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trashogram · 1 year ago

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Toon Patrol/Fem!Reader

Rated G for gun violence.

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You stood at the very back of the studio, trying not to let restlessness get the better of you. You contented yourself by looking at the set that had been vacated of its cast before your return — a beautiful matte painting of an open field with a frame of oak trees.

It was so eye-catching and lovely contrasted with the clutter of camera equipment and occasional crewmembers. A veritable oasis in the middle of a desert.

You sighed wistfully.

Your mentor Cliff had gone long ago, off to help pull together another reel of film post-edit. It was tempting to pout over the injustice of not being invited, since your whole purpose was to observe and learn that very thing. Instead you’d been left to the wolves as a glorified PA, running around town to get whatever was needed by this person or that — all of them higher on the totem pole than yourself. So, you had no chance of refusing, not that you hadn’t tried.

You’d been working here for almost two weeks and people still treated you like you were invisible, or a nuisance. First day on the job and your most important lesson was: if you’re not talent or the director, you’re not worth a second glance.

With a scrunch of your nose in distaste, you waved away the thought. You’d already browbeaten yourself enough for being so meek. There was nothing for it now but to do better next time.

-*-

Cliff pushed a box of random props into your arms. “Here girl. Take these out to the lot and throw ‘em away.”

You stared down your nose at the contents, spying at least two oversized rolling pins, a ‘toon bomb with a singed fuse, a slide whistle, a white flag and a dozen or so bent cartoon nails.

“Wh—?”

“They’re defective! No need for ‘em anymore.” Your mentor continued. “When you come back I’ll bring you to the RCA system, watch ‘em match up the audio.”

“Oh! Really?!” You brightened. “That’s - I - Really, Cliff?! Will I really get to — ?”

Cliff cut you off, perpetually watering eyes narrowed as he frowned.

“Yeah, yeah, now go! Don’t dawdle! We don’t need anymore junk clutterin’ this place up.” Cliff ‘hmphed’ around his stogie. “Got enough clowns runnin’ rampant as it is.”

Your lips pressed together firmly as you tried to reel in the tempest of emotions in your chest. As exciting as the reward sounded, you failed to see how taking out the trash was part of your job description.

“Yes, sir.” You muttered finally.

With another world-weary sigh, you trudged off and headed toward the back door that led outside.

-*-

The walk over to the dumpsters was particularly painful with not only the distance to account for, but the many stairs as well. You could feel blisters forming on your heels and where pressure pinched at your toes.

One would hope that breaking in sensible pumps wouldn’t take long, but then you were constantly on your feet these days. There was little to no time for sitting and healing as you were jerked around from one end of the set to the next at everyone’s beck and call.

A siren was going off in the distance, intermingling with the sound of the trolley ding’ing at its next stop. You could faintly hear the clacking of dress shoes and a shout from someone unknown just beyond the gate that separated the studio and the outside world of L.A.

The air turned from pleasantly fresh to sour, dragging you back to the task at hand. The dumpsters sat waiting.

You groaned at the realization that you had to set your box of miscellaneous down to open the dumpster lid. It was the little things in life that piled up and blocked you from a simple, joyous life.

Two women costumed to look like Little Bo Peep rounded the corner as you maneuvered the lid open. They didn’t appear to see you, let alone lend a hand as they hurried off. And the same could be said of a man swerving past you, his dress shirt half-soaked in sweat.

Typical.

“Did this… box get… heavier?” You groused, lugging it up from the pavement.

You had to use the dumpster to wedge the box between it and yourself, hoisting it toward the lip. It was merely a coincidence that you decided to take a last look inside before throwing it away.

The ‘toon frog inside croaked at you.

Your scream set him off like a springtrap, and you were knocked back onto the heated road with a hiss. It hurt — your elbow smacked into the ground and the trapped heat from the sun stung your legs through the nylon barrier as you landed on your behind.

Teeth clenched, you tried to distract yourself from the pain. Above you the frog stood, stretched out to his full height — which was sizable given how he’s squished himself into a standard cardboard box. His attire stood out like something a bandmate would march in during a parade procession.

The frog trembled from head-to-toe, eyes darting all around.

“I’m so sorry! So sorry! So sorry! I didn’t mean to knock you over, Miss! I was just looking for somewhere to-to-to-to—!”

You got back onto your feet awkwardly, wincing as you brushed dust and dirt from your backside. “To scare me?”

“—To hide!” He shrieked, fumbling over his own webbed feet.

You frowned, mouth opening just as the distant siren drowned everything else out. The gate into the studio burst open simultaneously, sending your heart plummeting as a patrol vehicle raced forward.

The frog screamed with you this time as he leapt into the air and dove into your arms. His long arms wrapped ‘round your neck and squeezed.

Vision starting to swim, hearing beginning to ring, you could do nothing but stumble back with arms full of terrified amphibian as the car screeched to a halt.

“Awlright Gills!” A nasal voice called out. “End ‘a the line!”

The driver’s side door of the van opened, and out popped a ‘toon weasel bedecked in a pink suit jacket and matching fedora.

And as if on cue, more weasels filed out from all sides of the car, hurrying to follow the first one’s lead.

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Please!” The frog stuttered in your ear. “I didn’t hear anything! I didn’t see anything! Please believe me!”

It did not block out the sound of guns being cocked. You went ramrod straight at the sound, and stared like a deer in headlights as the group of weasels crowded in.

You whimpered, overwhelmed and afraid at the sudden turn of events. The guns pointed at you looked real.

“Look-it dis, boys.” The weasel in pink snarked. “Froggy says he ain’t guilty, but he’s hidin’ behind a dame! Sure looks like a ‘red-bellied’ snitch ta me!”

The weasel’s fellow ‘toons all laughed, and you gagged as the frog’s arms constricted around you again. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, preventing you from staying still through the stand-off.

“She don’t look so good, eh boss?” Another weasel asked, eyes trained on you moreso than the frog.

You began to sway back and forth, a high heel catching in a divot. You pitched forward unexpectedly.

“No! No! No!” The frog wailed.

“Uh-oh!” A high-pitched voice exclaimed, followed by a stream of cackles. The spots in your vision and the ringing in your ears prevented you from caring, however.

Even the sound of a gunshot, and the subsequent cry of the frog as he finally let go of your neck and jumped off of you, took its time catching up to your sluggish thoughts.

You gasped, air filling your lungs in short bursts until you coughed. Above and around you, the sounds of a cartoon scuffle filled the lot as the frog attempted another escape.

He had sprung from you after being startled by the gunshot before you could hit the ground and hit the dumpster, feet landing on a rolling pin and tripping him up. It left him flailing for just long enough to get ambushed by the Toon Patrol, who rushed him.

The frog bounded over Smartass’s head, ripping the fedora off his head, and leaving the leader to clutch at nothing but air, to slam it over Stupid’s eyes. Psycho took the opportunity to grip the perp’s feet and pull him down harder than gravity could as Wheezy snatched up the cartoon bat that had been dropped in the fray and hit the frog right between his bulbous eyes.

It sent the poor thing flying back into the dust, legs sticking up in the air as he moaned, stars circling his head.

-*-

A small crowd of humans and ‘toons alike had gathered yards away from you, but you paid it no mind as the frog was hauled away by the seat of his pants. The amphibian remained unconscious as he was swung back and forth rather merrily by two of the weasels before being thrown into the back of their car.

The sound of him hitting the interior made you flinch, but you also instinctively grabbed for your neck, and shuddered at the phantom feeling of being choked.

You inhaled slowly, willing yourself to calm down. Thankfully, a distraction emerged when you saw the Toon Patrol (per what it said on the side of the cab) leader dithering near you still. His beady eyes roved around the area, combing it for something — something —

“Thank you...” You said when he was within earshot.

His ears perked up before that glare was pointed in your direction. You swallowed down your apprehension.

“… For, uh, for helping me from being strangled.” You continued, gently.

It felt true enough, even if you felt a little bad about how the situation was handled. From what you could tell, neither you nor the frog had been shot. It must’ve been a tactic meant to scare only.

You hoped so at least.

“Wasn’ nothing, doll.” He snapped, claws still feeling for his hat as if it would magically appear.

You frowned, pushing down the feeling of reproach at his gruff tone. It would seem that even ‘toon law enforcement would rather wave you off than speak to you.

Eyes trailing down, you spotted the fedora a few feet away and you quickly scooped it up, intent on remedying your hurt feelings with people-pleasing.

“Well, thank you anyway.” You said sincerely before you bent down and planted a kiss right between the weasel’s little ears.

It was funny. You noticed before you could place the hat back on the weasel’s head how his eyes bulged in their sockets. For a split second the ‘toon looked well and truly gobsmacked by your little token of gratitude.

The rest of his posse stilled their endless shuffling, fidgeting and slinking about to mirror the bewilderment of their boss.

Their leader eventually shook himself free of the shock to whirl about. The permanent scowl on his face deepened as he glared at you. His hat was snatched out of your hands, with the weasel hissing between yellow incisors.

“Why you—!”

“Aye!” Your head snapped up, and you blinked rapidly at the weasel in green. “Whattabout me?!”

His narrowed eyes had blown out wide, zeroed in on you while his jaw hung open. The weasel hurriedly clamped it shut when he caught your attention, trying and failing to contain the mix of awe, indignation and desperation on his face. You noticed, idly, how he was the most well-dressed out of his counterparts as he stalked toward you.

You were taken aback when he elbowed the weasel next to you out of the way and grabbed your hand before you could back off.

The green-clad ‘toon took his hat in his other hand, revealing a shock of slicked-back black hair. It distracted you from his hungry gaze roaming up and down your form.

“It was an honor to be your hero, bella dama.” His voice was as oily as his hair. “I would happily accept your kiss as ‘thank you’.”

“Oh.” You responded dumbly. “Um, I-I suppose…”

A squeak left you as the ‘toon kissed your hand, his grip tightening without warning so that he could pull you closer. Suddenly, he was kissing his way up your arm, heedless to your bewilderment at his wildly inappropriate actions.

The kisses grew more and more amorous as he continued, openly slavering over you as if your bare skin was an addictive substance he couldn’t get enough of. And every single one was punctuated with a loud ‘MUAH’.

Blood rushed to your ears as you saw the weasel’s tongue slide across your forearm—

“Quit messin’ around!” Your sleazy counterpart was ripped away from you with a yelp.

His entire body snapped back like a rubber band, neck stretching comically as he tried to continue kissing you until the very last second.

“We got no time for these ‘shenagrains’! We still gotta frog to flay!” The leader spat, smacking Green over the head for good measure.

A chorus of laughter followed the strike as the other three weasels pointed and laughed at their cohorts’ melodramatic abuse.

The touchy one bared his yellow teeth, spouting what you could only imagine were curses, though they were yelled in what you believed was Spanish. He dove for his leader, and immediately they began to tussle in the dusty roadway.

You stood up again, grimacing at the scene and wondering if you should intervene or not. Until you jumped out of your skin as the hem of your dress was tugged.

“Heeheeheeheh…” Swirling eyes met your own, so shiny that they reflected your stunned expression back at you.

“You want a kiss?” You asked.

The only response was more high-pitched giggling from the scrawny thing. You felt nervousness creep up your spine as you took in the overlong sleeves of what you just now realized was a straightjacket wrapped around this one. And there was a straight razor clenched between his teeth, glinting in the early noon sun.

Panic crawled up your throat, but you forced yourself to take a big, albeit silent, breath. Toons were made to entertain, not cause harm. At least, not to humans.

You softened up with a smile, brushing back the weasel’s wildly unkempt hair and pressing your lips to his hairline.

“Heehee…” The giggling went on under his breath.

A wet nose pressed against the column of your throat briefly, sniffing over your skin. Hot puffs of air blew back your hair before you heard him inhale deeply.

You pulled back to see the loony ‘toon rocking from side to side, his sleeves crossed over his lanky body in a self-hug. Those eyes swirled twice as fast, a manic grin stretching over his long face.

“I li~ike that.” He sing-songed between giggles. “Kissies feel go~od! Eheeheeheehee!”

The laughing, as freaky as it was, was infectious. Laughter bubbled out of you as well, shaking your shoulders and forcing you to press your lips together.

You couldn’t stifle it so much when the largest weasel of the whole gang bumped into your side. How he managed to sneak up on you with all his bulk was a mystery.

“Duhh we did good?” He asked you.

“Very good!” You laughed, your frame vibrating with the forcefulness of it. “Thank you very much!”

This weasel’s eyes didn’t swirl, but they shapeshifted into hearts once you kissed his furry cheek. You nearly snorted over how he sank into a bashful pose, and at the way the propeller on his hat spun without even a light breeze to push it.

“D’awww…” His tongue hung out like a lazy dog’s as he looked up at you through would-be fluttering lashes. “Boss! Did you see that? Da lady gave me a kiss!”

“Ese idiota got a kiss!” You heard from behind. “You all got a kiss but me! ¡Sois ratas! ¡Estás todos contra mí!”

Well now, not all of them had. You couldn’t stop laughing, but you managed to find the only other patroller you had not made any contact with.

The one that was shades more blue than his fellow ‘toons hung back. He made no move to come toward you; just stood in the haze of his own smoke cloud.

You didn’t want to push. Instead, still on that jittery buzz of good humor, you blew him a kiss to compromise. You imagined that if you were a ‘toon yourself, your kiss would’ve literally flown right to him.

Blue’s pinkened eyes seemed to widen, reminiscent of his boss’s reaction, before narrowing again to scrutinize you. The many cigarettes in his maw billowed smoke on double time, reminding you of the phrase ‘smoke coming outta your ears’.

Perhaps it was just their natural theatrics — admittedly, you’d not been working amongst ‘toons for very long, let alone visited Toontown as you planned to do… at some point. But you had to wonder if these poor creatures had ever been shown affection in their lives.

Wiping a tear from your eye, you tried to curb your giggles and turn toward that overly — affectionate — weasel. You knew full well that it was a terrible idea but his whining made you feel bad, and you intended to humor him (as long as his boss held him back from the unwanted smooching).

Intention cut short when you jolted in place at the sight of a man in all black standing behind you.

“Oh!” You gasped.

You felt a chill the longer you stared at him. An imposing man in all black, staring at you from behind opaque spectacles beneath the sharp brim of his own hat. He stood unnaturally still, like a stone pillar, and you got the distinct impression that he’d meant to frighten you.

Then he smiled, baring uncannily perfect white teeth in your direction.

#who framed roger rabbit #toon patrol #wfrr #silliness #smartass weasel #greasy weasel #psycho weasel #wheezy weasel #stupid weasel #i had to get it out of my system and it took forever

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puckingeccedentesiast · 2 years ago

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[ Offensive In Our Own Ways ]

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

word count: 0.5k

description: jack meets a witty girl in a bar, who knows whats going to happen next!

a/n: this was my first ever fic in 2023! I hope you enjoy a little sentimental trip down memory lane!

CREEK. The sound of my bedroom door opening, followed by the light from the hallway spilling in was what pulled me away from the assignment I was so frantically editing for next week.

“Y/N-”

“no.”

“but-”

“I said no Tahlia.”

“Just listen.” I sighed in defeat, I wasn’t going to be left alone long enough to finish this assignment if she didn’t get whatever spiel she had in store for me tonight off her chest early.

“Go on then” I said, shutting my laptop.

“Okay, get ready, we are going to a new bar that opened tonight in 20 minutes.” she finished with a cheshire cat grin.

“Tahlia-”

“no.”

“but-”

“Get ready Y/N.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, and please do remember that I know where you sleep.” she sheepishly grinned and nodded enthusiastically at me acknowledging my second remark. I groaned as my sore and cramped muscles cracked, popped and stretched back to their natural positions as I dragged my tired body over to my closet. “What to wear, what to wear.” I mumbled under my breath. Flicking through different options. Dress, not feeling it, plus it’s way to fucking cold for this. Skirt and corset top, fuck that. Down to the last dregs of my closet I found a pair of black straight jeans and a magenta elbow length blouse, perfect, that a pair of black combat boots, a few rings, necklace, nose ring and all of my pieces of jewelry for the various piercings in my ears and we are good to go. Pulling my waist length brunette hair out of its disheveled plait, I brushed it till it was presentable. Satisfied, I trudged over to my bedside table and grabbed my phone and anxiety remedy pastels and turned around to walk out of my room and down the stairs to be greeted by my three friends.

“There she is!” Tahlia exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go, I now have a dire need for alcohol.” If I'm supposed to deal with you lot of fuckwits for an extended period of time. Drunk Tahlia is enough to deal with by herself, now I’ve got two more on my radar. Great.

As we wandered down the driveway to the Uber all three girls were looking into a makeup-smudged handheld mirror one of them had in their purse and were stating how hot they looked and how they were definitely getting laid tonight. This continued all throughout the Uber ride to the club and right through the front door.

“I’m going to get a drink. Stay out of trouble, and please for the love of god text me if you are leaving the club with someone else, plus make sure your location remains on so if need be, I can come find you.” There was no room for negotiation in my tone so the three girls nodded and promised to do so. With a tight lipped smile directed to them I took off in search of the bar, Tahlia hot on my heels.

Jack POV

“... Well done tonight boys, ‘m very proud of you and your efforts, couldn’t have done it without you.” Nico commended as he finished his ‘mandatory post game captains speech’. All the boys cheered and most took a swig of their drinks in response, I downed the last contents of my beer and looked down the bar to find the bartender to get another. I waved him down and ordered another beer,

“That's all for you mate?” he asked in a monotone voice. Someone could do with a drink themselves.

“Yep.” I responded in an equally dry tone, if the jackass wasn’t going to make an attempt to be sociable then nor was I. He rolled his eyes and walked off to hopefully get my drink.

“Jack, come dance with us!” Dawson bellowed in my ear while he tugged half-heartedly on the back of my shirt sleeve.

“Don’t feel like it tonight. Get Nico, I’m sure he’d love to embarrass himself with you.” I recommended in a humorous tone.

“Fine, your dancing next time then.” he countered

“I’ll look forward to it.” I responded albeit half-heartedly. The joyous bartender wandered back over with my beer in hand and placed it roughly on the bench in front of me with a barely grunt of acknowledgement before his eyes shot up behind me and plastered a sleazy smirk on his face.

“Hey ladies, can I get anything for you?”

“I’ll have a martini and she’ll have..” silence followed and then some mumbling,”straight vodka.”

“Alright girls, I’ll have them sorted out for you in a minute, just wait here.” he said through a smirk, “and don’t worry about paying, this one’s on me.”

“ Oh, you don’t have to do that!” One of the girls exclaimed.

“Anything for a couple good lookin’ girls like yourselves.” he flirted back, a semi-enthusiastic smile on his face.

“Hear that Y/N he also thinks I’m hot!” One girl mumbled to the other, Y/N, pretty name I thought as I brought my beer to lips for a sip.

“Stop calling yourself hot Tahlia, the only thing you can turn on is the microwave.” the girl, Y/N bit back at the other girl. I suddenly regretted taking a sip of my beer as it was involuntarily snorted up my nose in response to this girl's pure bluntness toward her friend. Coughing and spluttering I wheezed out a sorry and looked down at the bar, intent on minding my own business.

The bartender showed up at the perfect time handing both of the girls their drinks and while winking and handing over a napkin with a pen on top of it. “You’re both clearly interested, so I was wondering if I could grab your numbers?” The twat asked, flashing his best wink, talk about poor customer service.

“I’m sorry I’m going to have to decline.” Y/N replied politely.

“C’mon sweetheart you know that you can’t say no to someone like me.” he crooned.

“Y’know, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone with two perfectly good eyeballs, each would sell for around 16,000 dollars on the black market.” she replied in a matter of fact tone. The bartender's face went from cool, calm and collected, to absolutely petrified and scurrying away in about .5 seconds.

“Y/N!, why would you say that! He was cute, and you’ve just ruined all my chances!” Tahlia huffed and stormed off. I heard a sigh and saw someone sitting down on the barstool next to me in my peripherals, I looked over and the girl sent me a small smile that I returned.

“Just so you know, if that were my friend I would’ve done the same. Not as.. Offensively,” I cringed at how I sounded. “But something along the same lines, though, I do have to admit, you being as blunt as you were was slightly humorous.” She smiled at that, her cheeks flushed red and the corners of her eyes wrinkled, cutie.

“Thanks, I’m Y/N by the way and I think I’ve just royally pissed off my roommate.” We both laughed at that statement,

“I’m Jack, and I think you could be correct, she should forgive you though.” I responded hoping that could ease some of her concern.

“Fingers crossed Jack, fingers crossed.” She looked around, surveying the area, “What do you do for work?” She asked, turning back to me.

“I play hockey professionally, for the New Jersey Devils.” Her face lit up.

“Your Jack Hughes?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” I responded, “What do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m still a student.” She said with a smile.

“Cool what do you-”

“Y/N!”

“Oh God,” She mumbled. “Yes?” Two very drunk girls and her roommate from earlier approached us. Y/N’s eyes flick over both of the girls as she nods to herself, standing out of her seat to help hold up one of the girls, “I think it’s time to go home.” She announced. I couldn’t help feeling sad, I wanted to get to know this girl.

“Hey Y/N, could I maybe get your number? We could get coffee sometime? Only if you want to though!” I rushed out not wanting to miss my chance.

“Sure Jack, one sec.” She responded, lowering her friend onto the stool she was previously sitting on. Grabbing the napkin and pen the bartender so conveniently left for us, she scribbled down some numbers followed by call me :D and slid it across the bench top to me.

“Thanks, I’ll text you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” She smiled while picking her babbling friend off of the stool and turning around to help them drunkenly waddle out of the bar. I’ll look forward to it too. I smiled to myself, having something to be excited about besides hockey.

#jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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tiddiewitch · 4 months ago

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Second Chances Ch. 2 pt. 2

Description: Agathrio AU / Wagatha - Ralph and Jen take Agatha out to a drag show for her birthday where she runs into the mysterious woman again. She ends the night fulfilling the plans she made with Ralph but not without thinking about that woman!

Warnings: Drinking, religious trauma, 18+ at the end, NSFW

Wordcount: ~7,500 (two separate posts)

Notes: Posting chapter 1 made me excited to edit and post chapter 2. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: pt.2

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” Ralph shouted out the doorway of the hall bathroom. “That woman is a piece of work. What did she think was going to happen?”

“She was so nonchalant! And of course she had to bring those people. I do think she was trying to set me up with Christian. Gods, never in a million years.”

“So you’re like super rich now though, right?”

“No, I’ve not agreed to anything yet. Honestly it all just seems like a headache. I’m not moving to Boston, my life is here. Ugh, I just don’t really want to think about this tonight. Right now I just want to pretend nothing happened and start the night. Where’s my drink?”

“I thought you said you were cutting back this year?” Ralph said with a smirk.

“After that?! I’m not staying completely sober. Just a little to take the edge off.”

“I’m messing with you. I’d be under the table by now if it were me. Here, I think it’s a Pino?” He handed her a glass with red wine and she took a large gulp. She finished the glass as Ralph puts the finishing touches on his drag persona, Lady Bohner, and called a Lyft.

“You still want to leave a little early tonight? If you’re not feeling up to it after today I get it”

“Oh we’re doing this tonight. Too many things are already in place. It’s now or never.”

“Alright, I’ll come find you after the show and we’ll head out. You still haven’t said anything to Jen?”

“No, she’s got enough going on. I’ve been able to handle things so far. If all goes well she’ll know soon enough. And if not, she never needed to worry, I don’t need her pity.”

They pull up to the bar and quickly hop out of the vehicle. “Jen said she’s running late so we’ll meet her inside.” They made their way inside and headed towards a table near the stage.

“You ok to stay here for a bit while I get set up? I’ll make sure you get a drink.”

“Yeah of course, and I’ll grab something myself. See you in a bit.”

She put her coat down at the table and headed to the bar. Already a bit crowded, she found a space at the end and waited on the bartender. Glancing around at the other patrons she caught sight of a woman at the other end of the bar transfixed on her. Her large doe eyes pierced into her. She quickly glanced away feeling a flush rising in her cheeks. The woman looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place her. She bounced her gaze around the room, taking time before resting upon the woman again. Her stare had not weakened and a smirk was now resting on her lips. She didn’t know how long she stood there mesmerized when the bartender finally gathered her attention.

“Vodka soda with a splash of cranberry” She barked. She reached into her wallet pulling out cash. She slapped it on the bar harder than she intended and grabbed the drink. She looked back to spot the woman again but she had gone and Agatha could not find her in the thickening crowd around her. She elbowed her way back to the table, keeping a lookout as she went. Just as she put her drink down she felt hands grab her shoulders. Startled, she whipped around nearly smacking Jen before she realized who it was.

“Woah, Agatha, watch it! It’s just me!”

“Oh my GODS Jen! Don’t do that. I almost flattened you.”

“OOO, what’s got you so jumpy you knew I was coming.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to sneak up on me like that.”

“My bad! So how was dinner?”

“Ugh, worse than you can imagine. I’m pretty sure she tried to set me up with a republican.”

“Oh NO! You’re kidding - not a man?!”

“That’s just the beginning. But I don’t want to talk about that tonight! I just want to have a good time at this show and go home at a reasonable time.”

“Wow you really are getting older.”

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle.” She took a sip of her drink and glanced across the runway stage to see two amber honey doe eyes glowing back at her. She sputtered, choking on her drink.

“You good, Agatha?” Jen chuckled.

“Yep, just down the wrong pipe” She choked back. She felt the warmth rising again in her chest and face, a mix of embarrassment and shock.

They settled in and waited for the show to begin. Agatha attempted to participate in small talk, as Jen babbled about the stressful week she had, but was too aware of the woman across the aisle sizing her up. What was this woman’s problem? Finally the lights dimmed and the thundering base of the intro began to play. Ralph’s voice echoed over the speakers.

“And now, shes, hes, theys and gays, welcome to the stage, your host, Lady BOHNER!!” Ralph walked out in her signature look, a shimmering ball gown and the biggest blonde wig you’ve ever seen. The night was eventful, practically every queen was doing the most, particularly at Agatha’s table. Despite the attention, her mind couldn’t help wandering back to the woman transfixed on her. She figured out about halfway through that Ralph had told them about the event they were celebrating. Before the final set she, along with other people celebrating events that evening, was pulled on stage to take a shot. As Lady Bohner handed her the shot she grumbled to him, “This better not be tequila.” He winked and then shouted to the crowd. “Alright homos! Raise your glasses and down the hatch!” She choked down the tequila and made her way back down to her seat; not before noticing the woman who had been watching her raise her glass once again to Agatha and take a drink with a wink. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as her stomach began to flutter once again.

As the final queens left the stage Agatha took a glance back across the room. The woman who had stolen her attention the whole show was nowhere to be found. She found herself relieved that whatever spell this woman had her under was broken, yet there was a twinge of disappointment as the tension immediately dissipated.

“I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back” She said as she made her way past Jen. Bumping her way through, she made it to the restroom before a line had started to form. As she rushed to push the door open she heard a smack and a grunt on the other side. Fuck, she slowly moved the door open.

“I’m so sorry I was rushing I didn’t think anyone was in here!” She was stopped in her tracks, standing before her, rubbing her face was the woman. Of course it was her!

“You should watch where you’re going” She said with a smirk “Someone could get hurt” And then with one of those big doe eyes she winked at Agatha. Her heart fluttered, warmth rose quickly in her chest. “Funny running into you again. Must be my lucky day.” At that moment she realized it was the same woman from the bookstore! The woman’s voice was low and warm, each word tinged with seductive sarcasm.

“S…sure. Mine too I guess.” She chuckled with anxiety. The woman slowly walked toward her, closing the space between them, stopping just short of their noses meeting. She stood there for a moment tearing Agatha apart with her gaze before she finally said,

“Well, I’m gonna head out, maybe I’ll catch you out there.” As the door closed behind her Agatha let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The air around her was filled with the woman’s fragrance. She was brought back to earlier that day in the bookstore; the way her heart raced. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Mouth agape, face flushed, hair somehow tousled. She finally gathered herself enough to actually use the restroom then summoned up the courage to return to Jen. She took a glance around the room as she exited, not finding the woman among the crowd and continued back towards the table.

“You good?” Jen said as she approached, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m fine, I think, I just want to get out of here. Is Ralph ready?”

“Not yet, should be out soon though. We headed back to yours?”

“Um, well, Ralph and I will head back. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow so I think I’m just gonna call it a night.”

“Oh, ok, if you're sure. Don’t want to walk and get a cookie or anything first?”

“No, I’m not feeling well and today was a lot. But we’ll catch up next week alright?”

“Sure, Agatha, have a good night.” Jen walked off toward the bar to grab another drink. Agatha turned back to grab her things and took a seat as she impatiently for Ralph.

“This seat taken?” Said a sultry voice. She glanced up once again to see the woman had cornered her at last.

“Be my guest.” She said with a wave of her hand.

“I was going to ask you to dance but you seem more like you could use another drink.”

“Thank you for the offer but as soon as my friend arrives we’re headed out.”

“Oh what a pity, guess my luck is running out. Any chance you have time for one song?” She stood up and offered her hand to Agatha. Agatha took a moment to consider, looking back and forth between the woman’s hand and her enchanting smile. It was her birthday, and likely the last chance she would get to let loose and experience this kind of spontaneity. And this woman, who had captivated her from the moment they first ran into each other was hard to deny.

“Fine…just one song.” She placed her hand into the woman’s who led her into the crowd of people dancing. The DJ was playing a mix of ABBA and house music. The woman spun her around and then pulled her in tight. They started bouncing along to the music and singing along to the lyrics. She had to admit ABBA was one of her favorites. She could feel a smile slowly creeping across her face and the bass pounded through her chest. She felt the woman’s arms holding her closely around her waist. The woman was dancing in unrestrained joy, flirting as she sang along. Agatha could feel her walls beginning to crumble around her and anxiety melting away. She felt… happy. As the mix was nearing the end she found her arms wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, their faces almost touching. Smiling, she let out a deep sigh and happened to glance behind the woman. She caught sight of Ralph waving at her with a shit eating grin on his face.

“I have to go.” She said breathlessly and started to push past the woman.

“Midnight already Cinderella?” She heard the woman call after her. She didn’t turn around, now seeing Ralph, she could feel embarrassment flushing her cheeks. She did not want to explain whatever just happened to Ralph. What even did just happen?

“Ready to go?” She huffed as she approached

“Are you ready? Looked like you were having a good time with…?”

“Who knows?” She said with a shrug and then clapped her hands together. “Let’s go” She rushed to put on her coat, Ralph handed her her purse and she aggressively elbowed her way through the crowd.

As soon as she made it out the door she could feel the cool air on her face focusing her back to reality. She quickly ordered a car which arrived as Ralph finally made it out of the club. Before he could ask another question she was inside and seated. They had a nearly silent journey back until Ralph dared to speak.

“Looked like you had fun tonight” He said with a smirk. She gave him a sideways glance and returned to looking out the window before finally responding, “yes”

“I don’t remember the last time I saw you that happy honestly. Not since..”

“Don’t say it.” She cut him off “not tonight, please.”

“Agatha, you deserve to be happy. Don’t close yourself off to it.” He always knew how to read her and tell her exactly what she needed to hear even if she didn’t want to hear it.

“I am happy. Tonight was nice, now let’s end it on a good note.”

“Are you sure?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” She finally turned to look at him fully.

“You’re right. Just trying to look out for you, I do care about you, Agatha.”

“I know” she muttered, turning back to the window as they pulled up to her place. She took a moment in the car as she heard Ralph get out. He came around to her side and opened the door, offering his hand.

“Come on, you still have a present from me.”

“Ew” she said as she took his hand.

“That too, but this is something you get to unwrap. Come on” he said with a chuckle. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they walked inside.

As soon as they entered Ralph made his way to the guest bedroom and Agatha peeled off her coat and shoes to then make her way to the couch. She sat there for a moment, flashes of the day cycling through her mind as she tried to decompress and refocus herself for the task ahead. She closed her eyes and let herself think of Wanda, the memories fuzzier than she anticipated. Their last night together, as they held each other close. Wanda’s head on her chest while she laid a hand on Agatha’s barely pregnant belly. She hadn’t really even begun to show. She remembered the softness as she combed her fingers through Wanda’s fiery scarlet hair, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood. As she tried to deepen the memory, searching for every detail, it began to morph. Wanda’s hair slowly darkened and she turned to sit up looking down at Agatha with deep honey amber eyes. A smirk forming on not Wanda’s face. The smell of fresh rain and earth mixing with the sandalwood. The woman now moved to straddle her, taking off her shirt in the process and revealing a dark lace bra. She put her hands on the couch on either side of Agatha, slowly bringing her face down coming in for a kiss.

“Alright my dear” suddenly she was jerked from this not memory by Ralph storming into the living room. She sat up quickly, a little flustered. Ralph plopped onto the couch, in his hands two wrapped presents.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” She said sheepishly

“Like I wouldn’t, go ahead and open the small one first.” She took hold of the first present unwrapping it slowly to reveal a jewelry box. She cracked open the shell to show a sparkling moon and stars bracelet.

“Oh my gods, Ralph, this is gorgeous. You really didn’t have to.”

“I know but it made me think of you and seemed like a good omen for tonight, with the moon and everything. Seemed like something Wanda would have given you.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes beginning to fill with a tear she wouldn’t let fall.

“Thank you” she said warmly. She reached for the second gift which was a bit longer but not much bigger. She unwrapped it to reveal a box with the word Mosie on it. She looked back at Ralph, a little perplexed, and opened the box to reveal what looked like a syringe of some sort.

“You can dig into this in a minute but it’s for tonight. My ex, well one of them, helped his lesbian bestie and her wife have their children. He said they had tried other products without much luck but as soon as they used this they got pregnant and now they have twins. Thought it might help.” She looked back up at Ralph, now unable to hold the tears back she lurched forward to capture him in a hug.

“I don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you, this is so unexpected but really appreciated.”

“Not to break this rare and tender moment but damn you smell good. What is that?”

“Oh it’s that oil Jen got me, ember or amber I think?”

“Whatever it is is working for you, that is intoxicating.” She blushed and then thought back to the night. Was that why she seemed so drawn to her? Had Jen’s perfume helped to ensnare that woman. If so the feeling was mutual as the woman’s scent also filled her memory. She stood up grabbing the items and began to head to her room.

“I’m going to get settled. Text me when you’re done and in bed. I don’t want to run into you after, like last time.” She chuckled.

“You got it babe! Love you, see you in the morning, mamas” he blew her a kiss.

As she made her way into the room she unzipped her dress and let it fall around her feet. Stepping out she crawled into bed, set her phone on the night stand beside her, and opened the smutty romance novel she had been reading. She knew there was a better chance to success if she could get herself off and the book definitely would help. But nothing could replace the feeling of Wanda’s hands and mouth exploring her body. As she read she could feel the heat begin to rise in her core. Her mind conjuring images of the characters succumbing to their base desires. Her hands began to wander down her own body as she moved the book to the side. Her eyes closing gently to feel the intensity of her touch more clearly. She was surprisingly gentle, teasing herself as her wetness grew. She began to delve into her memory of her encounters with Wanda, particularly the night they first conceived. Soft kisses caressing her body. Warm hands lighting the fire within her, all drawing down to her core. She pressed her own fingers slowly inside her at the memory. Then again it began to morphe. Wanda, no not Wanda, sat up. Honey amber eyes and a devilish smile looking back at her. Her heart quickened at the thought. She let her mind continue to wander. The image of the woman, now naked, began to climb her body. Hands and nails scraping down her legs from her knees to her hips where her hands wrapped around her legs. The woman’s gaze never leaving Agatha’s mind. Her face lowering to Agatha’s core, she could practically feel her hot breath dancing against her clit. Agatha with her other hand now grabbed her breast, teasing her own nipple. She slid another finger inside herself. She imagined the woman’s strong commanding hands filling her body as she teased with little bites and kisses. She could feel the pull quickly growing in her core nearing release when BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ from her phone broke her out of this fantasy.

Startled out of the moment she scrambled for the phone.

RALPH: All set hon! Best of luck, you got this!

Damn he had terrible timing! She huffed and lay there for a moment. Finally she got up and put on some clothes and made her way down to the guest bathroom. She opened the door to find the lights off with every candle in the room lit. She rolled her eyes, flipped on the lights and began blowing out the candles. She picked up the cup he had left and grabbed the Mosie box to return to her room. She quickly completed the task and collapsed back on her bed with feet up on the headboard. She pondered the tapestry hanging above her bed, the moon cycle with constellations surrounding. This brought back thoughts of Wanda as she imagined resting her head in her lap. Wanda softly humming a folk tune as she played with Agatha’s hair. She gently closed her eyes and pictured Wanda’s hands making their way down her body as soft kisses fluttered down her neck. She could feel the arousal once again growing in her core. As her hands began to wander with the images she was conjuring, they again began to change. The soft scarlet hair growing to a dark ebony, her soft blue green eyes darkening and growing wide. The playful smirk returned to the woman’s face and the hands grabbing her body became aggressively passionate. The fire burning inside her now radiating up through her chest, her nipples erect with arousal. Though her fingers managed well on their own, assisted by her imagination, the intensity inside her required something more. She reached into her bedside table for her wand. The added pressure and leverage would get her over the edge. She turned on the device and settled back into her fantasy. The woman, in her mind, was insatiable, biting and kissing her most sensitive spots. At this point her legs were shaking in anticipation before she finally felt the release within washing over her from head to toe. She lay there for a moment, hot and sweaty, catching her breath. What spell had that woman put on her?

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #jennifer kale #ralph bohner #agatha x rio #agathario au #@captain raffi

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 1 year ago

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Mountain Guard

And because it has been so long since I posted anything I'm being nice and posting another imagine. This was something I cooked up last year I think and then forgot about. I edited it a little but it's definitely unpolished. I may, and that is a big may, look at writing more in this universe if people are interested.

It's still set in the Walking Dead Universe but it's an AU and the timeline is probs a little shifty. In this universe Shifters exist. Reader is gender neutral.

Warnings: Brief description of hunting and animal death.

Master List

Prompt List

Daryl tensed for a millisecond before relaxing at the warmth that appeared behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as your chest leaned against his back. He reached down and grabbed one of your hands, squeezing before letting go.

“It’s too hot darlin’,” he grumbled, though it lacked any real bite to it. “Go bother Rick.”

“Nope, I saw you first,” you grinned blowing air on the back of his neck causing him to shiver a little. “Thought I might see if I can hunt down any food. Wanna come?”

“In this form or the other?” he questioned looking over his shoulder, his fingers trailing up and down your arm leaving goosebumps in their wake. A slow, purring started in your chest as you nuzzled into his neck. He huffed at your actions, but loved that he could cause this reaction from you.

“Hm, the other,” you answered kissing his cheek over his shoulder and pulling away. “Better chance of finding something.”

“I’ll grab Rick,” Daryl turned around looking at you properly. “Meet you at the gates.”

He dropped a kiss onto your cheek before he jogged away looking to grab the other member of your trio. It had been a while since the three of you were able to spend time together without anyone bothering you. Hunting tended to be the only time you could have alone. You happily skipped down to the gate waving at those who said hi to you as you passed them. You knew that one of the others would grab a pack for your clothes so you didn’t worry about it.

You didn’t have to wait long before Rick and Daryl were making their way down the road to you, Daryl keeping a firm hold of Rick’s hand to prevent him from wondering off or stopping for too long to talk to someone. You could hear Carol and Maggie laughing up the hill at the actions of the hunter. You grinned, skipping up to them to greet both of your men with a kiss. Purring as Rick squeezed your hip gently.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Rick hummed. “Daryl said you wanted to go huntin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded backing up towards the gate, those on guard opening it for you. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Rick tugged Daryl along with him as he followed you out the gate. “I need to do better with prioritising you two.”

“Yah, ya do,” Daryl grumbled but the both of you could hear the affection in his tone. It took him a while to get comfortable and confident enough in this relationship to speak his mind or even just hold yours and Ricks hands in public. But now, now this man had no problem with doing either of those things. Rick smiled gently at the quiet man tugging him closer to kiss him along his jaw, nuzzling into his neck in a mimicry to your actions from earlier. Daryl might be more confident in his relationship with the two of you but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t the easiest to fluster, his cheeks turned pink at Rick’s actions.

You grinned darting toward Daryl to kiss him, before jumping away your eyes slowly taking on a more feline look as you kicked off your shoes, leaving Rick to pick them up and put them in the backpack he was carrying. The men pulled away from each other to watch you, their eyes burning as you slowly removed the rest of your clothing, revealing more and more skin. It didn’t matter how often the two of them saw you naked, you still had a mesmerising effect on them. You quickly shifted into your other form. You took the form of a cougar, though larger than a normal one, your reddish-brown fur was sleek as you shook your body out getting use to your other form again. Your long tail had a black tip on the end, and it flicked playfully behind you as your yellow eyes stared at the two before you.

“Damn, ya beautiful,” Daryl muttered as he reached forward to scratch behind your ear. You came up to about his waist at your shoulders your head just a little bit higher allowing you to nuzzle into his chest comfortably.

“Doesn’t matter how many times we see ya like this darlin’,” Rick grinned. “It’ll always take our breathe away.”

Your ears perked at those compliments, purring louder in this form as you head bumped Rick after detaching yourself from Daryl. You rubbed all along them, leaving your scent behind, warning off other shifters and wild animals alike, that these two were yours. Your nose twitched as the wind blew the scent of a stag towards you, you lowered your body a little focusing your senses as a soft growl rumbled in your chest, alerting Rick and Daryl that you were on the hunt.

“You got something?” Daryl asked taking his crossbow off his back and notching a bolt.

You dipped your head once before trotting off in the direction of the scent. You stayed in a slow trot so your men could keep up with you. You were careful to keep them away from Walkers, thankful for once they smelt so horrid which allowed you to know when they were near. Daryl got a few rabbits during the hunt, when you stopped and nudged Daryl towards them. He would grin down at you, scratching you behind your ears before getting them. Rick carried the rabbits in the satchel he was carrying that was separate from his backpack, knowing that if the two of you were hunting together there would be an abundance of rabbits and birds.

The time always flew by when you hunted with your men, the sun was starting to get lower in the sky when you stopped, lowering yourself to the ground, body as still as you could make it, with a low growl rumbling in your chest. Daryl and Rick automatically stopped and couched down beside you, their eyes searching for the stag. Daryl, of course, was the first to see it, he tapped Rick on the shoulder twice and pointed to the stag that was drinking from the river just a few paces in-front of you. Your body wiggled as Daryl lined up his shot and you were ready to leap at the stag. Daryl released the bolt, hitting the stag in the neck, he grumbled a little to himself as the stag startled and started trying to run but unfortunately you were too quick as you had leaped the moment you had heard the sound of string. Your teeth tore into the throat of the stag as your large body brought it down, you made it quick not wanting the creature to suffer. You released your teeth the moment you no longer heard it breathing, Rick and Daryl joined you moments later.

“Excellent, this was a good find,” Rick grinned, stroking the fur along your neck, as he kneeled down beside you. Daryl was on the other side of the stag, already taking out his bolt and passing the rope to Rick to tie the legs of the stag together to make it easier to carry back to camp.

“I think you were even quicker this time love,” Daryl grinned, pulling out a bottle of water from his backpack, offering it you to wash out your mouth. “You staying in this form a little longer?”

You purred lowly before you spat out the water away from the stag. It was easier to smell or hear Walkers, it would be riskier on the way back to the prison due to the fresh blood of the stag. And with Rick and Daryl carrying the stag between them you would have to be extra vigilant, to keep them away from any Walkers.

After the stag and the rabbits had been delivered to the people whose turn it was to prep the bounties the three of you found your way to an area in the back of the prison that was your little area. It was nicely secluded, which meant you could shift between human and cat form without worrying about prying eyes seeing you bare. As soon as Rick closed the door you allowed the shift to take over you, shaking your body as it changed back to human. You took a few minutes to stretch our your limbs and allow you to get use to the change in your senses.

“The one thing I do not like about this ability is that even in my human form I can taste the blood of that stag,” you whined sticking your tongue out a little, and gagging. You reached for the backpack that held your clothes, quickly pulling them on but as you got to your shirt you found it replaced by one of Ricks. You raised an eyebrow at Rick as you settled down onto the mattress that was on the ground, doing up a few buttons but leaving most of it unbuttoned and the sleeves hanging down over your hands.

“You scent us all the time, Darlin’” Rick merely shrugged. “And you wore one of Daryl’s the other day.”

Daryl snorted from where he was laying down behind you, his body curled around you as if he was the cat shifter and not you. He offered you a bottle of water, and leaves that smelt of mint.

“Where did you get that my love?” you asked taking the offerings.

“I planted some here, after you complained about the tastes,” Daryl murmured, cheeks heating a little.

Rick grinned as he came to sit by Daryl’s head, lifting it a little so he could slid under, allowing Daryl to rest on his lap, as he slowly combed his fingers through Daryl’s hair. You had finished rinsing your mouth out after chewing on the mint leaves, happy with the taste now currently in your mouth. You tilted Daryl’s head up to kiss him in thanks, before pressing one to Rick’s lips as well.

“You are far too sweet my hunter,” you purred, laying down beside him, curling your body against his. Rick reached out to run the fingers of his other hand through your hair as well, lightly tugging on it until you were rumbling in contentment at the actions.

The sun was just starting to set as the three of you shifted your positions so you could all be laying down comfortably with Daryl in the middle, holding you close with Rick on the other side, spooned up against his back and holding him securely, one of Ricks hands resting on your hip. There was nothing you enjoyed more than cuddling with your mates after a successful hunt to provide for your pack.

#writing #imagine #imagines #fluff #the walking dead imagine #The Walking Dead #Rick Grimes #Daryl Dixon #daryl x you #daryl x reader #rick grimes x you #Rick Grimes x Reader #Rick Grimes x Daryl Dixon #Rick Grimes x Reader x Daryl Dixon #Gender Neutral Reader #Shifters #Reader is a Cougar Shifter

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fedoradetective · 4 months ago

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“I’ll edit this later…”

—————————————————————————

This is a Roleplay Account that is (in lore) made by a “World Hopping” Robloxian! In the place he’s from, it is normal to be able to ‘jump’ between worlds—at least.. worlds connected close enough to their own. Few he has investigated are: The Regretavator, some incidents involving Block Tales, and now.. some Robloxians connected to a twisted-‘Game’ called Forsaken.

This account is still WIP, but that doesn’t mean I can’t answer any Asks, or Roleplay! (Preferably with other Roblox-related accounts.. idk depends if I know the thing the character is from.)

More details in associated Roblox Blogs below! :D

If you wanna send an Ask to the Detective, feel free! Pls don’t try to turn him into a bean though. He kinda needs to not be turned into things bc lore and stuff-

Important Notes:

-No NSFW-Gore-Whatever in Asks, and please avoid doing anything extreme in roleplay.

-Mentions of violence? Sure. Blood? That’s fine… Needlessly-descriptive text on someone being mutilated? Immediate block.

-Under 18. Don’t do weird things, I will block you.

-Check any of my other Roleplay Blogs for more. (my DW Sprout one has the most on what I’m comfortable with)

Currently Available for Asks/Roleplay!:

(Updated: Mar/27)

(Noting this since if it’s old, you’ll know the status may have changed…)

-Agent Fedora (Status: Available for Asks! Maybe Roleplay but I’m not sure…)

-Agent Trace (Status: Still helps with the Blog, sometimes answers Asks.)

Connected Roleplay Blogs:

@c00lestkiddaround and @truubluudude!

And @robloxiansurvivors; the Forsaken Survivors of this AU! :D

Don’t tell them I told you, but @soldier1x1x1x1 is also connected!! They (indirectly) of the antagonists in this AU!

Link to my non-roleplay blog: Wowee link woah

Tags:

Detective Fedora’s Tags:

Detective Ask(s)

Fedora Speaks (Fedora Posts)

Ongoing Investigation (Fedora RP)

Ongoing Investigation (Ended) [Less spam, more Roleplay! All the way to the end! Woooah!]

Detective’s Secrets (Lore) [LOOOOOOREEEEEE prob in roleplayyy or any posts Fed makesss…]

Fedora Logs [Notes and Loreeeee on whaaaat the heack he is doinggggg]

Other Robloxian’s Tags:

-Mysterious Mak (Agent Trace RP)

-Agent Trace Answers

-Mysterious Mask (Agent ? RP) [//Old Tag!]

-Agent ? Answers [Old Tag also!]

-N/A

Forget rofger, the C00LER detective is taking this color of text! >:D

…

Logs List . . .

???’s Introduction! :)

#roblox ask blog #roblox askblog #roblox oc #should i even tag this as forsaken…?#or maybe even regretavator…#HMM…#send asks #roblox forsaken #sure why the freak not with the tags xd

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 5 days ago

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Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 19

A/N: Whew it’s been a hot minute😂 When I made my social media calendar for this month, I had Tumblr as one of my priorities (a thing I’ve been saying for years now because life got busy and I got totally sidetracked/felt scattered to the wind LOL). Here’s hoping I can get back into it! (And to the lovely person binging The Lair in the Woods: that’s on my radar next! I don’t have my posting schedule in front of my atm, but I know it’s on there😎🎉) Warnings: past violence, past injuries, description of battle aftermath/destruction of a city, emotional turmoil/anxiety, rage, hopelessness, vengeance, hostage situation, swearing, and me not editing this. My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

The trance that held Superhero finally broke with a hard, disbelieving blink. Swearing under their breath, they turned on their heel and hit the first thing their fist came into contact with.

And then they did it again. And again.

“Stop! Hitting the Electro-pulse won’t make you feel better and I, for one, would rather not create an earthquake here.” Baron’s hand wrapped around their raised fist. Superhero begrudgingly let him pull them away from the invention. In hindsight, it might’ve been better had they punched him. It’s not like he’d ever done anything to help the city, and for all they knew, Baron had given Supervillain the means to raze the city and make the world bow to them.

“This is your fault!” Superhero spat, tugging their wrist out of Baron’s hold and reeling back. Their hands buzzed, desperately crying out to hit something. Anger boiled in their blood.

“Oh really? How is this,” Baron sneered, jabbing a finger toward the GeoSat’s screen, “my fault?”

Superhero threw their hands in the air. “I don’t know exactly, but how should I know if you gave Supervillain what they needed to so they could do this?”

“Do you honestly think I’d give that bastard anything?” Baron’s lip twisted incredulously. “My inventions are for my use only! I would never sell them to the highest bidder, least of all Supervillain!”

“Then how do you explain the GeoSat? Everyone’s got one. The government, you, foreign adversaries, how do you explain that?”

“It was a government contract through my day job!” Baron said through clenched teeth. Superhero’s eyes raked over him. They couldn’t be certain, but they felt like this fight was going to end with one of them sprawled out dead or unconscious on the basement floor.

To their disbelief, Baron closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The tension dropped from his body and Superhero’s ears burned.

How had they let their anger get the best of them? Fighting with some third-rate wanna-be-reformed villain was not going to solve their problems, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to stop Supervillain.

“Look,” Baron said tersely, “as much as I would love to stay here and beat you to a pulp, we have bigger problems. For all we know, Supervillain already took over the whole seaboard and we’re here squabbling like idiots. Let’s gear up, wake up Mirth, and see what’s left to save.”

Superhero nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

They each gathered gear in silence. Superhero grabbed a rifle and several magazines. They loaded them carefully, and prayed they’d be enough. They didn’t know what the pair of them would find in the city or how many of Supervillain’s henchmen they’d encounter. Their eyes roved over the heavily-stocked basement shelves of Baron’s secret safe house. Maybe Baron was right. It couldn’t hurt to bring a rocket launcher with them.

Too bad he didn’t have a tank. Superhero scowled. They’d just paid off their truck. Talk about a waste of money. The damn thing wouldn’t survive the day, let alone the next seven years!

“Let’s go,” they grumbled.

“Here.” Baron held out a duffle bag, presumably stuffed full of weapons. “This is for Mirth. I’ll get the Hovercraft started.”

Superhero arched an eyebrow as Baron brushed past them and began to lead the way out of the basement. “Hovercraft? Tell you what, if we survive this, I’m petitioning the court to have you do your community service with the Agency’s R&D department.”

Baron chuckled dryly. “If I don’t survive, the Agency is welcome to all of this. Better you lot than Supervillain.”

Quietly, Superhero made their way through Baron’s cabin while he ducked out back to where the Hovercraft apparently existed. As they approached the bedroom door, they couldn’t hear a thing. Mirth must’ve been deep asleep. She needed it after the way she’d used her powers back at the Agency’s safe house.

A twinge of guilt prickled the back of Superhero’s neck. Slowly, they reached for the doorknob and swung the door open.

“Mirth?” they whispered. “Hey, Mirth, wake up.” They crept forward slowly. Reaching blindly toward the bed to shake her shoulder, an strong sense of dread pooled in Superhero’s gut. “Mirth?”

Panic flooded them when their hand connected with the blankets near the head of the bed. Taking a deep breath, Superhero felt around the blankets. Becoming increasingly distraught, they swore and frantically padded the bed sheets, searching for someone who obviously wasn’t there.

“Sonofabitch!” Racing out the room with their gear in hand and the duffel bag Baron had had the hindsight to pack for Mirth, Superhero’s mind spun.

Mirth was gone, and they had no idea when she’d even left.

Meanwhile, somewhere outside City on Major Highway…

Mirth’s feet ached. Her whole body did really. She swayed with each step she took, but the fire licking at her veins roared between her eyes. How dare Supervillain attack City. How dare they attack her and Baron and Superhero.

Her hands clenched into fists. Her eyes stung from the smoke wafting through the air, carried on the wind from the destroyed city in the distance. Choked with grit and fine rubble particulates, the atmosphere had taken on a hazy orange glow, like the clouds and smoke had swallowed the sun but the sun was trying to burn it from the inside out. Maybe that was a small sign of hope. Life as she knew it couldn’t be wholly destroyed.

She’d stopped seeing the twisted and crumpled cars several yards ago. She hadn’t passed another soul all this time. In a way, that was a relief. But in another way, it was concerning beyond words. What had happened to all the people who’d once occupied these cars? Where had they all gone?

Mirth forced her shoulders to straightened. She tilted her head one way and then the other in an attempted to loosen up her neck and break the stiffness from her joints.

This was going to be a long day, longer than any that had come before it.

The battered “Welcome to City, a Shining Haven” sign was cracked nearly in half. Left to hang from either side of its tilted posts, the sign half leaned against the fractured poles and was half wedged into position by the buckled earth beneath it.

Mirth held the back of her hand up to her nose. Sweat slicked her entire body. She’d kill for some water, but greatly doubted she’d find any in City. Not anymore at least.

She didn’t know what to expect once she reached the city limits. Maybe some guards, maybe a full army. But this seemed rather lackluster. Perhaps Supervillain had destroyed everyone, themselves included.

Wouldn’t that be a twist of fate?

Mirth’s lips pulled into a tight line. One more attempt couldn’t hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her mind to clear. Her power trickled into her veins like static. Still, Mirth pushed herself, digging deeper and deeper into the reserve of her powers in the vain attempt to scrounge up enough energy to turn herself invisible. Her fingers faded, blinking in and out of visibility. Her skin prickled like her entire body had fallen asleep. A small whimper left her lips. It felt like her body was being stretched past her limits as her joints popped and muscles threatened to snap.

And then she was slammed back together another again. Panting, she tried to take another step toward the city. Her legs gave out from under her. It was all she could do to keep herself from planting face first on the broken up pavement.

“Owww,” she whined. Sharp pieces of asphalt cut into her knees, making the wounds from before deeper. Shards of grit and rubble stung her hands and stomach.

Maybe leaving Superhero and Baron behind was a horrible idea.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.”

The voice sent a shiver of fear down Mirth’s spine. She attempted to push herself up but two things prevented her from doing so: her arms couldn’t even support her own weight and a heavy force pressed down on her.

She turned her head toward the voice and crunching footsteps. Through the smokey haze and the black ink creeping along the edges of her vision, she just barely made out a cloaked figure strolling toward her.

“Hello, Mirth. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” they crooned, crouching down beside her. “Though I don’t suppose the feeling’s mutual.”

Mirth’s hand curled into a claw. She tried and tried to lift herself up enough to lash out, but the force pushed down harder on her and she collapsed again. Her lungs begged for air, her chest heaving.

Supervillain placed their hand on her head like they would if they were comforting her. Instead, it felt more like they were treating her like a pet.

“Sleep now. We’ll talk later.”

At Supervillain’s words, the world faded away and Mirth slipped into a dreamless well of murky sleep.

Mirth's Ebenezer Taglist: @Heroes-villains-side-blog @selene-stories @violetcancerian @kaiwewi @averyconfusedhuman Just let me know if you'd liked to be added or removed :)

#writeblr #my writing #heroes and villains #hero x villain #hero x villain snippet #Mirth's Ebenezer series #queued post #hero x villain community #hero x villain drabble

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cabeswaterdrowned · 11 months ago

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Thanks for the tag @retiredficwriter + I’m pretty sure @madwomanwithawarehouse tagged me in this ages ago but I either didn’t feel I had enough wips I’d like to talk about when she did or I just.. yk, flopped lol. Anyway. Criteria for this is there needs to be an actual document so the fics I’m writing in great detail in my head don’t count but things that have a titled doc count even in cases where they’re mostly outline. Will just give the title + fandom.

Rules (which somehow didn’t get copy-pasted before so I had to go back and edit) Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs

first three I have published *something* of as in the first 2 chapters or several chapters and then after that it’s all unposted.

Reading TRB (trc) (first 10 chapters posted)

tesselation (trc) (first 2 chapters posted)

Twilight au (trc) first 2 chapters posted)

then after that:

Rose Blood (pll)

challengers au (trc)

Sparia TRB au (pll)

Lisa Frankenstein au (trc)

unattainable (trc)

drabble (trc)

Julia introspective wip (the magicians)

Kevin wip (aftg)

wanna be the power ballad that (lifts you up and holds you down) (Aftg) ((technically I did post a first chapter of this in 2022 but if I ever resume working on it I’ll rewrite that one))

should’ve been me (pll)

pull another string and i’ll kiss your lips (trc)

no pressure tagging: @sergeantpixie @romantichopelessly @chaosandtwo @undergroundash @sofour @crimeronan @thevagabondexpress

#s speaks #tag game #my fic

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omgkalyppso · 2 years ago

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Fae isn't my oldest Fire Emblem OC but they're certainly my most personal. They've not changed as much as it may seem, but my ability at splicing and editing sprites has improved since I started out.

@fe-oc-week Day 1: Introductions

Fae is often my My Unit / Byleth OC, with the Crest of Flames and the child of Geralt (intentional misspelling), but more lately I've been exploring them through a Student AU where they have a stronger connection to their culture (the Oghma people), they have polyamorous parents, and their genderfluid brother Zoran; not to mention their Major Crest of Cethleann.

It's AU's galore for this oc. Canon-compliant, existing in the background of timelines that more strongly feature friends' oc's, magical and monstrous, modern and indulgent.

I haven't yet properly written for them and my My Unit / Shez OC Avery, but I think of them, and speak of them with friends.

All of Fae's au's feature Claude, Hilda and Lorenz however, the quartet often referred to by people who know me as my ot4 (no other qualifiers needed) (an ot5 now with Avery, when he's around). I also like featuring a strong relationship - friendship or familial (cousins) between Fae and Linhardt when there's room for it.

As a student, they would start in the Golden Deer House, and would be strongly inclined to VW. Despite being Adrestian by birth, Fae probably would only otherwise recover from their post-war heartaches in AM.

I'll save more for Relationships and Backstory day.

Here's some extra content:

Instruct

Bad: Sorry. Could you explain it again?

Critique: Thanks. I’ll add it to a list.

Console: I appreciate that.

Great: You know? This is fun.

Great: Now this I’ll remember.

Perfect: Your guidance goes a long way.

Praise: Don’t worry about saying all that.

Favorite Tea: Honeyed-Fruit Blend, Almyran Pine Needles, Rose Petal Blend

Subject Strength: Sword, Authority, Faith

Subject Weakness: Flying, Horseback, Bow

Budding Talent: Reason

Lost Items:

Beaded Mittens. Description: Worn mittens with sheep beaded on the palms. They probably belong to someone who is used to hand-me-downs.

Cloth Swimming Bonnet. Description: A cloth bonnet to prevent one’s hair from tangling. It probably belongs to someone who is fond of swimming.

Used Notebook. Description: A notebook full of lists, like recipes and books to read. It probably belongs to someone who is prone to forgetting details.

Gifts: Gemstone Beads, Watering Can, Ceremonial Sword

Dining Hall:

Favorite Dish: Sweet and Salty whitefish Sauté

Disliked Dish: Fish Sandwich

Seminar:

Primary: Authority

Secondary: Faith

A seminar on practical etiquette for celebrating cultural diversity across Fodlan and beyond.

I argue it isn't entirely unreasonable based on the description of Mercedes' seminar, "A seminar on connecting with other people and helping them explore how using magic best suit them personally." I'm sure from Goneril, to Gautier, to Enbarr, there's enough difference to discuss politics at a commoner's level and have some fun with religious holidays, etc. Give me Petra and Sylvain as active members of the class and Dedue and Ferdinand as quiet observers mechanically; and Fae needing to shout over the class leaders when this inevitably backfires narratively.

#faedolyn #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #long post

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the-kipsabian · 2 years ago

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Ayo! Greetings! I hope you are doing pretty well! I’m really sorry for asking this as I’m truly in dire need of help. My cat needs some immediate help for her surgery so I’m trying to raise some funds for her. If you have some spare time, please check it out the post that I have pinned for her, and if you feel it in your heart to help, please do us the favor by boosting the post or share it! Even if you cannot donate, spreading the word is definitely more than enough. Thank you for your kindness, and so sorry again for being this direct! <33

//update they blocked me instantly so hey anyone peeping this post or in their url tag just know this is a scam :) stay safe out there kids

you know what i feel in my heart

fuck no 🙏❤

hey kids, lets play a game of spot a scam again!! (im copying the message ive replied with before here and the original is at the bottom if you wish to reblog that one :) just editing this a bit here to show the new stuff they are putting out there in this very message yay!!)

okay this is literally the same story ive seen before at least three times. its word to word the same. youre not even trying

reblogging ONLY FROM ORIGINAL SOURCES posts in the past two days so :)

also they try to act more human with a decent description and likes and follows turned off. dont try hun

their only original post as far as i scrolled (which admittedly wasnt very far as its obvious this is a scam lol) is the donation post. unsurprisingly

ive said it before and i’ll say it again - they seem to target people in similar positions that they are supposedly in, trying to pluck that sympathy cord with “your pet is sick so you are sensitive and know how this feels”. this isnt my case rn but i obviously have posted cat photos and i have a donation ko-fi link in my pinned post sssoooo

“pls consider answering this ask privately” lmao so what people dont know youre a scammer? NEXT (this isnt in this ask surprisingly, but im leaving it in here cause they do this occasionally still)

a simple search even within tumblr tells you people already know about this. the account, the story and the cat. you aint fooling anymore

if unsure kids, ask a friend and google things 👍 reverse image search, for example, is your best friend!! also googling the latter half of the given paypal name reveals immediately that this is a scam. plastered all over the first search page lmao

also kids, in case youre asking “well what bad could a one little me reblogging a post even if its a scam do if i dont donate :/” 1. im sorry what and 2. it makes them look legitimate which they are not. the more notes the more trusted the source cause tumblr is full of idiots (sorry not sorry ive been here for over 11 years i know what people are like) plus you put your friends, mutuals and followers in a risk of participating in a scam. and have your name associated with it as well. do i need to go on?

anyways hi go report this blog and always be hesitant if someone you dont know asks you for donations like this. unless its a beloved mutual on your dash, reconsider. stay safe, thanks 💜

looking forward to being blocked immediately after posting this, but i’ll be sure to report you for a scam. :) also fuck you for using someone elses poor cat and their situation to literally scam good natured people out of money, what the fuck is wrong with you

peace and love, fuck you ✌💜

#slashyyybird #loooooove it that im supposed to be on a hiatus and i need to come back for this #if you by some fucking miracle are a real person. which i heavily doubt. stop fucking doing this #wish i could stop posting these GOD #birdhouse ✉

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eso-tericas · 10 months ago

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Eso's Guide to Minecraft Fashion I

Women in the 1300's

[Originally posted to the LOTC forums HERE. Ported to my blog for record-keeping. All digital art and skins used in this post are my own.]

youtube

Before we begin

Why am I writing this?

Many LOTCers take inspiration from from real-world historical aesthetics, but I’ve heard many people express a general lack of knowledge about historical fashion in particular. I generally believe that having more knowledge about a topic can help you do better roleplay inspired by that topic, so I figured I might as well share what I know! That said,

LOTC is a fantasy server first and foremost, and I am absolutely not advocating for absolute historical roleplay, or for bashing on people who choose to create more fantastical skins. I do, however, think generally it’s best to know the rules before we break them, and I think understanding how garments are layered, and how they fit the body, will be useful to everyone.

Skin availability?

Every skin I make for this and future installments of this project will be FTU. I will post the final outfits on my PMC, which I will link at the bottom of this post. The elements and underthings will be included in the description of the skin post.

Notes?

I. This project will contain drawings of semi-undressed female figures, alongside detailed descriptions of the way various garments affect the female body. It is not intended to be at all salacious, and I will only provide detail where I think it may actually be helpful. That said, if anyone finds anything I’ve included here to be inappropriate, I will happily censor whatever needs censoring.

II. Everything in these posts will focus on Western European fashions. This is my own area of expertise, and the area I find most interesting. If people want me to cover other locations, please let me know, and I’ll try my best to do so!

III. I have chosen to leave out the Houppelande from this post, as I’ll be talking about it in the 1400’s edition. While this garment was worn in the 1300’s, it was only near the very end of the century, and it’s one of the hallmarks of the 1400’s. Hope you understand!

Finding an accurate reference?

Artwork from the 1300's is characterized by flat colors, black linework, simple anatomy, and a general lack of perspective. There aren’t many surviving paintings from this period that I could find - instead, most of what we have are illuminations and illustrations from manuscripts. Look for those trademarks when trying to identify artworks from this period. The 1300's are also the last period in which religious art features “modern” clothing - generally after this, religious art features clothing from the 1300's or earlier.

While in theory I recommend using only actual historical artwork as reference for skins, I and many other skinners also like to use Victorian artwork from the Pre-Raphaelite movement as inspiration. This artwork is not reliably accurate in terms of style, colors, or garments, but it contains much more information than Medieval art. Choose wisely! I also highly recommend taking inspiration from the garments of historical reenactors, especially when looking at how garments fit, and how people accessorize different outfits. Please avoid using AI-generated images as references.

I recommend avoiding vague search terms such as “Medieval dress” or “Renaissance outfit,” as these generally bring up less specific references, or more fictionalized artwork. Instead, if you’re looking for general inspiration, I recommend searching for “14th century artwork” or “1300s fashion.” This post will also include an extensive list of the names of various garments if you’re looking for something more specific.

Helpful resources?

While I hope that what I write in this post will be enough that you don’t need more information, here are some of the sources I used! They contain lots of good reference pictures, descriptions of garments, and explanations of the functions of various things. FHT and Postej Stew are some of my favorites, and will be turning up again down the line. They’re especially good for finding references. The FHT articles for the 1300's are low on information, but as you progress through the timeline there’s a great deal more content available on each page. All of these sites will also include some helpful descriptions of the types of images they reference, which can help with searches. Codex Manesse is especially useful for image references, I highly recommend checking it out.

I have also linked a Pinterest board in Section V with all the inspiration I used for creating this post. I will continually update it. If you need references, look there.

I: The Basics

Chemise or Smock

This lovely lady is Model Mary, who will be showing off each garment in our 1300's ensemble. I’ve given her a curvier figure, to help demonstrate how garments will affect the shape of her body.

The first element of Mary’s outfit is the chemise or the smock, which is a basic under-dress, worn to keep the outer layers of clothing clean from body oils. Smocks are generally made of either linen or wool, and are form-fitting, but loose enough to pull over the head, without the need for buttons or lacing. The smock is usually anywhere from knee to ankle length, and is always unadorned. This garment is essentially underwear, and should never be seen by the public. They are usually white or undyed.

Hose & Poulaines

Under her smock are Mary’s hose and poulaines, which keep her legs warm and protect them from mud, rocks, and rain.

Hose are woolen socks, and are usually about knee-length for women. Since elastic isn’t going to be invented for another 500-ish years, the women of the 1300’s instead use garters to keep their hose from falling down. These are usually thin strips of cloth or ribbon tied just under the knee.

Poulaines are ankle-height, sewn from soft leather, and pointed at the toe - sometimes so pointed that they stick out over a foot, although those are only on the poulaines worn by the very fashionable, as they’re rather impractical. Even commoners, however, have a little bit of a point to their shoes. Shoes of the 1300’s are much more flexible than modern ones, and don’t have stiff soles. Instead, they fit more like a very sturdy sock, allowing the foot to more easily flex and move. Likely only the soles or toes of the poulaines would be visible when creating a skin, but those who wish to might want to try using Figura in order to create the pointy-toe effect.

Kirtle, Cote, or Cotte

The kirtle is the main dress worn over the top of the smock. It can be worn loose around the chest, but by the 1300’s, most women lace theirs either at the sides or at the front of the chest. This lacing provides the primary bust support in this period, and generally presses the chest flatter and upwards, smoothing out its shape. Kirtles are usually tight in the sleeves, which is achieved by buttoning up the arms, either to the elbow or all the way to the shoulder. Sleeves are at least wrist length, but might extend down over the hand if desired. Kirtles are usually solid-colored or patterned with simple, geometric patterns or floral brocades. Practical kirtles are made of wool or linen, and fancier ones can be made of silk or brocade.

Because of how the kirtle affects the bust shape, consider shading both above and below the chest, to highlight its “pressed flat” appearance. Generally, the kirtle’s neckline should never be lower than what I’ve done with Mary’s skins - dresses in the 1300’s are quite modest, and necklines are high and flat.

II: Overdresses

Overdresses are any type of dress worn over the basic kirtle. As cloth is extremely expensive in the 1300’s, overdresses are generally reserved for cold weather, or for the wealthy and fashionable. They can be made of any of the same materials as a kirtle, and are often brightly colored, patterned, and feature the most trimmings. These might be colorful necklines, trimmed skirts, contrasting pocket detailing, etc. Overdresses can be tight to the skin or loose and flowy depending on preference and age - generally, younger women wear tighter clothing, and older women wear looser clothing. Scholarship is conflicted on what to call the various types of overdress, but I’ve separated them into two general categories. Keep in mind that searches with these terms may turn up items that don’t fit the descriptions I’ve used here. That’s fine!

Surecote & Tippets

The surecote is an overdress much akin to an ordinary kirtle, although Mary’s here has shorter sleeves, and features extra tippet sleeves. Short sleeves are common on surecotes, although not required, and sleeve length can vary from shorter-than-a-t-shirt to about mid-wrist. Surecotes are laced or buttoned down the front, either to the waist or all the way to the hem of the garment, and may be either floor length or shin length, to show off the kirtle beneath.

The tippet sleeve is a detail unique to surecotes, and is a white oversleeve attached on above the elbow, with a long trailing panel. Tippets can vary in length, but can even reach down to the floor in extreme circumstances. They may also instead be made as part of the main surecote sleeve, not attached separately, in which case they will be made from the same fabric as the surecote.

Cotehardie & Pelice

The pelice is a sleeveless overdress worn attached to a yoke over the shoulders. These overdresses can vary in coverage and in tightness - Mary is wearing a cotehardie, which is a version of the pelice with large cutouts at the side, to show off the kirtle. This is a fashionable but scandalous version of the more conservative pelice, which generally only has gaps for the arms to fit through. Like the surecote, the pelice is a fashionable extra layer, and generally isn’t worn for any practical reason. The yoke around the top is often either gold or a contrasting color of fabric.

III: Headwear

Hairstyles

Most women of the 1300’s don’t cut their hair. Children tend to wear their hair loose, or in simple braids down their backs. Adult women almost always wear their hair up, and married women always cover it. (Though in Italy and other warm countries this is more of a guideline and less of a rule.) Women of the upper class do so for modesty, but it also serves a practical purpose for lower-class women who have to work. Covering the hair keeps it clean, and protects it from damage and the elements. As far as I’m aware, most hairstyles of the 1300’s don’t have particular names, but they all generally consist of symmetrical braids, pinned to the head to frame the face.

Crispinettes, Crespines, or Cauls

Cauls are a pair of circular metal cages, or soft nets, worn on either side of the head. The hair underneath is braided into two buns, and pinned into circles, giving a sort of “Princess Leia” look. This look is also seen on Padme in that one scene. The more fashionable cauls are often paired with a circlet, and decorated with pearls or precious gemstones. Many women also choose to wear a veil over their cauls, as an added layer of protection and modesty.

Barbet (or Barbette) & Fillet

A pair of accessories almost always worn together, and which are already fading out of fashion by the 1300’s. The barbet is a linen band that goes under the chin and over the top of the head, and the fillet is a matching linen band that goes around the front and back of the head, with the top left open to the air. Barbets can also be worn with cauls or crowns, although they are most often seen with fillets.

Hoods

Hoods are probably the most common hair covering, available in a wide variety of shapes, colors, and styles. They’re generally worn to protect the head from the winter cold, and are usually made from wool. Some cover only the head, some also cover the shoulders, and some feature the iconic Medieval point at the end, leading down into a tail over the back.

IV: Not Pictured Here

Wimples

Wimples are a more conservative style of veil, which covers both the top of the head and the neck and chin. These are generally only worn by women of the Church and matronly older ladies. Younger women may remove the lower half of the veil to show off a bit more skin.

Belts

Belts are generally an accessory of the common people, worn high on the natural waist. The low-slung hip-belts often seen in Medieval-inspired artwork date from more like the 1200’s, and would be outdated by the time the 1300’s roll around. Belts can be made of metal, leather, cloth, or rope, and are used either as fashion accessories or to hold up purses.

Pockets

Another option for holding things, pockets are occasionally sewn into dresses. Their openings are usually lined with contrasting fabric. Given the fashionable tight fit of a kirtle, they likely didn’t have much space, but it’s much better than nothing.

Clothing & Class

Contrary to popular belief, peasants in the Medieval era do NOT wear only brown unless they want to! Colorful dyes are affordable and readily available to almost everyone regardless of financial situation - richer hues are more expensive, but pastel or washed-out colors are available to anyone with a job. What is inaccessible for the poor is fabric, and therefore clothing. Many working women will have only a single kirtle, and only change their smocks from day-to-day.

Women of the working class will often unbutton their sleeves and fold them up at the elbow, keeping their sleeves clean and away from their work. Similarly, they usually wear a linen apron tied around the waist to keep their (likely only) kirtle clean from mess. Women who work outdoors will usually wear some sort of brimmed hat to keep the sun off their face. All working women keep their hair tied up, and usually covered, to keep it clean and out of the way.

V: Inspiration

If you’re in need of references, inspiration, or are just curious about what I was looking at while making this post, check out my Eso’s Guide Pinterest Board! I plan to add a new section for each installment of this series, and each section will only contain artwork from the period, and high-quality reenactment costumes.

The Model Mary 1300’s skin is available at my PMC here, and all the extra layers of her outfit are included in the page description. Thank you for reading!

#eso's guide #1300s #14th century #medieval #eso's art #eso's skins #digital art #minecraft skin #lotc #Youtube

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hismercytomyjustice · 10 months ago

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So I started writing this yesterday and then I got SO MANY FEELS and it was SO LATE but…

Def got a little too into my own head earlier with the finale approaching for my BG3 fic. So I reread the draft I have of the final three chapters. And I just…I’m so happy with them??? (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) I don’t even feel like they need any major overhaul editing or anything either.

I have NEVER felt confident about writing endings, but I’m feeling alarmingly confident about this one??? Like, even my OCD doesn’t seem to have anything disparaging to say??? ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!??

I mean, I truly hope other folks feel the same way when they get to the end. But right now I’m just so fucking happy that I do?

Wildly long self-indulgent post about my BG3 fic and the writing process for it below, if that’s something you’re into.

Writing this fic has been such an unexpected rollercoaster of emotions for me. It’s taught me so much about how my OCD manifests and impacts my writing, in addition to building my writing confidence back up in general.

It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written (just about twice as long as the longest before that?!) and I feel like I’ve grown SO MUCH as a writer while working on it for the past six months. I went from thinking I would never write description well to finally feeling like I get it??? I mean I’m sure I still have loads more room for improvement, but I’ve always felt like description has been my biggest weakness as a writer and I finally don’t feel that way anymore??!!

Same with writing endings too!!! I def feel like I have a lot more progress to make on that front, but like…oh my god I actually wrote one I’m super proud of??!!

Not only that, but this fic taught me I actually can jump around while writing??? I’ve always written super linearly before and tbh I still do, but when I got stuck on chapter 12/13 for almost two months, I skipped to the very end because I had an idea spark for that part and because of that I’ve been able to lay more of the groundwork for what I hope is a satisfying wrap up.

God, I was so fucking mortified to bring up my struggles with fanfic writing to my therapist. In retrospect I realize that’s because my OCD spirals around it were getting out of fucking control…

Just a super fun refrain of:

“This isn’t a big deal, you’re doing it for fun. It’s ridiculous how upset you are over a literal hobby no one is forcing you to do. It’s just a fanfic. No one cares about it. It’s not even real writing. No one will even read it or like it anyway. You’re wasting your time. See? You can’t finish anything. You’re stuck at the 60k mark because you lack discipline and commitment. You can’t do this, so you’ll never get anything original published. How many things have you started now that you’ve never finished? You haven’t finished writing anything in almost a decade. You’re wasting your therapist’s time talking about something so absurd. She’s going to laugh in your face.”

And fucking on and on and on.

But like…none of that was true??? FUCKING SHOCKING THAT MY OCD WOULD LIE TO ME, AMIRITE?! When has it EVER done that?!

I just wound up sitting there telling my therapist I was stuck and I had lost the passion for the fic like I always did and I’d wasted three months and 60k words on a story that was never going anywhere because I wasn’t good enough to write it.

And she asked me “What would help you get unstuck?”

And I thought about it and was like: “Maybe if I start posting it, folks will read it or bare minimum I’ll get enough kudos and hits to make my brain go brr enough to finish it?” All I wanted at that point was to regain the drive to finish writing the story I’d put so much heart and time and effort into already.

I mean OF COURSE I hoped folks would read it and like it and leave kudos and omg maybe even leave a comment??!! And since BG3 was and is such a big/popular fandom I was also hoping maybe I could surpass the level of achievement I hit with my multichapter Cardcaptors fic a few years back, if nothing else.

And like, as of last night, this is where I was sitting with both:

And YES. I know that stats are NOT what I should focus on at the end of the day. But GOD IF I DON’T CRAVE THE EXTERNAL VALIDATION!!! Don’t we all…

And like, honest to god, this fic doesn’t have to surpass my CCS fic! One of the absolute (hehe) best things to come from this whole experience has been getting to interact with other cultured Bloodweave sommeliers (haha). I seriously cannot get over just how nice and encouraging and fucking amazing everyone has been with their comments!!! And that multiple people have taken the time to comment on each chapter as they come out??!! Like, I am living the fucking dream!!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

I get so fucking excited every week to share my newest chapter because I desperately want to know how my pressganged Bloodweave book club will react. Like, my HEART IS SO FULL OMG!!!! They are gonna make me cry frfr!!!

I have personally been such a terrible commenter in the past on fics I’ve enjoyed (i.e. I didn’t fucking comment), but I am trying to become a reformed member of AO3 society because the support I’ve gotten (especially when the doubts start to creep in) has been incredible!!! 100/10, would definitely recommend!!!

And like, some other great stuff has happened that helped me so much along the way too! I read The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails. While I was reading it, writing description FINALLY FUCKING CLICKED for me! I was just like “Omfggg?! This is what people are talking about when they say description should do more than one thing!!!” Up to that point I pretty much believed that was like a sort of writing koan or something. Something everyone says, but that isn’t actually meant to be understood because it’s unknowable? Or something like that.

Lemme tell ya, I fucking love learning about writing. I’ve gone to countless writing panels at cons. I listened to podcasts on writing for YEARS (Writing Excuses, I Should be Writing, Ditch Diggers, etc). I’ve read so many books on writing. Watched YouTube videos, took a class, etc, etc! But for some reason the “description should do more than one thing” adage just did not compute. Until I read that fic!

Up to that point, description had always felt like something I threw in as padding around all of my dialogue and character navel gazing. And I fucking STRUGGLED with it as a result. It always felt SO FUCKING BORING to me. I hated it, especially because it never came easily. But now I FINALLY understand and I LOVE writing it!!!!

I went looking for some more tips on writing description and picked up Description: A Busy Writer’s Guide by Marcy Kennedy, which broke things down even further for me!

I felt personally attacked by this part in particular:

“Irrelevant description is what gives description a bad name.

You might think that’s obvious, but so often in my editing work, I’ve seen authors describe things in detail that have no bearing on the story at all. Usually they do it because they’ve been told at one time that they weren’t including enough description and no one told them what kind of description they needed to start including or how to properly include it.”

I am not exaggerating when I say, until very recently, to write description I would find photos of locations, buildings, character inspo, etc and try to focus on what someone more visually inclined would want described because I don’t have a super robust mental image generator. I’ve never had the “I see a movie in my head” while reading gift. Super jelly of folks who do tho! I get more like…flashes maybe? And I didn’t even realize that until I actually made myself pay attention to what was going on in my head while reading fairly recently. I sincerely thought I had aphantasia and people were exaggerating when they said they could picture things in their heads.

Like, when they’d tell you to look at something then close your eyes and envision what you remembered in school (was that just me?). And I’d be like “Okay so we’re just closing our eyes and trying to remember the individual things right? No one actually sees anything.” COLOR ME SURPRISED to find out that WAS NOT the case!

I don’t think I have aphantasia anymore, but like, on the scale from 0 (aphantasia) to 10 (see a movie in my head), I’d say I’m maybe a 3? I can’t envision a whole room or even like…a moving image? Moving images in my head are almost more like extremely short flip books. And the more I try to focus on them, the more out of focus they become. I also really struggle to envision things I’ve never seen before. Like, as a literal picture in my head I mean. It’s easier for me to imagine like…a picture I took of my dog than my actual dog? And like, if I try to do something like envision my bedroom or something, I just kind of pick a point and go from there like “Okay this is what my bed looks like, now it’s gone. This is what my dresser looks like, now it’s gone. This is what my end table looks like, now it’s gone.” It doesn’t form a bigger picture in my head. It’s more like a mental checklist where I think about the different attributes of something (like the color of my sheets, or how many pillows I have) rather than actually see something like the whole bed? Idk. That’s the best way I can think of to explain it.

Ngl, that might very well be part of why writing description like was so difficult and SO FUCKING BORING to me. I didn’t really see things in my head and I’m not a very visual person in general, so I don’t focus a ton on those details anyway as a reader or when I’m physically somewhere. So l felt like all my description was so hamfisted and awkward as a result, and I had absolutely no concept of how much was enough or too much.

But then she goes on in the book to say:

“All description filters through the viewpoint character and is colored by who they are as a person.” And I was just like…ohhhhhhh!!!! That’s exactly what that fanfic did!!!

And then:

“What they notice will also be largely influenced by their circumstances. A character heading into a job interview will be hyper aware of their own appearance, whereas a character who’s crawling around in a cave looking for hidden treasure won’t. A character who is running for their life will notice different things about their surroundings than will a character who isn’t in immediate danger.

If it’s not something they would notice, then we either have to leave it out or come up with a believable, realistic reason for them to notice it.”

Like. OF FUCKING COURSE?! THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE?! HOW DID I NEVER GRASP THIS BEFORE?!

Marcy Kennedy goes on to give other tips like “a good description is specific” and “a good description allows less to be more.” And about how it’s more important to focus on specific, unique details than to try and describe everything about the scene/character (like I would do before). Like, focusing on stuff readers will actually remember and that paints a clearer picture.

She also delves into the specifics of writing for the five senses (another thing I always heard suggested, but never felt I executed well). And on how people naturally notice things from bigger/more obvious to smaller/more specific. She also talks about the psychology behind the things people naturally notice and why and how it’s impacted by who they are as a person (ex. the career they have, their gender, etc).

She gets even more specific with stuff like:

“Description for the purpose of grounding should be quick and needs to happen within the first few paragraphs of a new scene.

If time is the only thing that’s changed, we’ll need to use even less description than if our characters also changed location.

As a general guideline, describe a place in the most depth the first time that setting shows up on the page. Later on, unless something important has changed, a brief re-orienting passage is enough.”

I have DESPERATELY been searching for something this specific. Like just PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME HOW MANY SENTENCES/PARAGRAPHS TO USE AND HOW FREQUENTLY TO USE DESCRIPTION. And ON GOD that’s exactly what this book does! ദ്ദി ꒦ິ꒳꒦ິ )✧

I still need to finish reading it but omfg I about lost my mind when I found the holy grail I’d been searching for.

And like, I’m sure my description still needs work and I’m using a sledgehammer instead of a regular hammer sometimes. But I’m learning and growing! And I’m sure it’ll become easier with practice! Hell, half the time I’ll write something and not realize until, oh I don’t know I’ve pretty much finished my fucking 100k word fanfic, that I fucking never really physically described my Tav?! I shouldn’t have said that… Now everyone will notice if they hadn’t already.. FUCK.

BUT! My absolute FAVORITE thing to write is character and being told “write description through the lens of your character” got me so fucking hype. I’m not sitting there anymore like “What’s in this room, what would a reader who sees what they read in their head (definitely not me) find most interesting?” and am instead like “What would Character A notice in this room? How are they feeling right now? What does X remind them of? What are they thinking about? What do they like and dislike, how does that impact what they pay attention to?” And I FUCKING LOVE IT!!!!

And I AM SURE this is not groundbreaking information for 99.9% of folks but IT WAS FOR ME!!!!! It has easily doubled my word count for everything I’ve written since then and I’m not stuck massively overthinking it all now! And I actually enjoy it! It doesn’t feel like a miserable slog anymore!

And this is THE MOST OBVIOUS in how my BG3 fic chapters literally DOUBLED OR TRIPLED in length after I got my hands on this book in the middle of writing the fic lol. Almost every shorter chapter in the first 75% of the fic was written prior to me reading this book. And the longer ones? Those were added after!

Like, chapter two originally didn’t include the Owlbear scene. It just ended after Astarion walked out of the fortress. Meanwhile, chapter five and six DID NOT EXIST. I kinda panicked when I realized the story felt too Astarion heavy when it was supposed to be about both of them. I also felt like the pacing for the story in general was off (too fast). So I went back and added those. Leon and Victoria WERE NOT IN THE STORY until I went back to add chapter five.

Since I was doing alternating POV, if I added another chapter for Gale I needed to add another for Astarion. So I decided to make Astarion’s about them needing to find Gale an artefact in the Underdark. I started researching artefacts there that would satisfy the orb, but wanted to dig deeper and lay a little more groundwork for Astarion starting to care more about Gale and learning to be more kind/compassionate overall.

My headcanon for Astarion is that he’s always been a little selfish, or at least he thinks he is. I expanded on that later on in the fic by implying his parents weren’t the best of people. I felt like Cazador would smell blood in the water as far as folks with prior abuse of some kind were concerned, like a lot of abusers do. So Astarion spent his life up until he moved to Baldur’s Gate trying to be his own person despite the box his parents wanted to fit him in. That was my reason for why he left the Dalelands so young (by elf standards). He was still a grown ass man, but hadn’t reached maturity as far as his parents were concerned.

And like, why did he go as far away as Baldur’s Gate? Because it is like THE OPPOSITE SIDE of Faerun. And there’s no real info on his family anywhere, so I felt like maybe he wasn’t super close with them if he moved so far away. My idea was he felt he couldn’t escape their expectations without putting some real distance between them. And then, in the process, he winds up with Cazador, someone even more determined to mold him into what they want him to be rather than what he wants to be.

I feel like so much of Astarion’s arc in game is about finally being able to become his own person. And I thought it would pair really well with the tragedy of him being turned by Cazador if that happened just when he started take back control of his own life.

My headcanon is a lot of Astarion’s selfishness stems from no one ever being there for him or looking out for him, so he can only rely on himself and fuck everyone else as a result. Except he’s not nearly as callous as he pretends and deep down he genuinely wants to care about others. He just doesn’t know how to do it and feels like it can only come at the expense of his own autonomy/safety/happiness.

SO. What artefact would Astarion have that he could choose to give to Gale? Initially I thought maybe something small like the Ring of Color Spray. That didn’t feel significant enough though. Like, yes it would be something of his that he was choosing to part with, but it wasn’t a big enough of a statement to me. So then I tried to find a cool/powerful weapon or something else that he would be less inclined to part with. Whee, more time researching artefacts! But that didn’t feel right either, so I decided it should be something with more personal significance because that’s the biggest kind of sacrifice he could make at this point.

So! What would Astarion have that would be powerful enough to satisfy the orb? And why??? Cazador doesn’t exactly seem like the type to give his spawn anything, not even the basics (i.e. Astarion’s 200 years of starvation). Especially not something like a powerful/helpful artefact. And I was like “well, I mentioned they traded favors before back in chapter four, so maybe Leon enchanted something for him?”

BUT WHY?! I really liked the bits and pieces we see of Leon in game. I feel like he’s the quickest to believe Astarion when he says Cazador plans to sacrifice them in the ritual. And he also has a human daughter! Which, yeah, that whole reveal in game gave me major brain worms. Because WHAT. There was a human child just running around Szarr Palace? WHY? What was her life like? What did the other spawn think of her? And I was also so sad we never really saw much in game about her and her father. Even though Leon loses Victoria to Dalyria. I was really surprised there was no follow up to that for him, but lord knows Larian already had 8 billion other things going on, so I get why it wasn’t something they delved further into.

But what would Leon ask for in return for such a big favor? Ooh, what if Victoria’s ill? Cazador doesn’t exactly seem like the type to be like “Oh, sorry, please take all the PTO you need and here’s some money for a healer!” I’d imagine resources suited to caring for a sick human child would be limited in Szarr Palace. And Dalyria has been looking at Victoria like she’s a literal snack for a while now (which is why she kills her in game), so what’s a vampire papa to do???

So then I had to figure out why the self-purported selfish Astarion would agree to help them. At great personal cost, no less. He never mentions Victoria in game and I don’t think there’s anything in game either that indicates he’s ever done her wrong. Leon certainly didn’t seem concerned about him in that regard, so I decided maybe he’s ambivalent toward Victoria.

So why would he care?!

And then the Drizzt brain worms came back in full force. Because of that fucking phenomenal scene in the DND campaign with Neil fanboying, haha. So maybe Victoria has an interest in Drizzt too? Or maybe in his wife? Like, why wouldn’t a scared little girl who’s stuck in a nest of vampires look up to a strong female role model who is capable of fighting back and saving the day? And I figured Astarion hand’t exactly broadcasted his interest in Drizzt, so maybe this gives him an opportunity to actually connect with someone for once? I feel another major part of Astarion’s character is he is SO FUCKING LONELY. He doesn’t know how to establish actual relationships with people because he never has. And why would he, seeing as any new person he met would just wind up as Cazador’s dinner (as far as he knew anyway). I feel like he’s had to hardcore compartmentalize that part of him for the sake of his sanity.

But now here’s this sick little girl who he can actually help. And she understands what it’s like to dream a hero will swoop in and save the day. And she happens to be interested in stories about the same Drow Ranger who he’s found his own escape from The Horrors™ in?

Idk if he still would have agreed to help Leon in the fic if he’d had much more time to think about it. So instead he has a moment of weakness where he desperately wants to do something good for once (the only other time having been his sparing his “darling boy”). Something that’s never been done for him, but that he could do for Victoria. He could pretend to be her hero for a little while and get something useful out of it in the process. Win-win!

And like, this doesn’t make them bffs or anything. It’s more like a pivotal moment that just started to lay the foundation for his “redemption” in my fic instead. Then I just kept thinking more and more about what his life was like after with Victoria, who’s already come to trust him a little since he doesn’t treat her poorly or look like he wants to eat her. Especially since I figure that’s probably a pretty novel experience for her given her circumstances.

But he and Gale are in the Underdark! Which has magical artefacts! So why couldn’t they just spend a few thousand words locating an artefact so he doesn’t have to give this ring up? Sure, I could make it imperative Gale needs an artefact like yesterday, but that didn’t feel like enough. Thus Tav’s sister was born, lol! And my Tav became much more of a character in the fic because I did WAAAAY too much research on the Drow for chapter five and was completely fascinated by them.

My Tav was never supposed to feature as much as they did in my fic. They’re literally my Tav from in game, though I didn’t really have an in-game backstory for them. They were just supposed to show up in my fic to help with some scenes/dialogue in lieu of me having to write more interactions with the companions I didn’t feel super confident writing because I didn’t feel like I knew them/their unique voices well enough. To my own detriment, I am obsessed with being as IC as possible when I write fic. Just my personal preference in my writing!

This was my basic ass outline from back in April when I realized I needed to add extra chapters. The checkboxes are chapters drafts I’d finished by that point:

I was about 42k words in when I made it. And the outline changed a little too! I combined my planned chapters for 15 and 16 into one and wrote something else for 16.

And then I got to the bane of my existence, Chapter 13… (≖_≖ ). That was around the 60k mark.

Originally I planned for Astarion to be kidnapped by the spawn and get tortured (a little) and then be rescued by Gale & Co. But it just didn’t feel right. So then I thought “Gale should get kidnapped too, that’ll be more interesting!” And THEN I had Cazador show up. But he was being too…nice? Maybe not nice, but like…too chill/accommodating? Because I didn’t want the fic to get EVEN LONGER by setting Astarion’s progress with his trauma back to the stone ages with prolonged exposure to his abuser.

Originally I had Cazador show up, throw Astarion around a little and then Leon was like “Mister Cazador, sir, he has a tadpole, can we all go somewhere you aren’t so I can take a look at it?” And Cazador was just like “HMPF. OKAY, I GUESS. BUT DON’T FORGET I’M ~EVIL~, even though I’m acting pretty blasé right now!” Cut to Gale, Astarion, and Leon chitchatting in the Favored Spawn room.

And it just…was not fucking working. I felt it didn’t make sense for Cazador. It wasn’t boogeyman enough. Like…no way would he just let them traipse off, even with the tadpole as the reason. Something else needed to happen. Something that would give him an actual reason to have to put Astarion on the back burner. Something BIG!

But fucking WHAT???

My OCD chimed in with: “So happy you asked! Remember that other insecurity you have about being fucking terrible at writing villains? Surprise! It’s true! You’ve hit the biggest part of this fic and now it’s all pointless because you don’t know how to make Cazador be believably mean! Aren’t you glad you wasted three months and 60k words on it? You never finish anything anyway, so why should this be any different?”

Which is why I brought all of this up to my therapist in the first place. Because I was so fucking disappointed in and frustrated with myself and had all but given up on this fic. I didn’t know what to do next or how to fix what I broke and my motivation to keep writing it was long gone. But if I stopped writing it now, I was 1000% convinced I’d never finish it and I fucking hated that. I was so excited about this story for so long and it felt like it was all over because I “sucked as a writer, lacked commitment, etc.”

It took a while. Like two fucking months, to get out of my own head enough to finally write something I was happy with for chapter 13. I firmly believe I finally got to that point because of how much support and kindness I received from the folks reading my fanfic (who hadn’t found out I was a fraud yet - actual quote from my OCD). I cannot thank all of them enough for helping bolster my self-esteem and helping me get my motivation back! And also because my therapist helped me kill off my own boogeyman of sorts (my OCD around writing)!

Originally I wasn’t going to post this fic until the first draft was completely done. Didn’t matter that I was at 60k words. It wasn’t done, so it wasn’t going up because I hate when people orphan fics. Absolutely no shade to folks who do tho! Life happens! Motivation wanes! But I did A LOT of my own orphaning back in the day on ff.net and I still feel guilty about it to this day. But I pushed past my fear with the encouragement of my therapist and FUCK it paid off!!!

Once I got over the hurdle of writing 12/13, it was pretty much smooth sailing from there. And, omfg, people ACTUALLY LIKED both chapters?! ON GOD?! I felt like they were pretty solid by the time I finally posted them, but it was still hard not to worry I had falsely convinced myself they were good. What if Cazador was TOO mean now? Or what if he still wasn’t mean enough? What if this was too hard of a left turn with the story? What if what if what if…

I seriously cannot thank the folks who’ve commented on both enough for helping allay those fears of mine. It means so fucking much to me that there are so many people out there who were just SO FUCKING KIND to me when they didn’t have to be! ( ˃̣̣̥︿˂̣̣̥ ) A HUGE thank you to folks who’ve reached out to me or interacted with my posts about my fic on tumblr too, especially asymmetricjest whose ear I know I have talked off at this point in the internet-sense! Knowing there were folks who liked my fic enough to go out of their way to seek me out on tumblr for my Tuesday sneak peeks and to even like my and comment on my posts about writing the fic was a MASSIVE boost to my self confidence! It also made me feel like maybe I had a story worth telling after all!

I also gotta thank my bff Gourmet for letting me talk her ear off too and for reading the first three chapters before I even posted them. I was SO FUCKING NERVOUS about posting a multi-chapter fic for a brand new fandom (to me). I was especially worried about my characterization of Gale and if it looked like I knew enough about BG3 to be qualified to write a story about it lol. Not that that’s even a thing, but it felt like it to me. Like someone was gonna bust down the door and be like “well, actually” until I gave up on writing and became a hermit in the woods.

Gourmet also made the mistake of telling me sometimes she writes on her phone, which I have taken to heart and then some… I do like 95% of my writing on google docs on my phone now. I went from writing next to nothing to having already written 198,088 words this year. Yes, I’ve been tracking it. Yes, I love spreadsheets. No, I haven’t posted everything I’ve written yet.

That was another thing I struggled with in regard to my OCD. Not just with writing, but with life in general. It’s been so hard for me to accept everything does not have to be perfect before I can do something.

I constantly talk myself out of shit because it’s not perfect. Like:

I should start working out! What’s the research on the perfect amount of exercise? What types? How often? For how long? Etc. And then I come up with a detailed day-by-day routine of working out an hour every day that is not even remotely feasible for me, so I never do it! And I won’t let myself just do 10 random minutes of exercise either because that’s not what the experts said you should do, so that means I can’t do anything!

Down to shit like, “I can’t work out because my office is a nightmare. There’s too much stuff everywhere.” And “I can’t just go for a short walk by myself. That’s cruel to my dogs who I already don’t walk enough. But if I walk them too, I need to walk them enough, which is at least 20 minutes each. Because a dog should have 30 minutes of exercise a day.” So now my 10 minute impromptu walk has turned into an hour long dog walk because I can’t walk both of them at once (they’re big dogs and I’ve gotten hurt trying to do that before). Which then becomes too intimidating/overwhelming, so I just don’t do it at all! Yay, avoidance!

This is exactly how I’d talk myself out of writing. Just “a real writer would do xyz and since I can’t/don’t, I’m not a real writer. If I don’t write everyday, I’ll never get anywhere. I need at least an hour to write and if I don’t have that, what’s the point? Maybe I’ll just make myself write for 5 minutes a day instead! But that doesn’t feel like enough progress, so that’s not being a real writer.” Just analysis paralysis combined with a hardcore all or nothing mindset. I would spend way too much time focused on my word count each day and beating myself up about it being too low instead of just being happy I was writing, which is something I enjoy doing (ISN’T IT?!).

I used to be a bank teller about a decade ago. It was boring as fuck during the week because there were too many branches around (there was another of our same bank literally one building away from us) so we didn’t get a ton of customers. That resulted in a lot of downtime that I had to fill with something that wouldn’t get me in trouble (i.e. reading or playing on my phone). We also didn’t have internet on our computers as tellers. So I started taking little pocket notebooks with me and writing in between customers. Which was apparently fine! My coworkers would ask me what I was doing and I’d tell them journaling or something like that because I was embarrassed I was writing original romance stuff.

I wound up writing 3 different 50k original works during that time. I’d write in between customers then go home and type up what I wrote every day. And it fucking worked! It gave me something fun to do instead of stare at a wall all day, it kept me from being too perfectionistic about it, and it lowered the demand on my executive function! Win-win-win!

But then I got a different office job where there wasn’t downtime in between tasks (or at least not that you could enjoy without getting in trouble) so that fell by the wayside. I probably could’ve been writing on my work laptop or something instead, but I had undiagnosed ADHD at the time and spent so much time procrastinating while trapped in the office because it didn’t take me that long to do my work. I also didn’t realize a lot of ADHDers procrastinate because then they get a spike of adrenaline as a deadline looms, so. Yeah. Classic ADHD in retrospect.

But writing on my phone is a whole different ballgame! It doesn’t feel like “real” writing. I can do it whenever! Waiting in a doctor’s office? Write! Woke up in the middle of the night? Write! Laying down on the couch with no motivation to move? Write!

It lowers the barrier for my executive function because I always have my phone on me! No longer am I like “do I have enough time to go to trouble of opening my laptop, opening my google doc, trying to remember where I was, etc” and getting too worked up over having “dedicated” writing time because otherwise I’m not a real writer. There aren’t all these mental hurdles I have to leap over anymore. It’s just “I want to write” > “picks up phone”.

Do I feel fucking deranged writing almost 200k words so far on my phone? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY I DO! Could I write way faster on my laptop? 10000%! But it works! So I try not to think about it too much, lol. I have started editing more on my laptop though because editing on my phone takes for fucking ever. Editing in general takes me for fucking ever.

But yeah, this was wildly fucking long but I just had a lot of stuff I wanted to mentally process about this whole process because it’s been a really fucking big deal for me. And writing stuff out helps me process it.

If you’ve actually read all of this, you are a saint and I hope some of it resonated with you, especially if you’re a writer too. And, even if you aren’t, I hope it was at least interesting/entertaining!

God, I am so pre-upset about finishing this fic, lol. I don’t want it to end. It’s given me so much structure to my weeks and so much to look forward to. It’s gonna fuck with me once it’s over and I have to find other stuff to occupy my time and I don’t get my Wednesday dopamine hit. I mean, I’m hoping I’ll be writing something else by then (I do have an HH fic that’s 30k+ words already that I need to finish). But I fucking hate change and it’s gonna be a big change for me after I’ll have spent around 7 months on this whole thing.

But seriously, I cannot thank the phenomenal folks who’ve supported me along the way by reading, kudosing, bookmarking, subscribing, commenting, etc enough! This fic would not have gotten written without your support! And thank fuck for my therapist too because I had literally no idea my OCD was so obsessed with my writing until I was in the midst of this fic.

But yeah, it's been super cathartic to journal about my process with this fic and how I've learned and grown from writing it. And my OCD is definitely not completely gone when it comes to my writing, but it's more manageable at present and I'm def gonna take that as a win!

#hismercy’s musings #ancient books and horror stories #my writing #my fics #my writing process #actually ocd #actually adhd #bg3 fanfic #wildly long post

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aaaaaaaaagenloser · 2 years ago

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(Tw: kinda transphobia? Use of it/its for a character who hasn’t declared what their pronouns are yet. Arguments over whether a character is a person or not; that ties into the pronoun thing here. Bonus points for descriptions of canon-typical gore yipeeee)

An update from after writing this: oh this. Got. This one got away from me?? I think I started this at 4 minutes past the hour. It is now 43 minutes past the hour. shitt.

Update; it is now 17 minutes after the NEXT hour. 26 minutes after th last update. I have seen god in the past hour and she shook in fear of both my power and audacity. I have lunch with my family scheduled in like 6 hours and I have not yet slept. This wasn’t meant to be as long as it is but I was possessed and this is the result. I may edit it and make it smoother later but I’ll make that a separate post, I want this sleep-deprived chunk of words to be here as like a monument to the fact that I could have been playing stardew valley during this time but I chose to do this instead

TLDR: long ass story ahead written by a sleep-deprived and hyperfixation-driven author. Who is now going the fuck to BED

“We can’t just keep it! What if it has a tracking device? It won’t let us fucking touch it so there’s no way of knowing it has one unless it leads them right to us!”

“Ok, I hear you but think. That hasn’t happened yet. It’s been about what, three days? and that hasn’t happened, and they haven’t been violent towards any of us at all. They haven’t tried to go back either, so there’s no risk of them telling or leading Showfall where we are.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘they’?”

“Well they can’t be an “it” now can it? …wait.”

“Ok can we figure out the gender of the thing in the other room after we figure out if it’s a threat to us or not. It’s not even a fucking person, you remember what those things did to you back there, don’t you?”

“Those people were not themselves, they were just doing what he wanted them to do—“

“They’re not fucking people! Those things are all part of Showfall, just like Hetch was! It’s just waiting for the right time to turn us in, or pull some shit on one of us like they did before.”

“They weren’t… they weren’t in control.”

“Yeah like fuck they weren’t, I saw it fucking happen!”

“You can’t just… Ok. Sneeg. Stop. You don’t speak for me, the one who, oh I don’t know, was the one that shit happened to? They were being controlled just like us—“

“No, no, not like us. We were wandering around and not knowing what the fuck was happening. None of us knew what was happening. We just went along blindly. Those things—on purpose—dragged you to that stupid wall and sewed wires into your hands—“

“Shut up, Sneeg—“

“No you shut up! You didn’t see it fucking happen! I saw them and Bitchface literally hold you down until you passed out! They were fucking choking you, they fucking—they nearly fucking killed you with just their hands, that’s not a little suggestion in the back of your brain, that’s on purpose! That is fucking deliberate, that is a thing those machines chose to do! You don’t remember, you weren’t conscious when they fucking stapled you to the wall and strapped your head in—“

Sneeg glanced at Ranboo for a moment in-between pacing as he ranted, and the far away look in their sibling’s eyes shut them up immediately. Ranboo was still present, thank fuck, but they were looking at their brother like he was holding up a knife to their throat.

“Fuck, Ran, okay, okay—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… shit. Do you need Charlie?”

“You don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

“…okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Do you need me to get Charlie?”

“No, I’m fucking fine.” It did not sound like he meant that at all. His voice was less steady than before. “I don’t want him to worry about our… hitchhiker. He’s worrying enough about… well, everything.”

“The fact that it’s here, so close to us is the reason I’m trying to get you to see, Ran. What if it turns on him? What if it does that shit to him when we aren’t there?”

“We will be there.”

“And when it tries anything, we can kill it?”

“Sneeg!”

“You wouldn’t kill it, even if it hurt our fucking brother?”

“Of course we wouldn’t keep them around if they did that, could we at least just… just leave it behind? …wait, no, they couldn’t take care of themselves. If we had to leave it behind, maybe we should…”

Silence lingered for a bit too long.

“We should what, Ran?”

“…Sneeg, I was about to say that killing it would be a mercy.” The Hero laughed. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

The Taken didn’t reply.

“We have to help them. I don’t… I don’t want to be on the other end of a mercy killing. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Okay. I’m—are you okay?”

“…m fine. It’s fine. Just. Can you stop acting like they’re any different from us? Please.”

“What do you want me to think then?” His voice was softer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Just assume that they… that they were someone. Just like we were before. And they didn’t… they didn’t do anything on their own, it was all Showfall.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s assume they were controlled, they didn’t mean to, so on and so forth. Why haven’t they talked yet.”

“I don’t think any of the drones even could talk. Wait, should we really be calling them a drone—“

“Shut the fuck up, Ranboo, we have got to figure out what to do with it. It probably doesn’t even know what is happening, what the fuck does it matter what we call it.”

“It matters to me! Do you want me to call you by your title? Do you want to call me by mine? …No? Then why are we treating them like all they are is what Showfall made them? We had lives before, we were someone, so they must have been too. They might not realize it, or… or act like it, but they used to be someone. They are a whole person, Sneeg. We have to help them, we can’t just leave them behind because that would mean we are giving up on someone just like us, and we cannot give up on each other. They… they would have hurt us by now if they were going to. And Showfall hasn’t found us since… you know, which means there aren’t any more trackers.

…okay, Sneeg?”

“…okay. If it,” he sighed at the look Ran gave them, “if they try anything, we have to leave them behind. I’m not letting a dumbass puppet be the reason we get taken back.”

“If they—ok, whatever, you’re not understanding. You can’t say one of us somehow wanted to be controlled, and they’re a ‘puppet’ but those rules don’t apply to the rest of us—“

“There is not an ‘us,’ Ran! That thing isn’t like us!”

“Guys?”

A sleepy voice shut the two of them up instantly. They had a split-second conversation with their eyes before looking to their brother. ‘We aren’t done talking about this’ ‘You’e absolutely right, so later?’ ‘Later.’ ‘We’re telling Charlie nothing happened?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Ok good plan.’

“Why are you two fighting? I’m tired, can we please go back to sleep?”

“We weren’t fighting, we were…”

“…talking about plans for tomorrow. And you can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.” Charlie looked at Sneeg pointedly, who sighed to Ranboo with a playfully annoyed expression.

“Well I guess I gotta go be a teddy bear again.”

“Have fun”

“Absolutely not.”

Charlie punched Sneeg in the shoulder lightly for that, who just giggled in response and led his little brother back to their room.

Which left Ran by themselves.

Some nights, he would join them, but some nights Charlie couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ran, and the three of them had made a silent mutual agreement that Charlie trusted Sneeg more than he did Ranboo.

…Ranboo was okay with this. He wasn’t hurt by it. He didn’t cry on the nights he slept by himself.

He didn’t wish he could be the one Sneeg comforted sometimes. They were just fine.

They were fine, which is why they went to the living room where their… well. Their hitchhiker? They weren’t exactly a brother, or a sibling, more like a fourth wheel on a tricycle. Or a flyaway hair. Okay, maybe Ranboo needed to get tbr fuck to sleep, alone or not.

But he found himself in the living room, where their hitchhiker slept. Or, didn’t sleep, as they seemed to not need to. They would sit on the couch and stare idly at the tv. That was what had started the whole conversation with Sneeg in the first place; Ran wanted to leave some kind of entertainment for the fourth person so they wouldn’t be made to sit in the dark for hours. Sneeg took this remark as a perfect opportunity to explain all the reasons why the former drone should be abandoned, but Ranboo would have fucking none of it. Maybe the couch potato (shit, he really needed to come up with a name for them—) didn’t seem to sleep, barely ate, and stayed still unless actually verbally told to move, but they were still a person. Ranboo was sure of it.

Their hand wandered up to the fresh scabs where their mask had been. The fourth person had a mask, one that hadn’t been touched. Despite usually staying still, the person—(Ranboo thinks they might just call this person Couch for now. Maybe it’s not accurate, and they’re tired, but it’s something. C, for short.)

C would back away any time the others would try to get near them. And they did in fact try, but despite how creative or sneaky they got, C always ducked away. It reminded Ranboo of the drone who had followed them with a camera, always one step away and never letting the Hero get too close.

The mask turned to Ranboo, who stared back quietly. C hadn’t talked at all, so Ranboo didn’t expect them to suddenly start now. He wasn’t even sure if they understood what was said to them, but Ranboo wanted to try anyways. Better to be polite.

“Do you like the show that’s on? I think it’s called Lucy, or something. I don’t know, Sneeg said it was funny. And it didn’t seem, uh- scary or anything.”

The mask didn’t speak.

“If you want to change it, the remote’s right there, um, I showed you how to use it before. And there’s like, instructions drawn on there. You can thank Charlie for that one.”

…

“I think I’m going to head to bed.”

…

“Fuck it, can I stay here?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but the head hidden behind it tilted a bit at the sudden change in tone. Ranboo took this as an absolute win.

“So I just. I don’t want to be by myself. And I don’t think you sleep, I mean if you just sleep when everyone else is asleep that’s cool, but also if so how do you even? function? on that much sleep? It really isn’t that much but to be fair you don’t do much so maybe you don’t need it. …do you sleep sitting up? And just somehow wake up when we get close? I know, um. Sorry about that, again, we were just worried your mask had a tracker like mine used to.”

Ran laughed nervously. “I think I did convince them that it doesn’t, so that should stop now. If um. If we make you uncomfortable you still don’t have to be touched, it’s, it’s fine.”

Other than the head tilt before, there wasn’t a reply.

“Okay, since. You can’t talk, I’m just gonna… I’ll sit down beside you. On the couch. And if you don’t want me to be that close you can uh- you can leave. Or like, get up, and then I’ll leave. This is the only room with a tv, so I’ll let you stay here, but I can’t tell if you want me to be here or not, so. Okay, sorry, I’m rambling. Just… move if you want me to leave, okay?”

Ranboo waited for a response that didn’t come, then sighed. “Okay.” He kept his hands up and open while sitting down, waiting for a few moments before tucking his feet under himself to get more comfortable. “I’m just gonna stay here, okay? Like I said, just move if you want me to leave.”

The mask had tracked them to where they sat now, but the person—C—didn’t make a move to leave. Ranboo turned their attention to the tv, keeping an eye on their couch partner in their peripheral vision. During a moment of audience laughter in the show—I Love Lucy, they remembered—C turned their head back to the television as they had been before Ranboo walked in.

Seeing as how C (they needed a better name than that—) didn’t speak, this was the closest Ranboo could get to being told “you can stay here.” So they did. A few episodes later, his head was on the arm of the couch and his eyes were closed.

Five turned its attention to the Hero, who was now asleep. He had said it was a person, which was almost hilarious. And the Taken and the Hero seemed to think it couldn’t talk? They had to know it needed to be given permission first: any handler of a Drone or Prop knew that basic rule. It would wait until permission was given: it knew how to obey. It wasn’t meant to speak to a superior unless it was told it was allowed. It would wait.

…in the meantime, it studied its handler, the Hero. The other Actors, their two other handlers, called him ‘Ranboo’ but Five knew that wasn’t his actual label. The Hero was his character in the last show, and so that is who he was. Five didn’t know if Actors had a number, but he had been called the Hero in the script, and so the Hero he will be until the script changes.

It hoped to get new instructions, a new script for itself, something, soon. It was tired of simply watching the Actors go about their incredibly off-script show. It was sometimes told to participate, and since no other superiors were nearby, it had to obey its current handlers. But it was told to participate, to stir eggs, to help clean the kitchen, to attack small webs in corners with a stick with soft spikes on the end. Those sorts of things weren’t it’s usual directive, and so it found itself…

It didn’t resent its handlers. They were doing their best, and they at least knew that they were meant to give it orders. It simply wished they were familiar orders. It wished the Hero had told it to play dead, or play chase, or play camera, or caught, or prop. It would even listen if it was told to power down until needed. At least then it wouldn’t have to be conscious in this boring and unfamiliar set.

Y EA I know they probably don’t like tvs. Shhhhhh. I didn’t think about that until like. I had already written the tv part. At this moment it is 55 minutes past th hour and I want these characters to go the fuck to sleep so I can go thr fuck to sleep /lh

And yeah Five only uses “he” for glran. That is intentional. It’ll be talked about and shit later. Something about being put into a role, something about showfall being transphobic, something something I want to go to bed

Powering down = “sleeping” for a drone. Different but similar. I’ll explain how it works later?, anyway The others hav e told Five to “sleep” but it doesn’t understand because it is only ever told to “power down” so it’s like error.sleep_not_found and it stares at them like “bitch you said the wrong. Thing. You’re supposed to know how to control me so you don’t want me to power down I fucking guess” and it’s gonna be really funny after that miscommunication is taken care of.

If you remember the Five Gets A Cold And Wants To Throw Hands With Everyone post, this is wayyy before that. These motherfuckers are fresh out of showfall. Don’t ask how they got a house. I’ll figure it out

I am! Tired! I’m not proofreading this!! Goodnight please give me your thoughts if you have them. I need to know I didn’t sacrifice tbis much sleep in vain /nf /lh (I appreciate words but you are Not required to give them. Love you have a good nigt/p)

#five the genloss blorbo #let’s not talk about how many tries it took me to spell unobserved. let’s simplynot #update like 5 years into me writing this: i also cannot spell the word peepohe it would seem #that. that was meant to be the word People. you can see m #h my point stands #it is late as fuck yet I Have to make this. it has to exist so I must make it exist #I’m hamilton writing like I’m running out of time but I’m writing g #writing 51 essays in which assorted characters get the physical and/or emotional shit beaten out of them #and me running out of time is running out of sleepy. I am a sleep y man #take a break and get away says my pillow. I am Hamilton my pillow is upstate and this goddam mess of a short story I am trying to write is M #this story is Mariah Reyndolds leading me to her bed .#I haven’t slept in a while and I’m hyperfixationed on Hamilton so that metaphor makes. 0 sense #if you’re reading this far I’m so sorry. have a cookie! and fun fact an old lady held my hand and s #she said my (Very Androgynous!!) haircut is perfect. she used those words #i almost cried right then and there. genuine compliments from people make my fucking day . ok I need to go back to editing thisthing now #I wrote it. changed a plot point. started to rewrite it. changed ANOTHER plot point #so now I’ve got several s #several layers of Oh Shit I have to untangle #im. making my own goddam escape au apparently????? it won’t make any fucking sense but I will explain it later.#and! feel free to ask questions!’ and tell me if it make’s absolutely 0 sense #I do in fact want to be able to tell the story in a way you will understand. so ask questions! give a feedback! /gen /pos #I accidentally. deleted a tag so whatever I was going to say is fucking gone now. oh I think I memerbr #they are out of character ye. I’m sleepy and I’m making their escape au up as I go.#so far I have 1) the box scene was somehow Worse #2) they kidnapped Five (yippee!)#3) Charlie is the most traumatized out of the three. I don’t. I don’t know why.#I think that’s mostly because I didn’t feel like writing a conversation between Three characters. so my brain was like this :#why isn’t Charlie here? sleeping. why are these two not including him in conversation? protectiveness.#why protectiveness? he is the most upset out of the three of them and the other two have basically taken up the caretaker role. great plan #great plan hit the showers. I have reached. max tags. shit oh well back to writing tumblr says so!

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