#Changeling Snippets

[author-a-holmes]

Find The Word Tag Game

Thank you @ashen-crest for the tag!

I've been putting off these tag games for a while in the leadup to Changeling's release, but since it's due out in a couple of days I figure now's a good moment to share some more snippets <3

Tagging forward to; @minamoroz @queen-kass-the-writer @faelanvance @ettawritesnstudies @sleepyowlwrites @blind-the-winds @afoolandathief @artbyeloquent and anyone else who wants to play! (Tag me so I see it! <3)

Your words will be; Pale, Quiet, Grey/Gray, and Shiver.

Anger

Every time the vampire spoke, something about what he said, or how he said it, sparked Lizzy's temper.

Even now, with nothing more than a soft hum that should have required nothing of her other than the ability to ignore it, the dismissive sound lit up her anger once more.

Cool

She leant her arms against the wall, and pressed her forehead against the cool stone. Struggling to catch her breath, Lizzy fought back the prickling tears stinging her eyes.

When Andric had seconded the headmaster's opinion, it had hurt. It had been a disappointment. But it hadn't been a surprise.

What had been, was Booker.

Steam

A mug of coffee settled into position in front of her, and Lizzy blinked at it slowly. The rich scent drifted up on thin streams of steam and she drew in a slow, deep breath.

It was only as Booker slung an arm around her shoulders and claimed the empty spot on the bench seat to her left, that Lizzy started to come around properly.

Smile

"We should go to dinner," Cara said, and Lizzy smiled at the peace offering, accepting it for what it was. "But you'll need to get dressed," Cara added, "unless you want to give Mia more fuel for the school's rumour mill."

In an instant, Lizzy's smile had vanished, and she rolled her eyes even as she slid off her bed and stomped across the room to the wardrobe, "Well we can't give her even more gossip. She's overworking herself as it is," Lizzy muttered

[justplainmels]

"Every day. Five days a week." - AT on RDA’s antics

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Arthur crossed his arms. “You know what I want.”

“Yes, I do.” Sansa gave him a flat look. “You want to be insufferable and domineering. Like all dominant men.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m not like all ‘dominant men’, my lady. I’m an Alpha.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “And it took you only five minutes to point that out. Lovely.”

“It’s in my nature.”

“It is.” She agreed way too easily. “Which is why we cannot pretend this is anything but temporary insanity.”

“Why?” Arthur pressed.

“We’re both Alphas, Arthur. This is unheard of.”

“Stop avoiding the word.” Arthur growled at her. “Say the words. What is unheard of?”

“Do not show your teeth at me.” Her eyes went wolf.

“Say the words, Sansa.” He pushed. “What is that we can’t do?”

“We cannot be together. At all.”

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Passionate Sex 6C: Jaerik’s plan was to simply distract the noble, lure him away from his office and give her team the chance they needed to sift through his stuff—but perhaps she played her role a bit too well…

“Harder~ ohhh fuck, it’s so good~”

Jaerik panted, moaning as she writhed against the soft sheets under her. The pleasure was just so intense—the feeling of his hand on her chest, gripping so tight, his arms around her holding her close against him—his fingers were tangled in her silky locks, tilting her head back and letting her moan to her absolute heart’s content, and the way his hips bucked into her—

“Ohhh fuccckkk~” the Changeling shuddered with a breathless moan, her hips jerking back into him as she clenched tight around his cock. She bit her lip, her juices squirting hard around him, and she let out a soft whine as she felt his lips on the back of her neck. “Fuck~ you’re relentless~”

“I could say the same for you, my naughty little slave~” the noble chuckled into her ear, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek. Even as he felt her climax so hard around him, the man did not release her, and instead seemed to thrust even harder into her, the smack of his hips on her ass reverberating through the master bedroom. “This body just keeps begging for more~ and who am I to say no~?”

“A-a very~ good~ master~” Jaerik moaned in reply, though she could barely get the words out—even with her own incredible endurance and experience, she was finding herself a bit outclassed by the sheer relentless lust that the noble was pouring out onto her. She was finding it hard to catch her breath, and her mind was going hazy from the constant release. If she didn’t finish him off soon—

“Oh my~ now what is this~?”

Jaerik gasped as she felt the fingers in her hair tug hard, and her body arched back into his chest. She gasped, eyes flickering open—and froze as she saw herself in the mirror across the way. Herself…instead of the maid whose identity she’d taken for this little distraction. And over her shoulder, she could clearly see the lord’s face—a wicked smile on his lips and fiery anger in his eyes.

“Well now~ isn’t this a nasty trick~?” The hand resting on her chest moved up slowly, wrapping around her slender neck as he murmured into her ear. “I wonder what other secrets you have in store for me~ my naughty slave~?”

Her only response was a small whimper of concern, before the room was filled with her passionate screams.

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Maleform Jaerik accidentally runs up too high a tab at the tavern and needs to find some way to wipe his debt. Fortunately, the barmaid and owner of the establishment has a few thinks he can help out with... namely being her stress relief after a long day.

Only one problem... the leather bindings on the barmaid's bedpost? Yeah... they aren't for her. They're for him.

Incredible, the rare maleform Jaerik—such a wondrous find! And such a unique prompt, too~ Let’s see how it fairs in this situation~

The moment he noted the leather straps on the bed, Jaerik felt a grin spread across his face. He wasn't above selling himself for sexual favors now and again to get himself out of a tight bind, but rarely did he find himself a participant that was as eager and willing as he was, and so prepared too. He could already imagine her slender body arching against the bindings as he laid into her, shuddering with bliss as he towered over her and—

"Now then~ lay on the bed for me, will you darling~?"

Jaerik felt his world slide to a stop, and he turned his gaze back to the barmaid and owner behind him. The gorgeous redhead was standing at her dresser and stripping out of her dress, but just beyond her in her dresser, he could make out the slightest signs of...instruments. Chains, collars, and he was certain a whip or crop. He felt his throat go dry, and swallowed hard as she glanced back at him. "Well, what are you waiting for~? Lay on the bed like a good boy."

The changeling felt his body move before his mind registered, and he quickly disrobed himself—clothes falling in a heap at the side of the bed as he approached and lay down. His heart hammered in his chest—this was something new, even for him, and as the barmaid approached, he felt a knot of anxiety building in his chest. An expression she must've noted, as she smirked down at him and placed a hand to his cheek.

"Don't worry~" she purred, dragging her hand down his arm and lifting it to the straps. "It'll all be alright~"

Jaerik swallowed again as she quickly bound him down, his body held helpless against her bed by each corner, until at last she was seated over him, her hips resting on his, and her folds brushing teasingly against his cock. "For the rest of the night, I am your mistress~" she murmured, rocking her hips back and forth. "You will only refer to me as mistress~ understood~?"

The changeling blushed at her tone, but nodded. "Y-yes, Mistress~" he murmured, his voice low and husky, his arousal slowly growing. The woman smirked down at him, grinding her hips harder into his.

"Very good~ you're such a good boy, Jaerik~" she purred, before pulling away from his cock entirely and moving up the length of his body. "And good boys get rewarded~ just as soon as they serve their mistress' needs~"

Before he could say anything in reply, the barmaid gripped his hair firmly and lifted his face up to her quivering snatch, holding him against her lower lips as she forced him to eat her out. He groaned at her grasp, resisting just a bit, before he slowly relaxed, lips parting as he licked and sucked at her folds—coaxing a deep and wanton moan to spill from the woman's lips as she held him close. "Oh yes~ mmm, just like that, baby~"

Jaerik groaned, but did as she asked—well aware this was about to be the longest night in his life.

[cruelprincae]

Cardan, about Mike: just give me 5 minutes alone with him and a pair of scissors.

[ishipgenfics]

Conch Shell: Part 1

Conch is a changeling.

Changelings are not inherently evil. They are merely fae born to humans, and they need love and acceptance like any other child. They are not wrong, or monstrous.

(Conch repeats this to themself every night. They wish it wasn't so hard to believe.)

Conch(although they did not go by Conch then) developed their abilities early. Very early. They were young, and small, and didn't know what was happening to them. All they knew was that birds would swarm around them when they walked and that sometimes, when they were trying to sleep, they could hear the wind whisper their name.

All Conch had ever heard about magic was from stories of crafty witches, evil sorcerors, and tricky fae, so he tried to hide it. And it worked!... at first.

But Conch started to get more powerful, and things started to get noticeable. And people started getting scared. And so people did what they tend to do when they get scared.

They got angry.

Conch had run into the forest, scared and alone and hating themself. And the wind and the flower and the birds whispered, "Would you like to go?"

And for the first time, they said yes.

When they got to the orphanage, in a place the birds told them was called the Spring Court, a sheep fae with a kind smile asked them their name.

Conch thought about it for a long moment.

They thought about screams and disgust and annoyance.

They thought about their parents.

They decided they never wanted to hear their name again.

"Call me Conch," they say, and the humming in the air almost makes them believe its true.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics that skip over portions of time and that take place over the course of years as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

📆 Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

📆 Strawberries & Cigarettes by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(E, 76k, omegaverse) Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

📆 7 Up by @cherrystreet

(E, 51k, friends to lovers) we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded

📆 when we were younger by luinlote

(E, 53k, canon) In where you get to see small glimpses of Harry and Louis' life together through the years, first through the eyes of others and eventually their own, as their life keeps spinning madly around them.

📆 Dear Devoted Delicate by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 47k, canon) A collection of moments in time that show just how worth it love is when it’s real.

📆 the love it takes, it's worth it all this time by hemakeshimstrongx / @hemakeshimstrong

(T, 46k, canon) a timestamp fic between 2010 and 2022, told using snippets of harry's house. the album imagined from bottom to top, the moments little flashbacks in film reels. it's about love, and it's about keeping that love alive despite surmounting challenges.

📆 yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 40k, Oli pov) Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.

📆 Love is the Right Place by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(T, 33k, friends to lovers) Over the years, friendship turns to more. Just as their romance blossoms, however, Louis gets an offer which promises fame and fortune far from home.

📆 When You Know, You Know by @mission2feelike

(M, 27k, omegaverse) Louis and Harry have been friends for years, their friendship maturing easily from pups to teenagers to adults. 

📆 Anonymous Said by @alivingfire

(T, 21k, bookshop) two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together.

📆 Love in slow motion by sloganeer

(E, 17k, Posh & Becks au) A series of glimpses into the life of Harry Styles, pop star turned fashion designer; his husband, Louis Tomlinson, football legend; and their four adorable children.

📆 I Wanna Feel (Your Love) by @infinitelymint

(E, 15k, canon) Five moments in Louis and Harry’s life based on five of the biggest emotions: fear, sadness, love, anger and joy.

📆 Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 9k, 5 times) Four years of iconic moments that inspire tattoos and promises.

📆 Here We Come A-Wassailing by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, Christmas) The year Louis was in the 8th grade, his mom decided to gather the families of their closest friends to go caroling. 

📆 Flowers of Tomorrow, Seeds of Today by @haztobegood

(G, 7k, fae/fairies) Louis is a changeling and Harry is a human and their fates are more connected than they know.

📆 Like A Neon Sign by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 7k, canon) Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

📆 Though the Seasons Change So Quickly (Keep Them Buried In My Heart) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(G, 6k, canon) A series of moments of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years, from the very beginning to the present, through the perspective of those around them. It's beautiful and it's brutal, it's awe-inspiring and it's awful - it is what it is.

📆 Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

- Rare Pairs -

📆 in darkness i follow you by @leighbot

(E, 6k, Zayn/Louis) four glimpses into Louis and Zayn's relationship through the years. With bonus side!Narry.

📆 like air to me by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5k, Zayn/Louis) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

[markrosewater]

Does Bloomburrow prove that a typal-themed set doesn’t need changeling to work? Or will Changeling stick around for typal sets with heavier creature type emphasis?

The as-fan of typal themes is a lot lower than sets like Lorwyn or Ixalan.

"Here's a snippet from my article today that touches upon this:

To give you a sense of what I mean by a sprinkling, here are the typal rewards for Frogs:

A common that costs less if you have a Frog

An uncommon sorcery with a rider if you have a Frog

An uncommon land with an effect that helps Frogs

An uncommon land and a rare creature that cares if a Frog entered the battlefield this turn

An uncommon creature and a rare creature that grant Frogs an ability

A rare creature that cares about casting Frogs

The number of typal cards can vary slightly, but that will give you a rough idea of the as-fan I'm talking about."

Here's a link to the whole article:

[mothervonmayhem]

Battle of the Bands

Hobie, Miguel, Gabriel, Gwen and 1st person pov OC / MC

New Adult magical realism AU (obvi) brain worm that has grown from a 2-shot screenplay for some fun comics into a monster. This fic is like Tremors in my brain.

The summer before college MC, Gabriel O'Hara, and Miguel O'Hara go on an international road trip with their metal band, Neon Requiem. Destination? BandFest, the Battle of the Bands in London guaranteed to secure the winning band a record deal. They meet other ATSV characters along the way.

No mention of Y/N / Reader, written from 1st person POV. Self-insertion is made easier by fewer details about the MC.

Notes on language: Tried my best here, if you are a native speaker of French, let me know if the MC's French is unnatural and I will love you forever.

Romance, angst, and poorly understood music concepts are often written as having a distinct visual component because I am an artist first. <

@pinksugarscrub @the-kr8tor I DID THE THING!

*******************************************************************

Chapter 1 - “Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l’oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire”

The Rusty Nail's neon whir and raucous rhythms had been muted to a melancholy hum that evening, it was a ghost town, the emptiness of the dimly lit bar echoing with decades of unfulfilled longings. I nursed my drink, letting the smoky burn of liquor etch contours of quiet contemplation onto my throat as I surveyed the handful of kindred souls keeping solemn vigil. Life had been feeling heavy, and I needed to write, to make art, and to get lost in music.

At the far end of the bar hunched a beautiful wraith, his slim, angular frame sheathed in torn denim and studded leather. Something indefinable shimmered around him, unsung poetry, snippets of melodies, a symphony I could see and hear and almost touch. Drawn like a moth to the lambent glow of the music, I slid onto the stool beside the ethereal punk spectre. In my mind's eye, I crowned him the prince of punk, a fairy tale rebel.

Our bodies brushed intimately in the cramped space, raising ghosts of sensation along the exposed skin of my fishnets. "Wozzat, luv?" he murmured, kohl-rimmed eyes flickering over the point of contact with a soldering heat.

Mon dieu, {My God} Had I spoken my admiration aloud? A flush crept up my cheeks as I scrambled for a response.

"Désolé. Je répétais quelque chose pour ne pas l'oublier… Need to write it down before I lose it," {Sorry. I was repeating something so I wouldn't forget it…} I mumbled, a flimsy excuse for my wandering mind.

Fumbling through my bag ,I pulled out my tattered notebook, fingers trembling as I scribbled down a scrap of verse inspired by the punk's incandescent presence beside me. I scribbled my observations in hasty strokes. The dying light of day bled into night, a liminal space that begged for a soundtrack. I could almost hear it, a melody just out of reach, shimmering in the smoky air.

"The liminal light of late afternoon, yawning into early evening…" I muttered, pulling on the strings of the melody, trying to draw it back to me. "I don't want to be loved for the things that I don't do. I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a work of art…We are all just works of art."

The jukebox fell silent, making my mutterings around sift and strange, slightly unhinged---but the punk prince remained---his gaze heavy on my skin. I met his stare, unflinching. Unabashed curiosity flickered in eyes, wide brown and doe-like, framed by lashes so lush they seemed to blur the line between masculine and feminine, earthly and ethereal. I found myself dizzied by warring impulses - to flee this unsettling intimacy, or be consumed by it wholly.

He was a changeling, gorgeously androgynous: part punk Mona Lisa with a Cheshire cat grin, part Jean-Michel Baptiste, part force-of-fucking-nature. He made me feel like a background character in his story, could be a punk fairy princess, and I would be the dragon. My thoughts raced, fragments of poetry and half-formed desires. I scribbled faster, chasing the threads of inspiration, but a nudge from my prince brought me back to earth.

Snatches of poetry, raw and unfinished, that I urgently longed to refine on the page before they dissipated like the last wisps of smoke in a spent ashtray. But the punk's aura dragged me too deeply into devotional reverie. I glanced up apologetically as my concentration scattered, the thread of inspiration slipping through my fingers once more.

The bartender had sprouted up directly in front of me, and she eyed me expectantly. Her hair was a shock of blue curls and silver streaks shorn close to her scalp, it made her eyes seem more gray. Her skin etched with lines that mapped out the years like a roadmap. I felt the familiar pang of a poem lost to the ether.

"Un…Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît," {A…Jack Daniel's, please} I said, no longer able to filter its lilt from my words, as I wasn't paying attention to dulling it.

"Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands event this week, love?"

"Oui, how did you know?" {Yes, how did you know?}

"Just a…sense," he demurred with a wicked grin. "Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know."

The bartender chuckled as she set my drink down. "You mean because everyone is here for Bandfest? Don't listen to this one, lovey, he's incorrigible. The crowds will be in later on, but you're a bit early."

"Shh, Roz. Who's up tonight?" The prince asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you want insider information? What's in it for me?"

"Givin' away free tattoos, could autograph yer arm, love."

"I'll pass, thanks. The brackets are up in an hour anyway. It's Night Terrors vs. Death Rapture, Blood Prophecy vs. Cherry Bomb, Spider Punks vs. Neon Requiem…"

"Why are the punk bands going up against the metal bands?" I asked, just as the prince inquired about Phantom Pulse.

"There wasn't a lot of quality competition this year, or that's what the sponsors said, so they automatically advance to the semifinals since they won last year."

"Bollocks!" The prince cried, his outrage palpable.

"Oi Punk, you don't want to sign with Vic Luna at Zenith Music Group, anyway."

"Tu…ne le fais pas? Mais pourquoi?" {You…don't? But why?} The words tumbled out, my curiosity getting the better of me. At her blank stare, I repeated the question in English, heat rising to my cheeks.

Roz leaned in, her voice low, "Look kid, it's complicated…"

The prince rolled his eyes, a sneer playing at his lips. "Betrayed a lot of good bands."

"You don't need to remind me, Punk, I lived through it. Despite the changes at Zenith Music Group, they still organize the annual Bandfest, which showcases both established and emerging talent in the punk and metal scenes. The event is highly respected within the community and provides a platform for bands to gain exposure and connect with fans," the bartender continued, her words stilted, rehearsed.

"Ay, and they are the sponsor bringing in your crowds." The prince's voice was sharp, laced with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"The only time we're out of the red, punkass. We'd have to shut down if it weren't for the Battle." She said heavily, "Which is the greater evil, we are a place of refuge for several members of the community, not just you."

"You don't need to remind me Roz, I'm living through it. Right, I'll stop ragging on the corporate sods for now, until you have some plausible deniability." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"There's a good Punk." Roz smiled, sliding him another pint before retreating.

I made a mental note to warn my bandmates about Vic and Zenith's sordid history. We were in this for the music, not the money, no one played metal for the money--but it never hurt to be cautious.

"Roz is like the den mother of the London punk scene, a living testament to grit and resilience, and screaming yourself hoarse at basement shows. Dream t'be like her when I grow up. To listen without judgment, offer advice without preaching, and know when to slide a shot of whiskey across the bar and when to cut you off. She has a way of looking at you, really seeing you, like you matter… like you are more than just another face in the crowd." His voice trails off, heavy with emotion. He blinks and shakes it off.

"Can I see it?" The prince's voice cut through our lost thoughts, his fingers reaching for my notebook.

I clutched it to my chest, a knee-jerk reaction. "Can you look into my very soul, like Roz?"

His smirk widened, that Cheshire cat grin that set my heart racing. He nodded, a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he purred, and I felt my stomach flip. I repeated the phrase in my mind, first in French, then in English, just to be sure I'd heard him right. Wasn't this some flirty idiom?

"You have a book of poetry somewhere hidden in those skinny jeans, mon ami?" {my friend?} I ask, hesitant, double-checking his meaning. He flirts like others breathe.

In lieu of an answer, he produced a sharpie from thin air. Before I could protest, he had my arm in his grasp, his touch electric against my skin. I shrugged off my leather jacket, baring my arms to his ink-stained fingers. Roz chuckled as she set another drink before me, clearly amused by the prince's antics.

"You'll need it…I see you took this wanker up on the free tattoo offer. Don't let him draw any on your arms."

"Any? …Any what?"

"Wankers," she clarified with a laugh. It clarifies nothing, I need to study my British slang.

"I would not mar the flesh of such a beautiful and willing participant, Roz. Kindly fuck off," the prince mumbled around the sharpie cap clenched between his teeth.

Between the verses he scrawled, he peppered me with questions, his voice a giddy whisper.

"So, who's your poison, love? Which bands get your motor runnin'?"

"Ah, j'adore Rammstein, Gojira, et bien sûr, Motörhead. And so many others, doesn't even scratch the surface. Et toi?" {Ah, I love Rammstein... And you?}

"Proper choices, those. For me, it's the classics - Sex Pistols, The Clash, Buzzcocks. Real raw, in-your-face stuff, y'know?"

I leaned in, excited, but too close. I nearly jumped as my lips grazed the dusky shell of his ear. "Ah, un homme de bon goût! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, c'était incroyable!" {Ah, a man of good taste! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, it was incredible!}

"No bleedin' way! Metal chick like you? I'd give me left bollock to have seen the Sex Pistols live. But I did catch The Clash back in '07. Changed me life, it did."

"Lemmy, sans aucun doute. The man's a legend!" {Lemmy, without a doubt.} I declare into the bar.

"Oi, don't go disrespectin' Johnny, now! The bloke's a punk icon, 'e is!"

"You're a punk icon!" someone shouted from the back, but the prince waved them off with a grin.

"Oh, I didn't catch your name," I said, with a sudden shame, my brow furrowed.

"Everyone just calls me Punk. You can too. Just not dirty punk, we don't want to come to blows, do we, love?"

"I'd kick your ass, mon ami. Pas grand chose à donner, mon petit prince des fées… eh mon prince dégingandé, right? I would not describe you as petite even if you are skinny." {I'd kick your ass, my friend. Not much to give, my little fairy prince… eh my lanky prince, right?}

Miguel was at my side in an instant, all rippling muscle and furrowed consternation. "Carnalita, {little sis} why did you sneak out on practice just to drink in this hellhole?" he rumbled, disapproval lacing every sonorous word. Tenderness faded a bit.

I met his gruff chiding with an insouciant toss of my hair. "Salut, Miguel. Ça fait longtemps." {Hello, Miguel. It's been a while.}

"Is that Jack? No puedo mas… Carnalita…This shit is bad for you." {I can't take it anymore…little sis...}

"Je nais etre rond comme une queue de pelle. Tu es vraiment un trou de balle quand tu dis des choses pareilles!" {I would be round as a shovel handle. (Idiom, essentially she is saying ~ I was born to be drunk) You are really a dumbass when you say things like that!}

Miguel's grumbling stream of Spanish reprimands washed over me as I settled into our familiar dynamic - the tender yet terse cantata of friend and protector that had composed them score of our relationship since childhood. For all his bluster, I knew every arrhythmic cadence encoded Miguel's steadfast affection.

Only Gabriel's soft interjection could salve the rising discord. "You worry too much, Miggy. We've been practicing all week."

He cast me a plaintive glance, silently pleading for conciliation, and I grudgingly obliged with an internal eyeroll. "Qu'il aille se faire! C'est vraiment chiant tu te rends compte." {Let him go fuck himself! It's really annoying, you know.}

Heedless of my saucy french asides, Miguel merely drew a fortifying breath before continuing in that maddening timbre of unrelenting reason. "Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out alone in an unknown city - it's not safe for you, mi carnalita."

The prince leaned towards us with a lazy smirk, "S'not that serious. The Rusty Nail is safe enough." He paused as the bartender snorted in agreement before continuing, "We're keeping the lady safe, mate…you can trust me, I'm one of the Spider-Punks."

Miguel simply sneered at the prince's proffered handshake, dismissing it out of hand. "You have arms like sticks. How would you keep her safe?"

The punk's smirk widened as he shrugged. "Ah, one of those. Never skip leg day, eh bruv?"

I strangled a guffaw as Gabriel hastened to run interference, engulfing the punk's hand eagerly. "We've heard of you guys, the local punk band, yeah? Your drummer is…gahh…Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?"

"You call that punk noise "rock"?" Miguel scoffed. "Metal is where the real skill lies…Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude."

I rolled my eyes. At this rate, I'd have to drag Miguel out before he started a brawl.

"Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non?" {Ah, but no, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, right?}

Miguel grunted, but squeezed my hand.

I stood, motioning for him to lean in close. "Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord? I learned some things about the record company. We should talk in private." {Come on, let's save the competition for the stage, okay?}

The prince unfolded himself, towering over me. "Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops," he challenged.

Gabriel chimed in, "Pero, mana's right, Miguel." {But, sister is right, Miguel.}

Miguel looked ready to explode, but Gabriel's eyes held him in check.

"Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show, and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?" Gabriel said.

The prince leaned in, lips grazing my cheek. "Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. How about we give 'em a show they won't forget…later?"

I grinned, "Oui! A collaboration? Here… Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard…mais, pour vous. I want it back later." {Yes! A collaboration? Here…It doesn't break three duck legs (Idiom ~ It's nothing special) …but, for you. I want it back later.}

The lanky punk sauntered off, his studded boots leaving faint trails of glitter on the barroom floor. Miguel's scowl deepened as he watched him depart, fists clenched tightly.

"Is that your poetry notebook?" he growled, voice rumbling low.

"Yes, I traded it to the punk faerie for these tattoos, I smirked, revealing the vine-like scrawl of ink now adorning my flesh like raised scars from whipping brambles.

Miguel's face darkened further, storm clouds gathering at my words. "The one you never let anyone touch or read…"

His voice strangled to a whisper, and I could not parse the complex calculus of emotions flitting behind his eyes

Gabriel placed a calming hand on his brother's arm.

"Easy, hermano {brother}. He's not worth it," Gabriel said in a soothing tone.

"Be nice, Punk is a good guy. I like him," I countered softly, a warm glow blossomed within me as I realized my entire arm was now a crawling garden of sentences entirely in French.

Miguel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a heated retort, but Gabriel cut in, "Should we go look at the brackets to see who we're facing?"

"It looks like my entire arm is covered with quotes from The Little Prince, which happens to be my favorite book. It's actually quite a sweet gesture," I said softly, fingertips grazing the raised words like treasured runes.

With renewed curiosity, I examined the ink quote now etched on my skin: "Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l'oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire." {You are the master of your life and your emotions, never forget that. For better or worse.}

I didn't mention the lone scrawl that could have been a phone number hidden amidst the literary foliage now vining my limb. Miguel was in full-on Dad mode, and I didn't need to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I already know the competition for the quarterfinals, we don't need to waste our time. Come on, manos {used as slang for brother}, we're going to kick some ass!" I giggled brightly, elated at my new 'tattoos' scrawling up my arms. I didn't put my leather jacket back on, I didn't want to cover any of it up.

Miguel's glare never wavered, his eyes fixed on the far side of the bar where the prince had disappeared into the crowd. "Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita {little sister}, time for practice."

With a resigned sigh, I surrendered to my brothers' insistent tugs, allowing them to lead me from the Rusty Nail. But the punk prince's parting words still reverberated through my mind like the lingering notes of a siren song. Later, he had purred, that single hushed syllable seeming to contain all the intoxicating lure of a siren's call - equal parts velvet promise and brazen challenge, twined inextricably into an enchantment I could not resist. The whole damn bar was a sailor's nightmare.

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Artemy Burakh the Haruspex.

On this episode of “I am definitely not okay and dedicate my time to sillygoofy things” - we look at the Haruspex in the Bachelor's campaign. This alone took me a whole month, because there is a lot of funk happening in my life, so the Changeling will have to wait a little more. Anyway. Y’all maybe don’t know the drill quite yet, so let’s start at the beginning.

What is the Haruspex like in the English version? Well, discarding the “sweet but tired dad” persona that the entire fandom has assigned the poor guy, the impression I got while watching people playing through the game is that he is first and foremost a very impulsive person, and that, in a way, carries over to his speech. He’s also very cryptic to the other healers, in that ominous “you shouldn’t have done that” way. If I hadn’t read at least a bit of his dialogue lines for the previous analysis, I would have assumed that he’d be the one to use all those “rough” words every other sentence, since that’s how people from outside of the capital cities are usually portrayed. In the Bachelor’s campaign, he is almost like a goddamn cryptid, that tells you he doesn’t know what antibodies are and then presents you with a panacea on the very next day - he speaks very little and does not bother with niceties besides the honorary title. In the Changeling campaign, all those factors seem to be even more emphasised. Overall he acts even more distant, even more ominous and is even more threatening, since it’s seen through the eyes of a scared little girl (she’s also a miracle worker but we won’t talk about it now). Both of the campaigns are, of course, drastically different from what we have in the Haruspex campaign - which is where we get to see the whole “guided by the heart” thing in action. From the other two’s perspective, he is an ominous, potentially volatile, but still helpful figure. And his speech matches that exactly. So let’s get cracking.

As the Bachelor: the vibes are pretty consistent between the English and Russian version. The Haruspex is just as cryptic and curt in both of them, and doesn’t talk in the manner usually given to all these “rough and dangerous” types in Russian fiction. In all honesty, I think it’s the fact that his manner of speech is so simple and short that made translating it to English so much easier (or at least I think it was). Sadly, there is so little dialogue, that it also meant I barely get to talk about anything interesting, since what little there is to look at, is mostly accurate. But, when there ARE differences… Oh boy are those differences. So, you’ll see a little bit of other characters in this analysis as well because these interactions in the Bachelor campaign felt almost like an afterthought. Like, the writers knew how the wanted them to meet and part, so in the middle, they just used Burakh to be a tool for exposition, and not much else. Additionally, the “fairytale-like” way of speech that Artemy has in his own campaign seems to be gone here, and I can’t wait to see what happens to it with the Changeling. With all that being said, here is the more fun stuff: aka the snippets and screenshots! Once again, the chronological order is dubious at best, and most of this was written at two am in the morning, so I hope this isn’t completely insane.

Very interesting choices made in the translation here. First and foremost - instead of relying on his heart to guide him, the Haruspex specifically says that he is guided by “his love” which, depending on how consistent this change is, might strengthen the connection between several different themes. Now to the fun part - “it’s a shame we aren’t standing together.” I need you people to understand that I am trying to remain as impartial as possible when I write these, without inserting my own opinions of the story or anything. But, the much more word-for-word translation of that line would be “Pity, that we aren’t together.” And yes, people being “together” does also have the same connotation in Russian as it does in English. And while I understand that it’s mostly likely supposed to imply “allyship,” I think it could be worded a lot better, had the writers wanted to avoid misunderstandings.

Let’s focus on the last sentence here: in English, the Haruspex says he admires Rubin’s determination to help people. In the original version however, the sentence is “He deserves respect.” See, the interesting thing here is the difference between “I” and “everyone.” Where in the English version Burakh voices his personal approval of Rubin, in Russian it’s an unspecified, but general statement, which bears the implications that others should respect him as well. And while the difference itself isn’t too significant on its own, when paired with the fact that Rubin is someone who’s on the run from half of the town, it hits a bit different. 

Also, and I didn’t really know where to stick this, and maybe this could’ve waited until we actually got to Rubin as a character, but yeah. I wanted to point out specifically that the word “master” in Russian doesn’t have a dual meaning. Cuz, correct me if I’m wrong, in English this can both refer to a master of a certain activity (ie martial arts master) as well as a proprietor of something (ie master of the house). In Russian, however, the word “master” refers exclusively to a “master of their craft” type of people. A master of a property is referred to as an “owner”. The “Mistresses” in Pathologic are also referred to as “owners” (with a suffix that indicates female). This creates a bit of a confusion, because the word exists in both of the languages, but only shares some of the meanings. And uh… This is related to this quote because uh… Something-something recognition of expertise.

I’m personally a big fan of the themes of freedom, and how different people react to losing their freedom of choice, or dealing with the information that they were never free to choose to begin with. And that brings us to this little line, which I find particularly interesting. In the original Russian dialogue, Burakh says that he had already “lost” his freedom, in the way one loses something in a game. I feel this shines a different light on both how he eventually reacts to being told that he’s just a toy in a child’s game (he’s had to deal with disempowerment this whole time, it’s nothing new to him) but also with how he views his loss of freedom. Not something that some higher power has revoked from him, but rather something that he himselfs basically “gambled away.” In that sense, I can see the eventual reveal that everyone is simply a toy in a sandbox being a relief. In the way that it wasn’t his fault after all, that everything was predetermined, and that he couldn’t have carelessly lost something he didn’t have in the first place. Makes me wonder what the dialogue between these two would’ve been like if they’d met on the first day in this campaign.

I have a shamefully small amount of notes as I go through these, so I’m literally latching on to anything to talk about. I pointed out how dry and laconic the Haruspex is, but god DAMN if that doesn’t make for text that’s easy to translate - and that gives me less things to work with. For example this - a simple word difference in the last sentence that you couldn’t possibly translate properly without sounding illiterate. Because as it is - the translation is accurate in the last sentence. But that’s because “evil” in English is both a noun and an adjective. In Russian, however, the adjective for “evil” also makes for a synonym to “angry” and that doesn’t fit with the meaning conveyed here. Burakh calls Clara “evil itself” the embodiment of evil, all that shabang. It’s something that is recurrent in people talking about her, from what I’ve seen - people address her as a concept, and link her to more generalised ideas, rather than specific characteristics. Either way, it’s a fun thing to think about.

Hi, confused, I’m dad. I did a thing where I tried to read the English dialogue in its entirety first, because I wanted to avoid talking about information that was already accessible in English, and I remember being confused at this line, because… The cattle grounds were on the other side of the Gorkhon? Since when???? It didn’t make sense with the rest of the dialogue either, and the Russian version says “on this side of the Gorkhon” so… What gives? Assuming that the website is accurate (cuz if not, then I’d have to go and check in the actual game which would take hours to get to) does this then just mean it was a simple translation error? Or did the writers decide to change the lore as they were translating? It confuses me so much, because overall the game is well translated, so I don’t get how no one noticed that the meaning of the sentence becomes completely flipped here. Anyways, if you’re like me and that confused the hell out of you in English, just know that it makes sense in Russian and you can sleep soundly. Also, on the more chill note, there is no reference to a kraken in the Russian version, the deposits are compared to octopus tendrils.

I know this isn’t Bachelor time again, but I wanted to point out that there’s a switch back to the formal “you” here, and I feel like it throws a wrench into my previous theory. Or maybe it supports it. Let’s try to be objective here. The simplest explanation could be simply that this is a continuity break, that this was completely unintentional from the writers, and that I am trying to figure out why the curtains are blue in a situation where they are, indeed, just blue. But we like fun here, so let’s assume the curtains are blue for a reason. The real problem is whether this works with my previously established theory, or if it's for a completely different reason.

If we are going with the supposition that the Bachelor switches to formal “you” when he is uncomfortable (which some people found strange when I brought it up, but it’s a legit thing in Russian. Like, I do that sometimes when I want to place a little bit of professional distance between myself and whoever I’m speaking to, though sometimes the person might get upset if you do that) then one possible explanation would be that he is uncomfortable with the implications that this new knowledge has brought to light - a huge residential part of the town is sorta kinda maybe doomed. It could also be the overall dread of what the other piece of news would be.

On the opposing side of this argument is a somewhat mundane explanation that would bypass my theory completely. The idea that the switch to a more formal language was either an attempt to keep the conversation civil and “professional” at a spot where a conflict of interests could potentially emerge, or the possibility that it simply happened because sometimes a person doesn’t know where they stand, or what would be more appropriate in this situation, and opt for the safe formal version.

I do want to apologise, in case y’all don’t wanna hear these hypotheses of mine, I just thought it would be unfair to pretend like my explanations are the only ones out there, so yeah.

Welcome back to “mom pick me up, the translations are being weird again” this time - "my confidants are alive. Are you sure they’re alive? I see no problems." Perfect, flawless logic, I love. And while I understand that the original Russian version uses a very “ye olde” version of “if,” I still assume that the translating team spoke Russian and understood the meaning of the sentence. For context - the modern version of “if” in Russian is “если” (yesli). However, in this line, the Haruspex uses an older word “коль” (kol’), which implies a condition, or an “if” scenario. But the word itself isn’t extinct, people still understand what it implies, the same way native English speakers would know that “thou” means “you.” Like, I can’t imagine how the meaning got flipped in here, it just confuses me. Either way, the “I see no problems with that” is also kinda wonky, because it makes it sound like Burakh has no problem with the “my bound are alive - so I’ll be at the meeting” logic. In Russian, he specifically says “-I’ll come. I see no obstacles.” As in - there is nothing to stop me from doing so. Anyway, translation wonky, let’s see how the rest of it goes.

Now that’s an interesting difference. And a morbid one at that. This is the line where the Haruspex talks about his bound “rebuilding the settlement and turning their lives to become the angels of its foundation.” Which I interpreted more in the sense of - becoming the highly revered figures of the town, with lots of authority and responsibility - like angels. And I’m curious to see how y’all interpreted this, because I did not anticipate the Russian version in the slightest. And it’s this: “... my bound, that are destined to bring this town back to life and lay down their lives under its new cornerstones.” For one, I find it curious that both in English and Russian there is such a similar turn of phrase - because “lay down their lives” could have been translated almost word for word. But also… I am so confused. Is the sacrifice in this sense a literal one? Or does he simply mean a dedication to the town so strong that it could count as giving up one’s life? Either way, this is definitely a curious difference in translation, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

The interesting thing is… For the most part the “Are you aware that we turned out to be toys” dialogue starts the same in both the Haruspex and the Bachelor runs, only diverging in a few character-specific moments. This is one of them and… I don’t even know where to begin with this bit of dialogue, and not because it’s bad. I think it’s translated well, but there are about a hundred tiny little differences that change the vibe a little to the left, make some phrases more bitter and others more candid. For one the whole “take a closer look” in Russian is a direct invitation to compare the two healers, not an implied one. Secondly, instead of not being “a toy to keep” Burakh says that he (in a literal translation) “isn’t to be pitied.” But because Russian is a funky language, what this phrase actually means is - he doesn’t see himself as worth being concerned over, someone who, if sacrificed or given up, wouldn’t be seen as that big of a loss by others. Someone who others would readily discard, without feeling guilt, pity or sorrow. And I have big feelings about that. Additionally, the line about the Bachelor being “an entirely different thing” is kinda funny to me, because it’s a pretty long sentence in English, but in Russian it’s just… Four words, two of which are only two letters long. It definitely carries a different vibe, simply because of how laconic it is, it comes across as much more of an exclamation. In the closest to a literal translation while still remaining coherent, he says “You’re a different case!” which in turn conveys the vibe of “But look at you!” and while I think the translation does a great job at communicating both of them, they also lose the abruptness of the exclamation, which I think adds to the line.

Still not Bachelor hours anymore, but I wanted to point out that the “You’re having fun… Somehow I fail to join in” is a line that sounds sombre and distant, but the Russian version is “You’re laughing… But I don’t find this funny at all” and it has the wording of a child entering their “sulking mode” because someone made a lighthearted joke that they don’t get. Ok, maybe not that extreme, but there’s definitely a lot of bitterness to it, because the idea of being dolls clearly affects the Bachelor very heavily, and then he sees the Haruspex just being like “yeah we might be dolls. So what? You only care cuz you’re made of better materials anyway, lol.” And I imagine that’s pretty hurtful.

Reading this in English, I could practically feel the “there was supposed to be an idiom here, but it’s one of the ridiculous ones, so we had to translate the meaning instead” coming from this line - particularly the “not a single weak spot anywhere” part. And sure enough, the original Russian version says “...everything was done cleanly - a mosquito won’t sharpen its nose” (the nose, obviously being the proboscis). And while I am a big fan of Russian idioms, and was a proud owner of not one, not two, but three books on them as a kid, I’ve never actually heard of this one. The phrase itself means a job perfectly and flawlessly done, to the point where it can’t be improved upon. The leading interpretation to its origin is the idea that a mosquito’s proboscis is a perfect tool for its purpose - long enough to reach blood and thin enough that a person usually doesn’t even feel a mosquito bite until it’s too late. A mosquito’s “nose” could not be any thinner or sharper - therefore a mosquito won’t sharpen its nose.

God, how is it that in the series of dialogues that are the most dry and direct, in the few places where discrepancies are present, the discrepancies are the most confounding and meaning-altering ones? This is still from the dialogue in which the Haruspex and the Bachelor discuss Aglaya on the final day, and the choices in the translation are kind of confusing to me. The original line is “As far as I understand, in the orders given to her, the Powers That Be have concealed (or kept from her) the fact that they want to save the town specifically alongside the Polyhedron.” And while you can still get that implication from the surrounding dialogue, with the whole talk of “she would’ve caught on to the scent of foul play,” it’s still weird that this line was translated so differently. Because as it is, it creates the feeling that it was more of a “technicality” scenario. You know the trope: “I never said anything about so and so, therefore this little inconsistency is going to screw you over, should’ve read the fine print” etc. Almost gives this dialogue a sense of snark, while it’s the exact opposite. The English version weighs in more on the Powers That Be being cold and inconsiderate, while the Russian version is specifically aimed towards emphasising the idea that Aglaya is not to blame. You know. What this whole dialogue is about - Burakh “painting Aglaya as the victim.”

And that’s about all I’ve got for the Haruspex from the Bachelor’s point of view. There are a few things here that shine a new light on some of the themes, or specifically the relationship between Burakh and his sense of fate and control. The overall theme that there is always something higher up that is either in charge or to blame for the things happening, and that Artemy usually takes on as much responsibility as possible because there are only a few things that are truly up to him. Like, that’s why he doesn’t blame Aglaya for her spite or deception, and why he isn’t hostile to the Bachelor in this run - he sees both of them become disillusioned and spiteful, when they find out that all the decisions have been made for them. But as someone who’s never felt much freedom, from responsibilities and choices made and imposed on him by his father, to him being able to see the Lines and where they lead, he’s had to learn to be grateful and accepting of the little choices that he is allowed to make.

And while these closing remarks aren’t exactly exclusive to the Russian version, it just makes me understand the Haruspex ending better. Like, it took me a while to figure out why he’s the character who’s seen as the one “capable of being actually free” or whatever it is that the devs say to Clara (you). It’s because everyone else who is aware of their nature (except Clara, maybe, I’m not sure yet) is someone to whom this is a disheartening and devastating revelation - they become blinded with this knowledge and end up “acting out” exactly the way they were supposed to. Aglaya doesn’t manage to disobey or defy the Powers That Be, nor does Daniil. Yulia too - though she doesn’t know this is all a children’s game, her theory about the “tripwires of fate” is what ultimately traps her in the path chosen for her. The Haruspex on the other hand, not only had to grow up with the idea that he’s fated to become the Warden - serving the purpose of the Kin, but quite literally could see the way things are predetermined. The fact that they’re all dolls, to him, is just a different way of seeing the Lines. So it makes sense that the best ending in the Haruspex run isn't the Termite ending, but the ending of any of the other healers - because then he actually makes a choice. Exercises the little bit of freedom that he has. It's a very interesting progression, where as the Bachelor you , the player, can claim responsibility for his choices, as the Haruspex you can make a choice despite the game's predetermined nature, and then as Clara you get to do both. Throughout these campaigns, you are gradually gaining freedom from the constrictions of the game.

Either way, who knows how long it will be until Clara's point of view on the Haruspex, I certainly don't. But if there is any feedback or stuff, I'm always open to hearing it.

[author-a-holmes]

Find The Word Tag Game

Thank you @charlesjosephwrites for the Tag. My words are: Spread, Skip, Poor, Rush, and Dive.

Tagging forward, with no pressure to; @blind-the-winds, @duckingwriting, @oh-no-another-idea, @faelanvance, @elliottsbigstrongboyarms, @authoralexharvey, @sleepyowlwrites and @kaiusvnoir but also please consider this an open tag.

YOUR Words are; Purple (or another colour), Four, Wind, and Dog/Wolf

Tagging the Taglists;

@faelanvance @noirepersonal @queen-kass-the-writer @athenswrites @thelaughingstag @minamoroz @bardic-tales @outpost51 @talesfromaurea @ettawritesnstudies

Spread

"Oh come on, Booker! Be realistic!" Lizzy finally snapped, interrupting his recitation of the Fey laws. "You know they wouldn't bother for me, I'm not exactly fey material! Just look at me!"

She spread her arms wide, challenging him to do exactly that, but Booker refused to shift his green eyes from her determined gaze.

Skip

It had taken sixteen days, and who knew how many wasted hours, before Lizzy finally gave in to Booker's complaints. He'd spent the previous two weeks doing little else. Splitting his time between flirting with anyone who wasn't part of Mia's crowd of tagalongs, and whining to her or Cara about Speculo, and how he'd already graduated from Arbaon Academy.

When he'd spent an entire history class connected to her mind, begging and pleading to skip Andric's repetitive lesson on running in circles in favour of doing something else, anything else, Lizzy had finally agreed, slipping off to the library when Cara left them to head to her advanced kavian hunter classes.

Poor

Lizzy watched her friend introduce himself, his features curling into a slow smile, and she smothered a sigh. His next trick would be to hold out his hand, and when the poor unsuspecting victim of his flirting accepted, he'd plant a delicate kiss on it.

Before he could make good on the well-practised move, Lizzy kicked his ankle beneath the table.

Rush

The portal they had arrived through seemed to be acting as a sort of central point to the town, and Lizzy felt a rush of relief that they had arrived in the middle of the night. While humans couldn't perceive fey magic, a couple of teens crawling across the grass in open panic might have raised a few eyebrows.

Dive

Lizzy shivered at the thought of being known on such a level, but shook her head.

"That would take a deep-dive," she explained, continuing when Cara frowned. "Telepathy is only a light connection, just brushing the surface. Communicating thoughts and ideas active in your head in that moment. To know the inner parts of someone, we would have to do what's called a deep-dive. It looks at memories, emotions, the core of what drives and motivates a person. If you stay too long in a deep-dive it can form a permanent connection, but a telepathy master can unravel the bond. Deep-dives are how the Court questions criminals."

And it might be what she and Booker would face on their return to Arbaon, Lizzy didn't add. But she'd decided months ago that enduring a deep-dive would be worth it if she could find answers about her mum.

[catsafarithewriter]

Cliche trope but Baron/Haru fake dating that went to full love confession?? 😅. Or Muta and Toto betting on whom among Baron and Haru will admit their feelings first 😅 sorry for the overtly used trope

A/N: With tropes like these, there's a reason they're so popular! One fake dating coming right up!

(And if you want more, I have a fake marriage au, Marry Me Twice on AO3, and a half-finished series of fake dating/marriage snippets on tumblr!)

x

At this point. Haru decided, she really shouldn't be surprised anymore when Baron got himself into these sorts of situations.

After all, she tried to remind herself, even she hadn't been immune to his charms upon their first meeting, and in the many years since he hadn't toned down his charisma one iota. He simply had a natural pizazz to him, a flair that drew and kept the eye. It was just a nuisance that he was oblivious to his effect until it was too late.

Still, one would think he would learn after the sixth accidental engagement.

"We've got a plan to get him out, right?" Haru deadpanned to the remaining (thankfully unengaged) members of the Bureau. "We're not just gonna sit back and watch him be married off to the faerie queen, right?"

Muta snorted. "I say we leave him there as a distraction while we get on with the case."

"Or Muta and I can do that, while you recover him," Toto said. "The changeling child should be around here somewhere. Just remember - fae can tell if you're lying."

Haru regarded the swirling ballroom before her. It wasn't built of brick and mortar, but of living trees and vines. The canopy knotted so thickly overhead that the only light to be found was in the glow of the mushrooms, bioluminescent fungi clinging to the trunks that served in place of pillars. Its occupants only had the barest resemblance to humanity - all feathers and antlers and fur - that left her the stark outlier. "If they turn me into a frog for my impertinence, you'll save me, right?"

"We'll make yer a pond with only the finest lily pads."

"Fantastic." Taking that as the best reassurance she was going to get, Haru waded into the sea of twirling gowns and gilded waistcoats. She worried that she would have to elbow her way through, but the dancers parted, if only as far as her next step so that she felt like a shark ineffectively swimming through a shoal of fish. Only sharks probably didn't feel like they were next on the menu.

At the far end of the ballroom was a bower. And in the bower was the faerie queen - and Baron.

Haru bowed. "Your Majesty, I thank you for your hospitality in welcoming us here, but I am afraid to say it is time we took our leave." That was probably fine, wasn't it? Not too formal? Not formal enough? Should she have broken out the 'thee's and 'thou's?

"Then I bid you farewell."

Haru waited. When she didn't hear Baron make a move, she cautiously glanced up. She immediately saw the reason for Baron's inaction; the faerie queen's hand is still rested on his. It was gentle, but deliberately possessive.

"I plan to leave with all of my friends, your Majesty."

The faerie queen smiled. "I'm afraid the Baron has decided to stay."

Haru glanced to Baron and raised an eyebrow. "Has he now?" She knew him well enough to read the apology in the quirk of his lips, and the belated realisation that he might have messed up in the flicker of an eye. She raised her other eyebrow in reply.

"Indeed," the faerie queen said. "After all, he has been such a gentleman, so charming and attentive, that his true intentions could scarcely have been mistaken for anything other than an affair of the heart."

"You think he's in love with you?"

"And why wouldn't he be?" the queen asked. "Have you seen any as beautiful as I?"

The fact that the faerie queen was indeed mesmerisingly stunning - despite, or perhaps because of the feline glint of her eyes or the vines that grew in and along her skin - was immaterial. Haru couldn't do anything but agree when the person in question could curse her with less than a thought.

Haru bowed again. "None are your equal, I'm sure, but that was never in doubt. I only ask because Baron is a gentleman at heart, and prone to being charming and attentive to all. Regardless of intent." Or awareness.

"And how, pray tell, are you so sure of his intent?"

"I know because," and a dozen lies paraded through Haru's mind; she grabbed one at random before her hesitation would betray the deception, "he's already in love with someone."

"And whom may that be?"

Without a shadow of a doubt, Haru knew that she would have to supply any mystery suitor she named. She offered what she hoped Baron knew to be an apologetic, I'm-only-doing-this-to-save-your-skin smile. "Me. He's in love with me, your Majesty."

The music never stopped, the ballroom conversations never quietened, but the silence in the bower was deafening. What was it Toto had said earlier? Fae can tell if you're lying? Well, it was too late for that now. Haru waited for the faerie queen to call her out on her deception, but she only tilted her head, like a dog catching an intriguing scent.

"Is this true?" the faerie queen asked Baron.

Baron looked to Haru.

Haru looked back.

Lie, dammit.

"Yes," he said. He started to say something anew, floundered, and tried again. "Although I have attempted to keep such feelings within, my heart belongs wholly to Miss Haru. It has for some time now."

Haru's traitorous heart skipped a few beats, as though this wasn't a ruse she herself had started. She blinked, and managed to refocus on the queen. "So you see, your Majesty, you can hardly marry Baron when he loves another."

"Indeed."

"So with that, we should take our leave-"

Haru's hand caught Baron's and started to lead him from the bower, only for the faerie queen to suddenly stand. Baron and Haru both halted in instinctive self-preservation.

"Wait."

The faerie queen descended from the bower, an uncanny grace to her movements. It was like watching a panther, just before it pounced.

"But how can you talk of leaving after such a heartfelt confession?" she asked. "Surely, on a night like tonight when the music compels you, two lovebirds such as yourselves cannot pass up the opportunity to dance. At least," she added with another glimmer of her feline eyes, "any true couple wouldn't."

Haru felt her smile thin. She bowed, hoping it would hide the waning enthusiasm. "Your Majesty is always correct. If you would be so kind, I have a song request for your musicians, should they know it."

"Our musicians are well acquainted with much of your mortal music. Go ahead."

Haru rose from her bow and, after conferring quickly with the musicians in question, swept with Baron down to the heart of the ballroom.

"Katzen Blut?" Baron asked as the first few notes started up. "It has been a long time since I've heard this."

"It's the only song we've ever danced to. I thought it might give us a fighting chance of actually pulling this off." When Baron still seemed a little too nonplussed by the situation to respond, Haru placed his hand against her waist, ensuring they at least looked the part. "Sorry. I panicked, and that was the first excuse that came to mind."

"It was quick thinking on your part. Just... unexpected."

As the music rolled into a swing, the two of them started into a familiar waltz. Doing her best to ignore certain realities, like the fact that Baron was so close, close enough to kiss, Haru focused on easier topics. "So. What is this, the sixth time you've ended up accidentally winning someone's heart? This is getting to become a habit, Baron."

Baron had the decency to look suitably sheepish. "I thought I was merely offering her Majesty the respect befitting one of her station. If I had known it would be misinterpreted as such, I would have..."

Haru waited, and nearly flattened several of his toes when she misjudged a step. "You would have...? Go on. What would you have done differently?"

"I might have gone easier on the purple prose of her beauty."

"Gee, you think?"

"Perhaps pare down on the extravagant bow."

"Another good option."

"But, in my defence, I was left in charge of distracting her while yourself and the others located the missing changeling child."

"We asked you to distract her, not marry her."

"I haven't married her."

"Not yet. If we'd given it another half hour though..."

"Yes, you've made your point quite clear."

Their dancing neighbours glanced sidelong at them, ears perked at Baron's curt voice, and Baron swung Haru out into a twirl to deter any eavesdroppers. It would have been a far more impressive move had Haru been wearing a dress but, as things stood, the best she got was the sweep of her coat hem.

She swung back into Baron's arms, closer than before. "How exactly did you try to tell her Majesty that you weren't interested, anyway?"

"It's... complicated."

"What, you mean there wasn't a nearby rooftop to jump off after telling her you admire a woman who speaks from the heart?"

"Haru..."

"All I'm saying is, that worked great on me." Well, mostly. The fact that Haru had gone on with her life, then fallen back in with the Bureau, and then fallen for Baron again was neither here nor there. The important thing was that it had successfully snapped her out of her schoolgirl crush - just long enough for her to think things through and then develop one-sided pining later in life.

"It is... surprisingly difficult to refute a fae's attentions without causing insult."

"And anything too subtle goes right over their heads," Haru finished.

"As you discovered. If I had known that all I needed to do was confess love for another..."

Haru snorted. "We both know that was one hell of a risk. I don't even know how we managed to sell that lie, given everything we've been warned about the fae."

Baron was studiously not looking at her. "Indeed."

"I mean, I don't know what even possessed me to say that. Realistically, I should have been cursed into a frog, or something, for trying a lie like that, I don't..."

The penny dropped.

"Wait, Baron-"

"Change partners!" Baron cried, and twirled her into the arms of a fae with antlers and canines.

"Oh no you don't." Haru spun away from her current dance partner and, as best she could in time with the music, whirled from one whistle-stop faerie to the next. Baron might have had Creation grace and years of dance practice, but Haru had five years' worth of stubborn pining pushing her on.

Eventually, she landed back in Baron's arms.

"You don't just get to waltz away like that when I'm having a revelation," she scolded. "Faeries can sense lies, right? And you'd think the queen of faeries would have an extra-sensative bullshit-detector, right?"

"Not quite how I'd put it, but-"

"Not the priority right now. So, with that in mind, how the hell did I manage to convince her that you were in love with me?"

"You are a remarkable young woman, Haru, perhaps-"

"Perhaps, unknown to me, I wasn't lying."

"Haru-"

"Are you in love with me?"

"I... admire you-"

"Do not. I'm not a schoolkid anymore, Baron; I can handle a rejection just fine. Are you in love with me?"

Baron opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried several more times to no effect.

Haru groaned. "One of these days, we'll actually get to finish this dance," she muttered and, dropping her hands away from Baron, stormed back towards the bower.

"Enjoying your dance-"

"When Baron said he was in love with me, was he telling the truth?"

The faerie queen faltered. There had been the briefest flicker of rage at Haru's impertinence at interrupting her, but now it was swept away by a knowing smile. Suddenly, Haru knew why her halfway deceit had been allowed to go on; this was all entertainment to the queen and her kind.

"Yes." the queen replied.

"What the hell?" Haru turned, seeing Baron wading free from the dancing crowd, and repeated for good measure, "What the hell, Baron?!"

"I cannot help how I feel, Haru, but I thought that, if I kept it to myself-"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... didn't want to make things awkward between us," he said. "You are my good friend, Haru, and I never wanted to lose that. If it meant I had to push away such feelings to keep your companionship, then so be it-"

"I've been in love with you for years, you idiot."

Baron's mouth snapped shut. He blinked. "Oh. You are?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Some kind of nervous, almost hysterical laughter bubbled through Haru, and she pushed it back with some herculean restraint. "Because, Baron. Because you're kind and determined and I love spending time with you. Because the heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes what it wants is an emotionally constipated cat figurine who has now been accidentally engaged six times."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. I can't believe I've been pining after you, thinking, 'oh there's no way he feels the same way,' all this time, just to..."

Baron stepped up to her and she let him take her hands in his. "Why wouldn't I fall for you?" he asked softly. "How could I not, when you are the bravest, most compassionate, stubbornest woman I have ever met?"

Haru sniffled, and she only realised then that she was dangerously on the verge of tears. "Not many people would woo someone by calling them stubborn, you know."

"It's one of my favourite things about you. You don't give up, Haru, even when the rest of the world wants you to. You'll stand up against a Cat King, against pirates, against monsters." He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed away the beginning of a tear. "You'll stand up against a faerie queen to save those you love."

Haru grinned, began to offer up a retort, and then remembered the audience they had. One glance confirmed that the faerie queen was sat, quite happily, and looking like all she was missing was a bag of popcorn.

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss," she offered helpfully.

Haru looked back to Baron, blushing. Only her familiarity with him betrayed the mirror blush beneath his fur. She leant in. "Well," she said. "If a queen expects it..."

There came a heartstopping crack, like the snap of a bone or a sharp clap of thunder, and a tree crashed across the ballroom. The music juddered to a halt. All conversation ceased. And in the ringing silence...

"Move, move, move!" Muta and Toto came thundering through the gap the felled tree had left. Muta had a swaddled baby cradled in his arms. "Baron, Chicky, we've got what we came for. Time to go!"

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

I am back with the changeling-psy AUs!

If you don’t know the Psy-Changeling series by Nalini Singh, I highly recommend it. For those of you who don’t know it, I’ll add some basic information below ;)

The Psy are a race with various psychic abilities, such as telepathy and telekinesis. To control their psychic ability the Psy have conditioned all emotions out of themselves, this conditioning programme is known as Silence. Silence means that the Psy have a very low crime rate, but it also means that they do not know love or friendship.

Arrows are a secret and elite Psy squad whose original protocol was to protect Silence.

Changelings are able to change into a specific animal. There are predatory and non-predatory Changelings, depending on what animal they can shift into. 

***

Arondir had been an Arrow for a long time. The Psy race hadn’t had many qualms about using kids with impressive powers as soldiers before, and Arondir has a very rare ability.

He’d gone on his first mission by the time he was 12.

Despite Silence and whatever some others might think, Arondir was conscious enough to know it wasn’t right. The way he’d been raised and ‘educated’ wasn’t how a child should be cared for. Not only for him, but for all the other children meant to be Arrows as well.

There was some great progress taking place now. Councilwoman Galadriel was actually trustworthy and she seemed to care.

Silence was falling apart.

Arondir shouldn’t be. He was strong, he was well trained and he knew that he needed Silence. He’d made the choice to remain Silent, even as many of his brothers and sisters chose to leave it behind.

He meant to stay Silent.

Until she entered the room.

Arondir couldn’t claim to never have felt emotion before. He’d felt a cold rage towards the higher ups that abused Arrows. However, he’d never felt an emotion that made him feel warm.

Not until his eyes found Alpha Sansa Stark.

Looking at her it was looking at the sun for some reason; she was light in the same way he felt like darkness very often. She was vibrant, full of life.

He couldn’t stop looking, even though he knew he should.

And then she’d talked to him and he’d wanted to hear more from her.

“I feel like we keep meeting, Arrow.”

“Arondir.”

She smirked at him. “I remember.”

“I sought you out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That’s… Very direct of you.” She tilted her head sideways. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I don’t know why I did it.” He admitted.

She remained quiet for a moment, then smirked again. “I’ll be very interested in the answer when you figure it out.”

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Breeding 4A: It's been a week since Jaerik was brought into the fold. The thing is, ever since her initiation, Nadur hasn't stopped plowing her. This particular morning finds the two going at it in the bathhouse like two Lagomore's in heat.

Breeding: 4A

“I thought~ we came here~ to get clean~”

Jaerik panted, the words falling in a desperate moan from her lips as her body arched and pressed against the smooth glass of the bathhouse window. Her palms dragged across its steam-clouded surface, pressing against it for some stability as she was rocked forward over and over again by the steady thrusts from behind.

The half-orc behind her chuckled low, his lips brushing against one of the long, sensitive points of her elven ears. “Are you saying you want me to stop~?” Nadûr asked in a teasing tone, though he made no motion to do so—in fact, his hips smacked harder against his newest mate’s ass, filling the private shower with even louder claps of flesh on flesh.

“Oh, fuck no~!” Jaerik immediately exclaimed—and after groaning out in pleasure as she felt his cock scrape hard against her cervix with his last thrust, she tilted her head back with a teasing smirk of her own, eyes half-lidded with lust. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to lie to me to get what you want~”

The half-orc chuckled at her reply, and a low growl left him as he felt her hips rock back suddenly—the thick thighs swaying side to side as she rolled her hips back against him. Growling, he gripped her hips roughly and drilled forward harder, snatching her ear between his teeth and snarling low. “But this is more fun~ isn’t it, my dumb slut~?”

And Jaerik, who couldn’t help but moan at his rough attention, stiffly nodded in reply, moaning sharper as she crashed over yet another mind-numbing release.

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Sinful 1C: Wes and Jaerik just can't stop going at it. Even if they're in the middle of a vampire den. Once the need arises, the armor is coming off!

Sinful: 1C

Was this stupid? Of course—the monsters they were hunting down had incredible senses and could definitely hear every sound they made, every gasp they took. And considering how deadly the vampires were, it was probably smarter to deal with them before they got lost in their personal affairs.

Did the threat of danger make it hotter, though? Oh, absolutely.

“Harder~ oh fuck, harder, Wes~” the lavender-haired Changeling moaned out, gasping desperately as she pressed herself up against the cool stone wall. She pressed her cheek against the surface, tilting her head back to stare at her tall, hulking stud of a companion, moaning as she felt his hips smack hard against her ass. “Harder~! Oh gods, make me cum so hard I faint~!”

The towering leonin chuckled at her desperate pleas and slammed his hips harder into the fat plump ass before him, just as she’d asked. “If I do that, you’ll be utterly useless for the rest of the quest~” he snarled into her ear, a large clawed hand wrapping around her neck and lightly choking her as he bucked harder. “Making me do all the work again~?”

Jaerik gasped, moaning out as he began to choke her—her folds gripping his large cock even tighter in response. She then smirked at him and winked, gyrating her hips back into him once more. “Is it~ ah~! working~?”

The lion man snarled again, and he grinned down at her. “You slutty bitch~” he growled, and his grip around her neck tightened as well as his hips smacked even louder against her ass, a growing roar building in his chest as he brutally and ruthlessly fucked his dumb bimbo of a companion harder and harder, coaxing a lewd scream to rise from her lips.

Neither of them noticed the figure watching them at the other end of the hall, fangs biting her lip as her hand slipped down into her robes.