#where is my little piece of shit goblin demon????

[pensbridgrton]

idk i just HATE the idea that colin is stupid and constantly messing up and penelope has to carry all the intellectual weight of their relationship when they're BOTH intellectual and brilliant and recognize it in each other but i rarely get to see that in this fandom (or show canon tbh)

[murdocking]

„ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ”

- a chishiya series. intro ch2

masterlist

warnings + notes: since theres a few canonically known games within the manga that were not depicted in the adaptation, i will have to concoct my own version of these for the purpose of being entertaining before having that slow burn begin when chishiya and the reader properly meet within the games😈😈fun fact that i adore escape rooms so this show and the idea of me coming up with my own versions is making me giddy

this shit is so long guys sorry its truly just a filler i promise

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ:

- TWO OF DIAMONDS

in your mind, you thought you looked bad. the blazer you had worn just hours ago to your first big-girl interview was thrown somewhere on the train tracks in shibuya station. your face was covered in sweat, and patchy makeup. your sandals were feeling the wear and tear of just simply walking- and your button up shirt was stained with some dirt and sweat as well. despite that, laying eyes on the man in the corner made you believe you were a model in comparison.

his shorts seemed to just be burnt pants whose threads gripped onto the pieces of fabric for life, and his blue shirt was dark brown on the right side of his body- where you seem to notice his patched up arm. you can only assume that the brown spots scattered amongst his attire was his own dried blood, and he scratched at the other drying cuts littered on the arm with urgency. his face was stiff, covered in thick mud and grime, and his eyes were dark with fixation.

he was not the person you were interested in approaching.

to the left of you was a woman, her short hair seemed unintentional- matted and torn as though a child had taken scissors to it then rolled it in the one-armed man’s blood. besides this, she was focused, staring at the table in the center of the entranceway. you even notice her eye twitching slightly, and how her shorts seemed too loose for her frame and her shirt too big.

you follow her stare at the table, and notice what it is that has grabbed her attention so well.

walking over, its an array of phones- and dark bracelets, with the little white sign saying “take one”.

you decide not to test this gathering, and grab a phone and put on the thick metal band that snaps to your wrist snugly. you start flipping the phone around searching for an on switch- just for it to do it on its own. it brightens up and says the word SCANNING before saying WELCOME.

you turn to the woman, and inquire, “what is this supposed to be?” and you think she has truly lost it when she meets your eyes.

she stutters throughout, but chuckles maniacally regardless. “have you never been in a game before?” and your shaking head and puzzled face gives her the sign to continue. she motions for you to get closer and she grips onto your shoulders tightly, leaning towards your face.

“this is your childhood fears come true! here… death chases you like a goblin… and he sends his demons to torment you in these games… don’t you know?” she stares at you crazily and you immediately regret not entertaining the idea of asking the man for information instead. “we play… naïvely to live.. see look.” she clicks on her own phone- pressing the words VISA and the app presents 6 hollowed out club symbols.

“we play.. to live and stay here longer… or else…” she points up at your forehead and then quickly brings her hand down pointed to the floor with a ‘WOOSH’ sound. “death takes you himself.”

she didn’t exactly reassure you, but as another person joins, you politely thank her and decide to speak to someone more sane.

a girl, seemingly about your own age, speaks to you. “shes right.. is this your first game?” her brown lashes flutter when the doors to the entrance way suddenly shut- but she never even flinches from the action. “every game is different, and it tests different parts within you. i suggest if you’re not the athletic type,” she scans you briefly, and you feel a bit small because of the action, “be careful of spade games. those test your physical endurance the most. diamonds need quick wits, and clubs require effort from a team. but hearts games.. those will leave you to yourself every time… it will cut you raw inside.”

you look at her, and you see she is quite serious. “thank you.”

GAME REGISTRATION CLOSED!

DIFFICULTY: TWO OF DIAMONDS

RULES: SURGICALLY REMOVE EACH ‘TUMOR’ FROM THE BODY INSIDE OF YOUR DESIGNATED ROOM LABELED ON YOUR DEVICE. EACH ‘TUMOR’ REMOVED WILL GRANT MORE TIME, BUT WILL DEPRIVE YOUR FELLOW PLAYERS OF TIME, AND LIGHT IN THEIR ROOMS. REMOVAL OF ANYTHING ELSE WILL RESULT IN INDIVIDUAL PUNISHMENT. THE FIRST TO REMOVE ALL ‘TUMORS’ WILL HAVE A GAME CLEARED.

surgical removal..? though you encouraged the idea of medical school, blood wasn’t really your thing- neither was biology. you look around, theres only four of you, and you’re starting to become painfully aware of the band on your wrist, is it getting tighter or is that your mind?

the man with one arm sighs, and fixes his posture, and makes way to a door with a heart imprinted on it. you look at your phone, it has given you the spade shape- and you take your place to the third door. to your left, the girl you spoke to has been chosen for clubs- and the woman has been designated for diamond.

you each enter your respective rooms and the door shuts behind you. it seems to be an office, a television is placed on the wall in front of you- though it seems to be off. a single industrial light illuminates the room, hanging off of the cement ceiling. there are bookcases and a rolling chair placed naturally as well. but what catches your eye is a sheet placed over a silver table. your patient is waiting.

the tv lights up, and the 2 hour countdown has begun.

you see a patient file ontop of the chair, and open it up. there, you find the odd names for several tumors diagnosed to the hopefully fake body. there are four, and you’ve never cut up a person before. the idea of it starts to make you gag harshly- but the overbearingly loud ticking from the tv brings you to your senses.

each listed tumor has a card symbol beside it, and the pale dead man in front of you begs for your attention. the first you decide to go for is the angiosarcoma, linked with a heart symbol.

you browse the books behind you, searching for anything on anatomy- until you finally spot one in the top shelf. you continue your rapid search, the time going down more as you look for health science information. scoring it and shakingly looking for the desired cancer amongst the table of contents. flipping to the page, its detailed and graphic in every nature, but its enough to tell you what you need to do to get out. you sit up straight and lift the sheet completely off of the man- seeing the deep purple and black spotting on his right hip and grab the scalpel amongst the tools next to his body.

getting to work, you disgustingly plunge the scalpel into his hip, and cut jaggedly like a true amateur. the idea of mixing his still blood with your dusted and dirty hands makes you cringe, but you still pull the flap of skin back to use the tongs to grip onto the tumor that comically is shaped most definitely like a heart. cutting it out, you throw it onto the silver plate between the man’s legs.

3 more to go.

the tv stops the time at 1 hour, 23 minutes, and 57 seconds. looking up, it flickers to a 3-way split screen and you can clearly see all of the other players, the lights dim for all 3, but you don’t lose sight of how the one-armed man has a woman in front of him, her serene frame degraded by his lengthy and bloody cuts on her ribs, his hand and shirt has her freshly dead blood on him and you see the frustration is rising in him. he doesn’t notice he’s being watched, and you wished he did so maybe he would stop. but he doesn’t, and he claws out a chunk of her and throws it into the bin. suddenly, he starts screaming- thrashing around as you see the bracelet on his arm expand and push wired needles into his forearm. they’re electrocuting him and hes gargling on his own spit and blood.

you look away quickly, and notice the older woman simply staring at the bookself, the cloth on the dead patient has not been touched. you assume she gives up.

the girl however, has books littering the floor, shes hunched over the female body given to her- and you can see her using her knee to pin down spots of flesh so she can remove her selected tumor.

your light dims.

this is incredibly real to you, and you rapidly start to move on to the next tumor. merkel cell carcinoma listed has a diamond placed against it, and you search his whole body for something you saw in the textbook. and it takes a while, before your light dims again. you look up- but the tv has stayed on the time, the playing broadcast has ended for you.

its harder to see now, and you rely on your fingers to feel the smooth but protruding bumps on the backside of his neck. within ten minutes, you have thrown the diamond tumor into the plate. and the tv flickers back to the broadcast- pausing your time once again at 48 minutes.

you notice the woman’s light is completely out, her figure is practically invisible to you. the man twitches with every movement- the volts have traumatized his body. but the girl is relentless. she’s aggressively tossing the dead woman in her room, bending her neck over a pile of books as she uses the butt of her scalpel to feel down the woman’s spine.

you’re wasting time staring at them. you need to finish.

the third, melanoma spotted on the back calf of his left leg, was simple- but its removal was difficult and has left you with 19 minutes remaining.

you’re eager to get this over with, the last tumor however, is blanked out by black marker and has the spade symbol against it. how are you supposed to solve that? you would be able to see it maybe if your light was fully lit, but its near pitch black in the room. panic seeps in.

you search for anything in the two books- but there are no special indents, pages out, bookmarks- nothing. you just stare at the time, at 7 minutes, you know you won’t win.

until you stare longer at the tv, and see the barely visible reflection of your door. you quickly turn- and see the ribbed detailing on the flatly grey door thats shut against the walls. on the other side, spade was imprinted into the door… why has the imprint not gone through? you trace the ribbed door, feeling its curves.

curves?

you feel the detailing once more, and it feels like its forming an eye. eye cancer.

you rush to the book, and you can sense the light beginning to flicker again.

you search among the various eye tumors listed, and reach over the poor man you are about to deface and see nothing wrong in his eye, until you lift the lid of his right eye.

its pupil is pale with grey and yellow.

retinoblastoma.

but you cant remove it without taking out his eye, and you remember what happened to the man. but if the lady was truthful, you did not want death’s demons to bring you to your end so quickly.

with bravery you grip onto the edge of his socket, speaking a desperate apology before popping the eye out and the light flickering out.

how are you to see this now? the eye had not ripped its nerves so you were not yet punished. yet.

the only light is from the tv screen, turning your 3 minutes into 2. you begin to jump off the table, and push it closer to the wall with the tv, grabbing the man and slumping him against it as you lift the face towards the television where the light gracefully points out the yellow matter in the back of his eye.

once removed, your light comes back on, and its nearly blinding. you did it

the broadcast begins again- the woman is still in darkness, but the screams she makes are noticeable regardless. all three get injected by their bracelets- the man is sobbing and weeping like a child because he has already known the pain. the girl screams, kicking the silver plate across the room as her arm tenses and burns against the needles. she stares at the camera, shes found it. and she stares into your soul with hate.

she joins the dead body when the needles dig completely into her.

GAME CLEARED! CONGRATULATIONS!

you can feel the bile rising in your throat as the tv shuts off and the spades door opens and greets you with the now empty entranceway- with a single white table holding a two of diamonds playing card.

they’re really dead.

[lakesbian]

out of curiosity do you have any thoughts about Maggie?

i think it's really funny that the protagonist of pact is like. some Comically Normal, increasingly-pale, interminably haunted guy the universe hates who spends 45% of his life minimum shaking and/or throwing up. and then the plucky charming girl who says things like 'drat' and 'fiddlesticks' and has a tragic ya-protag origin story and is dealing with a classic ya-protag ominous prophecy is the side character. using goblins is ostensibly possible to frame as a likable underdog trait, in contrast to Cool Shit like faeries or demons. by all accounts blake scans as someone who should show up once in the ya fantasy novel about maggie's life to serve as a bit of character development for her & then never receive a feature again except for a singular piece of irrelevant background dialogue in which it's offhandedly mentioned that they found his sopping wet flayed corpse on the street. not even a notable street, either, just some random street. And Yet. he's the protagonist instead of her.

and, like, wildbow knows this. the funniest part of this whole thing is that when wildbow went "who is the most Iconic YA Protag Material in pact, i want to put a pact reference into worm," the answer wasn't blake, it was, obviously, maggie. it's maggie's world blake's just living in it. he straight cannot catch a break. cannot even be the protagonist of the book he's a fucking protagonist of.

i digress. one last sidenote before i get into talking abt maggie's interlude: it's really fun that before it we get a firsthand look at how the Batshit and Harrowing experience of being a disadvantaged practitioner (unable to lie, experiencing the horrors at all times) will straight up turn you into a guy in a horror movie who goes around looking disheveled and shaking and discussing ominous portents, and then the interlude itself depicts how comically absurd that looks from an outside perspective. love the practitioner in maggie's interlude. out there delivering a classic vague & ominous horror novel Foreshadowing Statement to our archetypal protag maggie, and she's the only one who actually experiences the genre awareness to go "ohh, okay, i'm in a horror novel," and prevent her entire family from dying badly about it.

and the thing about this is that it works flawlessly as part of her "YA protag who is for some reason a side character here and not the protag" schtick, but it also makes for a genuinely horrifying & compelling narrative. like, What If you were a teenager suddenly realizing the things that go bump in the night are not only real but tearing your life down around you while everyone else remains oblivious--would that be fucked up or what? love the moment where she sees the goblin w/ the blood-soaked hair (who is hot and cool btw) holding not a bleached skull but a very visibly dark & bloody one with Bits Still Attached and it finally clicks for her that this is Real. that one little image of abject gore and suffering during an extended traumatic experience that viscerally hammers the entire thing right into your skull. & the characterization of her looking directly at sculptures of rotting meat and imagery of knives doing terrible things and blood on the streets and then deciding that there's actually an Art to the wriggling wet underbelly of the world, one she wants to hold and own instead of vice versa, is good. i like it. there's a moment where she briefly sounds entirely capable of holding a conversation with bonesaw regarding Art, and that is excellent.

i also think she's probably still in over her head without realizing. she's manipulated into ordering someone's murder and then is like "you know i think i can make up for this one AND go on a fun little adventure to add to my scrapbook of knowledge at the same time." that's not how reality works! you killed someone! and then tried to semi-earnestly befriend slash mooch from their cousin! she's only been a practitioner for six months--i think there's a very fundamental disconnect btwn the maggie that's lucky enough to still have parents she can be a normal silly teenager with and the maggie that's making forays into The World Of Backstabbing, Horror, Murder, and Fates Worse Than Death. and i think that disconnect will result in strain for her as the fact that she's sort of doomed to do some really awful things, have some really awful things happen to her, and/or both sinks in. okay that largely summarizes my maggie thoughts so far. i hope to see more of her and her silly little goblins i do enjoy the grotesque.

[jellogram]

I think what it boils down to is that I have been running from myself for the last year and it's not really working anymore. I was outrunning my problems but they're catching up. And I'm not sure exactly where they started gaining, if it was the linguistic isolation of Quebec or the breakneck weekend in Cleveland, or if I lost the race right out of the gate from what I did to myself in New Orleans, but whatever it is, it's caught up with me. And it's making me implode, splattered all over the things I used to find comforting.

And I'm about to leave for two straight weeks in Europe so I need to outrun it just a little bit longer. Just a couple more weeks. Once I'm on some beach in England I can go to pieces and it won't matter. Just two more weeks of shoving all that shit down and pretending I'm not possessed by some fucking demon who hates me and has a death wish. Maybe when I get back to the US I'll find a therapist and sort out my shit but right now I'm in the home stretch and if I can just keep myself sober and stable enough to function a bit longer then I just might make it out of this alive.

I don't know what happens after that. But right now I need to keep it together. I've had entire years of my life where I didn't give in to my stupid little brain goblins, surely I can make it two weeks. I can do this. I've gotta say that to counteract how many times my brain says I can't. I can do this.

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

God. I just finished watching the first spiderverse movie and ATSV really makes you forget that ITSV was just as perfect and amazing and flawless and every other good adjective I can think of (although ITSV has way fewer flashing logos at the start which was good for my beady little eyes).

It's almost 2 hours long (a little shorter than ATSV) but it really doesn't feel like it. But I think the pace is a bit different too?

In ITSV, everything is happening so quickly that if you asked me how long the movie was without letting me look it up, I'd probably say about 90 minutes. It's a super easy watch and the plot is brisk enough that it introduces 5 new Spider people (and Aunt May), gives us their backstories, and gets us emotionally invested in their lives WHILE ALSO developing Miles' coming of age story and his development into his dimension's Spiderman without the story feeling bloated or rushed. It's really impressive.

ATSV on the other hand, has pacing similar to a Breaking Bad episode where everything just keeps building and building and while it never feels like it's dragging or becoming boring, you can feel the length. The last 20-30 minutes of ATSV, I was dreading the ending because I knew we'd been watching this movie for a while and that the cliffhanger was coming up and I just wanted to keep watching this awesome movie!!!

ATSV feels like a movie that's almost 2 and a half hours long while ITSV feels like you're watching an episode of a TV show or reading a comic book (Imagine that!).

And it's so funny because ATSV is such a piece of fucking art that it made me forget that ITSV was just as groundbreaking and that it was also one of the greatest superhero movies ever made.

Also, and this is kind of off-topic, but I like that the Spiderverse movies are breaking away from this nepo-baby adjacent Spiderman that works for a big strong super hero organization and is a billionaire's successor that we're getting with Disney's Spiderman movies. Don't get me wrong, I saw the first 2 movies and thought they were pretty fun (forgettable, but fun), but Spiderman in those movies just... isn't Spiderman!

Spiderman is a normal person, that's kinda the point. While he can be a gifted student (or artist or inventor etc), he's still a middle class kid who fell into his powers. He can only do so much while having school, a job, bills, and all of his relationships to maintain. That's why Spiderman's civilian life is such a freaking mess! Well, that and I am of the opinion Spiderman is a metaphor for ADHD but I have a comic planned to explore that.

He's a vigilante, yes, but he's not like the Batmans of the world where he just bought himself a superhero identity (not necessarily ragging on Batman. I like him too).

He's a superhero for the people. Not only does he stop the occasional Green Goblin or Doc Ock, but he also helps with muggings, corner store robberies, little shit that big heroes like Iron Man, Hulk, and the like can't be bothered with. I bet if you asked Spiderman for help after you locked yourself out of your apratment, he'd find a way to get you back in because that's who he is!!

Spiderman Homecoming making a working class man who was fucked over by Stark Industries the villain feels so against the idea of Spiderman. And then Far From Home has Mysterio go from a failed actor and Hollywood illusionist turned criminal to an employee of Stark industries who has his work taken from him, literally named BARF by Stark, and is then fired. Say all you want about intellectual property rights and whether Stark legally stole this man's life's work, but the point is this series made several intentional changes to these villains that demonize the working class and glorify Stark (who is vindicated by the narrative of the overarching MCU and the Tom Holland trilogy).

Why are the working class the enemy? Spiderman is the working class!

ATSV having a super secret Spider-government that borders on being a totalitarian nightmare is much more Spiderman's speed.

Spiderman can't go at it alone, that's made clear in several of the movies and even the Spiderverse series itself ("You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!"). But Spiderman doesn't need expensive equipment or the power of a government-like entity. He just needs his loved ones whether they be other Spiderpeople or the people living around him.

I just can't get over these movies man.

[koo-zy]

hello! do you have any fantasy/historical jungkook x reader fic recs ?

hello lovely!! i’m so sorry i missed this yesterday :( i was actually planning on reorganizing my tumblr because i feel like no fics are ever going to be able to be found my blog LOL so hopefully that’ll be done soon!!

as for the fantasy/historical fics.. i’m honestly not too sure what “fantasy” (do demons count..? soulmates..? werewolves????) typically includes so i’m just going to include a bunch of fics that hopefully fit in :”) here are the first ones that i thought of + summaries included in their main posts!

also.. i’m sure i missed a lot of amazing fics (mainly because i’m dumb as hell and don’t really know what can be included in “fantasy”) and would like to apologize in advance!! 

@inktae ’s entire masterlist (they have a lot of fantasy fics!)

while this isn’t just jungkook recs, @ficswithluv had a fantasy category a few weeks ago!

@kpopfanfictrash ‘s jungkook masterlist

@fortunexkookie ‘s jungkook masterlist

one shots!

énouement - @littlemisskookie Mulan!AU

War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook.

midas - @gukyi 

jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.

i will not lose! - @jimlingss Magic!AU

A single bet - use every means to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you.

a piece of the moonlight - @/jimlingss Mulan!AU

For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

dynasty - @/jimlingss Historical!AU

It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

game of temptation ft. knj, myg, kth - @/jimlingss Succubus!AU 

As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it’s still hard to resist Taehyung, and there’s little you can do once you’ve been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don’t know your intentions are far from being angelic.

knot today - @kinktae

(IDK IF WEREWOLVES COUNT BUT JERHFBDSKNZX THIS IS REALLY GOOD!!)

When your first heat approaches and you are left partnerless, who better to turn to than your alpha roommate that you’ve spent the better half of your life hiding your feelings for?

ego - @luxekook Harry Potter!AU

(..i also don’t know if HP counts LOL)

in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs

stumbling - @hayjeon Prince!AU

an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: hii! so the royal wedding of prince harry and meghan is today, and since my bias is JK and since i’m such a sucker for royal stuff, can i reuest a fic of bts all being royal of 7 different kingdom, and all of them being invited to jin’s wedding and the girl (oc) is also invited and kookie met her there, and eventually took an interest at her? the girl is also royalty from other kingdom. thanks!

werewolf!jungkook - @/hayjeon

an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: Werewolf!jk? (im sorry ik it’s overused and unoriginal) where he and his mate have pups to take care of and they’re quite a mischievous bunch!

there for you - @cupofteaguk Hogwarts!AU

Jungkook is always known for doing things unapologetically, and it makes sense given how almost nothing gets under his skin—almost nothing, but maybe there’s an exception that takes a form of a muggleborn with the shy smile and quirky spells.

say you won’t let go - @/cupofteaguk Soulmates!AU

You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in 

new romantics - @/cupofteaguk Hogwarts!AU

Jeon Jungkook will go down in history as one of the best Quidditch players that ever graced the Hogwarts scene. It seems like he always gets what he wants—his life is very predictable in that sense. What he cannot predict, however, is the newest weekend employee wiping down the tables at the Three Broomsticks.

a cinderella story - @suhdays Modern Cinderella!AU

you are forced to work multiple jobs as you live under your stepmothers roof. unable to move out and strive for complete independence, you do what you can in order save enough. turns out, as a college student that is harder than you thought. so, you distract yourself by joining online chat groups in which you meet a boy that goes to your school. that boy? none other than the rugby star himself, jeon jeongguk. it doesn’t prove to be an issue until he asks to meet you at an upcoming halloween party. he’s never noticed you before so why not hide yourself in order to live your dreams, if only for a moment?

explorer - @1kook Alien!AU

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.

rottenfolk - @junqkook Faerie!AU

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

the young wolf - @/junqkook Game of Thrones!AU

he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

the lighthouse - @rubycoast S2L!AU

(im not too sure if this is considered fantasy but its one of my favs!)

you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled.

black magic - @hansolmates​ Magic Uni!AU

a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?

the sea & the storm - @jamaisjoons Fantasy!AU

the sea is a powerful mistress. she is calm and beautiful. she is mysterious and alluring. she is a force to be reckoned with. above all, however, she is lonely. until she meets him. fantasy au.

the lionheart’s oath - @sugaxjpg Knight & Princess!AU

There was no happy ending, no dragon slayer to save the kingdom and get the princess — there was only him: Jungkook. A simple orphan that was lucky enough to be invited into the castle, a former homeless thief that had found shelter in the form of an elysian heir. Now, after twelve years by your side, he was about to lose you to the world you sought to explore.

ghosts just wanna have fun - @/sugaxjpg Psychic & MedSchool!AU

When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

wartime child - @ktheist Wizard!AU

raising a baby in wartime isn’t easy. but when your baby starts showing signs of magical abilities, you’re forced to ring up the only other person you know he takes after: jeon jungkook.

birth of an empress - @/ktheist Dragon Slayer!AU

partners for three years and friends for longer, jungkook thought you’d remain so until he saw you with the knight at the merchant’s trade.

alternatively, the friendly neighborhood wizard trying to propose to the infamous dragon slayer in the middle of slaying a dragon? now, that’s classic.

series/two shots!

fear in your eyes - @/gukyi Werewolf!AU

(again, idk if werewolves count but hifksdjcx !!!!)

there’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy. 

the worshiper series - @/jimlingss 

Long ago, there were gods who resided in Heaven -- existing to watch over and protect the universe. Each of them had their own flaws, trials and tribulations; some which were more sparing than others, but these are their stories...

a promise of freedom - @/jimlingss Wartime!AU

War is cruel and its inhumanity has not spared you. Captured by the enemy, you were brought to the front lines to heal their wounded. But after one night of saving a particular man’s life, he swears to fulfill any wish of yours.

one year, my love - @/hayjeon Historical!AU

You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year.

demigod!au drabbles - @/hayjeon

an ask in their inbox regarding the prompt: i have a supernatural au prompt! how bout daughter of hades/loner!reader and son of zeus/bully! jungkook?

into the woods - @/junqkook Goblin!AU

getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

lionheart - @/junqkook Magic!AU

as a sorcerer, it is of the utmost importance that you keep your magic a secret from everyone. when you become prince jungkook’s servant, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep your identity hidden; especially when you fall in love with him.

a royal exchange - @/hansolmates

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement

knight!jungkook x princess!reader - @/ktheist

a series with 27 parts!

that’s all i can think of off the top of my head right now :(( not gonna lie, half of these probably don’t even fit into either of those categories and i know there are so so so many amazing fantasy/historical fics out there!! i wish i knew them all but i hope this helped a little bit! if anyone has any fic they’d like to rec, feel free to send it to meee :)

and finallyyyyy i leave my following page open for viewing as well so you can check out all of the authors i follow!! please show all of these authors (and many more) some love! <3

[jungshookz]

What the hell? How the fuck does this work?

Testing, testing… 1, 2, 3… [microphone feedback] okay, ow- Oh! There we go.

Hello, all of you ghouls and goblins! Welcome to Cee’s House of Horrors 2020! 

I hope you’re ready to piss your pants. Or projectile vomit. Or both! Actually, I hope both, because I would love to see it. I’m your host - everyone’s favourite demon - obviously, Cee decided to make me the host of this exciting event because… well, you see the pointy red horns, don’t you? I don’t usually have them out because they’re a little tacky, but, t’is the season, am I right? Some of you may know who I am, and some of you may not! I’m Yoongi! Or, I guess my official title would be demon!yoongi. The point is, I’m Yoongi… and I’m here to ruin the next week of your life.

Since all of your brains combined are about the size of a single pea, I bet you’re all confused right now. You’re probably thinking to yourself: ‘What the hell is going on?’, ‘Where’s Cee?’, ‘Oh, god - is this another fic drop? Jesus Christ. Why does she have to make these things so dramatic all the time? Can she just drop a fic for once and not do anything else?!’ I’ll ask you to save your questions for the end… and then just keep them to yourselves for the rest of your pathetic little lives because I won’t be answering any of them.

Anyways, I guess I have to read off this dumb script… 

‘Here at Jungshookz Headquarterz, your entertainment is our top priority…’ god, seriously? That’s the company policy? No, no. Now that Cee’s not here, my priority is to freak you out so much that you start to wonder if the pile of clothes sitting on the floor is really just a bunch of sweatshirts or if it’s a mangled, bloody-mouthed demon about to pounce on you and feast on your face. With that being said… Welcome to the very first choose-your-own-adventure tale! Ta-da! Did you enjoy the promotion for it? I certainly had fun. I’m the guy at the crossroads! You should’ve seen your face. 

The thing is… Cee’s technically already set up a whole story for you guys and all the bits and pieces are ready to be posted and she told me that all I’d have to do is post one part every day but… I read it over and it was the blandest thing I’d ever read in my entire life, and if I could go back in time and un-read it, and then pour bleach directly into my eyeballs, I would, which is why… I’m going to rewrite everything. What Cee doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? And I know you guys certainly aren’t going to tattle-tale, because if you do, I’ll make sure that the presence constantly looming over your shoulder manifests into its physical form right as you’re about to fall asleep tonight. And, while I’m at it, I’ll throw a handful of spiders into your mouth while you’re asleep. The point is - shut your trap.

Here are the rules. Read ‘em.

Our tale will be broken down into seven parts - each part will be posted every day at midnight starting on Sunday - and the final part will be posted on Halloween, marking the end of the event. I know, it sucks. I wish everyday was Halloween.

Each part will end with two different options for you to choose from, and in order to contribute your vote to the story, you must a) like the post (don’t accidentally ‘forget’ to like the post or I’m going to ‘accidentally’ drop you into a vat of lava), b) reblog the post to spread some Halloween joy, and c) head on over to Cee’s twitter page to place your vote. …She did mention to everyone that she had a twitter page, right? Because the success of this event depends on those polls. I wouldn’t be surprised if she forgot, seeing that she’s an idiot and all- Oh, also, sending your vote in via Cee’s ask box and spamming your vote does not count. Cee probably wouldn’t want to come back to see her inbox cluttered with a hundred A’s and B’s floating around everywhere, and if that happens, I’m going to get shit for it, and she’s not going to let me host anything ever again. Don’t do it. Don’t be an asshole!

The voting period will end an hour after it’s been posted, which is definitely more than enough time for you to read and make a decision. After the hour ends, that’s when I’ll swoop in and tally up the results. The poll closes automatically, so if you miss the deadline, you miss the deadline. And complaining about it or whining about it isn’t going to help any of us in any way, you big crybabies.

The less popular option will not be posted and will immediately be scrunched up and tossed into a fire, so don’t bother asking about it.

Cee’s not here. And she won’t be here for the next seven days, which means no regular asks will be answered. That’ll disrupt the whole vibe I’m setting up here, you know? Character asks will still be answered, but I’ll be monitoring everything this week. 

Speaking of Cee, I sent her off to an isolated cabin in the woods. Don’t worry about it. Unlike the promotion event for La Vie En Bonsai - which, by the way, was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever read in my entire life - there will be no direct hotline to her phone. Now, with that being said, I encourage you to continue to send Cee messages every day just so she doesn’t go crazy in the cabin. You know, give her a little something to scroll through while she’s climbing up a tree to get away from a grizzly bear. Long story short - it’s just going to be you and I, my friends.

Here’s a list of a bunch of different time zones because I know one of you is going to bitch about having to figure it out and I don’t have the energy to listen to your shrill voices for more than three seconds. And don’t get pissed if you have to be up at a weird hour. Deal with it.

PST: 12:00AM

EST: 3:00AM (The perfect time because that’s when my friends and I are most active!)

CDT: 2:00AM

BST: 8:00AM

AEST: 5:00PM

ACST: 4:30PM

JST: 4:00PM

CST: 3:00PM

WIB: 3:00PM

IST: 12:30PM

MSK: 10:00AM

CEST: 9:00AM

GMT: 7:00AM

ART: 4:00AM

HST: 9:00PM

AKDT: 11:00PM

Okay, that’s it.

See you tomorrow at midnight. 

[sophisticated-creepy]

Lola’s mind was swarming. Although one thought seamlessly bled into the next, there was a supreme lack of a single thread with which to follow, and completely lost in the void of her own mind, she hadn’t noticed she’d walked passed her destination, realizing halfway down the next block she had to double back to reach Curios and Oddities. She was stepping up to the main entrance as Modesta was walking out, holding the door open wide for a customer who had finished purchasing an order of candles and dreamcatchers, the lady’s arms draped in large shopping bags.

“Thanks again, and have a pleasant day,” Modesta told the satisfied shopper. “Lola! I thought I saw you walking by.”

“Hi, Modesta,” Lola chirped, perhaps a tad too sharply to even her own ears. “How was inventory?”

“Fine,” Modesta answered, her eyebrows knitting together in question. Lola’s energy was sporadic and fluctuating, sending out an unsettling vibe despite standing perfectly still in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe that was the issue: Lola was merely standing. Lola didn’t “stand”, she fluttered, like an overly caffeinated butterfly. If Modesta did find her friend by chance to be in a state of rest, some other part of her was usually moving, whether it were her arms gesturing about grandly during some ostentatious storytelling, or her eyes dancing to absorb the scenery around her. Lola was like the wind, and rarely remained stagnant, so when she noticed the eerie calm in the way Lola remained motionless, staring at nothing, she was immediately on edge and completely creeped out.

“Look, I know Halloween is right around the corner, but you are really starting to freak me out, Lola. Do you need help or something?”

“Sorry,” Lola spoke. She then blinked, her shoulders slouching downwards naturally, shifting back into a more fluid realm of movement and mannerisms. “Sorry,” she repeated. “Yes, actually, I was wondering if you could help me. Are you busy, or can we talk for a moment?”

“I’m not too terribly busy, come on in. What’s on your mind? You were a total zombie on the sidewalk just now.” Lola was ushered into the warmth of the shop, the scent of vanilla and cookies instantly had her relaxing, feeling once more at peace and in control of her rampant thoughts and imagination.

“I’m processing a lot of information,” Lola began as she stepped into the sacred space. “Actually, I’m trying to get some research done on a new story for a writing contest I’m entering.”

Modesta gave a light laugh. “Oh! Another story, huh? That explains your zone-out. What’s your theme this time?”

“The Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“Of course it is,” Modesta laughed harder. “Why did I even bother to ask?”

“Anyway…,” Lola transitioned, giving her friend a look that clearly meant she herself was not amused. “I have a deadline in little over a week, so I need to get as much research done as possible before I can do any actual writing.”

“Do you really need to do research? I thought you knew all there was to your loveable Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“It’s rather quite shocking on how much I don’t know, except for the everyday basics: he’s a goblin, he hobbles, walks with a crutch, and plays pranks. I don’t know the real, tangible origins, so I’m looking for the deeper meaning. I’m looking for his story.”

“I’ve never thought about it from that angle before,” Modesta admitted. “It’s a unique way to portray the legend, that’s for sure.”

Aggrievedly, Lola leaned her hip against a tall table stacked with candles and heaved a sigh. “I want to get some personal testimonies of people experiencing a real run-in with Mr. Goblin as part of my research to get a truer feel of his hauntings, but I’m coming to realize it’s going to be near impossible to sort the differences between a Hobblin’ haunt and a regular haunt.”

“I can help with that!” Jack sprung up from behind the furniture piece Lola and Modesta were talking next to, his boisterous appearance scaring the living daylights out of the two women, having the whole shop of customers stare in their direction as they each let out a scream of fright.

“Jack!” Modesta scolded after catching her breath. “Have you been waiting behind that table this whole time to scare us?”

Laughing, Jack nodded. “I was. But, do you at least get my point?”

“What are you talking about?” Lola asked, still trying to get her racing heartbeat under control.

“I heard you talking about the Hobblin’ Goblin. He pulls pranks, just like me, and like any other prankster, his jokes are mainly for his enjoyment,” Jack informed. “You can’t rely on the typical moans and groans and rattling of chains. You need to look for the fun.”

Lola snapped her fingers in confirmation. “That’s exactly what I said to Stacy. I’m looking for what makes the Hobblin’ Goblin so special, and I believe it lies in the fun. Do you mind if I record you saying that, Jack? From one trickster to another, I’m sure you’ve got some great insight I could borrow.” Eager to get a new perspective on her favorite goblin, Lola began digging around in her purse to renew her quest of investigation.

“Did you hear that, Mo? I get to be recorded,” Jack smugly stated, plastering on a cheesy smile a charlatan of yore would envy.

“I don’t think the world is ready for your mug,” Modesta sarcastically shot back. Lola emerged from her handbag, holding her tape recorder towards Jack’s face, his smile swapping out for a confused pout as he stared down the microphone of the handheld device.

“Tell me again about the motivation of tricksters, Jack,” Lola sweetly requested.

“Yes, Jack,” Modesta agreed, stifling her laughter to the best of her ability. “Tell the audio world all about it.”

“Uh, Lola, when you said ‘record’, I assumed---.” Jack trailed off, not wanting to hurt the wannabe reporter’s feelings, as Lola’s innocent expression at recording him with her archaic equipment weighed heavily against his conscience.

“Oh, shit, hold on,” Lola cursed. “I need to take notes.” Lola’s quick movements to try and free up her hands in order to get a pen and her notebook caused her to jumble and jostle the items in her arm, and she dropped her notepad along with the newspaper straight to the floor in a flurry of commotion. Modesta bent down to help Lola retrieve her items. When her fingertips brushed the newspaper, she hissed, jolted by the sharp sensation, and yanked her arm back, the feeling as if she had touched the coils of a stovetop scorching into her fingers. Looking at the periodical, her eyes fell on the front page, the grainy image of the train yard staring back at her, and Modesta could have sworn she had been punched in the gut.

“Oh, no. Nope. Not okay, and not today. Nada, nope, not happening,” she stammered furiously, and shoved the paper away from her. “I don’t know why you brought that newspaper into my store, but you need to take it outside now.”

Lola reclaimed the newspaper, slowly picking it up off the floor. “Well, that helps answer some of my questions,” she softly stated.

“Everything all right?” asked Jack.

“I was hoping Modesta would take a look at this picture in the newspaper. Even I got a weird vibe from it, and I wanted to get her opinion on the photo, too.” Lola gave the paper to Jack so he could take a look at the cause of excitement.

“Is this the train yard where that attack was made?” he asked, and Lola nodded.

“What attack?” Modesta asked, unconsciously staggering away from Jack as he held the paper out, studying the photo intensely. The residual tingle of being burned lingered on her fingertips, and her hackles were prickling in warry foreboding.

“I heard about it on the radio last night. A security guard was attacked by a demon,” Jack informed, dropping his voice at the end to whisper so as not to alarm nearby customers.

“A demon?” Modesta repeated, crossing her arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Someone approved that statement to be broadcasted all over local radio?”

“Hey, there’s no mention of the demon in the paper,” Jack stated, turning the pages to try and find the rest of the story.

“Why would there be? The article said it was the work of some kids’ prank gone wrong,” Lola interjected.

“What I heard,” Jack began, “was that the security guard was attacked by a hunched over shadow creature he saw lurking just outside the trees of the forest.”

“How would the radio station know that? The newspaper said the guard has a concussion and a fractured skull. He couldn’t make a statement. His partner found him after he fell,” Lola surmised.

“The dates are wrong, too,” Jack continued, his gaze sharp on the paper. “I heard about the attack happening two nights ago, not last night.”

“Maybe the radio got it wrong,” Lola theorized. “Or, maybe the paper has a misprint. Wait!” Jack’s words began to poke at Lola’s mind, helping to fit pieces of the puzzle together from her earlier haphazard thoughts. “Did you say something about a hunched over shadow creature? Here, let me see that again.” Lola reached for the newspaper and turned to the front page, squinting hard once more at the blurry image. “I can’t tell for sure,” she said at last.

“What are you looking for?” Modesta asked, still standing on the outskirts of her friends thanks to the uneasy item of interest.

“I think the photographer caught an image in the forest, but I can’t make it out. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but could you please take a look for me, Mo? I get the feeling something’s there, but I need you to validate it or not.”

“Oh, there’s something in that photo, all right,” Modesta confirmed, not even having to look at the image, refusing to touch the newspaper.

“Let me take a look in a better light,” Jack requested, and leading the others to the main checkout counter, spread the pages out on the glass surface. Leaning over the image, he peered closely at the tree line. “I think I can make out a shape. Here, right?” Jack pointed to the same shape that first caught Lola’s attention. "It looks cut off, but that might really be a picture of some kind of figure.”

“Oh, my gracious!” Lola gasped. “What if this is proof of the Hobblin’ Goblin?” she asked in a burst of delight. “Isn’t he rumored to have lived in the forest? What if, what if,” she stressed, “this is him?” Her heartrate had picked back up several faster beats per minute, and the pleasant prickle of goosebumps began crawling up her arms, her earlier disposition melting to give way to the wash of excitement lighting her features. “We’ve got to check this place out!”

“No, Lola,” Modesta cut in harshly. “Absolutely not.” Lola turned to her sour friend, the brusque declaration confusing, and her expression must have read as much, for Modesta pointedly tapped a firm finger on the counter where they all hovered above the newspaper. “This is not safe,” the consternated brunette stated evenly.

“I don’t understand,” Lola spoke. “Why are you so spooked?”

“You wanted my opinion? This is it: stay away.”

“What exactly are you picking up on?” Jack questioned.

“I’m all for Lola doing her research on the legend of the Hobblin’ Goblin,” Modesta began to elaborate. “Since you’re looking for the ‘fun’, I suggest you stick to that route. This,” she indicated, waving her hand over the newspaper, “is not him.”

Lola’s excitement quelled as she stared down at the shape in the photo, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in contemplation as she considered Modesta’s words compared to her impulse to investigate. This article was a tangible lead, a jumping point for her story to breathe life and take flight. She trusted her friend’s opinion, but nothing short of her own prodding could satiate Lola’s curiosity once it had been roused.

“I trust your judgment,” Lola began carefully, “but maybe we should check things out for ourselves. Come out to the train yard with me tonight.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m leading that workshop tonight and Jack is helping run the store, so don’t even bother asking him,” Modesta replied.

“Sorry,” Jack apologized, shrugging his shoulders in pre-obligated surrender.

“Besides, you’d be trespassing. You don’t have the authority to go traipsing around on private property after hours anyway,” Modesta reminded. If it were anymore possible, Lola’s exuberance and spirits deflated with the realization that she wasn’t, in fact, allowed to do her investigating after hours. A rebellious side of her stayed hopeful, however, and the back of her mind was already formulating plans to get the research she so desperately sought.

“Lola,” Modesta drawled in warning, seeing the gleam of trouble brewing behind her friend’s eyes. “Give me your word you’re not going to go after this figure. Leave it alone.”

Lola rolled her eyes, but still held a smile, always appreciative of Modesta’s caring and cautious nature. “I give you my word I won’t go seeking this figure,” she promised.

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have customers to tend.” With that, Modesta flicked her eyes upon the newspaper one final time before turning away. A moment passed before Jack cleared his throat.

“You’re going to go after this figure, aren’t you?”

“Now, Jack, I gave my word, you heard me promise,” Lola reiterated.

“Just…please take Raph with you. I know you are more than capable of handling things on your own, but…if there really is something demonic out there, it’s best if you don’t face it alone.” He gave his friend a comforting squeeze on her shoulder before going to help Modesta with the store. Lola remained silent, thankful of her friends’ concerns, however, the desire to figure out this growing mystery of ghosts and goblins staring back at her from a newspaper headline had her solidifying in her mind what she needed to do in order to properly tell a story.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, that Lola. Always getting into trouble.

[netherlady]

I’m watching movies/TV shows I used to watch as a kid in the 90s. Specifically, non-Disney animated media. These are my thoughts as they come.

I’m on to a Filmation Associates film called Happily Ever After. It’s a continuation of what happened after the end of Snow White. I actually used to watch the Disney film and this one back-to-back because that’s how I felt things should be done.

Right off, the mirror is recounting Snow White’s story—but get this. The prince didn’t kiss Snow’s corpse to awaken her. With love in his heart, he touched her hand and it was enough to break the spell.

Can I just appreciate the fact they didn’t wanna be like kissing sleeping and/or dead people is okay if you’re supposedly in love with them. Not cool, charming.

Dom DeLuise is the mirror, and a shady bitch right off. Straight up is like lol I don’t know you.

This animation is beautiful, tho. Fluid, expressive, they’re all individual character desiiigggnnn.

Malcom McDowell is iconic in this. Also, adding the dimension that the Evil Queen has family—and not only that, but a good strong relationship to her brother? To the point that he doesn’t even know this Snow White situation other than what he’s heard from his sister over the years, day in day out, holy shit are you STILL talking about this fucking teenager give it a rest maybe? And when he learns that aforementioned teenager is RESPONSIBLE for the death of his beloved sister? No questions, not even any real monologuing; Lord Maliss really said just where is this pasty little fuck I’m gonna set fire to her entire goddamn life.

I never understood why the Bat felt sorry for the evil queen. Seriously, she spent a good week trying to murder a teenager and failed. Over vanity. Just.

Speaking of the whole teenager thing, Snow is supposed to be 14. In lore, and in the Disney film. The prince is over 18. Super not okay. However, the way Snow is animated in this film, she looks older, acts older, and is clearly not a child. She is also voiced by Irene Cara (yes, THAT Irene Cara), which lends an unmistakable maturity to her. I honestly think they mean for her to be older in this. 18 at least. And I appreciate that.

Also, damn is this child traumatized. In the span of a few months, she was nearly murdered by the huntsman, her step-mother (four times), resurrected from a hell-sleep, and when she and the love of her life finally have a moment’s peace, she gets carried off by a giant fucking dragon, chased into another dark and terrifying forrest, and her prince gets kidnapped.

Her prince looks like He-Man with red hair. By the way. That aside, my favorite moment of him is how they animated him watching Snow pick flowers for her dwarven friends. It’s not creepy or possessive. It’s so damn affectionate.

I love the dwarfelles, and every actress that voiced them. Fuck.

Low key, I always thought Sunburn and Muddy were married. Like, knew it, accepted it, moved on from it.

And again, the radical bops of 90s non-Disney animation. Gotta love this shit, sing about your feelings Thunderella.

Phyllis Diller as Mother Nature is also iconic. She is made of bitch. Good for her.

Remember when I said the Prince looked like He-Man? He got turned into Orko. I just saw it and i can’t unsee it now. Fuck.

Anyway, I always liked the Shadow Man, and while I did love that he was the prince, I also would have loved him being a separate entity. Idk.

Maliss is so fucking extra with the magic mirror, like “STFU YOU INSOLENT PIFFLE lol you right tho imma go sic demon wolves on this bitch brb”

The bat is supposed to be the moral one, right. Calling the owl, Scowl, out on his bullshit. Honestly, this bat is an asshole. Straight up a piece of shit.

Man, Snow really out here, fighting wolves, saving dwarfelle lives, being agile as hell. I think about the scene where she gets up in the morning and twirls in front of the dwarves’ mirror, happy to be safe somewhere she calls home. A lot. Like? This is the same bitch. It’s great.

There’s a lot of themes about vanity in this story. I find it so interesting that after being invited to travel with them by Snow, the prince, cursed like to be the shadow man, is so horrified at his new visage, he runs off in shame. In doing so, he leaves Snow vulnerable, and without her mystic companions—and she gets hella kidnapped by Maliss.

Who, again, is a competent villain. No speeches, no posturing, he transforms and grabs her while he has an opening. Like, Maliss legit did not fuck around.

Batso continues to be an asshole.

When Maliss/evil prince says ‘You will look out on this forever’, it always hits. I used to rewind this particular segment up here on the parapet a lot. I loved the betrayal, the final stand-off. But that? That moment? I think about that line on the daily still. Chilling.

The cloak came out of nowhere, but it’s no less terrifying.

Seriously, I want background on the cloak. We got a whole bullshit song out of the chain smoking owl, I wanna know where Maliss got this cloak, and if all the statues in his sister’s castle are because of it. That’s a fucking story.

Straight up, wtf does he do to the prince/shadow man with the eye beams. Like. Mad scary and super fucked up. Maliss is powerful AF, and he wanted the woman responsible for killing his sister to suffer so bad, he gets real angerblind real fast.

This movie went hard. Killed the prince and the dwarfelles right there. Like. They were banking hard that the Magic undo button with the death of the villain was gonna sell right.

I was always low key confused when Snow said she loved the shadow man ‘as dearly as the prince’ when she mourned him. I’m sure it was supposed to be a soulmate hand-wavey kind of thing, but still.

My brother used to make fun of the way she cried. Irene tried, okay.

Ah, yes, the 90s non-smoking PSA. Everyone had one. Now with more owl.

Happily Ever After. I wouldn’t blame Snow if she legit had a guard who’s only job was to test her food and clothing for poisons, and another to watch the sky for fucking dragons for the rest of her life.

I loved watching this again. I forgot how much I loved it. The cast is huge and stellar, with a ton of legends. And the pop ballad at the end is, of course, performed by Irene Cara.

There’s only three songs in this whole thing, and the pop song at the end. I always wished there were more.

Either way. I loved this movie as a kid. Next time I’ll probably watch the Princess and the Goblin.

[gaknar]

Review: The Claremont Crossovers

Geez, I haven’t written a review for this blog since my Secret Wars review from like 17 years ago. How can that be? Well, I guess I used to work on this blog a lot more often and now I’ve gotten way more into Super Nintendo games and BDSM. Like a lot of people. But now that I finally finished reading Inferno, it is time once again to bookend my experience with an overly wordy wall of text filled with the worst kind of oblivious meninist butt humor jokes and pretentious sounding run-on sentences that are trying to sound smart but are always improperly ended with prepositions of. And lots of ridiculous comic book panels.

These are only the silliest panels from this reading that I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Bookeeping. This review covers everything that I have read since X-Factor #1. This includes Uncanny X-Men #204-243, X-Factor #1-39, New Mutants #38-73, along with a smattering of annuals, Daredevil, Power Pack, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Excalibur, and X-Terminators comics that were all part of the Mutant Massacre, Fall of the Mutants, and Inferno crossovers. There were a lot of developments over the course of the 4 years these comics were published. Jean Grey was resurrected and the original members of the X-Men reformed under the moniker X-Factor.

Mr. Sinister formed his band of evil mutants, the Marauders, who would become the X-Men’s main antagonists, and their most devious act would include committing mutant genocide against the Morlocks in the New York City sewers while dealing critical wounds to main X-Men team members Kitty Pryde, Nightcrawler, and Colossus during the fight.

Later, the X-Men were seemingly killed in a struggle with the mystical being known as the Adversary, but in reality they went into hiding in their new Australian outback base.

Illyana Rasputin lost control of the hell dimension Limbo which led to a demon invasion of Manhattan.

And finally, perhaps most prominently, Cyclops left his wife Madelyne Pryor and their son to get back together with Jean Grey, an act that led Madelyne to become corrupted with Pheoenix Force power and to turn into the Goblin Queen.

This era of X-Men comics contains the first major crossovers between the main X-Men comic book and its spinoffs. These events would become common as Marvel found ways to use its more strongly published works to carry the weaker ones, and the ploy still works apparently since here I am 30 years later reading 500 page omnibus collections just because there are 4 or 5 absolutely killer X-Men comic books in them. I love the X-Men so much that I’m willing to wade through the unending buildup to get the most out of the climaxes.

Seriously this artwork.

However, I find that this style of editing leads to a peculiar trend in pacing that can be tough to recover from in-between the major storylines. As Mutant Massacre leads into Fall of the Mutants, which then leads into Inferno, the characters are faced with consistently increasing stakes. With each passing story line, casualties grow and become more grave, and the consequences are more lasting. Mutant Massacre starts with the genocide of a mutant community, and several main characters are critically wounded as the X-Men face the worst defeat they’ve ever experienced. Then a year later in Fall of the Mutants, just as the team is starting to recover, the entire team of X-Men is killed during their battle against the Adversary. They would immediately be resurrected as a reward for sacrificing themselves to save the world, but it is still a defeat that claims the lives of every member of the team, if only for a moment. By the time we get to Inferno, the world is literally ending. Demons are raining from the sky and regular people are straight up getting slaughtered in the streets and elevators as the X-Men are more or less helpless to stop the destruction.

Inferno is an amazing storyline, if only for all the scenes of inanimate objects coming to life and straight up eviscerating common folk who are just minding their own business. Look at this shit!!! How did the comics code of conduct ever approve this. A mob of people just packed themselves into a demon FOOD PROCESSOR and every inch of them was liquefied except their bones. Chilling. (And let’s just forget about how the writers retconned all this blood orgy stuff in the Inferno Epilogue).

This all works in a capitalistic sense. Constantly raise the stakes and don’t let up for a second because if you do, the reader will take their eyes off the page and you will lose money. But the problem is, you can’t do this forever. And if you try, eventually you are going to write yourself into a corner where you’ve raised the stakes so many times, and you’ve re-manufactured the drama so often, people will stop caring. I call this the Dragon Ball effect.

How many times have these characters become gods at this point? Like three movies ago, the most recent movie was literally called “Battle of Gods.” I’m not even watching Super. Once your characters get so far away from humanistic stories people can relate to, you are no longer creating art. You’re manufacturing sensationalism. And it gets boring. These guys are starting to look like different flavors of freezie pops.

Maybe this is why the X-Men comics that come after this, the comics that make up the last leg of writer Chris Claremont’s 17 year run on the series, become so weird. Because perhaps there was no way to continue to raise the stakes any higher. After this point, we don’t get any more big crossovers until X-Tinction Agenda, but even that story is small and quaint when compared to what is presented here. Wolverine completely disappears from the series, all our other favorite characters disappear into the Seige Perilous to be transformed into completely different versions of themselves, and we get a lot of surreal stories that don’t have any sort of climax in the way that we’ve been conditioned to expect. The series becomes murky and ambiguous, without a solid narrative arc, and I think that’s why people regard the end of Chris Claremont’s writing on the series to be the weakest part of his run.

I can’t wait to read the X-Men comics that are coming up next. Because I didn’t know what in the FUCK was going on in these comics when I was a kid and I’m hoping they make more sense now.

Anyway, I’ll be the judge of all that, once I get there. (I may even indulge in the Infinity Gauntlet omnibus because, you know, there’s a couple X-Men involved in that). But regardless of what comes after this, I think it’s also true that the crossovers presented in this reading are generally regarded with less respect than Chris Claremont’s earlier work on the series, such as the Dark Phoenix Saga and Days of Future Past. This I don’t agree with. While the stories in this reading do range in quality, with Fall of the Mutants definitely being the weakest of the three big crossovers, and even though the Uncanny X-Men portion of Inferno isn’t even the central story of that crossover (the critical story elements take place in the far inferior issues of New Mutants and <ugh> X-Terminators written by Louise Simonson), Claremont’s writing is still much stronger, more layered, and more elegant than anything else that is presented in these collections. These crossovers may not be as timeless or original as the most famous X-Men stories, but the writing here is still really darn good and engaging (at least in Uncanny X-Men), and in my opinion, does not represent a decline in aptitude on the part of the writer. It’s clear that Claremont’s writing has continued to mature and become more nuanced, so much so that when you compare it to the first issues he wrote for the series, it seems like he’s a completely different writer.

KALIDASCOPICALLY. Again, these were just the silliest panels I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Personally, I love this period of X-Men comics. Under Claremont’s executive control, no plot thread gets dropped. No minor detail goes disregarded. Characters continue to grow and develop at such a natural pace, sometimes it feels like my own life is developing right alongside theirs. This adds depth to these readings and I can’t describe how it feels to be a part of them, and I think it’s this element that is missing from so many other comic books written by so many other comic book writers, including nearly every X-Men story written after Chris Claremont left the series.

Case in point, there are so many minor recurring characters that appear in these stories, like Franklin Richards. (I seriously tear up every time I see these panels). This little guy bounces around the Power Pack, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four like a ping pong ball. He’s a key character in the story line where Kitty Pryde finally recovers from the wounds she suffered during Mutant Massacre. And even though Kitty and Franklin have only met each other a few times, those meetings have meaning and they are remembered and called upon in the telling of the current story. All of the efforts made by the writers and editors to keep the narrative linked make these characters seem like real life people with weight and substance, rather than a thin layer of ink on a piece of paper. And it totally works.

Ugh, this review turned into another circle jerk about the writers of these comics, and especially about Chris Claremont. But what can I say. It’s because of the writers that we are here. Love or hate these comics, and I know Claremont’s wordy scripts are not everyone’s cup of tea, but these are the stories that make the X-Men what they are. It’s tough to be aware of these things when you’re in the middle of reading them, but I’m having the absolute best time writing this blog right now, and it is primarily because these are the comics that resonate with me the most. And when I’m finished with Claremont’s material and I’m slogging through some crap written by Chuck Austen, I bet I’m going to look back on these days with envy.

[thetradeway]

Session 40 10 Apr 2021: Thunderbuns and Timothy P. Fuckapple

Sophie and Matthew are on their way back from somewhere, so we start a little later than advertised.

Quick recap - where were we? Most of us were having dinner with Mirt, Kessler had left, and also Tarragon not long after, having made Brother Charity wear her drink.

Tarragon arrives back at the Dagger and Kessler has her translate what she managed to scribble down of Carl’s book:

The rest eventually arrive back, in various states of drunkenness. We have eaten, so the DM exempts us all from hangovers. Yay!

Brother Charity, Matthew tells us, had all the sinful posh foods including foie gras.

Joe has added character sheets for the baby flumph, and Simon the mouse who has rat stats (including a whole hit point!) but is not a rat. Did Gideon add a flumph pouch to his sleeve? Yes, his friend Bromrick helped him make one.

Okay, so! Are we all in the taproom, and does Kessler want to share what she learned about Carl? She wants to have a quiet word with Brother Charity about it. She’ll have a time of it, Matthew says; Brother Charity has wedged a chair under his door handle so he can be undisturbed while he calms Brother Carl down.

Sophie, OOC: “He’s dead, how calm do you want him? Resting heart rate of zero beats per minute!”

Kessler knocks on Brother Charity’s door. He ignores it. “He has to come out at some point!” Or she could just tell the party we’ve been bringing a zombie around with us, or tell the bar staff he’s been keeping dead animals in his room. Still nothing. (Matthew, OOC: “Riveting game playing, isn’t it?”)

The rest of us make Perception checks, Ahleqs rolls the best as he is perpetually on edge waiting for danger, even in his sleep. We all roll well enough to hear Kessler banging on Charity’s door. Ahleqs listens at his door to see what the exasperated goblin sounds are about. He opens his door and asks her what she’s doing; she says she wanted a word with Brother Charity.

She makes a Perception check - she can’t hear anything coming from Brother Charity’s room. She turns back to Ahleqs and asks him to go and get Gideon and she will get the rest of us. She wants us all to meet in her room.

He does as he’s told, and goes and knocks on Gideon’s door. He throws it open; he is wearing his little jammies.

Ahleqs: “Kessler’s being weird.”

Gideon: “And?”

We gather in her room. What has she woken us up at this ungodly hour for?

She tells us about the Identify spell - Brother Carl is under the influence of an Animate Dead spell. None of us are especially shocked by this news. She says Brother Charity won’t speak to her.

Ahleqs notes that Charity seemed upset because we haven’t really given him a chance.

Kessler says that Carl told her Charity ‘saved’ him. Gideon doesn’t seem worried, he just wishes Charity had been honest about it!

Do we think Carl can communicate, has he perhaps told Charity that Kessler knows? It’s a possibility.

We should hear him out before we burn him. We’ll wait for him to come down to breakfast and ask him about it. Wait, let’s check and make sure they haven’t done a runner. Melaina climbs out of the window in Kessler’s room and around the outside of the Dagger to Charity’s room to see if he’s in there. She looks into the room - which is empty. The window is closed, so he likely didn’t go out that way.

He’s scarpered! We go downstairs to ask the bar staff if they’ve seen him.

Well we don’t have to ask, because the Brothers are in the taproom eating breakfast. Well, shit. Okay so maybe they didn’t scarper.

Ahleqs, nervously: “Good morning, normal to see you.”

Brother Charity calls us straight away on Kessler’s investigation; Ahleqs asks why he didn’t just tell us Carl was dead. Well it’s not a great opener with a new group of people, Charity explains.

Besides, we’re dragging Tarragon around with us.

Tarragon: “… Excuse me?”  

Charity: “She came back from the dead, I don’t see the difference.”

Tarragon, indignant: “I’m not literally rotting!”

We have judged Carl, so we must be experts on his condition, yes? We know everything there is to know? Charity asks.

Tarragon: “No, that’s why we’re asking!”

“I see.”

He insists he’s not a necromancer. He cast spells of the necromantic variety, but so did the Unicorn to resurrect Tarragon -

Gideon, out of the blue: “How does the group feel about summoning demons?”

Us: “ - …”  

Kessler goes to the bar; it’s too early for this conversation.

(BC is smiling and drinking his coffee as we have a sidebar about this.)

Tarragon asks Charity to enlighten us about Carl’s condition.

He shows us a piece of paper with a drawing on it by Carl, of all of us holding hands.

He says that Carl was horrified when Kessler demanded he undress her and threatened to kill him.

Kessler lets slip that she was born in a human household, while Charity is berating her by openly making assumptions about goblins, the way we’re making assumptions about Carl.

Tarragon asks about how he came to animate Carl; he says he found his corpse in a field and cast a spell on it. Carl had been bitten by a snake, and Charity happened upon him. He says his previous zombie had been eaten by a bear.

Wait, his previous zombie? When did he start raising zombies?

Two hundred and three years ago.

“Are you undead?”

No!

How did he come to raise zombies two hundred or so years before he was born?

He says that’s an interesting story, and he might tell us if we share something about ourselves. He starts by turning to Ahleqs, while Kessler goes to the bar and orders a keg of everything and as much food as they can bring to our table.

Jirr, seeing her approach: “Gonna be one of those, huh?”

It’s a bit early for Charity, he’ll stick with coffee. (Not at all like Matthew, who will have a PINT OF WHISKEY! That’s roleplaying for you.)

Charity asks about Ahleqs’s wild magic; what would he say was the most significant event to happen to him other than the acquisition of his magical powers on the day he discovered he had them?

Ahleqs stares into middle distance. He says that’s when he escaped; he never found out why they did it to him, but he’s not going back.

Woah.

(Charity tries to backpedal, and offers Ahleqs a scotch.)

Before Ahleqs can elaborate, his amulet starts to pulse and Mr Pickles appears. He looks around the table and his gaze settles on Carl.

“What’s this?”

Ahleqs, relieved: “Mr Pickles will sort everything out.”

Mr Pickles sniffs Carl. Ahleqs says he’s just coming around to the idea that Carl might be okay.

Mr. Pickles, sniffily: “it’s nothing to be frightened of. It’s just magic. Low magic, but just magic.”

Charity: “How dare you!”

Mr. Pickles, ignoring him: “I have an offer for you and your friends, anyone who can cast arcane magic, from the temple. We have a mission that you and your team would be perfect for.” He will explain further, but not here.

Tarragon says she can’t cast arcane magic, can she come anyway? Yes, all can do the mission, but the reward only benefits arcane casters. (Tarragon says that’s fine - everyone here has helped her with stuff before.)  Mr. Pickles tells us to eat our breakfast and join him later.

Ahleqs talks about the glowing orb he found, which he thought at first was elf poo; it has stopped glowing now so he thinks it might be something else.

Melaina, nodding: “My poos don’t stop glowing.”

Ahleqs takes Carl’s picture and puts it in the bag of holding. Aww.

Charity comforts Carl as we leave, rubbing his back. “See, I told you no-one was going to kill you.”

Duncan, OOC: “Guys, I think I love Carl!”

Charity makes a Perception check; he is not shit-hot at these. He rolls a 15, perceiving a medium amount of things. He spots one of Mirt’s paper cranes; he immediately pockets it without drawing attention to it. (There is something for him in the handout section of his journal. He will read that anon.)

Tarragon rolls Perception as well; she sees a black cat looking at her. It goes “PSSST!” She shakes her head and keeps walking.

We walk back through the fancy part of town where we were last night, toward the House of Wonder.

Ahleqs has been to the House of Wonder before, yes? He leads us there, excitedly telling us all how good it is. This is the temple if the Goddess of Magic, in the middle of the Sea Ward. Mr. Pickles is waiting for us.

Ahleqs asks him, if he gets really good at magic, so he hardly ever kills any of his friends, can he have a set of those robes?

“Of course, my boy.”

Gideon takes a look at the pillars - at ADV because of his Stonecunning, which he is going to use EVERY session. They’re pulsing with magic. Can he do an arcana check?

Yes. at ADV as well. 26! He is going to fondle those stones until he unlocks all their secrets! They are conduits for magic. Each pillar channels a different form, adding to the ambient magic in the temple.

We have to peel him off the stone at this point. “What are we here for, again? Missions! Yes!” 

Mr Pickles, somehow raising one eyebrow at Gideon even though he doesn’t have any: “Are you done?”

Gideon, still looking longingly at the pillars: “Yes.”

Mr. Pickles says there have been developments in the Shadow Weave. He would like us to undertake a journey to Candlekeep to find a book. Are we familiar with the Castle of Tomes?

Ahleqs makes a History check. He is from Baldur’s Gate so he can do it at ADV. 14; he has heard of it but never been there. It’s the greatest repository of knowledge in the world, guarded by monks. People come from all over to seek knowledge.

Do we just ask them for this book?

Mr Pickles asks Charity if he’s been to Candlekeep before; he has, once or twice. As he knows, the monks require a gift for entry; a book that is not already in their possession.

Melaina: “We could write one!”

Sadly this probably won’t work as they are stringent about the quality of the books they accept, and Mr. Pickles doesn’t know how we would get a good one. His head priest will write us a letter which should convince the monks to let us have the one we want to take away, but we must find a book that will be acceptable to the monks in order to gain entry.

Hmm.

Poetry, arcane arts, history, all of these would be acceptable. Erotic fiction? Ahleqs knows where we can find a lot of that.

Mr Pickles wants to talk about the reward; Charity already has a familiar, he says. (Does he mean Carl?) Would any of the arcane casters like a bond with such a creature? Ahleqs brings out Simon. “I already have one.”

Melaina says she would like ‘a little aminal...’

Mr. Pickles says they could bind Simon to Ahleqs as a familiar so that if something happens to him, he could be brought back. (Mouse Frumpkin!) He thinks Simon would love that; yeah, let’s do that.

Mr Pickles leads him to a chamber - Ahleqs skips after him, he’s so excited.

Ahleqs can add Find Familiar to his spell list - it will only summon Simon, and Mr Pickles will show him how to cast it as a ritual.

Mr Pickles offers the same to Gideon, for his flumph; he accepts.

Mr Pickles returns again and offers Kessler a familiar. She’s not sure she should keep a pet; she’d probably lose it.

Charity and Ahleqs both say “Or eat it” at the same time. Ahleqs holds his hand up for a high five; Charity is briefly confused before Ahleqs explains the concept of high fives. Charity feels included in the group for the first time, and accepts the high five.

Mr Pickles, ignoring all this, tells Kessler to trust him - this is a good idea. She finally agrees. Mr Pickles leads her into the ritual chambers and performs the ritual. Upon casting, a curious creature emerges from the portal created. It looks like a tiny clockwork beholder.

Mr. Pickles asks if Melaina wants a familiar - “Uhhh yes please that sounds awesome.”

She can choose which aminal she wants and let the DM know as and when, but she can add the spell now.

Joe goes to move on - and Sophie suddenly knows what she wants: “Weasel! Weasel!”

Weasel it is. :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2CTVqt2wxU

Mr Pickles can’t help us with finding a suitable book; he will think on it. Will we be around for a while?

Do we have to sort of guess which books they have at Candlekeep already, or do they have a published catalogue?

There is some sort of divination magic we can use to discern whether or not they have a particular book. They will take annotated copies if they’re interesting, or first edition copies, of books they already have.

Tarragon makes a Perception check - the black cat is sitting at the entrance to the temple, watching.

Tarragon waves to the cat - it raises its paw. It stretches, then lopes slowly toward her.

“By the gods but you are stupid!” says the cat, aloud, in Common. “I have been trying to get your attention for ages! Come to the shrines of nature!”

Tarragon says she will go along at some point today, and the cat leaves.

“Well now, run along,” says Mr. Pickles, lighting his pipe.

He says as we leave that he has something special for Ahleqs if we do well.

We go to the shrines of nature. (Ahleqs at least will come with; it sounds nice and relaxing.)

Charity and Melaina get chatting; after a while Charity notes, “I think this is the most we’ve spoken, you know.”

Melaina, immediately: “Fuck off.”

We arrive at the shrines of nature - Amithrel, the High Druidess, approaches us. She says she has been speaking to her colleagues about Tansy. Some have heard about this type of curse or poison before - there is a book that might be of benefit. She says the cat told her that we might be travelling to Candlekeep soon? This would be a perfect opportunity.

It involves a ritual cast on the heartstone that Melaina gave Tarragon. It’s in a book of ancient rituals and spells. It fell into the hands of a lore keeper and ended up in Candlekeep. The monks likely won’t part with it, so Tarragon will have to find a way of copying it.

Mr Pickles is going to give us the title of the book he wants us to borrow. The High Druidess can’t remember the name of the druid who told her about the book, but he will be coming here soon. Are we okay with waiting a few days for him to arrive, before we leave for Candlekeep?

Yeah, we need to find a book to give the monks anyway.

Amithrel asks if we’ve thought about how we’re going to get to Candlekeep. It’s about 900 miles by land. The best way to make the journey would be by boat; didn’t we have a friend with a boat? Didn’t he look like this guy (Charity) but ‘infinitely more handsome’? Perhaps we could contact him, he has friends at the Docks Ward who could get a message to him.

We could charter a boat, couldn’t we? Charity asks, clearly reluctant about contacting Gunna. Might be a little expensive, though. But Gunna was pretty clear that he was off doing family things, he might not want to come back just to ferry us along the Sword Coast. If he’s two weeks out, it’ll take him two weeks to come back, Charity points out. 

Ahleqs thinks we should either buy passage or gain employment as protection on a ship. Or we could ask Larissa, maybe she could get us passage?

Speaking of Lord Walrus, does Charity have anything he needs to be getting on with? He says if we’re near the Dagger he’ll go and look for some books and - the thing… (no idea what that means. Oh! Probably the Harper mission from Mirt.)

We head back to the Dagger and Charity and Carl excuse themselves to go off and look for ‘stuff’.

Kessler goes to the Watchful Order to see if they have any books that might be suitable. Ahleqs accompanies her. We just need to borrow one, right?

No, it would have to stay at Candlekeep.

Melaina: “Well they’re not called CandleBorrow.”

Charity puts his head back in the door to the Dagger to ask Gideon if he would like to accompany him and Carl on his mission to find a talking horse. Wait, what?

Gideon agrees, apparently not needing to ask any kind of follow-up questions. Where is this horse? Charity says it’s pulling around some kind of dray. (A wagon or cart type thing.)

Gideon asks Ria about drays; who around here might own one?

Ria says there are some companies, and some independents who own one. They’re mostly to be found here, though they travel all over the city.

Ahleqs has the Urchin background, so he knows his way around cities - comes from always keeping his eyes peeled for escape routes. Sadly, he’s already gone to the Watchful Order with Kessler, so that’s of no help here.

Gideon and Charity go off in search of the talking horse. Goes by the name of Maxeene apparently.

Perhaps they could take a dray carriage on a tour around the city? Would be a good way to get to know their way around. Well, not much use if they’re looking for a particular horse, unless they happen to get the one dray that Maxeene pulls. 

Tarragon and Melaina saw Ahleqs and Kessler leave for the Watchful Order; they also see Gideon and Charity (and Carl) looking around the street and arguing heatedly. Tarragon goes back to her wine and Melaina plays excitedly with her new weasel; neither seem to care overmuch about what Brother Charity is doing.

Outside, Charity approaches a guard to ask about the dray. Where do they run to and from?

“Any particular service? They run the length and breadth of the city.”

Any that have violet flowers as their emblem? Or horses that wear a violet flower?

The guard looks at him funny. “Are you drunk?”

Charity makes a persuasion check - a 13.

The guard isn’t sure that any of the horses have taken to wearing flowers in their hair.

(This seems to be getting him nowhere; maybe Charity should look them up in the Yellow Parchments instead.)

He gives up and walks away from the guard. He doesn’t quite know how to talk to ‘the lower-downs’.

He and Gideon make Survival checks; Gideon spots some dray tracks.

“Onward!!”

He splats his way down the street, following the tracks which lead to the market. There are a lot of drays going to and fro; if they found a vantage point they might get a better chance at finding the one they’re after.

“Maxeene!” Gideon shouts, in desperation and to no avail. Can they get onto a roof? It’ll be a DEX check. Would that be untoward? Would people think he’s a loon?

Wait - the familiars! Gideon could send his flumph! He sits on a bench and instructs Charity not to let anyone pickpocket him, as he’ll be blind and deaf as he looks through the flumph’s eyes.

He whispers into his sleeve and sends out the flumph, warning it not to talk to strangers. Baby flumph makes a Perception check as it floats into the air. Gideon brains over the relevant information: A horse with a violet flower behind its left ear.

Through the flumph’s eyes, Gideon spots the horse in question. He points, but he’s seeing through the flumph and still sitting on the bench so he’s pointing at the ground.

Charity forgets that Gideon is deaf while he’s using this spell and demands to know what he’s pointing at.

(Matthew, OOC: “This whole scene is a combination of See No Evil Hear No Evil and Weekend at Bernie’s.”)

Gideon withdraws from the flumph’s vision and he and Charity go in search of the horse. They catch it up and Gideon walks alongside the dray and asks the driver what time he finishes; the driver says he’s not his type.

Is there room for three more on this dray? Gideon asks, ignoring this. The driver pulls to a halt and introduces himself as Marcus. He says yeah, we’ve got no passengers. Fare is 4 cp; Gideon throws him 12. They scatter; Marcus scrabbles around to pick them up and tells them begrudgingly to get on.

Another human already on the dray introduces himself as Morgan. He is Marcus’ brother, and he gives Gideon the tickets.

They ride around the city on the dray, while Marcus happily chatters away to them. They make Insight checks; if one of them keeps Marcus talking, the other might be able to make contact with Maxeene.

They decide instead to take a tour of the city. They spend a very pleasant afternoon, even stopping for sandwiches. Finally they reach the last stop. Do they ask to go along to the stables…? Would that be untoward? Marcus is looking at them like he’d like them to get off his dray now.

Gideon suggests posing as inspectors. Charity loves that idea, “but. We have taken the entire tour. That might be a hard sell. But it’s not a terrible idea.” He suggests following the dray after they get off, finding the stables, and then engaging Operation Pretending to be Inspectors.

Gideon gets up slowly because they’ve been sitting down for hours and he’s a creaky old dwarf, and hops off the dray. Charity tries to attract the attention of the horse, but it’s tricky. He makes a Performance check - a ten.

Maxeene looks at him blankly. She and the other horses are untied and led down the alley, but Charity and Gideon have seen the direction they went.

Matthew wants to go outside for a cigarette, so we cut back to Tarragon and Melaina; Melaina is mucking about with her weasel, and Tarragon is busy getting wine drunk. Over to the other group then…

Ahleqs and Kessler have gone to the Watchful Order (Mina is not responding so we pick up with Ahleqs until she returns).

He tells the librarian he is looking for esoteric knowledge. Could they direct him towards the rare book section?

Is he looking to buy rare books?

Potentially…

As a paid member he can read or borrow anything here, but they don’t sell stuff. The librarian can recommend a number of good bookshops. Some Guilds might deal in rarer volumes, too, she adds... 

Ahleqs makes an Insight check - 18. The librarian is hinting that thieves’ guilds or Xanathar might have something akin to what he’s looking for. Ahleqs is way out of his depth, but nods as if he knows what’s going on.

He will peruse the shelves here anyway, he says.

Kessler pops back in and says that we recently did some work for someone who might be able to acquire rare books; what about Shanks? Perhaps her lot could steal to order? We might even get a discount on services if Melaina goes along on the job. (Sophie, enthusiastically: “Yeah!”)

Matthew is back from smoking now so we pick back up with Charity, Carl and Gideon.

It’s early evening by now. There are people around, they are still in the vicinity of the market. Charity finds a door to the stables, but it’s locked. He makes an Investigation check and rolls a 19. He could probably pick it without too much trouble but he doesn’t have thieves’ tools. They could go and get Melaina…?

(Sophie OOC: “Just text me.”)

Charity is reluctant to ask ‘the elf’ for help. She’ll just say no. Well she won’t say no, she’ll say ‘fuck off’. He asks Gideon to go, as she’s more likely not to swear at him.

“What? No! We can do this by ourselves! There must be a way. Is there an open window or something…?” Gideon looks for anything that doesn’t involve lock picks or asking the elf for help. Does he perhap have a spell…?

He looks for a spare key under a bucket by the door or something. He makes an Investigation check and gets a 22 - he spies a key on top of the doorway! He points it out to Charity who reaches up and grabs it. Gideon arcana checks the door to see if it’s trapped; it is not. Well, not magically, anyway.

They enter the stable. There are four horses in here - one of which has a violet flower behind her left ear.

“Maxeene,” Brother Charity whispers. She looks at him but doesn’t respond. He shows her the Harper button. She greets him and asks what she can do for him.

He says he has been sent on a mission and introduces himself, Carl and Gideon. He is here looking for information, and has been told that Maxeene might know about agents in hiding with ‘an unpronounceable name’. Would she be so kind as to let him know what she knows, and Charity is willing to pay for the information.

DM, laughing: “Are you offering the horse money…?”

Matthew, OOC: “Nah, like sugar lumps or something.”

Maxeene tells him that sugar lumps are bad for the teeth.

“I know that, I’m a doctor.”

Gideon, scoffing: “No you aren’t!”

Charity, miffed: “Bloody well am.”

Maxeene interrupts the squabble to say that she gave a ride to a sun elf and a half orc two days ago, dropping them at the Yawning Portal. They spoke of planting agents in the guild, in a weird way. The Xanathar guild, their enemies. They might be Zent agents.

Charity makes notes on his letter, while Carl holds the ink pot for him in his open hand.

Maxeene says he could seek them out at the Yawning Portal.

DM: “Kessler might know about tha - ”

Gideon, immediately: “No! We don’t need any help from the goblin!”

After some History checks, they know that the Yawning Portal is a famous tavern in Waterdeep. There was a tower that exploded, now it’s a portal to the Undermountain. Famous tourist attraction. Lots of adventurers pay money to be lowered down the hole to seek their fortunes.

This is starting to sound like more than a two-person adventure...

Gideon asks Maxeene why a horse of her ability is pulling a carriage? She is an agent for the Harpers, she tells him. You get to see all sorts in her line of work. (The irony.)

Charity says he thinks his job is done - apparently all Mirt wanted was to know what Maxeene knew.

But wait! Charity has a plan. He thinks they should go to the Yawning Portal and ask around. But in order to forestall any investigations, they should disguise themselves. How would Gideon feel about dyeing his beard to pass himself off as a different dwarf? He supposes he could. (Charity pulls out a little bottle that says ‘Just for Dwarves’ on it.)

Charity rubs some boot polish into Gideon’s beard, and they set off for the Yawning Portal. Wait - they need names!

Gideon, after a short pause: “Sledge Rock-Eater.” And what about Brother Charity? “Human names, human names… Paul?”

Charity says he will go with ‘Timothy’. (Is that a Tal’Doreian name?)

Before they go in, Charity suggests that Carl wait for them in an alleyway. He casts Disguise Self to look like a ‘cribbly old man’ (direct quote) and plops his wig on his head. (He could have given himself hair with Disguise Self, but anyway.) He also has ‘a manky eye and a hump’.

Does Gideon have a weapon? He blusters. “I use magic, I don’t usually bonk things.”

Carl offers his mace; “It’s all yours,” he says, the first words we’ve ever known him to speak - something that seems to pass everyone by.

(The scene that follows is not easily captured in text form which is a shame, as much of the nuance and high comedy - not to mention the abominable accents - are completely lost. My apologies to Thunderbuns and Ross Kemp.)

They enter the Yawning Portal. Trophies line the walls, and there is a big hole in floor into which people are being lowered on a rope. The bards here are really good, and obviously well paid.

They start to look around for a half orc and a sun elf who are together. Charity spots a balcony that runs around the edge of the main tap room. From his position he can see a male sun elf standing talking to a female half orc. That seems promising. They are hoping to get their names, and to find out if they are Zent agents.

Publicly, the Zent mercenary guild have a respectable face but they have a shady reputation. They are called the Black Network in underground circles, and most don’t trust their intentions. They undercut the prices of other mercenary guilds. They’ve been at war with Xanathar’s guild, who are also fighting with the Shadow thieves.

Charity, getting ready to make his move: “What was your name again, Thunderbuns?” He suggests dropping Xanathar’s name in a negative way as they walk by, initiating a conversation and seeing what they can glean.

Charity gets fully into character as Ross Kemp as he orders whiskey for himself and Gideon at the bar. It costs 2 copper, but he flicks the barmaid a silver piece and tells her to ‘buy herself summink pretty’. She winks and stuffs the silver piece into her cleavage.

Charity slams the whiskey and makes the face that people who aren’t used to drinking whiskey make. A couple of people at a nearby table notice and start to laugh; Ross Kemp points to the glass and tries to insist that it was ‘the shit stuff’. It’s unclear whether they believe him or not, but it seems unlikely.

Right, time for phase two.

They go up to the balcony, talking shit about Xanathar’s guild in the worst cockney accents anyone has ever heard. The half orc girl is picking at her nails with a dagger and looks up to warn them to watch what they’re saying.  

Charity tells her he is looking to get revenge on Xanathar and his Guild - “They’ll rue the day they crossed Timothy P Fuckapple!”

(Duncan is crying with laughter by this point, and we’re all not far behind him)

The sun elf says if he buys them a drink, will they go and drink it somewhere else?

Timothy P Fuckapple asks gruffly if they would be open to a game of cards…?

The sun elf, looking down his nose: “Absolutely not.”

Timothy P. Fuckapple/Ross Kemp: “What if I sweeten the deal with a bit of cheddar cheese, by which I do mean money?”

Still no.

Timothy says he was told that if a person wanted revenge on Xanathar then they should find two individuals who look like the elf and the orc, but clearly he has been misinformed.

The elf asks, do they have business with the Zent? Are they wanting to hire mercenaries?

Thunderbuns: “No - we wanted to join.”

The elf falls about with laughter. “Did you hear that, Yagra? These buffoons want to join!”

They have a name! Thank fuck for that…

Thunderbuns has an idea, and says he will bet the elf a gold piece that Timothy can guess his name. The elf sighs. “Fine, if you will leave inside a minute.”

Timothy makes his guess - “Silver Frond!” he says, confidently.

“No. My name is Davil Starsong, as anyone here could have told you.” Thunderbuns dutifully hands the elf a gold piece.

“And this here is Yagra Stonefist - she will happily see you to the door.” Yagra pushes them both toward the door; they offer no resistance. They have both names, yes!

Charity writes the information he has discovered on the back of the paper crane, once out of sight in the alley. The crane takes flight and disappears.

And with that the buddy cop movie ends, as does the session. Duncan has two new abs from laughing. (I don’t think this is the last we’ve seen of Thunderbuns and Timothy P. Fuckapple.)

[achieveandhunt]

live typing extra life 2019

warning: this a fucking LONG post. if you plan on reading it all, godspeed.

i typed all of this as it was happening on stream so this gets progressively less coherent as i grow more sleep deprived. prepare yourselves. i may or may not go off topic at some points

larry vehemently vomiting pure malic acid. we’re off to a great start

what the fuck the soggy ass popcorn in that ranch jesus christ

lindsay in the song from AH the musical. i love her so much

jeremy going YAAAAAAY after someone eats a cursed oreo

matt getting AGGRESSIVELY kissed by larry

“this kiss this kiss” before geoff and jack kiss

geoff “i’m from alabama” ramsey

THIS FUCKING RANCH SEGMENT HAS ME GAGGING

jeremy “the alcohol demon the whiskey goblin” dooley

alfredo “you wont believe what the white people did today” diaz

DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS GET THAT DICK ESSENCE

wait why does it sound like wonderwall

they look like characters from the matrix

the speaking parts. make my teeth hurt

in conclusion: they weren’t kidding abt the tight pants 

okay everyone get ready for eric soundboard spamming YEAH BABEY

“hi i’m from broadcast and i don’t want to be here” they represent themselves well

also, let’s take a second to appreciate broadcast here!! they have a really tough job and don’t get a ton of credit. lots of love to all of broadcast!!! you guys are awesome

i am: foreseeing problems with this eric sound board

which one is eric?? will the real eric please stand up?? was the real eric the one we found along the way??

“i’m... just really worried that i won’t ever find love-” “i really don’t care”

WHY DO THEY HAVE THAT ON THE SOUNDBOARD (what does that apply to? whatever it is you’re thinking of, but mostly “daddy wants some”)

ooh someone’s about to get a fReE tongue piercing from a pineapple

god dammit i went to the bathroom for thirty seconds and now they’re eating chad’s chest hair

owie the shock collar and belly slap look painful, but drinking natty light from a shoe? that’s a true punishment

“and this roast was brought to you by meundies”

ah yes what better way is there to end a segment than people throwing up

“man action” oh no

THROBERT MULVEINY

K A R B is blind in T W O of her eyes

“my last name is cottagecheese”

I HAVE A PIECE OF METAL SHOVED UP MY A S S 

chris has somehow managed to lose 23 years of age and roughly 412 pounds

“just open throat like baby bird” who the fuck is writing this and why is it jeremy

jon. jon you’re breathing in adam’s ass fumes

a summary of this segment: ass and cottage cheese

BARB IS HERE I REPEAT BARB IS HERE

“to fitness” -starts choking-

final fitness coach: tad, here to workout your issues so they can beat you into submission

“will you buy my wet” well i don’t see that on the raffle items

we’re back folks & i’m loving this walk around segment

moonball wall and gavin&michael will soon be reunited can we get an F in the chat

jeremy getting a borderlands tattoo is very on brand

what’s extra life without a little satan

“starvation army, putting lead back into paint, increasing childhood obesity” people in chat: TAKE MY MONEY

chris “i’m doing a different hole” demarais

ah yes. the game we all play in hell: twister

nobody edit chris getting mustard shot down his throat. i’m scarred enough from the original clip

oh fuck. oh god. the mayo. oh god what the fuck is up with the misuse of condiments this year

this just in: a human soul costs roughly $12,700

D̷̯͑̆̈́͝Õ̸̲͎̥̬͈̬̙͕̲G̸̢̧̠͉͚̙̲̙̓̔̀̇S̷̥̀́͆̈́̇̀ ̶̣̞̗͚̬̭̖̦͇̈́̎̈́̿̓̈́͆̒̋D̷̙̟̩̫͉̺̐̊̚Ö̶̥́̋́̓ͅĜ̵̞̌͋̏̉̌̕͝͝S̵̤̹̣̫̮̻͛̍̑̕͝͝ ̷̧̨̞̙̥̟̜͍̉̍̑̏̇̀̾D̴̻̮̩̯͓͉̖͎̘͐̒͋̓̉͝ͅỎ̶̰͓̳̥͑̅͛͊̒͐͊͘̚G̵̩̻̦̥̠̃̔Ş̶̹͚̩̱͖̀͆͘ ̸̢̢͇̻͔̗̺̼͖̱̏̾̔̚D̴̨̨̫̙̃̾̋̾̆̓̓Ớ̷̡͓͎͊G̶̱̣̣̰̝̖̰̗̓͐̐̊͋̀͊̀̕͝Ş̷̩̺̬̖͙̺̟͗̈́͒͗̀̑́́̕͠ ̷̡͈̼̲͈̳̫̺̝̈́̋͌͗̒ͅD̸̨̬̞̪̗̘̄̑͆̿̈́͘͠͝O̸̡̡͇͕̻͎͍͉̅̌͗̄͌̑̉̔͂̎Ḡ̸͙̟̪̞̬̬͕͐̈̏S̶̝̪̼̮̠̜̭̳͖̘̑

urine: to help with aerodynamics

jon: maya, speak! maya: *the smallest arwoo*

today’s mvp: any dog. pick one. no matter which you pick, you’re right

how the fuck did blaine change back from satan so quickly

barb as a cat is... my new sleep paralysis demon

blaine: barbara speak! barbara: climate change is real

#dogsforkids

this just in: extra life killed my wifi

we’re back & kdin is in the business of killing people with spice. she is the spice queen

queue six thousand well-timed 1337 donations

HOLY SHIT THAT’S COLIN FROM WHOSE LINE IS IT ANYWAY

hmm “questionable liquids” is very... questionable

trevor: oh there’s four of them! we all get to join in the Fuckkkk

“what’s your favorite kind of candy” “any meat”

i like pickles and i would rather rip my eyebrows off than drink the juice so i feel for trevor

the only thing worse than drinking apple cider vinegar is shooting it out of your nose

“can you feel the love tonight” “i used to and that’s the problem”

“flubs every word man” damn, really missed the chance to say captain hair

jeremy not being able to intentionally flub his words is so fucking funny

OK BOOMER 

wow i can feel my blood pressure spike just watching these shots

Xavier Woods is here and he wants to know if it’s Christmas

miles doesn’t know what a question is

WHERE’S YOUR HAIR

oh no. oh no helping hands is next. everyone clear a splash zone

CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

miles bossing around chef mike is priceless

“you leave that fucking dough on the floor”

“you wanna slam your hands down on the table” *pizza sauce goes flying everywhere*

HOEDOWN HOEDOWN HOEDOWN jesus why do i keep doing that

“If Colin Mochrie is listening, I’ll see you here next year” OH FUCK YEAH

--- this is when i take a break so my soul can return to my body (aka i have work to turn in. college will never not be a pain in my ass) ---

oh god dammit i missed all of Always Open. fuck college who needs a medical degree

so... we have some very interesting things happening in family feud and i’m not sure if i like any of them

hmm. is now the time to get drunk

oily twist feels very... ominous

what do you mean you don’t remember gandalf having a taser in lord of the rings?

someone in the chat said “big stupid sleeping thing is what my parents called me in high school”

i think i’m blacking out what’s going on i don’t remember the past two hours

ah yes. voldemort and snape having a talk show together sounds exactly like something J.K. Rowling would make a spinoff book or show or porno of

can we just talk about how much shit chris has been doing this year? what a guy. what a dude

“coldy with voldy” actually means getting knocked the fuck out cold because you only got three hours of sleep last night and you don’t want to miss chef mike and lindsay cooking

this snape poem is summarized by one phrase: “that was terrible sit the fuck down” (sorry chris)

“let’s destroy a weasley” enter chad

fucking called it

“you smell poor” i need a caffeine drip

heh the wheel spins are at 69 heh nice

i’m a grown ass woman

welcome to a section called: we torture chad for your entertainment

“who wants us to kill weasley?” *massive cheers from the audience*

“wait weasley step away from the wideshot so i can masturbate to this later”

“i’m not gonna rub my eye mom”

oh they’re really gonna kill chad on stream huh

i felt that chest slap in my soul

i think i felt my own ribs crack

oh fucking

tumblr deleted my thoughts on the fanfic section

alright. fine. brief summary: my teeth are burning

my mom lindsay is on next and i’m so excited but i’m nearing the point of loopiness so things will go downhill dramatically from here

this is my fucking fourth extra life, you would think i’d be smart enough to sleep the night before

LINDSAY LINDSAY LINDSAY THAT’S MY MOM

JEREMY JEREMY JERE- wait a second... did jeremy get taller

oH CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE CHEF MIKE

i hope Xavier comes back next year because he’s funny as fuck

m y a t t

oh god the mcdonald’s shade i’m rolling

lindsay “who’s the chef here” jones

chef mike mentioned mayo and i involuntarily gagged

chef mike clowning the big mac. i’m crying

he made the right choice with ryan bc i’ve seen his cooking stream(s) and it’s nothing if not great content

i heARD A MICHAEL JONES

“lindsay you haven’t done anything but warm up cookies so far” “yeah and?? you’re welcome”

you know that classic snack. slightly warm oreos

JEREMY THE LIQUOR GOBLIN DOOLEY IS BACK

oh god him screeching across set is making me cry laughing

why does it remind me of trevor’s voice cracks in the one minecraft ep where they’re singing the lion king

the biggest spoon for the smallest shot glass

i just realized we’re not even halfway through yet and i’m scared for the length of this list i’m gonna end up falling asleep involuntarily at some point

lindsay no your teeth are going to errode from that shot in your mouth

well timed leet donation #1829495

this gorden ramsey bit is so fucking good

jack: what do you think of the arugala? matt: i don’t even know what you said

iT’s NoT jUsT tWo CoOkIeS miCHeAL

jeremy and michael just chillin amidst the choas is exactly my demeanor at any party i’ve ever been to

lindsay scores: ryan = 7 because diet coke, matt = still eating lindsay’s meal so it’s a 10, xavier = also still eating it so it’s an 8. total: 25

“deep fry everything but a remote control”

chef mike scores: ryan = 9 for no death, matt = greens are present, words were said, score is 8. xavier = Gourmet Mcdonald’s, food is edible, score is 8. total: 25

oh fuck it’s a tie

now they fight to the death. death = doing as many shots as possible

i think we’re all going to need liver transplants after tonight

no jesus please don’t vomit oh goD oh fUc k please- oh thank god

okay i’m making a part two this is too much

[thesalemsaga]

𝟭 — 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿

—  𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.8k words

𝙨 : salem, the mistress of evil, has been made aware of a resistance group being made within the walls of the empire academy, valhalla. meanwhile, young seren has a bit of an epiphany.

the most unfortunate thing about the mistress’s palace, is that nobody will ever hear you scream.

in the black mountain, the darkness hardly distinguishes day from night. and they say that after losing a track of time, of days, going on without gazing at a clock or a calendar or even getting a peek at the stars, can drive a person to mere insanity. that was what many claimed happened to the witch when she was confined into this palace and was left to her own accord.

although light never shone once through those tainted, ebony windows, life still continued within the monolith. although not the healthy life that one might expect, not the life with clear morals or allowing a faith to carry you through your good doings, not even that flicker of passion towards pass-times and careers that keep you up and moving, nothing of the sort was ever seen in these walls. rather, it seemed like everything about humanity had abandoned the creatures from within. 

the seemingly natural and human way of living had been lost within their countless decades here. time was not even a concept, they weren’t sure what use it was to count the hours and days and years you spend there, you’d just make it worse for yourself within the hope that tomorrow you will escape. and if not tomorrow, then in a week. and if not in a week, then in a month, two months, three. upon realizing that time might never come, you peer at those tallies drawn on the dark cobble walls and sneer and scream into an empty vacuum of space where nobody will hear you and save you.

it’s no use getting out either, not without the witch’s permission.

but even if you go out and are asked to return, you must pray to whatever deity remains on this cracked crater of a planet, in hopes that you return with good news. if not good news, decent news. but never bad news. bad news like, the fact that soldiers from the empire front seemed to have located the traces of one of salem’s henchmen.

yeah, good luck getting out of something like that.

inside one of the many halls of the dead palace, a sudden sound erupted. the scout wheezed and coughed as his head was lifted from the pool of water. tangled through raven locks and pulling and yanking, the gloved hands of the witch minded him like a puppet. they leaned over what could have been a pool, but the water was far from pristine or blue, it was a sea-weed green and at certain times, you might just spot a fin breaking through the surface before submerging once more.

this had been going on for nearly five minutes, but it felt like hours. having your head being forced down this certain pool would attract something ugly that lies in the deep end, the mere scent of your blood will put you in danger. but one could hardly care for the life of a mere scout when the mistress of evil has some minor, and by that, major problems on her hands.

“ m-my lady, please, show mercy! ”.

when she forced his head back down, salem’s eyes appeared fit to kill. two vermilion spots lacking any source of previous humanity, but even with the eyes, you wouldn’t take her for having been once a beautiful woman. the horns on her head were curled with ends as sharp as a double edged sword. her complexion was as lifeless as ash clouds summoned by an erupting volcano. salem hardly looked like a witch, she seemed fit to be a demon, a horned one, at that. and perhaps a part of her had some relation to the beings dwelling in the fiery pits below, especially once glancing at the limits of her ire.

minutes prior to this, the same scout she had sent out with about a dozen goblins had returned with news she had not been expecting. news regarding the empire, the people who have tried to take her down for the past two decades. there had been no success although salem was hardly an idiot, she was not one to underestimate the passion of vengeful humans, she was a vengeful human herself. it wouldn’t be long before they charged in with torches and pitch-forks to burn the witch.

resistance groups were growing within the walls, according to the chatter of some military men wandering between the boarder of what was the ukraine. the scout, a good fighter as well as an idiot, could have escaped without alerting the men of his presence and that of the dozen goblins he had brought with him, but he did not. the mere rustle in the bushes alerted the soldiers of a darker presence listening into their banter, and although killing was not on salem’s demand, it had to be done.

what could have been tyrants avoiding giving their status and identity away instead became an altercation that left one soldier cubed to pieces whilst the other fled, and to add salt to the wound, a stupid goblin who went after him was seen by the patrol ship they had parked in the area. checkmate for the empire soldiers.

to make a long story short, salem was fucked.

salem’s berserk force yanked the man’s head out from the mermaid pit and just a small flicker of pleasure manifested in those dead eyes. if there was one thing that she did love doing ( and she doesn’t love many things ) it was ensuing a well-taught lesson on consequences. and she was a rather strict teacher when it came to that.

“ listen to me, you filthy pig ”, she spat, sneering as the man found to catch his breath. her grip on his hair only tightened. “ you had clear instructions. you had them fucking written down, i even took some remorse since you have a god-awful memory and you want to tell me to have mercy, when you just fucking gave a major clue away to those empire fuckers?! ”.

the man continued to cough and wheeze as salem’s spat pure venom, “ what is it with you men, huh? can’t take orders from a woman? is your superiority alarm blaring so hard that you just won’t adhere to the fucking orders because a woman gave them to you? answer me, you pig! ”. he couldn’t. “ d-do you know how fucked i am? well not in the best way, i’ll tell you that. all of my efforts to make my location have gone to shit because you couldn’t keep your lousy ass out of trouble for five minutes. five years! five years stuck in this cold shithole and you gave it all away, you filthy animal. oh, i’m not going to show any mercy at all. ”

although the currents were disturbed by the abuse brought upon the scout, the waves did not fail to suddenly grow rampant, as if enraged. and around the same time, salem shoved his head down far enough for the water to engulf his shoulders. and it was not her who pushed him into the water, rather it was an unseen force yanking him into the depths. 

as the witch rose and paid one last glance at the pool over her shoulder, she took note of a red hue that rose to the surface. after that, silence.

elsewhere . . .

principal arthur armsend was a man of honor.

being a principal and leader to a new era of the world, leading boys and girls and what lies in between into a new age, a renaissance period that would take the world from being a dark and bleak place that they were no longer familiar with, into the peaceful planet they had known it to be a hundred years ago. and he did so by a sharp discipline he gave to all of his students.

classes started at eight o’clock and go on until about four, and every day, something new is taught. from alchemy and martial arts, to care of mythical creatures and history. three meals were held every day at the immense cafeteria, free time started after classes in which students were able to enjoy the open-air yards of this floating monolith in the sky. in fact, they were so high up that you might reach over the edge and touch a cloud.

 as opposed to many schools, the academy of valhalla was not one to waste time fooling around. third-year students and first-year students alike worked around the clock in order to harness the best skills in their arsenal in case the possibility of being sent out into missions came. and usually, when you were prepared, you might end up having the best results. students were told to be precise, to never make foolish mistakes, and to always remember why they were here.

although, nobody got it as bad as the principal’s daughter.

you’d expect the privilege to be very obvious; the ability to skip classes, to get out of trouble, to be an immediate social magnet, to be allowed out of the school and into the city to enjoy what it means to be young. any good parent with a somewhat loose way of raising their kids would spoil their child when they had the position they had. but for her, it was anything but that.

“ back straight, seren! ”.

she’s been at this for three hours. not joining her peers in the usual classes would mean that she would have to be doing something a little more different, a little more suited for her, and whilst many might role her eyes, they’d feel their stomach drop when they see the state that seren armsend is reduced to when brought into these private lessons.

at this point, her knees scrapped and legs clearly trembling, fatigued to the core, anyone could tell that seren was going through hell. these lessons tended to last three to four hours, but every time she so dared to look at the digital clock on the wall, her tutor would threaten to extend the time to fifteen minutes. ‘you wouldn’t take your eyes off your target in a real fight to see how long you’ve been at it’, he had said many times. and although it pained her, she had to agree.

her tutor, however, was none other than her old man. at the age of fifty, arthur still managed to maintain a certain posture to his stand whilst in battle that would trick anyone into aging him down a couple of years. he was a petite man, shorter than his daughter by two inches, and that most definitely did not stop him from butchering his daughter and bringing her to her limits in these training lessons.

how many times would seren have to be here a week, you ask? five times. fridays were generally the days in which she would have two of these sessions, one in the morning and the other placed right after lunch and she would only be back in her dorm at seven o’clock in order to crash, rest, and prepare for more lessons on a saturday morning.

iron thorn was clasped in her hand, arms tensing and aching to rest, her entire body ready to collapse the mere snap of the man’s fingers when he allowed her to rest but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. her training gear made her feel ten times heavier, and it was hot, boiling hot. but an armsend does not show struggle in the midst of a duel, they prefer to keep their enemies unsure of their condition to scare them or taunt them. you could only collapse once you’d finished what you started.

privilege, my ass. this is torture.

the clock was ticking towards the final bell which would dismiss all students but the ones in detention, and seren. “ finish what you started, come on. gaze up, for god’s sake fix that shoulder, and stop shaking your leg, you’ll stumble as soon as you lunge forward ”, she was used to receiving these comments, and she would take the feedback in an instant, because she knew arthur armsend when he was angry, a burden she shared in being his daughter.

iron thorn gave a minor whistle as she prepared to lunge once more, no essences were allowed to be used for the time being. if she did use something, the room might collapse. but she was tempted, oh young seren was tempted on pulling the trigger against the handle of her rapier and bring the ceiling to the ground. it would give her at least a minute to escape through the debris and run. 

even upon lunging with a perfect posture and speed, the blade clashed against the cane her father wielded. stabbing, withdrawing, lunging, withdrawing, flicking and withdrawing. each set of movement took a mere second because of her semblance, yet her father caught everything and she was beginning to grow slightly discouraged. although not as many could fight as well as him, she knew that there would be someone out there who could. one person. and if she were to cross paths with that person, she cannot steer to being passive. even though it was meagre simulation of a fight, seren was asked to treat it like a reality. and that, she did.

arthur bore a sudden attack that left seren scrambling to get out of her thoughts, darting in withdrawal with a backwards somersault and landing clumsily on her feet, her legs nearly rendering her weak enough to collapse yet she still had a bit of sharpness left in her to know that landing on your ass would certainly mean a scolding from your father later. 

this time, however, she did not have energy to raise her weapon to him as he pointed the end of his cane against her neck. she merely lifted her head and glanced upon his gaze that seemed rid of any emotion, meaning he was thinking, analyzing, arthur just wasn’t the type of man to wear his feelings on his face. he knew better than that.

seren didn’t. “ what was with that frown i saw? you know how many times i’ve taught you not to make your thoughts and emotions obvious on your face, your face has to be a blank canvas ”, he went on to say, lowering his cane and pressing the end against the ground. his posture straightened and he seemed to have dropped his defenses. she was not going to attack, however. “ seren. ”

“ m-my apologies, father ”, the girl gasped softly and blinked, verging dangerously close to the point of collapsing. something kept her awake, a part of her subconscious that wanted to keep her alive, her fight response. if not for it, then she would have perhaps been disowned or sent away just like her older sister.

now the only capable of heir in the family with the ripe age of eighteen, soon graduating from the academy, seren would have to carry the legacy of the cold armsend women who never once brought themselves close to failure. she would have to probably join the military route upon parting ways from valhalla, leading young soldiers to restore their lost land. although, if you ask her, if she had the choice, she would have picked the exploration route. unfortunately, being born in this family means that your fate is already decided for you from the moment your presence in your mother’s belly is announced.

needless to say, you have to stay on the route of perfection.

arthur sighed, it was clear he wasn’t happy. “ we’ll cut the lesson short today. you will make up for it with an extra hour tomorrow after class ”, he decided, and in order to avoid angering the man, the girl pursed her lips together and nodded. if one stared for just a moment, they would notice the trepidation in her eyes.

her tutor, father, and principal turned and left the training chamber they had been in for the past four hours. now vacant, the only sound echoing being the pants emanating from her cracked lips and although she wanted nothing more but to lay down on the floor, seren only averted her tired gaze to the immense windows giving her perhaps the best view she’s had of the world outside in a while.

although the empire had seen better days, the mountain of crete was a good place to re-build a city and make the public feel safer inside the walls. there weren’t many who wanted to venture out, probably because they had everything they could ever want in here. technology meant that they could produce food by cloning and distributing it to millions, money never seemed to be an issue as there were jobs for everyone, though it was said that there lived some people outside of the walls, in mainland greece who took care of farms and cattle and had a somewhat older way of living that would have been seen in the medieval times. they were closer to the truth of the world, and the fact that at least a dozen would apply annually to move within the walls said something.

but the talk of the wild never petrified seren as it did to others. they had returned to a time where they believed society was safer, and as soon as you stepped into a zone with no laws or mentions of morals, you’d be in danger. yet she’s read stories of people who lived just fine in these conditions, monsters or no monsters. and though she shared some fears with the general public, the wild was not one of them.

if anything, seren was infatuated with the idea of going outside, of seeing the world for what it was and not for what others claimed it to be. they hardly showed images captured by the military when they leave the walls and attend an expedition, only returning in a week after taking geographical calculations and hurriedly leaving. hardly the military you want protecting you.

seren claimed that with her father in line, things would change. the third year graduates from the year before had gotten good results, one of them had succeeded in establishing a base in almost every continent that remained. and although hardly anyone visited those bases, they were there in case you found yourself lost and in serious need of help. many other alumni valhalla students made technological advancements towards transport and population control, others went more of a political way and started working alongside governors to change the shape of their monarchy. 

it was almost a guarantee that those who leave valhalla are destined for good things, but it felt as if seren would not be able to join her peers in that sense and it pained her to such an extreme where she wanted to jump out from those balconies, land in cold water and swim her way out of the city. yet she would have to return at some point, there is always a way back home after an adventure, even if it’s a short one.

seren looked down at her sword and tapped the floor with the tip for a moment, the blade had never once been blunt and yet it seemed like it was in desperate need of a recovery. it must have been caused by the countless daily training that hardly left her any time to catch up with her other subjects. her father was tempted on making a fighting machine out of her, and although she loved a good duel, seren was not a natural fighter. she was more of a diplomat, if you ask her.

lost in her thoughts, seren didn’t exactly hear the beeping sounds emitting from the door of the training chamber until it had come to her side and then began to feel a sensation against her leg. upon looking down, her frown disappeared and her eyes turned to crescents.

“ hi, ted. “

valhalla was known for having ‘familiars’, little creatures often used to advise students and although you couldn’t own them, you could befriend them. seren had known ted since he was made, which was roughly twelve years ago. he has been her friend long before he got signed up to be a companion to her school. at the age of six, ted was the robot she played with when she was alone.

smart, short and oh so adorable, ted-ee 012 mostly helped doctor lin with matters in computing lessons for those who lean more towards the technology route. but he was far from the war machine the school fabricated and more of a health robot, charged by water and able to detect sadness from students. it was probably why he had approached seren to begin with, pulling at her leg with his small hands.

he let out a happy beep as he waved at her, his eyes as pleasant and polite as always. “ i wasn’t sad, you know, i was just thinking ”, she said, crouching to his level. he stared at her, blinking for a couple of seconds with a disapproving sound. “ what, don’t believe me? ”. and then it clicked. “ oh, you got upgraded, didn’t you? ”.

ted hardly got any enhancements done to his figure, as he didn’t really have any flaws and his feedback from the students was always exemplar. but this time around, it was useful. because the upgrade enabled him to tell whether people were lying or not and it worked well during exam season where many would be asked whether they cheated or not.

seren let out a minor chuckle and shook her head, “ well there’s no point lying to you. but you never tell anyone, so i suppose it’s fine. ” she patted the top of his smooth head and then stood, holding iron thorn to her and then tucking it back into its sheath. “ care to get some fresh air? ”. on a happy note, seren left the chamber, ted hovering after her.

the halls of valhalla would usually be empty after classes were over, most students tended to flee outside and look for something fun to do, which was mostly seen in throwing frisbees, playing chess, going sunbathing. some returned to the lounge and played games or watched movies. others returned to their dorms to rest, and a small percentage fled to the library for some extra time studying.

a part of seren was almost glad that there weren’t many people to see her tired state. ted had offered her a mirror through his digital face and she was quick enough to adjust her cotton candy hair and adjust the blue bow pushing the locks of her hair back. she was boiling under this training gear, but she would be out of it sooner as her lesson was cut short, but it was clear she was going to owe her father an apology afterwards for her wandering mind. little things upset her father, but what majorly puts him off is when seren is not focused. it was the reason for most of their arguments and disagreements.

the dorms were in the lower parts of valhalla though the girl took a small detour outside to catch her breath. in the midst of a sunny afternoon, the sky was beginning to turn into hues of pink, purples and oranges as the sun thought about setting. the wind batting against her skin was all that she needed, especially as she neared to the open air yards with artificial grass, smooth concrete paths leading students around the perimeter of the entire yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. some benches and picnic tables were scattered, mostly occupied by first years who wanted to catch up after their lessons.

seren hardly steps outside, held inside by her tasks, but stepping outside was a freeing sensation, her arms folded and rested against the balcony railings, the wind was best from where she stood and she could have stood there for hours if she didn’t keep telling herself to return to her dorm and get as much rest as she could.

out of everything that caught seren’s attention, a game of football stole it in the end. most of the boys tended to be relatively active and sporty, that was a given as they had to be active if they wanted to carry heaven guns or broadswords with them in battle. seren became immersed in it for a moment, not the type of person to find kicking a ball around for ninety minutes particularly interesting but this time around, she couldn’t really help it.

what mostly caught her attention was one of the boys playing, and as far as she was concerned, she knew who he was. not the person to read the ranks too deeply, seren would only glance at the names and the pictures and this one was one she recognized. kailen cassius, rank number six, an archer. perhaps the most remarkable thing about him, however, what his height.

he had an air to him, though, that of someone who could handle things himself but also relied on teamwork and seemed to be about unity and working things out in a more collective fashion rather than being selfish all the time. he seemed like a good person, she thought. someone she’d definitely befriend and would be able to trust when faced with danger, but being alone didn’t permit her to join any teams. her father said that the only time she’d ever really join her peers in something of the sort was if she served as a tutor.

seeing as how so many of the students were set into groups, she wandered whether being in one would ensure that she would leave and tread beyond the walls, but she doubted anyone would really want to be in a team with her unless if they wanted extra credit or wanted to dump all the work onto her. and since seren wasn’t one to say no to people so easily, she might have to deal with being the one carrying all the work since she had the skills and smile as everyone got the best results despite having done nothing. it happened once in her primary school, and it was what shaped her into the timid, goody-two-shoes of a person that she is.

but say if she were to tutor a group. she’s seen third-year students do it mostly with second-year students who needed some help, but it would work and be the only time where seren might be able to use her position to get what she wants. it might make her father trust her just a tiny bit more, but she never knew exactly when it came to arthur armsend, he wasn’t one to be pleased so easily.

still, she was willing to give it a go.

when ted suddenly beeped, seren was drawn out of her thoughts once more only to realize that she had potentially been staring at kailen based on the way that well, he was looking right back at her. she had totally zoned out and had not managed to snap out of it when she felt the confused gaze of the boy on her. thank god for ted, otherwise she would have made much more of a fool of herself than she already had.

seren blinked and leaned away from the railings as soon as she began to feel her ears and cheeks burning pink. ted let out a confused noise, “ why didn’t you snap me out of it as soon as i started staring? ”. the robot tilted his head to the side with a level of confusion. “ he probably thinks i’m a total weirdo now! ”.

when ted let out an apologetic sound, seren sighed and risked a look back at the boy who had returned to his game, seeming more carefree but not before their eyes locked for a moment and she felt a wave of realization.

seren is hardly one to have an epiphany, but what she will tell you is that the feeling cannot easily be described. connecting the dots, her blank expression was replaced by that of surprise as her eyes grew in size and her pursed lips parted only for her to turn on her heel and start pacing quickly back inside, ted following in suit with some confused beeps.

the top six students are all third-years, and although the top student was often taken out of lessons to engage in more practical work outside of valhalla, that still left five people who were very capable of what she had in mind. she thought the tutoring idea would be pointless, but after her thoughts rang in that training chamber, after she stepped outside and looked towards the walls, after realizing that the world might end up caving in on itself if nothing was done, after such an epiphany, she couldn’t possibly sit there and do nothing.

seren knew her father would never let her out to do something like this on her own, but she knew she could perhaps impose an idea he could not deny. he wanted a daughter that would make changes, and after the death of one possible heir and the marriage of another, the fate settled on seren when she did not wish for it. but she could not change this about herself. but she knew that if good results came out of this, if her epiphany was right and she had perhaps hit the gold mine, that the world would somehow improve. and that was something she was taught from a young age.

her mother left when she was eight but the moral lessons stuck with her for ten years and it is probably why her thirst for knowledge of the outside world and the drive to better things was not leaving her anytime soon. the action of doing good things was deeply embedded into her, perhaps it was a genetic thing or the way her mother shortly raised her. she was a rebel without a cause, a woman who ventured out and never cared for the warnings she got or the many injuries she returned with. because at least she was helping. 

so perhaps it was time to start being a little selfish on her end. seren knew her father wouldn’t be in the best of moods after their lesson that afternoon, yet her blood remained boiling, adrenaline causing her heart to race after and her steps to quicken until ted stopped following her and let her run off on her own.

her father’s office was at the top floor, and after a long elevator ride to the top, seren stumbled into the room.

the porcelain tiles she stepped in were drawn with art she had never quite been able to name before. perhaps it was a renaissance-style painting, what with the figures and halos and clouds. every time she entered her father’s room, it felt like entering a museum. he was an archaic man with older, more traditional principles despite being inclusive. but he was one to separate his inclusiveness from his professional way of working, because no matter what you were, he still extended a hero out of you.

the mahogany desk was usually empty as he would have meetings on a friday evening but she had caught him seemingly before he could prepare for said meeting. he seemed to have turned on his record player, appearing blissful whilst listening to an opera piece seren has heard all too many times. the china cup in his gloved hands saw steam rising from what seemed to be his usual chamomile tea. three cubes of sugar, no less. 

the minor ding of the elevator made him raise his head when seren approached his desk. he paid her a mere glance, raising a brow. “ why are you not changed? i thought we’d be having dinner together ”, he stated, blowing the steam from his cup gently. “ don’t waste time, seren. ”

“ i need your permission for something, father. ”

arthur let out a sigh. when seren approaches him with a request as such, he often knows what it will be. permission to head to town for the weekend, permission to continue her tap lessons, permission to head to the beach. almost all of those requests were never really granted for the mere reason that he did not want her attention diverting to something else when so much had to be done. but he seemed to sense something was different, he knew his daughter well known and one thing he was unfamiliar with was the glistening pair of eyes like his wife’s staring back at him.

“ although i may be only seven in the ranks, i feel like . . . i-i feel like i know what i want to do before i graduate ”. she quickly took her seat in one of the chairs facing him across his desk. she took notice of his cane resting on the side and gulped.

days ago, he had mentioned that her older sister had one final act as a valhalla student that marked her as a significant alumni. although she married shortly after, she still made history by being the student who uncovered many lost articles and items in other continents, items rich in cultural value as they carried history of their dying planet. and she had done this before graduating. arthur imposed the idea that seren should do something similar.

seren proceeded, “ might i suggest gathering the top five students and allowing me to tutor them? ”.

“ seren. ”

“ let me finish, p-please! ”.

the girl clasped her hands together and forced a meek gaze down, “ i have all these skills in my arsenal and i highly doubt i’ll ever be able to use them because i can’t apply them to the world outside like the others. but perhaps i can let someone else take the lead for me. i-i could teach them what i’ve been taught and hope that they’ll carry it on, l-like a legacy if they choose to step outside of the walls. ”

arthur put his cup down, clearing his throat. “ is this just a reason for you to step outside? you know what i’m going to say, seren ”, his tone appeared highly disinterested, but she was not going to be discouraged this time around.

“ father . . . you and i both know that we have the people needed to do something about what’s happening to the world outside ”, she inquired, still no response. silence lingered until the apprehension faded. “ you found salem’s whereabouts, did you not? ”.

the principal, although he didn’t appear shocked, gave it all away through the way he dropped his spoon into his cup. he rose his gave with a clenched jaw and peered at her, possibly questioning how she’d come to such a conclusion. but it was no rumor, it was true. the general said the men found one of her scouts spying on them near the ukraine, meaning she couldn’t be too far. five years of hunting salem after her escape, only to finally discover the continent she hid in.

“ seren, listen to me closely ”, he warned, leaning over his desk slightly with a grave tone. “ i understand you wish to be a hero. but you will not be the hero who died trying to kill the witch that brought the world to its end. no daughter of mine will do something of the sort. ”

seren continued to fight back, “ but i won’t be the one doing it, it’ll be five qualified people doing it on my behalf because i taught them what other teachers do not. ”

“ seren. ”

“ and you act as if the years of training has been for no reason. what, am i just going to have these skills at my disposal and never use them? did i just waste nearly sixteen years of my life being taught something in case there’s a war? ”, she spat. she had never spoken to her father like this, and in a dark corner of her mostly innocent mind, she was enjoying it. she felt like her mother. “ father, there will be a war regardless. especially if we stick around doing nothing about the clear danger. i’m going to have to use these skills but i could also use them to prevent it all. ”

the man grew quiet. somewhere in his mind, he probably felt something similar. she had heard the stories, her father wanted to be the valiant one in his family to carry the armsend name, but he was the one who deeply injured himself to the point where he had to give up his heroic hopes and let it become mere fable. he didn’t want the same thing happening to seren, but he knew that this time, matters would be different. she would have help.

and sending your kid into a world that is unknown to even the smartest men in the world was a horrifying thought, but it is in like every tale, the one holding the hero back will always have to let them go. that is how the best heroes are made, the ones who were given the chance to chase after their happy ending, not he ones ho were held back. what good is a sheltered hero?

besides, she might end up finding the worthy opponent she had always dreamed of meeting. and if it was salem, so be it. call her reckless or obsessed with heroism, but seren knew she wouldn’t be able to stay within these walls for much longer.

her father knew this as well, even if it was clear he didn’t want to.

“ are you certain about this, seren? ”.

no, she wanted to say. she had hardly given any logic aside from her own hopes and expectations which could be mistaken as mere childish fantasy and desperation to be outside, but it is better not to ask her how she knew it would work out. she just knew.

“ yes ”, the girl breathed and bit her lip slightly. “ i think mother would have wanted to me to do this. i’m an explorer just like her, father. you know that very well. ”

arthur chortled, glancing bitterly at his cup of tea. “ i wish you weren’t. i wish you were more like your older sister, at least you’d stay out of trouble. but you’re the only heir. after ophelia, i’m highly uncertain that there’ll be anyone else ”, he spoke. she felt her blood run cold. but when he looked up at her, he grunted. “ but you don’t have a single cowardly bone in your body. you’re not like isabella and not like me. you’re an explorer, as you’ve stated. ”

“ father . . . ”.

arthur rose a hand and stood, cup in hand and cane in another. he brought himself up from his chair and moved steadily towards the tinted windows, peering outside into a twilight sky. “ you ask a lot of me, seren. not only might i lose my daughter, but i might also lose five innocent lives if all of this goes wrong. and i will not let it be for your fantasy and mere childish heroism. and yet, a part of me knows that soon, salem is going to find a way to harm everyone . . .”

the indecisiveness from the man was making the girl think much more deeply about the matter than she was intending. if someone got hurt, it would be her fault mainly for putting them in danger, but that was why she planned on training them. they were capable fighters, whoever they were. it was a matter of luck and precision, two opposing forces that might have to work together to make all of this work.

“ seren. ”

the girl lifted her gaze to see the man she so dearly admired and loved, the father who was a professor as well as a friend and a leader. she loved him so dearly that she would not think to ask something like this unless if she one hundred percent meant it. and she did.

“ if you can convince them to join you, i will grant your request. but be weary of the time, because it has become of the essence.”

and so, her adventure begins.

[kyungsoomint]

Stay with Me

Member: Park Chanyeol (박찬열)

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 1,868

Summary: He was a broken angel inside but a demon outside, she tried to mend him from time to time yet he pushed her further and further. Love was the only redemption.

Notes: It is based on Stay with Me by Chanyeol Ft. Punch, I really like this song because I watch Goblin a lot! Sorry if there is any mistake!

Chanyeol groaned as the sun was blazing bright from the window, he reached for a glass of water that’s usually there but he couldn’t find it. He sensed that something’s missing from his routine; she didn’t drive me home? he thought to himself yet it feels impossible because he won’t drive while he’s drunk; so she drove me home he closed his eyes for a while trying to figure out what happened last night. “Fuck” he muttered to himself.

The music was pounding so loud, enough to distract his mind, to loss himself into cloud 9. Of course, girls were trying to hit on him and he wouldn’t mind the attention, he gladly returned it with a flirtatious attitude. But there he was, running on the same circle again, he thought to himself that he had enough drinks that night. He took out his phone and trying to find her contact, he hesitated for a bit before he presses the call button. That circle ends with him unable to clean his own mess, every single damn time, he refused to acknowledge that she’s his anchor after all. There she was standing in front of another club, taking one final breath before going in only to found Chanyeol, the man that she loved for years was making out with someone. The memory was so vivid yet she refused to cry over it. She knew right at that moment years of cleaning his mess needs to stop at a point and that might be the point. She poked Chanyeol and he gave him the biggest grin ever which made her heart flutter, she shook her head to remind herself that this is the last time. “Let’s go” she practically dragged his big body with hers. Chanyeol tried to break free from her grip as she was leading him into the parking lot “Stop dragging me” he groaned in frustration and she stopped on her track to face him “I don’t know maybe you shouldn’t have called me to clean your mess again” she half shouted and got into the car. “I’ll place the key on the kitchen counter,” she said turning to him. “Why are you still here?” Chanyeol tried to speak and before she could answer he continue again “Why do you still take my call? Do you love me that much to be a stupid ass bitch?” he laughed. She tried to hold back her tears as she recalled what kind of person Chanyeol is or at least was. He never meant to hurt anyone, that cheerful side of him that made her falls so hard for but that night was the last straw “I wish I never met you, you bother me so much” his harsh words were like daggers into her heart. She was there through the thick and thin of his life yet he treated her like shit.“That’s fucking it Chanyeol. I’m leaving for real” tears were already flowing like a river when she took her phone out to find his contact. “Don’t ever fucking call me again” she deleted his phone number right in front of him which earned a devilish smile from him. She couldn’t bear the sight of him anymore so she went out of the house, looking at the sky while tears still staining her face, but for once after years she didn’t feel suffocated anymore. Chanyeol still stood at the place he said those awful things to her “It’s done for good, I did that for her” he closed his eyes and a single tear fell from his eyes.

He tried to find comfort within his bed and prayed to throw the hollowness away. “I did the right thing didn’t I (Y/N)?” he sighed.

2 Months Later

The liquid was burning in his throat as he drank another shot of vodka, months after she left he still couldn’t pick himself up, there were times when he desperately wanted to call her but stop immediately knowing that she might not want to speak to him anymore. No one could replace her presence, some mornings she still made breakfast for him with her soft humming from the kitchen, he never forget the way she looks like someone as a part of his future yet he couldn’t bring himself to it, his past was a fucked up one, he felt guilty because she stayed during those times.

On the other hand, (Y/N) met an old friend that just came back into the country after 10 years. He was a long-time friend, probably longer than her knowing Chanyeol. He waved at her from the table with a big smile “It’s been so long!” he cheered. “I know right. How are you, Sehun?” for once in 2 months her smile came out as a genuine one. They had known each other for so long as they kept in touch with each other as Sehun was working abroad. “So I just engaged with my girlfriend” he proudly showed the ring at her “Yoojin? I’m so happy for both of you” she exclaimed with joy. “I envy you so much,” she said. “How about you? Is there anyone you are seeing?” he threw a playful smile at her. “It’s very complicated honestly” she tried to laugh it off. She was grateful that she met Sehun that day because he never fails to make her laugh even on days like that. Suddenly, a firm hand gripped her wrist, Chanyeol was standing right next to her bringing confusion into Sehun. “What are you doing?” she hissed at Chanyeol and tried to break free from him, Sehun tried to help his friend but earned a glare from Chanyeol. “Come with me, we need to talk” his gaze was focused on her, sending chills into her body. “Sehun, It’s okay and I’m sorry,  do you mind if I go now?” her face was purely written in guilt. Sehun eyed Chanyeol for a second and turned back to her “It’s okay, I need to meet Jongin too” he smiled warmly at her which brought a tighter grip into her wrist. “Are you done?” anger was clearly flashed from his eyes, he dragged her into his car. “Let me go” she tried to make him let her go or at least lessen the grip. “We need to talk,” he said as he gestured her to get into the car. “There is nothing else to talk about” she was facing the window when he started the engine. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and said nothing until they arrived at his house. 

Chanyeol sat on the sofa while (Y/N) just stood there with her arms crossed. He sighed and gestured her to sit next to him “No need” her reply was stern. “Make it fast Chanyeol, what do you want me to do this time after you throw me under the bush?” anger was visible from her tone, scenes from that night couldn’t be erased, his words were still stabbing her heart. “How can you go on a date only after 2 months? That short your feelings for me to be gone?” he let out a bitter laugh although hurt was all that he could hear of himself. “What’s the problem if I date anyone? As if it bothers you” her anger rose more and more as she thought he was playing with her feelings again like he always did. Chanyeol was frustrated as he stood in front of her, running his hand through his hair making it a hot mess. “Yes it bothers me a lot” he was practically screaming and it was a shocking scene for her “I don’t like to see you with any other guys. I-“ she cut him off “It did bother me a lot too, how many fucking nights I have spent crying over you? Crying while you were having fun with your world and that dumb ass me still caring about you a lot even I still take you home with my heart shattering into the floor. I know that you like playing with my heart so bad, even after knowing that I still running back to you. Going through the rage and happiness you gave to me. How am I supposed to live with that, Chanyeol?” she was already sitting on the floor being a sobbing mess. “Please stop doing this to me. If you don’t mean anything, please let me go Chanyeol” she whispered which was audible enough for him to hear. Sniffle was heard and she looked up only to see Chanyeol was sobbing quietly looking as broken as she was. His knees gave out as he sat there facing her on the floor. “I fucked up a lot, didn’t I? Curse at me anything you want, punch me if you want to but” he paused for a second to reach out for her hand “Please stay with me. I can’t live without you” Chanyeol was a mess right there, he even cried harder than she did. She has seen him at the lowest point of his life, she has seen his family broken down into pieces, people rejecting him and all yet she’s still there helping him to fix his life but this was the lowest of the low than before. “When I close my eyes, I only see you, you only, I’m too scared to admit that I love you, too scared that I’ll break you into pieces. I know that I don’t deserve your love at all, that’s why I tried to push you away. I’d go to places where I can let myself loose for a while but I always end up running back to you. You know my past, you know exactly how fucked up my life was and there you were standing by my side making me feel there’s a light in the darkness yet knowing myself sinking deeper into you. I’m so fucking sorry for being a coward a dick, a mess. But I love you so much, so much it hurts to let you go, to see you with someone else” Chanyeol kept his head down as (Y/N) was still trying to process his words, she thought that he used her only for comfort but there he sat, a broken man with little love inside, the man she has loved for so long, so long that it never fades. She moved to hug him, feeling his body weight into her shoulder until they both calm down “You must have known that I never stop loving you right?” and that was true, he never really left her heart, he possessed everything there. “And I’m here with you, I can guarantee you that Chanyeol,” she said with her hand patting his head. “Also, If you were jealous, Sehun is already engaged, he planned to marry his fiance soon, the thought of you being a jealous person crack me out for a second” she poked her tongue out and Chanyeol gave out a pouty face. His face was on her neck, she could feel his steady breathing there. “I love you so fucking much, (Y/N)” he kissed her slowly as their lips melted together. “I love you too Chanyeol”

A/N: Honestly, my mom even once make Stay with me as her phone ringtone. 

[everysongineverykey]

WARNING! LEGACY SPOILERS!!

The table came crashing onto the floor with a smashing of wood and a scream, the owner of whom was difficult to identify. Tam, the person who had thrown it, threw up his hands in angry defense.

“For the last time, a hot dog is not a fucking sandwich!” he yelled, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Sophie furiously scrambled to her feet. No. He wasn’t going to have the last word. Not on her watch.

“IF A HOT DOG ISN’T A SANDWICH, THEN BIANA’S NOT A VANISHER, YOU… YOU…” she fumbled for a good insult.

“Crusty, silver-eating, bad rip-off of a hot topic clerk?” Keefe suggested helpfully.

“YEAH!” Sophie screamed. “AND IF YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND BASIC LOGIC, THEN LET’S LOOK IN THE ELF!” She strode to the bookshelf and pulled out The Elf’s Comprehensive Dictionary And Thesaurus, Approved And Created By Councillor Bronte, Language Enthusiast, or TECDATAACBCBLE officially. Or again, as an easier name the ten of them had made up themselves, The Elf.

“By the power vested in me by The Elf’s Comprehensive Dictionary And Thesaurus, Approved And Created By Councillor-” (“Just say The Elf!” whined Marella) “-Bronte, Language Enthusiast,” Sophie continued angrily, flipping through The Elf’s many pages, “I hereby pronounce that a hot dog shall henceforth be known by all the Lost Cities as a form of sandwich, as proven by… THIS DEFINITION!”

She slammed the book down onto the couch and triumphantly stabbed a finger at the definition of “sandwich.” Linh bent her head and read it out loud-

“An item of food consisting of two pieces of bread with meat, cheese, or other filling between them, usually as a light meal.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. For a second Tam looked like he was moments away from grabbing Sophie, who was now sitting smugly on the couch staring at him, and throttling the life out of her and everyone else in the room.

And then he sighed and closed his eyes, smiling slowly when he opened them again.

“All right, Sophie. You’ve given me some very solid proof. Well done you.”

Sophie looked so smug that even Keefe wanted to wipe that stupid smile off her face.

Tam walked calmly, almost happily, over to the far corner of the room, and turned around, admiring a painting on the wall. Then he suddenly turned to the others again and smiled with the air- at least, Sophie thought so- of a TV movie villain who was about to reveal his secret identity to the heroes.

“It was very clever, you know, pulling out The Elf like that. I don’t know if I would’ve thought of that. A real kid genius, that’s you.” He said all this while straightening a few ornaments on the mantelpiece absentmindedly, not looking at any of them. Still smiling. “I suppose now I should admit defeat.”

“That’d be appropriate, yes,” said Sophie, still smug, but more cautious. She didn’t like the way Tam was acting.

“But,” he continued, finally turning to face them, “I’m afraid there’s one crucial fact you’ve overlooked.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Tam picked up The Elf and flipped to a different page.

“You see, my dear Sophie, if we are using The Elf as our source, then we must heed all its definitions, and if we do that, we must remember…”

He suddenly exploded, shoving The Elf in Sophie’s face and pointing to another definition, his face convulsed with anger, his previous attitude vanished without a trace.

“THAT IT DEFINES A HOT DOG AS A FUCKING FRANKFURTER!”

He threw The Elf across the room, shattering an expensive vase sitting on a shelf. Sophie leapt to her feet, angry and flustered.

“But- But that doesn’t mean anything!” she blustered desperately. “A frankfurter could be considered filling!”

“OH FUCKING REALLY?” Tam demanded. He knew he had the upper hand. “THEN LET’S ASK THE ELF, SHALL WE?” He raced towards the shelf where the book had been thrown, but Sophie was determined to win the argument and threw her entire body weight on him, knocking them both to the floor. A mad fistfight followed. Dex managed to avoid their flailing limbs and picked up the book calmly, flipping to the f section.

“GUYS!” he yelled. Sophie and Tam did not look up. Tam had two black eyes by now, and Sophie was struggling to avoid another punch to her split lip. Dex was pretty sure he also saw a gap in her teeth that wasn’t there the day before.

He gave up trying to get their attention, and read out the definition of frankfurter. 

“A seasoned smoked sausage made of beef and pork.”

Silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of Tam and Sophie’s bloody brawl.

“Well, that didn’t solve anything,” grumbled Dex, closing The Elf. Suddenly, Biana’s eyes lit up.

“Wait a minute- hey, Sophie?”

Sophie did not answer.

“Tam? Sophie? Guys?”

Neither of them paid any attention to her calls- they were both battered and bruised all over, but still fighting.

Biana sighed, then walked over to Dex.

“Dex,” she said, calmly and professionally, “on the count of three, would you be a dear and hold Sophie down? I’ll grab Tam.”

Dex acquiesced. 

At the number, they both dropped to the ground and grabbed their assigned person’s arms- Dex hooked his around Sophie’s, stopping her from punching, and Biana did the same with Tam.

“What the hell’re you doing?” growled Sophie. Her hair was disheveled, and some of it had clearly been ripped out in chunks.

“There’s no need for this anymore,” Biana said, remaining as calm and collected as ever. “I’ve figured it out.”

They both stopped resisting.

“Fihured wha ou?” said Tam. Clearly his bruised tongue was giving him trouble.

“I know what a hot dog is.”

The room fell silent again.

“Now, if you’ll both get up and stop fighting, I’ll explain.”

They both reluctantly got to their feet and stumbled over to the couch. The others stared at them, a little scared. Biana stood up and cleared her throat.

“The Elf defines a sandwich as two pieces of bread with filling between them. A hot dog bun, however, is only one piece of bread.”

Sophie’s first instinct was to jump to her feet, but she controlled herself.

“Therefore, we must conclude that a hot dog… is not a sandwich.”

Sophie did not control herself this time. Biana put a hand up to stop her. Surprisingly enough, it worked.

Tam looked like a seven-year-old who had just proven that his dad was the coolest.

“In fact,” continued Biana, “it is something entirely different.”

Everyone raised their eyebrows.

“But- but what else could it possibly be?” asked a confused Wylie.

“It’s a taco,” said Biana, with all the foolish confidence of Don Quixote.

All of the others turned furious eyes on her, and in a matter of seconds Biana was down on the floor being beaten and battered by the rest of the kids, who were all chanting “NOT A TACO! NOT A TACO! NOT A TACO!”

Marella set a poker on fire and was about to beat Biana with it when the door opened.

“Hey, everyone, sorry I’m-”

Fitz couldn’t even finish his sentence when he beheld the scene before him. Keefe raced towards him and pinned him to the wall.

“Quick!” growled Keefe, “What’s a hotdog?”

All eyes were on Fitz.

“…Isn’t it that thing with the sausage in the bun that you usually eat for breakfast?”

Grady and Edaline came home that day to find the entire house destroyed, Marella hurling fireballs at everyone, Fitz and Biana lying unconscious in  the rubble, Linh trying to drown everyone, Tam unleashing shadowflux, Wylie burning people with the light of a million suns, Sophie inflicting all manner of pain onto her friends, Keefe throwing goblin throwing stars left and right, and Dex shooting all kinds of guns and using all kinds of weapons that he himself had built. Keefe had been heard to yell “MY MOM’S IN THE FUCKING NEVERSEEN, BITCHES, DON’T FUCK WITH ME!” while Linh seemed to be speaking some ancient sea language that was definitely summoning krakens as she chanted. Sophie might have been speaking in biblical tongues, but it wasn’t clear. Her voice was strangled and confusing. She was definitely being possessed, though, by… something. Marella was chanting in the ancient tongue of Pyrana, the great elven goddess of fire and fury, and was summoning what looked to be demons. The krakens and the demons began to fight at this point. Wylie, meanwhile, appeared to be pulling actual stars out of the sky and throwing them at people, screaming, “MY DAD DIDN’T ALMOST DIE FOR THIS SHIT!” 

Dex was just singing Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger very loudly.

They were all exiled to an Atlantian prison colony in the Mariana Trench a couple days later, and they never did come to an agreement over the identity of a hot dog.

[princessamericachavez]

Not again

Fjord wakes up with a cold kind of soreness still lingering in his bones. His chest still aches when he breathes, and his limbs are a little numb from sleeping on the cold stone floor, but despite the discomfort, he can already tell that his health is better. Whatever draining effect the damn demon’s attack had, it’s worn off through the night.

With a quiet groan, he sits up and twists his neck until it cracks, releasing some of the tension. Only then, he opens his eyes.

There’s an immediate pang of panic, a sense of wrongness that settles in the depths of his gut before his brain has entirely put together the reason behind the uneasiness. Yellow eyes fly around the magical dome, taking in the empty space where there usually is bodies. To his right, where Jester’s body usually curls up, only inches away from his touch, there’s nothing, not even the lingering warmth of her body.

A sense of dread curls around his throat, choking him with memories of another night, a watch gone wrong, the pain and fear of being dragged away from his friends while they sleep peacefully only a few feet away.

No, no, no, dammit, his brain races with desperation. Not again.

Fjord can't find his voice. His left arm reaches for Beauregard's shoulder. He shakes her awake.

"Wha- Fuck, man. Couldn't you let me sleep?" She mumbles, her voice husky with sleep. His face must reflect the storm brewing inside him, though, because as soon as she catches sight of him she sits swiftly. "What? Oh, shit. Caleb!"

With her foot, the monk kicks the wizard awake, in a way that Fjord assumes is meant to be gentle.

"Was! Was!" Caleb kicks the air and flails around.

Fjord is already on his feet, looking around the stone room. He sees no signs of struggle but knows better than to assume. He walks out of the hut —damn thing was meant to keep them safe, wasn't it?— and starts pacing around. There's no sign of the girls.

"Jester?!" He shouts. In the echo of his voice, he can hear his own despair, clear as daylight.

"Nott?! Yasha?!" The others join him as they walk the giant rooms.

Nothing.

"They are okay," Caduceus's voice is deep and calm but still manages to raise over their frantic shouting.

"You know where they are?" Fjord asks, closing the distance between him and the cleric with large hurried steps.

"Yeah," Deucy smiles pleasantly and shrugs. "They went outside last night."

"Why?" Caleb asks and Fjord can hear the frown in his voice.

"Yasha had a vision. Jester suggested they go outside and talk to the storm."

"In the middle of the night?"

"And they never returned?"

Fjord isn't listening anymore. He takes off towards the entrance at full speed. His eyes search for tracks or a sign of struggle but añl he finds is mud and greenery.

"Jester?!"

"What?"

From the corner of his eye, he catches movement. The green cape, that he'd taken for more leaves, lifts up revealing a startled couple of detectives.

"What are you doing out here?!" He yells stomping towards them.

"Yasha was talking to her god and we didn't wanna leave her alone," Jester shrugs, somewhere between nonchalant and taken aback by Fjord's anger.

"And you thought it was a good idea sleep out here alone?!"

"Don't fucking yell at us!" Nott snaps defensively. "Calm down!"

"Fjord-" Beau tries to intervene.

"No, I'm fucking calming down. What's the god damn point of putting up a protective fucking dome if you two just gonna do whatever and go out on your own?!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!" Jester yells back, just as loud. "We were just trying to help Yasha!" She gestures widely towards the woods.

Following her gaze, Fjord sees Yasha's form. She looks unusually small, tucked against a big old tree and fast asleep. Fast like an arrow, Beau dashes towards her.

"You scared us, Nott," Caleb says softly, bending down to meet the goblin's gaze.

"I'm sorry, Caleb. I won't do it again, I promise."

Caleb opens his arms and Nott easily walks into the hug. Still holding her, the Zemnian stands up and carries her away like one would a child. Not that Fjord knows anything about how parents treat children. Which leaves Fjord and Jester alone. 

The silence stretches between them, but it’s a different kind of tension than the one that has been brewing awkwardly the past several weeks whenever they are alone. She’s not meeting his eyes and he recognizes she’s upset by the curve of her mouth and the way her tail curls around her right leg like a self-given hug. As worry fades away, so does the anger, and Fjord feels a pang of guilt over raising his voice at her.

“Jester,” he says and sees her almost flinch at the sound of his voice.

“I already said I’m sorry!” She snaps back, defensively, raising two angry violet eyes towards him.

“I know,” he offers. “I just- Jester, you remember what happened the last time we wandered away from the others in the middle of the night, don’t you?”

The fight fades out of Jester’s expression with the same quickness that a spell will disappear if he loses concentration mid-battle. She sends a quick look towards Yasha, who is being wakened up by Beau with much more gentleness than Caleb was minutes ago. Fjord can see the way Jester’s shoulders drop as she bows down her head.

“I didn’t- I’m sorry if I scared you,” she whispers. “I didn’t think about that.”

And now, she’s sad. Fjord almost wishes she was angry again. His chest twists and, in an impulse, he brings a hand to rest on her shoulder. The contact is comforting and it manages to erase the last remains of tension in Fjord’s stomach.

“I know. Are you alright?”

Jester nods, not raising her eyes.

“Good,” Fjord sighs. “That’s all that matters. I’m glad you’re alright. M’sorry for freaking out. I was just... worried.”

That last word doesn’t seem right. It isn’t enough to really let her know the amount of despair that took over him a minute ago, the horror of imagining her in that situation again, the certainty that he would lose his mind if something happened to her, the hole in his chest at the mere thought of losing her.

Jester looks up, finally, and something in her face suggests she knows. Fjord wonders if she really understands it —he can’t even explain it himself. For a second, he’s convinced that she knows the words better than he does, that whatever this unspoken thing is, she has every tool to piece it together.

“I’m okay, Fjord,” she says, with a small smile and something that he almost dares call endearment.

The amount of feelings in her eyes almost echoes the myriad of emotions going on in his own heart and it terrifies him how real it feels. It’s almost tangible between them.

So, before he can put his foot in his mouth and break whatever this is (or, worse, acknowledge it), he deflects.

“Yeah, good, good,” he mumbles, letting go of her. “Let’s gather the others, then, and get moving. I think that’s enough scares for a day, and I’d like to finish this job and get back to town before they think we’ve skipped town on them.”

“Sure, sure, sure,” Jester agrees, quickly. “I’m- I’m gonna go get the rest of my stuff from inside.”

“Yeah, I’ll- I’ll get the others. See you in a bit.”

He rushes on the opposite direction to Jester’s and, on his way towards the others, flexes his right hand’s fingers trying not to linger on the warmth of her skin against his a second ago. It’s okay. They are okay. She’s okay.