#this was extremely fun to write!

[taraxippos]

I think people tend to assume that any criticism of worldbuilding is ultimately a demand for a story to grind itself to a halt and give the reader 20 paragraphs of exposition, and like. Most of the time good-faith criticism of this nature is coming from a core aspect of the story not being grounded in the setting in a way that outright detracts from the story's quality. You fix it not by Explaining but by Showing it passively in the makeup of the world.

Like the last instance I saw this critique in was like 'you can't expect an author to stop and exposit the nuances of gender roles/Queerness in a fictional society' and it's like yeah I don't, and in fact this is actually one of the easiest things to show in the text without exposition. If a society has gender norms to begin with you'll see aspects of these norms baked into EVERYTHING. You'll see it in its stories, its religion, its taboos, its etiquette, its clothing, its family structures, its language, its insults, its labor, its leadership, etc. It will have massive impacts on how characters interact with one another and how they perceive themselves. It will help Shape your characters.

If you do this legwork to begin with for the core facets of your story, you will find very natural places for these concepts to be demonstrated without derailing the plot and with little to no exposition. THAT sort of thing is what's being asked of you.

[katabay]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[agathasvidal]

has anyone considered that agatha may have continued murdering witches because it was her only way to see rio

[arty-platypi]

a couple of doodles for my Roz x Vontra fic and cover ideas for said fic. i chose to use the texture of the brush to help with the "shading" in the mini illustrations but now that i'm seeing it here on tumblr the image quality brings it down lole. Haven't been drawing them too much but it's just because I keep writing for them, ha...

[cringefail-clown]

[roseytoesy]

Safe Space blurbs 1

Kevin is up first but that's also because I’m in a fearplay mood and Kevin loves to play with fear a bit.

The Safehaven had greatly improved since the generator was back up and running, along with the new food supplies and starting a very small garden in the sewers just outside of Safehaven. Of course, with all the good that had happened there were close calls, but with new weapons given to the toys that helped protect the perimeter, and improving the defences of the safehaven itself, many of the toys, and most importantly, Doey was able to relax. Though he had no idea how to use this new free time. So being the amazing person you were, you helped create a schedule, time to play, eat, sleep, etc. 

But most importantly you encouraged Doey to play, to be the kid he wasn’t able to be. But with this encouragement came the oddities of a shapeshifting giant childish being. After an incident of trying to understand doey’s inner workings, you found yourself trapped under the large dough creature, he somewhat melted around you as he realized you were getting crushed, and there you met the 3 heads of the kids that made doey who he was. They were scared and apologetic, and so were you. You gently patted the walls and assured the 3 heads that you were glad to meet them and hope that this strange situation wasn't too upsetting to them.

It was quite the opposite for the boys, getting comforted for the first time in years, along with being so close to such a core part of themselves. It was addictive to say the least. So as the next few days flew by, the most bold of the group came up with an idea for game time. 

Dropping in

It was 3PM factory time, a time for the toys to play, build, color and more. A time to have fun and be carefree and childish. Today doey seemed more excited for games than usual. Gathering all the toys that were up to playing a bigger game, then announcing that today's game was a hide and seek tag with a twist if you get caught. 

You looked at him wondering what he ment but just sent you a wink showing off some sharp red fangs as he chuckled to himself. He then started to count down. Usually you don’t participate but you had a feeling doey was planning something. So you told him to go into the generator room to count so you and the others can have a better chance of hiding without him hearing them. He seemed to roll his eyes before cheerfully agreeing and going into the room, closing the sound proof doors behind him. 

You and the others were given 30 seconds. You decided to use your grabpack to hang from one of the more sturdy pipes on the very high ceiling. 

“Ready or not! Here I come.” his voice sounded cheery then became more gravely and deep. He started off searching the tents, there was one toy who was hiding in one and gave a squeal as they were caught, then placed into the center “field” area of safe haven. Some other toys at the trading post handed the caught toy some crayons and paper. 

You watched as they found more toys, tickling them and tossing them over to the caught area. But you could tell he was looking harder for you. One of the littles in the center pointed at you and you quickly made the shushing signal, but doey had noticed the critter looking up at something then quickly turning away and whistling. 

He looked up and his eyes widened before he smiled. “Found ya!” he now stood under you, his neck at an awkward angle to look up. “Here, drop down. I'll catch you!” he held his arms out making a trampoline in the center for you to land safely. You shrugged then braced yourself to fall, not noticing doey’s trampoline was already gone. 

You closed your eyes and let go of the grab packs triggers. You fell for a few seconds before landing on something soft, your legs sliding into some sort of tunnel before you could even grasp what was going on. You were pulled down more. You open your eyes in confusion and see the colorful blue insides of doey, red sharp teeth just above your head. You reach out on instinct. But the ‘lips’ close around your hand and your struggling form is easily swallowed down. Exaggerated gulps and hums echoing around you as you’re dragged deeper. With a final large gulp you were curled up in his more rounded middle. He patted his belly and let out a belch, you could feel the grab pack be plucked off of you and up with the belch.

Doey lets out a deep chuckle and says "So who's next for the hungry monster?” the other toys scream and run away. He doesn’t give much chase, smiling happily with his catch as he goes into the generator room. Since only you, him, poppy, and kissy are allowed in there, he allowed himself to rest and focus on the sensation of you moving around. 

It was cramped and slimy, like that weird film that covers his body and anything he touches as he squeezes through cracks or other areas. You tried your best to stretch out but were ultimately somewhat curled up, like one would be under a heavy blanket. You could feel him rubbing and patting at you chuckling when you pushed out at his hand. 

“So who’s idea was this one?” you see 3 grey heads appear on the wall facing where Doey’s spine would be, 2 of them, with orange and yellow eyes, looking apologetic while the head with red eyes had a sharp smile to its eyes. Its arms formed out of the dough and wrapped possessively around you, head on your shoulder.

“Since last time we just couldn't get your taste,” “or nice weight!” the yellow one interjected. “out of our heads, so I decided to have some fun with it.” The red head, which you learned to be Kevin, moved from your shoulder to your lap, head moving against your hand before looking away, glaring at the other 2 heads as they smiled at each other. 

You just shake your head, you had a feeling that after the flustered was doey acted after the incident you would be dealing with it eventually, just not so soon. “Alright fine, just don't make this too common of an occurrence, there's still a lot for me to do if we want to make a safe path out of here.” The red one's grip tightened and the other two looked more uncertain at that, but calmed as you pet over them, giving special attention to Kevin as he demanded it or got in the way of the others when you gave them too much for his liking. 

You know you’ll be released in about an hour, as game time wraps up and you need to make some food and get back to work on planning and rearranging things, but for you you let yourself rest inside the squishy gooey confines of your dearest friend.

[dataframe]

trying to articulate some notes for 'the wick remains'

[shallowseeker]

Early season-writers writing Cas: DEAN: “What, is mom making you limp?” CAS (glaring, hitting back): “Figuratively, yes.” Lazy, later season-Cas writers, probably: DEAN: “What, is mom making you limp?” CAS (head tilt): “No. I don't walk with a limp."

[meownotgood]

"I will never read x reader it's just weird and they're always badly written" OKAY WELL NOT ME!!! GIVE ME ALL THE X READERS!!!!!! ME AND ALL MY FAVES ARE KISSING FOREVER

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

A text continuation of this post, feat. @thedolmainblog's Blythe (shamelessly self-indulgent smut below the cut)

Your lips meet Blythe's a bit more forcefully than you intended, but you don't let that slow you down. You take advantage of his gasp to swipe your tongue against his own, hoping to entice him into responding.

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on his shirt; you don't have a back-up plan to speak of, and frankly you're not sure you'd ever be able to look him in the eyes again if he shoves you away—

(1) And then he does move, but it's certainly not away.

In what feels like barely a few blinks, you find your positions almost completely reversed. You hear wood crack as it's kicked out of the way and internally thank your trusty crate for its service—

A firm thigh pushes between your own as warm hands slide over your ass with a squeeze, and then you get a taste of your own medicine as it's your gasp that's taken advantage of, this time.

(1) You don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't quite this.

This being how you're pinned firmly to the concrete wall behind you, weight supported by the leg slotted between your own and the hands on your ass as every shift and squirm finds you inadvertently grinding down against Blythe's thigh — and making the most dreadfully embarrassing little noises that are only mostly muffled by the Fighter's own lips against your own.

Already you can feel the desire pulsing in your middle, can feel the heat building between your thighs with each of your little shifts and squirms, each squeeze of Blythe's hands as he kisses you like a man possessed.

(1) It's only when you break the kiss, feeling like you can't quite get enough air, that his attention shifts.

Those same lips trail down to your throat as his hands slide up to take a firmer hold of your hips — and this time there's nothing to muffle the moan that startles out of you when he sucks a bruising mark over your pulse and grinds you down harder against his thighs.

His echoing groan rumbles through you like a physical touch, tension winding hot and fast in your middle as Blythe guides your hips into a rolling rhythm against his leg — and fuck if the easy way he moves you doesn't make you burn all the hotter.

You lose a bit of time, then, losing yourself in the all-consuming onslaught of his affections. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and leaves you utterly unable to focus on anything other than him—

(1) Which leaves you caught entirely off-guard when you suddenly find yourself only scant seconds away from cumming.

"Blythe—" Your fingers fist tighter into his shirt, the only part of your positions that has remained the same, a shivery note to your voice you're unfamiliar with as your thighs squeeze around his own, not even aware of the faint quiver working its way down your spine, "W-wait a sec, I, I'm—"

Blythe, who most certainly did notice your little tremble, the way your breath begins to catch in your throat, the heat he can feel through both of your trousers—

"Cum," The order is as demanding as it is desperate, all but growled into your ear as he presses even closer, tilting your hips until the next roll of them has you loosing a stuttered cry, every inch of you going taut as a bowstring in his grasp, "Aster, cum."

(1) And really, what can you do but listen?

Pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, and you're only dimly aware of the lips slanting over yours to muffle noises you hadn't even realized you could make. Your body moves of its own volition, hips rocking jerkily against Blythe's thigh as you ride out your orgasm with mindless intent until you're finally spent.

You collapse against the Fighter's chest like a puppet with her strings cut, trembling all over as you try and catch your breath in the wake of such unexpected intensity. Just above you, Blythe makes a noise that nearly sounds pained, and it's jarring enough to have you lifting your cheek from his collar to peer up at him in somewhat bleary concern—

And then you're being moved again, faintly trembling hands no less strong as they hoist your legs up around his waist. You can't help but fidget, and Blythe responds by taking another half-step closer, leaving you pinned flush between him and the wall — and entirely unable to miss the firm bulge that grinds into your still-sensitive sex, hot enough to make you whine even through the layers of cloth between the two of you.

(1) "Again."

Time blurs again. You try to cling to your composure, but it's a battle you lose laughably quick when every rock of Blythe's hips sends frissons of heat shocking through you. The high-pitched little noises - nearly mewls - have you flushing bright enough to rival your hair, but it's blessedly easy to ignore, because—

Blythe seems fixated on wringing another orgasm from you just like this, grinding into you with laser-focused intensity, adapting real time to what pulls the best noises from you. Normally you'd feel a little bad at your lack of participation, but honestly it's all you can do to hang on for the ride, what with how determined the Fighter is on driving pesky little things like thoughts out of your head.

(1) Your next orgasm leaves you twice as breathless and shaky as the last, and you only just catch the muttering coming from above you.

"Not here, not here," Blythe all but chants the words, and the fingers flexing against your hips are your only warning before you find yourself plucked away from the wall, arms slipping instinctively around his neck as Blythe walks with a single-minded focus to. . . Somewhere? You get your answer when you find yourself set gently down upon a leather seat. It's Blythe's motorcycle; you've seen him on it a handful of times, but you've never been on one before. He hands you a helmet, waiting a little impatiently for you to put it on, and you're in enough of a daze from your unexpected - and successive - climaxes that you do so without even really thinking about it. He tightens it for you before getting on himself, reaching back to pull your arms around his waist, guiding you grab your opposite wrists before looking over his shoulder with a look caught somewhere between stern and feverish. "Hang on tight." (1) Why did no one tell you motorcycles vibrated so much?

End of Pt. 1(?)

[home-of-the-squirmle]

Squirmles as an interrogation method (but wholesome)

Oh buddy

Once EDEN allowed other institutions access to squirmles, their potential was instantly recognized...

Let's say you have a low-risk criminal or hostage, but you've been instructed NOT to harm them at all. Solution? Dumping a whole jar of squirmles down their back >:)

It may seem silly or unorthodox, but the success rate is surprisingly high! Turns out being tied to a chair with a whole swarm of tickly critters in your clothes is unbearable.

Luckily, the squirmles love it >:) they are monsters after all...some evil tickling is their favorite.

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 5: The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The streets of Treviso are eerily silent tonight. As if the city itself has become the quiet before the storm.

Madeleina Mercar and Lucanis Dellamorte weave in and out of abandoned buildings and leap between rooftops, two shifting black dots in a dark landscape. They move quickly, and with purpose.

Earlier that night, a letter had come through from Viago.

One of his Crows had captured a Venatori spy, caught lurking about the Drowned District. The unlucky cultist was dragged into the den of the Fifth Talon, and like one of Viago’s snakes, had been milked for every last drop of usefulness they could provide.

“How’d they get him to talk?” Madeleina asked, as she scanned the contents of Viago’s missive by flickering candlelight. “I can’t imagine the Venatori spill their secrets easily”

“Viago has his ways.”

Why did he have to name his truth serum Pillow Talk.

“… Let’s just say he can be very persuasive”

Madeleina looked up from the letter and quirked an eyebrow. She was clearly expecting more details, but when he remained silent, she dropped it.

“The specifics don’t matter” Lucanis gently pried the letter from her hands and set it on the nearby table. “What matters is we have a location. Viago has his Crows watching the Venatori. We’ll move when you’re ready”

She grinned, “No time like the present – let’s go”

We’ll make her pay, for everything she did to you. Side by side. I swear it.

Her words hang in front of him like a beacon lighting the path to the Chantry. When he turns them over in his head again, the undercurrents of Spite’s glee reverberate through his body. It sends a shiver down his spine.

Her Heart. On Our Knife. Rook’s lightning. At Our backs. A cackle echoes in his head. The Witch. Dies today.

Tonight, he would have his revenge. For himself. For Spite. And for Caterina.

For a moment, he’s back to the Ossuary. His hands and legs chained down to the stone slab beneath him. He remembers the chafing of the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the skin red and raw. Remembers the hunger. The fear. He was too tired to struggle against the bindings. His objective shifted from escape to survive soon after arriving.

“From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That’s quite the promotion, isn’t it, Master Dellamorte?” Zara pinched his cheek with a long, slender finger. It took every ounce of discipline he had not to recoil at her cold touch. Her full, red lips pulled back in a sneer. He could smell her sickly-sweet perfume as she leaned in. It turned his empty stomach.

“Well, then. Let’s make a real Demon out of you, hm?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Madeleina calls over her shoulder, pulling him out of the past. She is already half-way up the ladder to the overhang above them when she realizes Lucanis isn’t following. Pausing on the rungs, she cranes her neck to look back at him, “Facing Zara, I mean”

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. Tries to keep maintain eye contact instead of staring elsewhere.

“I lost a year of my life to that Venatori Witch” He begins, before climbing up himself. “I owe her for that”

They both reach the overhang and squeeze out of a broken window on the top floor of the warehouse. The two land soundlessly on the side-roof jutting from just below the window sill. Just one more rooftop until they reach the Chantry.

As Lucanis follows Rook’s careful steps, he remembers his dissatisfaction at traversing the rooftops in Vyrantium a year ago. The harsh slopes and rounded clay tiles made a poor foothold even for his perfectly cobbled boots. But the rooftops of Treviso are flatter, the inclines less harsh, and made of interlocking shingles rather than layered tiles. Very friendly for a Crow looking to sneak around. All of Treviso, with its dark, narrow streets, high vantage points, and closely connected rooftops, was practically designed for them. A Crow’s nest made a city.

Madeleina jumps down from the side-roof and onto a balcony overlooking the Chantry courtyard. He watches her come to rigid halt a few steps ahead of him. He can just barely make out another figure in the darkness.

Illario?

Lucanis wastes no time jumping down to the balcony, coming to stand beside Madeleina. She’s close enough now he can feel the tension coiling around her body. Her mouth is set into a hard line, and her eyes fixate on Illario.

So, she was just as thrown off by his appearance at the Chantry as he was. Good. He can get right to the point without preamble.

“Illario - what are you doing here?” Lucanis asks, his voice low.

Illario smiles widely as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m coming with you, of course. No arguments”

Mierda.

“This is my job” Lucanis says firmly, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

“This is Crow business” Illario corrects him. He feels a muscle in his jaw tick.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” If the contents of Viago’s letter were anything to go by, only he and Madeleina should be privy to this information. From the corner of his eye, he can see the weariness settle more firmly onto her features. She folds her arms over her chest and frowns deeply.

Illario seems to notice the shift in her demeanour. He ignores Lucanis’ question and turns to address her instead. He plasters on an insincere, charming smile. The same one Lucanis has seen him use to seduce countless targets. From the way Madeleina’s brows draw further down, he surmises it has the opposite effect on her. Good.

“Rook” He all but purrs her moniker, and for a brief moment Lucanis is thankful Illario doesn’t know her real name. The tone of his voice sets both him and Spite on edge. “Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin?” He pauses to gesture to Lucanis with a sultry grin. “You must allow me to show you the sights”

Madeleina’s voice is stern, almost biting, when she answers, “Lucanis told you not to come”.

He is silently grateful she’s not encouraging Illario. Even more grateful, a small part of him thinks, that his cousin’s attempts at flirting backfire so spectacularly. He can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. Once Illario realizes his usual approach won’t do him any credit with Madeleina, his face settles into a more neural expression – a little too quickly.

Lucanis decides to interject before he can get a word in edgewise, “This isn’t your type of job, cousin.” He means to needle him about his earlier attempt at Madeleina. He’s not sure whether that’s more him or Spite. “There’s no one you can charm here. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed”

His words land with the desired effect, if only for a moment. There’s a brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes that only someone who has spent many years with Illario would be able to pick up. It’s gone as soon as it came, now replaced by a challenging stare.

“You think I’m not good enough” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Are you?” Lucanis retorts, tilting his head, throwing the challenge right back at him.

Illario’s nostrils flare. There is concession, but not defeat in his eyes. He settles for a placating smile, but Lucanis has a sinking feeling in his gut that whatever is going on with his cousin will not pass so easily. Perhaps it’s the overly saccharine way he concedes or perhaps it’s the uncharacteristically light tone in his voice given the subject matter. He bows his head, “Fine, have it your way cousin.”

Before Illario turns to leave, he lets out a bitter chuckle. “You always know best, after all”. And without another word, he disappears into the night.

He shakes his head. There’s no time to worry about Illario’s antics right now. Lucanis Dellamorte has a target. And he always collects.

You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis.

“Let’s go, Zara’s waiting”

Lucanis doesn’t wait for Madeleina to catch up before he starts making for the Chantry courtyard.

She follows him soundlessly, like a shadow.

~*~

“Amatu- “

A sickening crack as Zara’s neck is snapped by Illario, who dropped down from the ceiling just a moment earlier.

She doesn’t have time to think about the implication of what she just heard. Zara’s final words are pushed to the back of her mind as an anguished cry escapes her companion’s lips.

“No! Mine!” Lucanis and Spites voices meld together, all rage and hurt and betrayal, reverberating through the Chantry in a familiar discordant symphony. His purple and black wings unfurl. A high-pitched whistling fills the Chantry, like the firing of an Antaam canon. Then, Illario is sent flying back by a blast of magical energy shooting out of Lucanis. Madeleina is knocked back a few steps from the sheer force of it.

A second later, Lucanis – or rather Spite controlling Lucanis’ body, is on Illario. The dagger in his hand comes down, ready to kill his cousin. A scream tears through his chest as Illario resists, his arms the only thing between him and the dagger’s edge. Lucanis’ face is a twisted mask of hurt and anguish. When he speaks next, his voice is strained. There’s more of him than Spite, like he’s fighting the demon to even get the words out.

“Get. Illario … Out!” He cries over his shoulder, eyes burning like bright, purple sapphires. His arm inches the dagger closer and closer to Illario’s neck, acting of its own accord.

“What? No – “

I won’t leave you here alone.

She winces and stumbles closer. Another pained yell reverberates through the chantry.

“Rook!” His eyes are pleading. He’s losing the struggle against Spite’s rage, and fast. The dagger is almost touching Illario’s neck now, just about to draw blood, “I can’t –! “

“That’s enough!” Shouts Illario, and he does something that Madeleina can’t see from where she’s standing. But she can sense it. Even smell it.

Blood magic.

A plume of red erupts from Illario’s chest. It slams into Lucanis, knocking him back onto his forearms. The heady scent of iron and blood and sulphur fills the air. She can taste a metallic tang on her tongue.

Illario pulls himself to stand and puts his hand out in front of him like he’s commanding a dog to sit. The sight of it turns her stomach.

“Relent” Lucanis’ head swivels, she can see the whites of his eyes as they roll back. “Somniare”. He falls unconscious and his head hits the stone floor with a crack.

Madeleina is behind him not a moment later, cradling his head in her hands. She breathes a sigh of relief when she can’t feel any blood pooling in his hair.

“Lucanis? Lucanis wake up” she whispers, shaking him by the shoulders. When he doesn’t stir, she looks up at Illario, eyes burning with rage. “Venhedis. What the fuck did you do to him, Illario?” She snarls.

“Nothing” Illario says, straightening to his full height. “I don’t know what happened any more than you”

Liar.

“You have to get him out of here” Illario points to Lucanis, still unconscious in her arms. When he turns towards the door, Madeleina calls after him. She has about a million questions swarming her thoughts like wasps kicked from their nest.

“Illario, don’t you dare lea-!”

“Rook. Keep him away from Treviso. From the Crows” His voice is low and even. Too calm, for what he just did. “He’s a danger to the family”.

She stares in disbelief as Illario Dellamorte disappears from the Chantry. He leaves Lucanis and Madeleina alone in the basement chamber. Well, sort of. Madeleina is not Emmrich, and she doesn’t count the dead bodies of several Venatori and Zara Renata as company.

“Shit”

She wished, more than anything, she had prodded Emmrich’s brain about a healing spell rather than learning to summon wisps.

Wait.

Wisps.

Using what remained of her magic, she called forth a bouncing ball of familiar blue-green light from the Fade. It’s light chittering filled the silence of the Chantry as it floated in front of her face, bouncing on an invisible air current.

“Find Viago de Riva. Bring him here. Can you do that?” The Wisp zips around her head, before phasing through the far wall. She prays it understands the command. There’s nothing she can do except wait for help. She won’t leave him alone. Not here.

She shakes him gently by the shoulders again, “Come on Lucanis, wake up. Please, wake up”.

The faint smell of blood and sulphur still lingers on him.

Blood magic. She was still grappling with the fact that Illario had used blood magic to control Spite. To control Lucanis. How? Why?

Madeleina bites her lip. Her fingers curl softly against the fine, dark leather of Lucanis’ armor. Zara’s final words come rushing back and hit her like a tidal wave.

Amatus.

She was about to say Amatus.

Dread settles in her chest as she comes to a chilling realization.

Illario Dellamorte and Zara Renata were lovers.

Venhedis.

Illario had to be the one who sold Lucanis out. There was no other explanation that made sense.

The longer she thinks about it, the faster the pieces start clicking together like the whirring gears on one of Bellara’s machines. There were a million little things about Illario’s behaviour that never sat right with her. When looked at separately, they were never overtly suspicious. But taken together, they paint quite a damning picture.

Each fact clicks neatly into place with the one that comes after it, like a line of collapsing tin soldiers.

Illario avoided coming down to the Ossuary with them, and the same night, Caterina was killed. He tried to throw Lucanis off Zara’s trail by convincing him that she was back in Minrathous. His strange behaviour at Caterina’s funeral. His knowledge of where they’d be tonight. Killing Zara just before she revealed who sold Lucanis out. And most damning of all, the fact that he could control Spite with Blood magic.

She bites her lip.

Kaffas. How am I supposed to tell him the last member of his family sold him out.

Lucanis still isn’t waking.

Madeleina watches the soft rise and fall of his chest, worried that if she looks away for even a moment, he might stop breathing.

“Please wake up” Her voice hitches.

His head is resting on her knees. She’s afraid to move him. Afraid to leave. She has to trust the Wisp she sent after Viago will bring help soon. She’s also furious that his own home is no longer safe for him. Not while as Illario is running around with the ability to control Lucanis and Spite with Blood magic.

She brushes a stray lock of hair from his cheek and tucks it behind his ear. Let’s her fingers drift across his skin, her touch feather-light, for a brief moment before pulling away. Madeleina isn’t used to seeing him like this. He rarely sleeps at the Lighthouse. She would know, given all the nights she stays awake with him telling stories. She tries, at the cost of her own sleep, to make his long, waking hours less lonely. Madeleina wonders if he’s dreaming of better days. Prays he’s not stuck in some terrible nightmare, lest it fuel Spite’s wrath. The last thing anyone needed tonight was for the demon to claw his way to the surface again and wreak havoc in the streets looking for Illario.

She sighs, and stares aimlessly at the arched ceiling of the Chantry basement.

It was going to be a long night for both of them.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has forgotten what a good night’s sleep feels like.

Only, this didn’t feel like sleep. It felt like stasis. Paralysis. Even Spite didn’t stir.

He did not dream, he did not feel. There was only crushing, oppressive darkness in every direction. Like he had been dropped to the bottom of a black ocean.

Lucanis regains movement in his fingertips first. Then his toes. And then, he can move his legs – but only a little. They pedal back and forth a few times as he tests out his strength. A groan escapes his lips. His lips feel dry, and his mouth is thick with the taste of cotton. His eyelids are leaden weights that are slow to lift.

Once he can blink away the tears clouding his vision, the familiar roof of his pantry bedroom comes into focus.

Back at the Lighthouse.

“… Mmmh…” he groans again. As some of his strength returns to him, he’s able to push himself upright. His head is throbbing something fierce. “…Mierda…” He hisses, when his mouth can finally form words.

A moment later, he hears something shift beside him. His head snaps to the side, and he’s ready to pull the hidden dagger he keeps under his pillow. But Lucanis settles, lets the tension uncoil from his body, when he sees Madeleina Mercar asleep in a chair next to his cot.

She has her knees pulled up tight to her chest, her head resting atop her folded arms. Madeleina’s face is curtained by a mass of brown curls. Her head slowly lifts, and her eyes flutter open.

“Madeleina” All Lucanis can do is whisper her name because he’s tired, everything hurts, and he can’t think straight.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and yawns. “Lucanis” Her voice is low, husky. “You’re awake”

He wonders how long she’s been sitting in that chair. She’s still wearing her mage’s overcoat, the same armour she wore when they confronted Zara. Black leather with a gold trim – a serpent in the middle of her chest. All sharp angles and harsh lines, in the Tevinter fashion. It was a stark contrast to the roundness of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips and the softness of her curls. 

Lucanis swings his legs over the side of the bed and leans on his forearms. Flashes of their confrontation with Zara play on a loop in his mind.

Illario killing Zara. The terror of losing control to Spite. The way he came tearing through his mental barrier and took over so quickly it gave him whiplash, while Lucanis sunk into the recesses of his mind. A passenger in his own body. Illario’s neck beneath his blade. Begging Madeleina to get Illario out of there. Fear in her wide eyes. And then, overwhelming, oppressive darkness.

He remembers rage. So. Much. Rage.

He almost killed Illario. What if he lost control again? What if he hurt someone else?

What if he hurt her?

At the thought of hurting Madeleina, the demon ripples underneath his skin, and prods the edges of his consciousness.

Smells like thunderstorms and blood. Spite hisses. Sulphur and ash and iron. She’s never. Right. Anymore.

And who’s fault is that, he wonders bitterly.

She’s looking at him. Her gaze is soft. Always too soft. Even when he failed to take down Ghilan’nain at Weishaupt. There’s never blame, or anger, or judgement. She always has some way to justify being kind to him, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

Search as he may for something else, he only ever finds patience. Peace. Understanding. And that’s terrifying to him, because he’s never known that before. Caterina loved him… in her way. But he knew the back of her cane as well as he knew a comforting hand.

“I …” Lucanis starts, but the words die on his tongue, reeled back into his mind until he can form them into a proper sentence. Madeleina tilts her head and rests her cheek on her arm. Her legs pull in just a little closer to her body.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you”

She blinks slowly. “What do you mean?”

“There… there aren’t words enough to apologize” He answers, his voice low, but even. Just barely. She looks confused at the apology, her brows drawing together. “I never wanted you to see me like that”

A quiet settles between them. Madeleina looks thoughtful.

Her knees slide down the chair and there’s a soft thud when her boots land on the stone floor.

“And yet I’m still here”

He could swear his heart stops in his chest. Lucanis doesn’t know what he expected her to say. Anything but that. He hangs his head, rather pathetically, if he’s being honest with himself.

Why? He wants to ask, but his lips won’t move, held together by some invisible seal.

What could he, an abomination, offer her except for problems and pain and misery? What could he, an assassin, give her anything but death?

She. Won’t. Hurt us. Spite whispers. He said that the first day they met too. Hers was the first kind voice, kind eyes he’d seen in a year. Spite didn’t forget that either.

“I …”

“Hey” She whispers quietly, before he feels her fingers gently lifting his chin. As soft as he’d imagined. Warm and comforting like he’d hoped. Her jade green eyes still have a habit of making the rest of the world disappear. “Lucanis, there’s nothing to apologize for. Really”

There is. There’s so much to apologize for.

I failed to kill your God. I could’ve killed you. I’m no good. We’re no good.

His thoughts whir about themselves, twisting and morphing together into new things he wants to say, new things he feels he should apologize for. New reasons why what he desperately wants – this thing they’ve been dancing around, is a bad idea.

When she pulls away, he wants, more than anything, to reach out and place her hand back on his face. To keep that warmth there just a little bit longer. Linger in the softness rarely afforded to someone like him.

“Listen” She folds her hands in her lap, “We have a few hours before the rest of the team will be up. I think… I think there’s a story you should hear”

“Madeleina, we have to talk- “

“About Illario, I know. We will. Tomorrow”

He wants to argue but knows it’s pointless with her. She only has to look at him a certain way and the resistance will die on his tongue. Lucanis runs a hand down his face, and sighs.

"Fine. But first, coffee”

~*~

Sometime later, the pair find themselves in front of the fireplace once more. There’s fresh coffee, and some leftover dessert from two nights ago – Nevarran Hazelnut Torte, a recipe from Emmrich’s late mother. It had become a fast favourite around the Lighthouse, to the Professor’s delight.

Madeleina’s cake is untouched. It was very unusual for her, given how voracious her sweet tooth is. Lucanis has watched her put away a dozen churros like they were grains of rice. Where does it all go?

He’s not used to seeing her in armour around the Lighthouse either. The large overcoat dwarfs her and makes her look smaller than she really is. It’s never that apparent in the heat of battle since they’re usually trying their best not to die from the monster-du-jour. He briefly wonders if she’s overheating in it, being this close to the warmth of the fireplace.

“So, what tale will you tell tonight – uhh … this morning” He quickly corrects himself. One can never be certain about the time in the Fade. Sometimes, when he thinks it’s close to dawn, he can hear waves crashing in the distance.

“Have you ever heard the Orlesian tale of The Shoes that Were Danced to Pieces?”

“I haven’t” Lucanis swirls his coffee a few times before taking a sip. “But I assume I’m about to”

“Mmm” She hums, with a slight frown. “Indeed”

 There’s something different about the way she’s starting tonight’s tale. He can’t quite put his finger on it. So, he lets her continue without interruption, hoping to glean the reason through the course of her story.

Her hands alight with blue flame, she sweeps her forearm across the air like she’s swatting a fly. In her wake, twelve figures spring to life, each one more beautiful than the last. The women are dressed in classic Orlesian ballet attire, and each has a thin, delicate band across their forehead.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a King and his twelve Princesses” The figure of the King appears, perched on a floating throne above his daughters. The King’s face is weathered by time, and even though he is an illusion, there is a deep sorrow in his eyes.

The King disappears and twelve beds, arranged in concentric circles appear. Each princess appears next to one of the beds.

“All the Princesses sleep together in one room. And each night, the King bolts the door shut”

“Strange thing to do” he remarks, between bites of Torte. “Even for an Orlesian” Lucanis snickers.

“Stranger still is the reason” Madeleina continues. She waves a hand through the illusion, and it disappears, now replaced by the King. He’s holding a pair of ballet shoes, which have been completely worn through.

“Every night, the King seals the girls in their room. And every morning, their brand-new dancing shoes are discovered to be worn through from dancing. No one, not even his wisest scholars or most sensible hunters could figure out how. So, the King puts out a proclamation” She raises her hand, and the figure of the King stands from his throne, holding the worn-out shoe in an outstretched hand. “’Whoever discovers the secret of my daughter’s dancing shoes, may marry one and take my place as King when I die’”

The figure of the King disappears, and in his place, is a young man in an intricately woven doublet. His fine hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. A bejeweled rapier rests in its hilt by his hip.

“A young prince from a neighbouring kingdom is the first to take up the challenge. And so, he is sealed in the antechamber of the Princesses’ rooms, that he may observe their comings and goings at night.”

The young prince lies down on a small cot that has appeared next to him. “But the prince travelled a great distance to arrive at the Kingdom, and his eyelids grew heavy with sleep.” The prince closes his eyes and drifts off into a peaceful slumber. “He doesn’t see where the Princesses go. But sure enough, the next morning, their shoes are full of holes in the soles” The Princesses parade their shoes in a circle around the young prince, almost as if to taunt him.

“On his second night, the same thing happens. The prince cannot stay awake, and the Princesses dance the night away”

The prince falls asleep again, but this time, he disappears.

“On the third night, the young prince vanishes – as if he had never been there in the first place”

Now that has his attention. Lucanis raises an eyebrow at the empty cot floating in front of him.

“Curious” he mumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

She waves several other figures, all of different statures and heights and builds. Elves, dwarves, humans. Warriors and rogues and princes.

“Each potential suitor who takes up the King’s challenge meets the same fate. On the third night, they always disappear without a trace” Each figure winks out of existence, one by one.

“One day, an older, retired sailor from Rivain hears of the King’s challenge while passing through Orlais. He also hears that every previous suitor has disappeared after three nights. But he’s not worried”

With a flourish, a middle-aged man with a tall, well-built stature appears. His face is handsome, but scarred from battle. He’s dressed in humble traveller’s clothes and carries a mage’s stave on his back.

“He’s either very brave, or very stupid”

Madeleina just smiles and winks. “Or, he has help that the other suitors didn’t have”

An amorphous, shifting ball of light appears next to the Rivaini man. “The man was a mage. A tidemaker in the Rivaini navy. His mother was a Seer. Although usually only female mages undergo the training necessary to be able to communicate and bond with spirits, the man had a great talent for magic from a young age. His mother would never let him become possessed by one, like she could, but she taught him enough to be able to commune with them and ask their guidance”

The man walks through the air, with the ball of light bouncing along beside him.

“’Ho there, Spirit-Friend’ he said. ‘I should very much like to unravel the mystery of these Princesses and their dancing shoes. What wisdom can you offer me?’”

The Spirit whirs around the sailor-mage, “’Take not the wine the eldest Princess will offer you before bed. Pretend to be in a deep slumber. Then, under cover of dark, steal after the Twelve to discover what lies beneath the castle’”

If he wasn’t intrigued before, he certainly was now.

The spirit is waved away. The old sailor, armed with this new knowledge, presents himself to the figure of the King, hovering above him.

“The King welcomes the sailor, and just as he did with the other suitors, locks him in with the Princesses”

Madeleina brings the Princesses into view again.

“The oldest princess, Delphine, does exactly as the Spirit said she would. She offers the sailor a glass of wine.”

The figure of Delphine, wine goblet in hand, indeed offers the sailor a drink. But just as the spirit told him to, he refuses, by shaking his head and pretending to go to sleep. He lies down on the same cot the first prince used. The figures of the princesses surround his cot, rather ominously. Lucanis is convinced they’re going to murder him on the spot.

“’He refused the wine! What shall we do?’ cried the second oldest sister, Marie.” The sailor doesn’t stir in his cot. “‘He’s quite asleep, Marie – let’s just go. He cannot follow’ says the eldest. ‘Perhaps he will take the wine tomorrow night’”

One by one, the sisters form a circle around an ornate stone circle, floating beneath them. And like the princesses, one by one, the stones on the circle lift in the air, and a winding staircase opens into the floor.

“The princesses had a secret doorway in the castle. A doorway to another world – or so they thought, at least” Madeleina frowns, and as the princesses disappear down the staircase, the figure of the sailor, creeping behind them, comes back into view. He is glowing black, instead of blue.

“The sailor was clever. He used magic to wrap himself in a cloak of night so as to blend into the shadows. He followed the youngest sister, Charlotte, down the enchanted stairway.” The figure of the sailor walks slowly behind the youngest sister – a beautiful young woman with long, plaited hair and a simpler gown than her sisters.

As the figures continued down the staircase, Charlotte stops. “’Sisters- I know not why, but I fear something terrible will befall us tonight’, says the youngest sister. The other sister’s pause, and it’s the oldest who speaks next. ‘Oh, you goose, you are always frightened. Come, let us enjoy ourselves tonight’”

The figures continue down the endless stairway. The sailor, eager to see what lies at the end, gets a little too close to the figure of Charlotte. His boot catches the end of her dress.

“’Oh! Something pulled at my dress!’ cries the youngest sister, but the others do not heed her. ‘Goose, you have merely stepped on a nail. Come now’” Madeleina puppets the figure of Delphine to wave the other sisters down.

Everything disappears for a moment, while Madeleina regains her strength with a sip of coffee and a nibble of the Hazelnut Torte.

After she’s thoroughly cracked all her knuckles, her hands resume their work. She conjures into existence, the scene of a brilliant underground cavern. A castle within a castle. There is an eerie lake separating the princesses from their destination. Eleven longboats, similar to the one the Caretaker ferries them through the Crossroads with, appear at the lakeside.

The figures at the helm of the longboats is what intrigues him. Lucanis’ eyes widen as he realizes the eleven longboats are steered by the headless figures of the previous suitors.

“Mierda” He whispers, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know the Orlesians to be so… macabre”

Madeleina shrugs, “Surprising, right? When I first heard this story, I thought was from Nevarra, honestly”

She makes each princess file into a longboat. Charlotte takes her place beside Delphine in the first one. The headless body of the prince begins rowing them to the other side. The other longboats depart soon after. The figure of the sailor wastes no time sneaking onto one of the other longboats, so as not to tip the weight.

“As he rides with the princesses, the sailor has a sneaking suspicion that he is meant to helm the twelfth longboat. He is thankful for the spirits help, and thankful to have his head on his shoulders”

They arrive at the castle. Madeleina decorates the boughs of trees lining the path with leaves of silver and gold.

“The sailor knew he would need some kind of proof to bring to the King, so he snaps a twig from one of the trees and tucks it in his pocket” He watches the figure do so at Madeleina’s command.

She waves several instruments – trumpets, drums, harps, and more, into existence. They float in the air, above the princesses, and they each take their positions with a respective headless suitor. Except the last princess, Charlotte, who begins to dance on her own. They pirouette and twirl about, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How did they find this strange castle in the first place?” Lucanis would usually never interrupt a story, especially not one as intriguing as this, but he had to know.

Madeleina gives a sad smile and erases all the figures with a flourish of her hand.

Soon, the figure of Delphine returns, and she is sitting alone on her bed, with her dancing shoes in her hands.

“’Woe is me’ she cried once. ‘I should like to dance with my sisters forever. Alas we are all to be married.’” Delphine lies on her bed and her shoes lay on her chest. “’We shall be scattered to the farthest reaches of the continent to find the most handsome matches. I would do anything to dance with my sisters for a while longer’”

“Ahh….” Lucanis nods. He can see where this is going.

“Yeah” Madeleina frowns. “Something heard her plea. Something that had been trapped in the castle for a long time, watching and waiting for the right time to strike.”

She raises a hand and forms a demon he could only surmise is Desire personified. It has large, bare breasts, barely covered by dangling jewels and chains. Narrow waist, wide hips. Everything about the demon was made to entice. Even its horns added a certain appeal.

He can feel Spite rolling his eyes in the back of his mind. He doesn't like Desire either.

“’Do not despair my child, for I have a way for you and your sisters to remain together, forever’ the Desire demon says to Delphine. ‘And should your father bring any suitors, take their heads and present them to me. I will make sure they never leave this castle. You and your sisters may dance your nights away in my domain. All you need to do is wear the shoes I will gift you every night’”

The desire demon gestures with her hand and twelve pairs of shoes, arranged neatly in a line, and glowing an eerie pink light, appear beside her.

“Delphine agrees, of course. She tells her sisters of the shoes and her plan. The dancing shoes were the key to unlocking the secret castle. Every night they would go and dance the night away. And every time a suitor would come, on the third night, they would behead him and drag his body down the winding staircase.”

A gruesome scene of the eldest princess hacking off the head of the younger prince from the start of the tale begins to play out in front of him. Red light spatters on the princess, before they all fade out.

He’s rubbing his beard absent-mindedly, completely engrossed in the tale now. He’s forgotten about his coffee, and his cake. Every pause stretches into an infinity. Spite is also eager to know how this one ends, and he claws at the backs of Lucanis’ eyelids impatiently.

Madeleina once again conjures the image of the underground castle. The princesses are dancing with their headless suitors, and their ballet shoes are glowing pink now.

“The sailor knows there is dark magic at work here, and he needs to stop it” The figure of the sailor moves soundlessly between the dancing couples. “He follows the trail of magic to the demon’s lair inside the castle”

A room filled with jewels and gold and all manner of treasures appears in front of Lucanis. The desire demon lounges on a settee, adorning herself in riches. She is propping her elbow on the head of a handsome elf. The fifth suitor, he remembers.

“The demon, true to its nature, offers to make any desire of the sailor’s come true” The demon begins sauntering towards the figure of the sailor, all swaying hips. Sailor draws his stave and starts preparing for a battle.

“’I want for nothing you can give me, demon’” The sailor replies. "'Save your head'"

A great battle of magic erupts between the two. They lob arcane missiles and bolts and fireballs at each other, until the Sailor summons the tides of the nearby lake to his side.

“The sailor overwhelms the demon with his power, and she perishes. Almost immediately, the spell over the underground castle starts to fade” The bodies of the dead suitors drop to the ground.

Next, the sailor is standing with the princesses, who all look like they’ve woken up from a dream.

“’What happened?’ asked Marie.” Madeleina has the sailor walk closer to her. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “’You were beset by a demon. Fear not, for I have slain it. But let this be a lesson. Put not your faith in whispers of promises too good to be true, my ladies.’”

With that, the sailor bows to the princesses and begins walking away.

“’But sir!’ The youngest calls after him, ‘Won’t you take a reward? Surely our father would give one of us to you in marriage and make you king?’”

The figure of the sailor smiles and twirls the silver branch he plucked from one of the trees.

“’It is reward enough to slay the demon that haunts this palace and learn the secret of your dancing shoes. I never came here to be king’”

Madeleina waves the figures away.

“The sailor continues on his journey across the continent, and Delphine makes peace with parting from her sisters by making the most of what time they have left”

With a final flourish, she has the figures of the twelve princesses pirouette around Lucanis’ chair. They disappear one by one soon after.

“The end”

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck, “That was … something” He says quietly. “I think I need more coffee”

Madeleina nods and stretches out her limbs. “And I think I’m in desperate need of a nap”

Lucanis stands and gathers their uneaten cake on a single plate, as well as their half-empty coffee cups. “Go on, I’m awake. I’ll clean this up. You should sleep”

There’s something in her eyes that makes him feel there’s more she wants to say but can’t bring herself to form the words.

Somewhere, deep in his chest, he knows exactly what it is she’s trying to tell him. Tried to tell him through her story.

But he’s not ready to face that particular truth yet.

There’s someone else’s lips he needs to hear it from. He shudders to think of seeing her wretched corpse again. Not ready for the feelings it’s going to bring up, nor the question he has to ask.

He knows, deep down, that Madeleina pieced it together already.

Lucanis just prays he has the strength to face it when the time comes.

[sweetestflow3rs]

♡ - THE PLAYER CHARACTER: VANIDA, THE IDOL || THE MONSTER - ♡

An in-depth bullet point list, regarding the lore of my PC

Full government name is Vanida Thompson

Born from an ongoing sexual affair between her mother who was an unnamed sex worker & her father, an infamous underground fighter / thug

Her father & Bailey grew up in the Orphanage together and were childhood friends ( & maybe more ); before her father was arrested for killing her mother when she was only 3yrs of age

Vanida has no idea who her parents are, and her father's connection with Bailey

Originally, was someone very sweet. A bit clumsy in her execution, but was someone very earnest and determined. Never wanted to exclude anyone and tried becoming friends with everyone.

Had a big baby crush on Sydney that helped her power through horrors ( unknown to Sydney who was still in the closet ), but also made her spiral more when things kept getting worse ( "An angel like her would never date someone filthy like me." )

Thought Avery was into her at first, and was very excited about being noticed by her until she realized that Avery bought her from Bailey

Used to work vigorously at the Cafe until she passed out, got recommended for therapy by Harper. Never went to a single appointment because she kept forgetting due to work. She never misses a single payment!!

Lost her virginity to the nun at the Temple when she was trying to get lichen for the Science Fair. Now, she hates the Temple with a burning passion and thinks they are the worst

Kept getting assaulted so much, that she succumbed for a bit; becoming a sex worker at the Brothel since "might as well make money off of it"

Went through a 2 year phase of anger and apathy. Would let anyone date her, or sleep with her. ( Which HC Whitney then dated after; cause we love gay girls who try to be close with the girl they like by taking their 'things' )

Her relationship with Whitney started the night they had one night stand at the Pub, when Vanida was trying to score clients. Got claimed as Whitney's girlfriend the next day. She didn't think Whitney was serious about their relationship until Whitney showed up to the Orphanage and pulled a gun on Bailey in the winter of their third high school year. ( Vanida also earned a gun kink )

Is now Whitney's number 1 ride or die. Wanting to please her so much, while also wanting to take a page from her book on riding the chaos, that Vanida changed her whole look & personality ( sorta ) (( this is how we got Vanida of today ))

Presents herself now as someone very chatty & sociable. Charming and almost ditzy-like with how she giggles and smiles to make people like her. She still is writhing and rolling around in her hatred and anger under her mask. She hates, or resents, almost everyone. Has become someone extremely mean-spirited.

Decided to use her body for something more productive, and that's by using her sex to have almost the entire town at her beck & call. Most will do anything to just have a chance with her, and Vanida takes full abuse of it. Her demonic transformation really helps with this.

Sees all relationships as transactional & only develops bonds that she thinks will provide use for her ( either socially, or protection ). As a result, it is almost near impossible for Vanida to cultivate a normal, healthy bond with others that is genuine.

The only ones she has a semi-normal bond is Bailey and Niki, because they both are upfront with their intentions with her, and don't seek her out sexually.

HC that she gets into a lot of yelling fights with Bailey, resulting in getting her ass beat by him. It's how they father-daughter bond

Loves going to 'parties' with Avery, because the more secrets she knows, the more she can use them for her own benefit. Knowledge is power ♡

A top student, with big popularity. The town calls her Venus, the criminal underground call her Sabre

A hedonist

The Underground Farm has tried kidnapping her, but she always manages to escape somehow. Remy just admit you're obsessed with her-/j

Her end goal is to have total control of the entire town for the sole reason to humiliate everyone in power for letting a "slut" have power over them. Bailey is somehow spared in this plan because Vanida has a soft spot for him, because he was the only person to check on her when she'd crash out in early gameplay. Even if all he did was yell at her.

And that's all ( i think ) regarding Vanida, my PC! Thank you for reading! ♡

[roseytoesy]

Safe Space blurbs 2

Up next will be jack, He wants to have fun eating the player next! A sweet day with a sweeter ending.

All enveloping hug

It had been about 2 days since the last incident, and you could see doey had been very happy since. Helping you work on slowly improving the desolate safe haven into a better space. He always made sure you were protected as you went out to better improve the outside or rewire some items and traps. It was just after your most recent and successful supply run to a locked down storage unit just outside the prison, that doey insisted you rest for the day. 

“Me and the others want to thank you for all your help! So we're going to give you a spa day.” a little kissy and craftycorn bounded forward as other critters brought over some random items and pillows. Before you could insist that you were fine you were swept off of your feet, doey giving you a giggle as he placed you into his lap as he took a more chair like form. You sat there a bit surprised before letting a small smile form as the warmth of their actions hit you. You decided to let yourself sink into Doeys form a bit as the critters wiggled off your grab pack and shoes. You twitched as some cold water was splashed onto your hands and a tub of lukewarm water was now under your feet. The critters gently wash your appendages with their little giggles. You weren't able to really see what they were doing, but since they were all soft, it felt like getting attacked by a swarm of tiny little bugs made of pillows. 

You felt an extra set of doey hands start massaging your shoulders and neck, you let out a deep sigh and close your eyes. Fully letting doey support your weight. You happily let the time fly by in a bliss, feeling your muscles relax in a way you haven't felt since long before working at playtime Co. You had no idea how long it had been before the kissy and crafty gently shook you awake, you didn't even realize you had dozed off. The other toys giggled as you stirred. Looking down at your hands you saw washable marker pictures and drawings along your skin. Smiles, and hearts aplenty. And your hands were somewhat pruned, covered in more art, but felt very clean and your nails had been clipped (somehow) and painted with what looked like regular purple/blue paint, but nonetheless you could tell they had done their best. You leaned forward as you lifted your feet. Seeing more art along them and your lower legs, a nice white color used for the nails. 

You felt a tug at your heart as you gave an emotional thank you. The toys all cheered at your reaction and you gave the kissy and craftycorn a big hug before getting off of doey to set them on the ground. “Thank you, for all of this. It makes me really happy to see you all happy.” you sniffed as you quickly whipped some grateful tears from your eyes. The factory had been so so draining, and any progress you made just led you deeper, darker, with more danger and little reward other than surviving, so getting something in return for your efforts, it warmed your heart to the brink of tears. 

Doey noticed and quickly shooed off the critters to their usual chores, they let out a groan but understood that he wanted to comfort you. You looked at him thankfully, he smiled happily with his eyes closed, guiding you over to the generator room, a place you had mostly claimed as your own, it was quiet and secluded, it helped you rest on those nights when the nightmares and paranoia would become too much. You were so tired now, stealing that you’ll have to continue some work tomorrow, an early night wouldn't hurt…

Doey startled you out of your thoughts as he waved a yellow hand in front of you. “Hey pal, you’re looking real tired there. How about a hug to finish off for the night? I’ll make sure to get the others to bed without you.” he opened his arms wide for you to approach. You happily wrap your arms as much as you can around his upper chest. His large arms enwrap you, the hug a perfect pressure for your weary bones. Warm and strong, a friendly and loving embrace. You stand there for a few seconds before letting your arms relax, usually signifying the end of the hug. But he continues to hold you, you feel a bit awkward before you let out a little yelp as the solid dough in front of you becomes more soft, and you start to sink in. You try to move back but the arms around you are gently but firmly pushing you forward. You were too tired to put up much of a fight so once you realized what he was doing you just let it happen. Sinking into the soft dough. It wraps around and envelopes you before you are gently pushed into a larger, familiar area. 

The dough closes in as Doey hugs his now full belly. “Gotcha, hehe!” you watch as a pair of yellow eyes and a grey head form on a nearby wall. The doey body rests against a nearby wall as Jack, you had learned, quickly and playfully wrapped its own arms around you, snuggling into your middle. You sigh as you pet his head. “Just wanted to help you feel better.” the head said looking up at you with large hopeful eyes. You sigh affectionately.  Knowing you'll need a quick shower in the morning thanks to the more slimy dough in this space. 

“Thanks Jack, You and the others did amazing. I guess I needed it.” you say with a small laugh. Jack gives you a small squeeze before unwinding his arms, just content to rest with you. You see mathew on the wall as well. 

“Like we said earlier, we’ll take care of things for tonight, this was from all of us but uh, this part was Jack's idea.” Jack giggled and did a happy little dance before settling back next to you. You happily let them take care of stuff as you fall asleep for the night. Doey kept a protective hand over his belly as he helped everyone to bed. A very happy smile on his face before he too fell asleep.

[pondslime]

"when ur reading an x reader fic and the author blatantly mischaracterizes u 🤮" "I would NOT fucking say that" idk man.........I feel like reading x reader stuff requires you to be.......okay w/a certain level of roleplay. like yeah, you might not be this exact type of person—or maybe even the slightest bit like them. but, for the duration of the fic, you ARE. that's what's kind of neat about them. you get to step into another version of yourself and walk around your favorite stories. call that latent theater kid energy or whatever. but I dig it. she doesn't have to BE me, she's just me for now. and I'm buckled IN

[ibblescribbles]

Do you think you will ever check out Raincode? It's made by the same people who made DR but with a more focus on mystery. (It has the same vibes and stuff, I feel like you would like it a lot) another thing, the writing is so banger

Yes, I've already played Raincode!! Really enjoyed it, especially for the DR-like vibe and I actually made charms of the main cast:

I have sketches of Yomi and Yakou that I've been meaning to add to this set for ages but haven't been able to bring myself to refine them ;v; Makes me happy when people recognize the Raincode merch at cons tho! I'm really excited for Kodaka's new game too, I haven't played the demo yet!