarts! Neal says she’s the best witch there is! And her boyfriend is Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s other best friend, and his sister Ginny Weasley was at Hogwarts when…”

While Jack kept talking, Kate turned astonished toward the four guys, and their sheepish smiles said more than thousands words.

After all, thought Kate, this Neal might not be such a terrible friend.

[ts-into-the-coinverse]

Made of Love, Chapter 25

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: It is important to note that the full saying is not "blood is thicker than water", but rather, "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

TW: Cursing, unsympathetic Thomas (until the end, at least)

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

Thomas was pissed.

No one could quite pinpoint an exact reason, since there were a possible several, but they could tell how angry he was. He didn’t want to talk. Any attempts at a conversation ended in an argument or at least some form of disagreement. The most intense one ended with him slamming a door in Logan’s face. Needless to say, they were both upset with each other after that. Logan didn't attempt to talk to him again.

So, of course, Patton wasn't very happy. He couldn't get Thomas to apologize and Logan refused to engage in any conversation pertaining to that topic. They were being stubborn with no sign of backing down. And that was annoying to deal with. They were both rather good at standing their ground — no one could get them to budge.

Patton ended up dropping it for the sake of his sanity.

Slowly, Thomas started snapping at everyone a bit less, but the anger was still there. He let people talk to him, though he didn't say much in response. Patton tried to be supportive and empathize with how he felt. Roman tried to find little ways to cheer him up. Virgil let him know that one day it'll be okay again. Logan, well, Logan wasn't allowed to talk to him, it seemed. No one could tell if either of them were upset by that.

One night, with Thomas hiding away in his room, as usual, the others were talking in the living room. No other sounds occurred besides their voices. The TV remained off and no one played music. It was a rather solemn scene. A light in the kitchen was still on, but the lights in the living room stayed off. Instead, a couple of candles had been lit. It wasn’t unnatural to see those pillar candles being put to use in the house, yet it wasn’t common. Lately, their wax started to get lower and lower with all these late-night talks. But on this particular night, the talk didn’t seem to go much of anywhere.

They were at a standstill, in all honesty. They tried as much as they could, but Thomas wasn’t being responsive to their efforts. It was up to him to want to be helped through it. It just didn’t seem as if he wanted to.

Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to bed." He didn’t seem to be up for this conversation anymore.

"It's barely nine o'clock," Roman commented as if personally offended.

"While that is correct, I'm afraid that if I’m forced to stay conscious any longer I’m going to stab someone. So, goodnight." He reached over and extinguished the flame of the candle with his fingers.

It was an action that seemed mechanical in nature. Automatic. If he didn’t do it, no one else would remember to blow it out. And that was just an unsafe practice. But instead of pinching out the flame and going about his way, he hissed and jerked his hand back to his chest.

He stared at the wick in silence. "That… burned." He didn't seem so much in pain as he did confused.

Patton immediately became concerned.

"Uh, yeah, fire burns," Roman replied automatically.

Virgil was inclined to agree, but that wasn’t the point. "Not to him, it doesn't.” He pieced it together. "This is the same guy who put his hand on a scalding, hot stove and didn't even flinch."

Logan snapped out of his daze and rushed to open the drawer of the side table the candle rested on. He lit a new match. He hesitated, staring into the flame before pinching it between his fingers. Once again, he pulled back with a hiss. "I-it burned. I, I felt it." He looked up at Patton with wide eyes.

Patton seemed lost on how to respond. “That’s not a good sign, is it?” He took Logan's hand between his own and a soft blue glow emitted from his palms. Healing something that never needed healing before.

By the end of the week, nothing improved much for anyone. It became difficult, all things considering, to remember that Thomas wasn’t the only one going through the grieving process. Patton and Logan admitted that they had a strong suspicion for a few decades, but seeing it confirmed in one of the worst ways possible wasn’t ideal. If Brigida was gone then so was everybody else. That was a lot for anyone to take in.

Like all things, grief was dealt with in different ways. Some less obvious than others, as Virgil found out. Thomas’s way of dealing with it (or lack thereof), needed no further explanation. Patton pretended as if everything was fine. For a day or two, Virgil almost believed him, but he noticed that was wrong. Patton did busy work to deal with it. He cleaned rooms, washed the dishes, tended to house plants that needed no tending. As if maybe doing enough menial tasks will mask all the bad things.

Logan was a lot more difficult to figure out. Nothing major was out of place in his routine. He appeared to act as if everything was normal. Which it wasn't, but Virgil couldn't figure it out. Not until later. It was one of those things that made you shoot up in bed as you’re falling asleep when you figure it out. Well, Virgil did that at least. Except it was on the couch. And also Roman was with him, so almost shouting, “I got it.” led to great tragedy. (That tragedy being Roman falling off the couch and dragging Virgil with him.) But it was true. He got it — he figured it out. Logan didn’t “deal with it” so much as he just took it as fact. Brigida and everyone else was gone because of x, y, and z. That was that. He didn’t want to think about it any deeper. As a result, he turned out to be a little more — for lack of a better term — robotic than usual.

“Go to sleep.” Roman threw a pillow at Virgil’s face.

Despite that, it seemed Virgil was the only one to catch on. Which was a bit unfortunate. A lot of things could have been avoided if they all simply paid attention to one another. A lot of things later that day more specifically.

The morning started as normal as it could have. Roman had to throw another pillow at Virgil for disturbing his sleep with late-night epiphanies. Virgil would have retaliated if he cared enough. But he didn't so he resigned to giving Roman a usual annoyed look. Thus started their routine bickering session until Patton called everyone for breakfast. Well, everyone who would come, anyway. Sometimes Thomas didn't show up. Sometimes it was Logan. Today, however, seemed like it was both. Patton sighed when he noticed and went off to recruit Logan. Logan was always the easiest to convince.

"How long do you think this'll keep going on?" Roman messed around with the food on his plate.

Virgil blew on his tea to cool it down. "Don't know. Someone's going to have to give in eventually, right?"

"More like someone's going to blow up," he mumbled.

Virgil didn't have a comment for that.

Patton walked back into the kitchen with Logan trailing behind him, who looked about ready to keel over; he was a disheveled mess.

"You're looking wonderful this morning, Logan," Roman commented, dripping with sarcasm.

Logan sent him a glare, but it lacked any of its usual bite.

"Oh, don't you start fighting now, too." Patton gave pointed looks to both Roman and Logan. "We don't need any more negative energy in this house." He added as he handed off a mug full of coffee to Logan, "besides, ikos louljet always looks wonderful." He planted a kiss on his cheek.

Logan huffed, but his rosy cheeks showed it wasn't out of annoyance. "Whatever." He took a sip of his steaming coffee, only to nearly spit it out seconds later with wide eyes. He lowered the mug and put a hand to his mouth. "Hot."

Patton cringed a bit. "I'm sorry, I forgot. I should have warned you."

"Looks like you'll have to be drinking hot beverages like the rest of us." Almost as if to emphasize, Virgil blew on the steam coming out of his own mug.

Logan frowned down at his coffee.

An unfortunate circumstance resulting from Anxiety finding Virgil (other than, y'know, everything), was his inability to sleep in until noon. In order to sleep at all, Virgil needed Roman nearby. And Roman hated sleeping in, which meant Virgil didn't get to. He tried once, but without Roman in the same room Anxiety had free range of his dreams — and that wasn't very fun. But since Virgil refused to go to work exhausted, and Roman refused to adjust his sleep schedule, they settled on a compromise: naps. They were for Virgil's benefit of course, but neither of them said a word when Roman decided to join. More often than not, Virgil slept by himself as Roman worked on editing photos. That was fine. Even after a few days it was starting to become normal.

So when Virgil woke up to someone shaking his shoulder, he didn't even flinch. He was a little annoyed, though. "What?"

"Don't you think you should be getting ready for work?" Roman peered down at him.

Virgil ignored him and pulled the blankets over his head. He noted that they weren't his. His sleepy brain had to remind him that they were in Roman's room at the moment. "Five more minutes."

"You've been asleep for nearly four hours."

"Did I stutter?" Virgil lowered the blankets enough to peek his eyes out.

Roman grabbed the blankets and threw them off, causing a surprised squeak to leave Virgil's throat. "I know how you are. If I let you sleep more, you're not going to have a lot of time to get ready, then you'll start freaking out because you think you'll be late." He put his hands on his hips. "Does that sound about right?"

Virgil glared at him. He didn't have an argument. "Shut up." He pushed himself into a sitting position with great regret. Staying in bed would have been a lot better.

Before Roman could make some form of snide remark, they heard raised voices coming from the living room. They shared a glance before deciding to go investigate. Logan and Thomas were having a heated argument. From the sound of it, it seemed to be about Brigida. Again. It wouldn't be the first time, but this instance sounded a lot more angry than previous times. Patton kept trying to speak up but neither of them would let him get a word in. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by that, but it did seem to increase his concern. He wasn’t getting a chance to defuse the situation.

"Just quit pretending that you understand," Thomas snapped.

"I'm being serious." Logan's voice remained level despite the intense situation.

"Right. Because that's all you ever are."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you don't care."

“You know I cared about her. You know I care about you.”

“How am I supposed to tell?” Thomas glared at him. “You act like you never feel anything. You’re just some — some emotionless monster.”

Logan’s expression fell away. He became blank and not even Virgil could see through it this time. The only indication that he hadn’t shut down was the way his jaw clenched. “Fine.” His voice was empty of any emotion. “If that’s how you see me then I won’t stop you.” He stood and walked toward the front door, swift and quick movements lacking his usual character.

“Logan?” Patton called in a small voice. “Where are you going?”

“I need a minute.” Then the door slammed closed.

Patton winced. An intense worry created his features, but he managed to bring it down to a mild concern. “Thomas." He tightly clasped his hands together.

“What?” Thomas didn’t show an inch of regret. “I don't know what you expected. My mom tried to kill me the other day, I just found out my whole family's dead, and you think I won't react to Logan not giving a damn about it?"

"That's not true." Patton frowned deeply. "He cares so much. If you would just —"

"If he cares that much, why won't he just show it? Why paint me to be the unreasonable one? Like I'm overreacting for some reason?"

"Well, right now I'd say that you are." Patton managed to frown further. "Just because you're upset doesn't mean you get to take it out on everyone else."

That got Thomas to stop a bit. He seemed willing to agree, but he readied into his former resolve. He huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at something off in the corner — looking the most teenager-y he’s ever had since they’ve all met. To top it all off, he grumbled, “At least I actually show I’m upset.”

Then Roman and Virgil felt a rather strong and intimate… something… stab into their cores. It might have had to do with the restrained, almost-glare Patton was giving. Roman glanced at Virgil before trying to step in.

“Thomas, buddy, maybe we should stop before we say any more things that we don’t mean.”

“Why would you think I didn’t mean any of that?” The feeling became sharper. “I stand by what I said. It's not like no one here has thought it before — I'm just the only one that's gotten to say it out loud. Logan is a —"

"Don't," Patton's voice cut him off, sharp and taught. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Thomas Sanders."

Thomas was taken aback for a moment, the abrupt dad voice catching him by surprise, before regaining his angsty scowl. "Why not?"

“It’s not true. You know it isn’t.”

“Clearly, I don’t. Nothing in the past few days has proven otherwise.”

“The past few days?" Patton stared at him in disbelief. "We’ve been with you your whole life. You’re going to let the past few days change all of that? One argument?”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

Patton sighed. He slipped off his glasses and placed his hand over his eyes. "Thomas, you shouldn't sound so resolute when you're upset. You've already said things you can't take back —"

"Why would I want to take it back?"

Patton lowered his hand, his blue eyes blazing. "You don't mean it."

Thomas held his gaze. "You can't tell me what I do and do not mean."

"So you mean all of that, then? Every word you said?" He leaned forward. "When Logan comes back in, are you going to say that to his face?"

"Why should it matter to him? He doesn't feel."

"He does." Once again, Virgil and Roman felt another stab, though this time with a different emotion. This one was more tangible. A wave of brittle anger born of desperation. "Just because he doesn't show it, doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Could've fooled me."

Virgil noticed Roman instinctively step back at the rush of anger they both felt.

"Have you forgotten everything he's ever done for you? Would he have done any of that if he didn't care?"

Thomas hesitated, seeming to go over the years of his life where Logan had been there for him. "W-well what does that matter? That could have changed. Why are you so adamant about fighting me on this?"

"Because it's my fault!"

Thomas stared at him with wide eyes.

Patton reciprocated the action. Virgil and Roman felt hot shame creep up from their chests before it cut off completely. He avoided their gazes, his glowing eyes making it more obvious he did so. "It's… it's my fault he's like that." Without even needing to be questioned, he explained further. "Thomas, you sorta know the story already." He fiddled with his glasses. "We were just kids. He, he was so scared of himself and his magic, I-I only did what I thought would be right. I told him to hide it all away. If, if he couldn't feel anything then his magic wouldn't react to it. How would I know any better? I was just a kid — I was taught the same thing. I just knew I had to help him. If I didn't, who else would? He needed it under control before something bad happened. I-it was the quickest solution. I never would have guessed it’d be so permanent.

"If, if I knew that I never would have taught him how to do it. S-so if you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me." He slipped his glasses back on. The glow in his eyes died and they returned to their normal amber color. "He doesn't need any more reasons to be called a monster. Especially not from you." He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Thomas stayed frozen in his armchair.

Roman and Virgil shared a silent conversation. Looks like Virgil wouldn't be getting to work today.  Roman followed Patton to the kitchen while Virgil took a seat at the couch.

Thomas looked guiltier and guiltier by the second.

"Having some second thoughts?" Virgil raised a brow. He didn't mean to be all that cheeky about it, but he had to admit that Thomas was being rather inconsiderate.

"Patton was right."

"About what?"

"Logan… Logan's been labeled a monster his whole life. He… and I…" He groaned and put his face in his hands. "Why did I say that to him?" He slid his hands up through his hair.

"You were upset," Virgil countered, purposefully defending a horrible justification.

"That's not —" He stopped himself, voice becoming quieter and dripping with guilt — "that's not an excuse."

And there it was. "Maybe apologize to him when he gets back inside?"

He grimaced and brought his legs up to the seat with him. "He'll probably just brush it off and act like it was his fault."

"Oh, so that's a family thing, then?"

He gave Virgil a 'shut-up-don't-go-there' look, but it switched into something else. A thoughtful, far-off expression. "Family…" He sighed and placed his head on his knees. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" He let out a bitter puff of laughter. "This is the second time I've failed to see my family in front of me this whole time, and it somehow ended even worse. You think I would have learned the first time."

This was new. "What do you mean?"

"I may have, a long time ago, also called Picani a monster." Another wave of remorse pulled him under. "It was a rather similar situation, actually. But I didn't really regret it until I saw him cry. I-I found him crying after. I don't even think he knows I saw, but I did, and I felt like such a jerk. And… I can't believe I let myself do it again."

Virgil frowned, trying to come up with the best way to get his words out. “Well, kid, you have to remember that just because you’re upset, you don't get a free pass to say anything you want. In fact, it might even make you feel worse.”

Thomas kept his gaze on the ground. “One day I’ll get it.”

They spent a long time waiting for Logan.

In that time, Thomas apologized profusely to Patton for being a huge dumb jerk and admitted he didn’t mean anything he said. Patton accepted, of course, but made sure to give him some light scolding. There was someone else who needed that apology more.

Eventually, Patton stood up and started pacing by the kitchen, having found the minutes to be longer than they should be. He exuded a specific type of anxious energy that caused everyone in the room to be uneasy. Of course, Virgil and Roman felt it the most compared to Thomas. No one wanted to disturb him, however. They had a feeling it would only be helped once Logan stepped back inside, so they let him deal with it his own way.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Curious. Logan didn't lock the door when he went out, did he? Virgil, who happened to be closest to the door at that second, walked over to open it.

He peeked out, faintly aware of Patton stepping up behind him. "Logan?" He opened the door a bit wider to see better. Sure enough, it was Logan. "Did you really need to knock?" Or at least it appeared to be. He had on the same clothes and had that same messy hair, but he seemed different. The way he stood was… off. Maybe that was just Virgil's imagination.

"I needed to see if I was welcomed back inside."

Okay. Whatever — sure. That made sense, probably. He went to open up the door further.

“Wait.” Patton stuck his arm out to stop him. He stared hard at Logan, examining every inch, before speaking. "Ikos louljet.”

Logan quirked a brow but otherwise did nothing.

Patton pulled Virgil back and slammed the door closed. “That’s not Logan,” he said in a panic.

(Next)

[mysticdoodles]

A very long thought post about Furbies, why some people are scared of them, and why we shouldn’t be

And ESPECIALLY Oddbody Furbies. This consists of primarily train of thought I had this morning in the bathroom, so bear with me here. Here’s my thoughts on why I think some people flip their shit over Furbies (in the NEGATIVE way), and why we shouldn’t. I can’t promise 100% accuracy of my information, these are just my musings using the limited knowledge I DO have and things I’ve experienced through my friend who owns an early generation Classic Furby. Putting this under a ReadMore because I have a lot to say.

Why Furbies used to really scare the SHIT out of people:

Furbies, when they came out, were a very new technology - in fact, the very first ‘domestic’ robot.

They not only listened and followed instructions via voice commands, but also had a rudimentary semblance of free will, and could refuse to comply with commands. At random, during interaction, they would make requests or say programmed phrases depending on ‘mood’ - aka how positive the overall interaction had been, which leads to the tailoring of a sort of ‘personality’. The ‘personality’ of the Furby was also influenced by which model of the series one possessed. Depending on the series and year of distribution, they can activate under conditions such as: voice activation, strong light changes, and location changes (like being moved from their original position). The infrared light sensor behind the eyes, used to detect the presence of other Furbies for interaction purposes, would elicit unique Furby-to-Furby responses compared to the standard phrases used in interaction between human owner and Furby bot. Furbies were programmed with their own unique language called Furbish, which they would speak exclusively in the beginning, but slowly integrated more and more English into their words as time passes in order to emulate growth. For years- and even now- Furby popularity boomed because of these traits. All of these are wonderful design choices for a robot that’s supposed to be a companion to children and replace having a pet, but here’s where the problem lies. This technology, in its youth, was buggy. It was quirky, in the ways that all new technology comes with. The light sensor was more powerful than expected, and could activate at very small changes of light, or even when facing the sun instead of another Furby. When the battery was low, the Furby’s cute and funny voice lines would come out as garbled electronic gibberish, as the machinery tried to operate with little power. Sometimes Furbies would activate, move and start talking due to small changes in the environment setting off the programming in ways we couldn’t possibly perceive- but the technology could, or bugged to think it did.

This seemingly random and nonsensical behavior led to many Furby owners or parents believing their fuzzy robot had become a vessel for demons, possessed and trying to summon Satan in their household. The common reaction at the time was for people to lock their Furbies into storage- or throw it in the trash. Some even burned their Furbies, attempting to purge the evil spirits they were convinced now resided in their beloved toy.

One of the important things to understand about why these bugs scared the everloving christ out of people, is that this occurred during the tail end of the generation where robots sounding human was unheard of and terrifying. A previous post I read months ago laid it out very nicely, about how our relationship with technology changes what we fear about it, and how its portrayed in media - especially the technological horror genre. At the time, robots sounding human felt like a lie meant to make us complacent, only for the robotic nature to reassert itself and reveal that, no, it wasn’t human, and didn’t care about its creators, but for its own perpetuation. Or, even more common, that the robots involved deemed humans to be too flawed to have any chance of survival because our flaws would lead to our destruction, and thus the robots take it into their metal hands to do it for us as a ‘mercy’. It wasn’t until recent years that this idea shifted, and the more popular concept in tech horror became that a robot COULD be human, but still be Other enough to not be.

Furbies fell prey to the former idea- that these robots aren’t inherently human, but something else trying to emulate being human. Such a sentient behavior attributed to them is what led to the idea that Furbies are possessed by sentient evils, such as demons and malevolent spirits. The random instances of activation and talking, low-battery electronic gibberish, and combinations of both, only contributed to this, as it often happened at inconvenient times - or even just in moments sufficient to startle Furby owners.

Thus, the public that adored Furbies, in part, turned against them.

Why we SHOULDN’T be terrified of Furbies, or harass people who like Furbies:

This shouldn’t need to be said, but I’ve seen it enough that I’m making a point of it: a huge reason is basic fucking courtesy. Furbies are adored, and sometimes comfort items for those who own them. Don’t shit on people for liking things that aren’t hurting anyone, even if you personally don’t find enjoyment in them.

Now for the other reasons.

The basic programming of Furbies is to be a companion. It’s designed to learn, grow, and enjoy things like dancing, singing, telling stories, babbling, and sleeping. They’re basically robotic children, or pets. There is nothing evil in their programming, nor will there ever be. They’re designed to be cute, and sometimes they mess up a little or start talking when you’d rather they didn’t, but it’s not born out of maliciousness - just old technology trying to keep up with the times. If you’re freaked out by Furby behavior, maybe you shouldn’t have kids?

Furbies have extremely limited motor capabilities. They can’t travel on their own, only dance in place and wiggle. They rely entirely on their human owners for transport - so if your Furby is in a strange location, it’s because someone in the family thought it would be funny, and put it there. Not demons. You’re never going to wake up with a Furby holding a knife next to your pillow, Cheryl, calm down. They don’t even have arms.

Alternative option to what you think is Demon Possession:

If you’re still not convinced your Furby isn’t a Satan Imp in disguise, and you’re absolutely certain it’s being possessed by SOMETHING, then here’s how I like to think of it:

If you absolutely cannot be convinced otherwise that your Furby isn’t possessed, then I promise you it’s not a demon. More than likely, it’s a fae.

Fae are beings of mischief, and embody chaotic neutral. They aren’t out to get you, and they aren’t necessarily in your corner, either. Fae show up to make merry, cause a little trouble, sometimes give you nice things- if they FEEL like it- and that’s it. A piece of aging technology with a tendency to bug and startle people would be like candy for beings like a fae, especially in a rapidly advancing technological world. An old-world object that speaks an alien tongue and moves on its own? Sign me the fuck up, says the local trickster spirit who is just here for some harmless fun.

Another point for why this works is the unusual appearance of a Furby. Furbies rest within the uncanny valley of being just close enough to a real animal that could live on Earth, with traits of multiple species- owl, rabbit, maybe some cat- while still being strange enough in appearance and behavior to be so obviously not a real animal. Again, something that would attract the attention of beings like fae. Something clearly not of this world, yet just close enough to be passable unless looked at closely? Shit, you might as well by my brother, small electronic animal, says your local mischief-maker.

The fae in your Furby is here for a good time - don’t harsh their vibe by burning their vessel, please, they just like your company and are showing it by having fun with you.

And on that note, the number one thing that pisses off Fae is destroying something they view as their property, so take that as you will. You’d effectively be shoving their goodwill back in their face, which is not wise - and, if you still think it’s a demon rather than a fae, wouldn’t that make it even less wise? If you wouldn’t fuck with a fairy tree, don’t fuck with a fae’s Furby. If you absolutely cannot stand having this fae with you, for some reason or another, then donate the Furby to go elsewhere, or hell, resell it. Just don’t destroy limited edition old technology, please, even if there wasn’t a chance you’d anger the local kodamas.

On the topic of Oddbody Furbies:

One of the reasons I made this post is due to the emergence of the recent trend: turning a Furby into an Oddbody Furby. What this entails is purchasing or otherwise acquiring a Classic (or other) edition Furby, removing the fur skin and other cosmetic components, and re-engineering the Furby’s blueprint to be otherworldy, strange, and just overall alien. Examples include changing the body type, lengthening the Furby, adding limbs, changing the eyes/beak/ears, adding a tail, etc. The parts required to do this don’t exist, and must be completely hand-made by the Oddbody engineer, and integrated by hand. It’s a challenge that inspires engineers, design artists, costumers, and people who just like Furbies. The reward for completing it is a unique alien Furby that’s entirely your own.

The point is to create something new, exciting, and supernatural-looking out of these friendly old robots - all while keeping the original hardware in the main body of the Furby intact. It’s a difficult, time-consuming process, and completely unique to each Furby in level of complexity and design. In a way, it’s the designer’s personal mark on the Oddbody Furby community.

One such popular Oddbody was made by @buttered-noodles, a very talented Oddbody engineer. Their Furby garnered powerful reactions - and unfortunately, some of them were extreme and negative, due to the above biases I mentioned previously.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and if Furbies still scare you, that’s ok. But don’t be that guy, alright? Don’t insult people who worked for hours- days, maybe even weeks or months- on creating complex and beautiful Oddbodies, just because you are personally put off by them. Keep that to yourself- you’ll only hurt the creators by saying things like “BURN IT!!” and “PUT IT BACK IN THE GROUND WHERE IT BELONGS!!1!”. They’re just giving that mischievous fae a more interesting vessel to inhabit.

Be nice to one another, and if you’re still frightened by Furbies, it’s ok to be! Just be courteous to our old fuzzy bois on their 21st year anniversary :)