#I've returned for a bit

[superfruitland]

i see your joel arts and i come to ask for more joel......... you draw him so shaped.....

shoutout to me rewatching empires that reminded me of this ask from months ago

[where-is-the-sam-standee]

The Sam standee is on the Obra Dinn from Return of the Obra Dinn!

[morrriigan]

beautiful games i've played ➤ final fantasy x

"Die and be free of pain, or live and fight your sorrow! Now is the time to shape your stories! Your fate is in your hands!"

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

losers /aff

og traditional drawing under cut:

[hakusins]

♡ PC Update ♡

Eri the Orphan -> Eri the Veil

In most common mythology/folklore, 'the veil' is often used in reference to the existence of a 'border' between two realities, one of the world of man and the other of the world of those beyond our comprehension. It is not exclusively meant to define a 'border' between worlds, but often the veil refers to the act of also obscuring things from other's gazes.

Auriga, the Dark Elk, the Violet Void - is the taint that threatens to corrupt and destroy the world as we know it. The source of all the depravity of the world and the main culprit to why the Town is the way it is. All that is natural is twisted into a perverted comedy all for the amusement of one cruel entity, and as of late - it threatens to come back into the World from whatever void it has been banished to. The cult of the 'Children of Auriga' has made it their life's mission to gnaw at the locks that keeps Auriga from coming back into their World to cause havoc. But how could they do so, when the 'veil' to Auriga is nowhere to be found?

That is because the 'veil' or also known as the 'gateway' is not a physical border that one can cross, but rather exists as a person. The person of interest that seems to have captivated everyone of the Town. The tether - the bridge for Auriga to find their way back into this world, through the body of one young woman whose dealt the worst hand by the fates. Eri, the Veil of Auriga. The Seed of Ruin. Auriga's Future Vessel.

Edit: ALMOST FORGOT!! big thanks to my good friend Lee for picking out Eri's new title!!!!

[serpentface]

Pylidaigh

(A story to teach children about winter safety.)

Thirty years ago was the worst winter in living memory. Even in the lowlands the rains came only as blizzards and pelting sleet, and in the mountains the snow was so deep it almost came up to your knees, and the cold was so bitter that you could feel the blood freezing in your cheeks. The winter barley was dead before it could be born, and cattle and horses starved and perished in huddled, shivering masses. Many people died that year.

I speak now of one of them. He was a stubborn old man, still quite fit in body and defiant to the point of foolishness, and so he had deigned to travel even in these conditions. Only a short distance, mind you, a path between two villages that would be a breezy two hour's walk in good weather. But this was not good weather. The journey had taken up most of the daylight hours, and there was still a good ways to go. The sun was setting red across the low plains far to the west, and a mass of dark cloud loomed in the east. The old man was growing very, very tired.

He passed into a thick copse of pines where the snow was shallow, and he considered stopping to rest until morning. It would be a miserable night, to be sure, but he could tough it out. He had the warmest of woolen coats, and there was plenty of fuel about for a fire and good shelter if the weather turned. But now, in the distance of the valley beneath him, he could see the lights of his village. He was so close! He would just have to trudge his way down a little longer, and then he would be bundled in blankets in front of a warm hearth with some hot mead, and this sorry excursion would be no more than a bad memory. A little snow couldn't defeat him.

So he set out with renewed vigor, leaving the trees behind him. The eastern wind whistled past his ears, picking up now, and a crow flew right in front of his face and lit itself on a lone pine. It cawed three times in warning. He cursed at it.

And soon the wind had turned into a gale, and it carried with it a terrible storm. The snow fell again, heavy and wet, and the lights of the village were lost to him. And the wind only blew harder, and the blizzard became so thick he could barely see the hand on his outstretched arm. His clothes were becoming soaked down to his very skin, and he shivered ceaselessly. There was great fear in his heart now, for he could grudgingly acknowledge that he had made a terrible error. But there was still hope. If he could just keep moving downhill!

But his fate was decided, for the cold madness began to take him. Even as he trembled, the old man felt as if his flesh was burning. He took off his hat, then his coat, and then his tunic. He took his boots off, then his pants, until he was walking through the blizzard naked as the day he was born. He felt none of the cold though, only a terrible, bone-deep weariness. He lay down in the snowdrifts and curled up into a ball. The old man died where he laid.

The blizzard raged on for two bitter days and nights. When it was over, the bad weather broke and the day became was sunny and mild. But the reprieve came too late. The old man’s corpse was completely covered beneath the snow. His very soul had frozen over.

Those in the village below had been looking for his return on the night he died, and by now were quite certain of his fate. His family wept and mourned for the beloved old fool, but none dared to go look for his body, for this had its own dangers.

"We will search for him as soon as we can, but not yet," the old man's son said. "If he froze to death in that storm (and he certainly did), waiting a little longer won't make any difference. We will find him when the snow has melted."

But the dead man's grandson had inherited some of his grandfather's obstinate bravery, and was having none of this cowardly talk. The day was beautiful and clear, and so fair that he could have gone out bare-chested with little discomfort. This was hardly the kind of weather in which one was met with an icy death, or any of the worse things that a bad winter can bring. So he set out, in secret, along the path to the upper village.

The youth did not have to travel very long before he found signs of his elder. There was a hat blown up against a shriveled old oak, and a boot stuck out from a snowdrift. But there was no sign of the old man himself. The boy had already stepped right through the place where the man had lain dead, but he noticed nothing. There was nothing for him to notice. The body was gone.

He kept on walking and looking for signs. And as he traveled, he started to hear something. It was the sound of footsteps, crunch, crunch, crunch. And the sound of something dragging over the snow, sssssss. The youth saw nothing when he looked around, but the sounds continued, growing closer and closer. He grew more fearful, but he could make out no movement against the white snow until the footsteps were almost upon him.

There stood his grandfather, but not as he knew him. His naked flesh was so pale he could barely be seen against the snow. He was little more than skin and bone, looking more like a skeleton than a man. His arms were longer than he was tall, and they dragged behind him as he walked, quickly now, crunch, crunch, crunch, ssssssssss.

The youth started to run, and the pylidaigh ran after him, crunchcrunchcrunchcrunch sssssssssssssss. He was a strong and athletic young man, so he began to gain a lead. But then the hissing stopped. The next thing the boy felt was cold hands wrapping around his chest. The pylidaigh had grabbed him, and it reeled him in with its terrible arms. It was much stronger than the boy, and he was pulled helplessly against the ghost’s freezing, shivering chest.

A pylidaigh is not a truly evil spirit, you see. There is little malice within it. There is little in it whatsoever, save for the endless, horrible cold, and dim memories of what it was to be alive. It remembers what it was like to feel the sun on its skin, hot tea in its stomach, the warm touch of a hand. A pylidaigh can never feel this warmth again, and yet is consumed with a terrible desire for it.

So it held its grandson close, but it wasn’t enough. The heat from the youth's body could not warm its frozen skin. It had to have more.

It pulled him in tighter and tighter, so tight that the boy's bones started to crack and his tongue squeezed out, and it still wasn’t enough. It had to have more.

So it sunk its teeth into its grandson’s neck and ripped out his throat. The hot blood sprayed out, all over the pylidaigh’s skin and the snow around it, and it still wasn’t enough. It had to have more.

So it sucked out all of the blood, until the boy was almost as pale and shriveled as the pylidaigh. And when that wasn’t enough, it bent down, frenzied, and slurped up the rest of the spilled blood from the corpse, and from its own frozen skin, and from all the snow around it.

The pylidaigh was swollen up like a tick now, but not even a man’s entire lifeblood could warm its frozen body. It had to have more. So it left what was once its grandson dead in the snow, and wandered towards the fires of the village.

It arrived in the cover of darkness. The people heard it before they saw it. First, a brave dog barking, then a long, terrible silence. Then a sound outside- crunch, crunch, crunch, ssssssss. It approached each and every hut, seeing the lights of warm hearths within. But it could not gain entry. The villagers had wisely cleared away the snow from their doors and windows, for winter spirits cannot cross over the bare earth. All the same, it scratched at the doorways and reached through open windows from a distance, its arms searching blindly through the air for anything that breathed and bled. Old men and small children alike huddled in far corners, and wept at the sight of its empty white face and black eyes.

The night passed in horror, but the ghost was gone by the morning light. The next day was even warmer and sunnier than the day before. A few days later, the snow had melted until only little patches remained, and so a search went out for the remains of both the old man and the young boy. But there was nothing to be found, not even of the poor boy, for he had frozen beyond help too. The two ghosts had fled high into the mountain, where the snow still lay in thick sheets, and where they could wait in hidden, icy grottoes through the summer's heat.

Neither has been seen again by any who lived to tell of it, but they are not gone. In winters when the snow falls thick and lasts long, pylidaigh come back down the hills. The wise do not wander needlessly, stay inside at night, and keep their doorways clear of snow. But on nights when the snow falls heavy, you may hear them outside. A scratching at the door, the chattering of teeth, slow footsteps, crunch, crunch, crunch, and a dragging hiss, ssssssssss.

[cook-a-little-chicken]

Sorry About My Nan

That was an intense longform. And I have some thoughts:

Firstly, umm... can they not carry chairs normally? Both of them dragging it slowly like that made me laugh. Anyway-

The entire thing was amazing but especially those first few scenes. Such good acting from the get-go! Was this the longest it took for them to establish a storyline in a longform? It felt very "this is the last time I'm doing this" 😂

Luke breaking Sam and AJ with his truly realistic characterisation and "I just feel shattered, you know?" was brilliant

By my count, this is the third time AJ tells Sam to be quiet: "sorry when I fish, I like silence", "silence when hoop", "I just need like- just a bit of- quiet"

"You've got so many teeth." What is it with Tom and teeth? ("hey, I've got everything you've got, but I've also got several more teeth")

Aww Tom trying so hard not to laugh at Luke's "Have you given her adrenaline?"

Sam and AJ simultaneously pointing and saying "that/this way" to the bathroom somehow makes me laugh. Cos they're stressed out and there's this farmhand joyfully looking for his sheep. And Luke making himself laugh at his own sheep vs farmhand interaction is cute

Aahh Tom's facial expressions throughout were incredible!

"Not one seat each." I see Tom's enjoying inconveniencing the others

Not the subtitles calling Sam out on the "numchucks" 😂

Luke was lying face first on the floor for almost 6 minutes. I was initially wondering how Luke didn't break as a corpse, but you can see his body moving as he silently (and sometimes audibly) laughs. It's really cute and he laughs a lot throughout it's kinda funny

Tom was so good as the German stage person (Emcee?) with the incredible physical performance and expressions! Him and Krampus were so similar but so different, I'm in awe

The almost perfect symmetry of Sam and AJ laughing at Tom's "meine little liebchen" 😂

Sam shouting "numchucks numchucks numchucks" as he hits AJ with them is the funniest thing ever. Worse, I'd say, than the "bang bang bang" he called Luke out on in All Eyes on Nigel

AJ's delivery of "I recently found out that my nana is like a cult leader for people in Germany. And that, umm, is so weird" is absolutely stellar. And Luke's movements and smiles as Julie/Lucy were so subtly eerie from the beginning it was wonderful

They managed to stop the "stag"s perfectly, what great intuition!

Tom's "eh!" and shirt throw 😂 I was surprised he had a shirt on at the end

I can't explain it, and it was probably unintentional, but the wedding scene felt like it was still part of the fake scenario tests. Like stepping out almost from behind a curtain to "out there" together, hand-in-hand, and then immediately reaching the altar instead of the bride having the traditional long walk? Then Sam's speech about the mic amplifying which almost sounds like something you'd imagine in a dream or in your head, followed immediately by "I do" when they weren't even asked the question?

They're going to Bergheim straight after, meaning Ethel's successfully indoctrinated them both into her cult. And AJ's best friend isn't there. Was that cos Sam kept questioning Ethel and her methods? Was he banished from the cult? What's happened to him? If it was a normal wedding, you'd expect him to be there. Especially cos they keep reiterating that they're "best friend"s

I'm sure it's supposed to be a happy story but it feels more horror/psychological thriller to me, where the characters think they've reached their happy ending but in reality they're trapped now

[jagalart]

Smooch

A little, wholesome piece I've done for the great RyuokoT some time ago <3 thank you again!

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 3

As the reality of your situation sets in, you try your best to survive in the Underground... and find a way out. Little do you know though, someone else is trying to find you.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, getting more into the meat and bones of this fic

Content Warnings; Swearing

Word Count; 3.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Do not put my work into AI - I will push you into the Bog of Eternal Stench

Your night for the most part was uneventful. The horrid screaming had thankfully went in the opposite direction, away from your tree-top abode. Although throughout the night, little crowds of glowing eyes had amassed at the bottom of the tree, but they made no attempts to reach you. Even though they couldn’t reach you, you couldn’t help but feel unnerved, since all you could see was their eyeshine, and hear them chittering to each other.

Great, they’re probably pointing and laughing at the new fool in town. ‘Oh, look, Jim, a new plaything! Don’t they look stupid hanging in a tree like that? Fufufu.’ But you kept quiet, and just watched them, as much as they did you, making sure they didn’t try any funny business.

They didn’t stay for long though, either leaving due to their curiosity being quenched, or from how boring you were trying to be; silent, and watching, not moving. If worse came to worse, you would have started chucking rowan berries at them; if fae don’t like the tree, they probably wouldn’t like the berries either.

Eventually, the dark night dissolved into the dim glow of dawn, and once you could actually make out your surroundings and it wasn’t just one large mass of darkness, you started making your way down the tree. You were a bit proud of yourself, seeing that you had 1) survived the night, and 2) not fallen out of the tr—

Snap! … you celebrated too soon, since the branch you were using as a foothold gave way, and you tumbled your way to the ground. At least the fall wasn’t too high up, but it still stung like a bitch, and you’d definitely have a bruise; both to your body and your ego.

At least there was no one around to see you eat dirt.

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes, and smacked your cheeks; fighting off sleepiness. Focus; you need to get home. Read the damn book Mr. Sparkles gave you… damn prick is probably gonna call in a favour later…

With a still sore butt, you found a mossy rock that looked somewhat comfortable and sat down, opening up your ‘How Not to Die in Fairyland; For Dummies!’ book (not really the name of it, but it was damn close).

“Chapter nine; how to leave the Underground,” you muttered, flipping to the page. Weird, it’s only one page? 

“While leaving the Underground is possible, it is a task that not many have accomplished. 

Of the possible ways include;

Finding a portal; typically an enchanted faerie ring, or royal portal.

Finding a fae and tricking them into owing you a favour

One should leave the Underground before their thirteenth day. Should you stay beyond thirteen days you will not be able to leave the Underground, and will be a permanent resident.”

You shut the book, taking in a deep breath. What has it been, ten hours? It was hard to tell, the blurring of time. But at least you had a rough time of twelve days to find a portal — or have a fae owe you a favour — and get the hell back home. If worse came to worse, you were not above some benign trickery so you could see your idiots again.

…

…

Lilia had arrived home safe and sound, slept in his warm bed, and had some of his … delightful home cooking before he was due back at the castle. And while he was eating the somehow overcooked yet still raw eggs, he couldn’t help but wonder how the little Beastie was doing; how you were doing.

He didn’t technically owe you any favours, since he had given you that handy dandy book — if anything, you owed him, since you did say ‘thanks’ and everything — but curiosity is a fickle thing, and you seemed interesting. Humans typically reacted more when they ended up here, and made no proper moves to ensure that they made it back. But you, the little Beastie? Lilia saw a fire in your eyes, of both ire and determination. You wouldn’t give up easily, and while it was entertaining, he also knew that trouble could, and most likely would, follow wherever you go.

Last time a human like you ended up in the Underground… it didn’t end well (said human nearly burnt the Queen’s labyrinth down to the ground). Hopefully though, you didn’t prove to be as foolish, or as obsessed with fire as the last human. Who knows, maybe you would even escape! If you didn’t though, the court could use a new fool, and you seemed amusing enough to please their majesties whilst not incenting their ire.

“Hmm, wonder if their majesties have felt the intrusion,” Lilia hummed to himself, cleaning up his dishes. He could easily just magic it away, but the trip to the mortal realm had taken a lot out of him, so he was stuck doing some good old fashioned manual labour, not that he really minded. Doing the dishes was better than being digested by some mangy, overweight, cat.

A crack of lightning sounded outside, disrupting the otherwise beautiful and peaceful day. “That answers that question!” Lilia sounded too cheerful for what many fae considered to be a bad omen, as lightning rarely meant a good thing when it concerned the royal family.

A raven came to rest on the windowsill, eyes glowing green; a messenger.

Lilia tapped its beak, letting the message play.

“General Vanrouge, I require you to apprehend the trespasser on our land, lest they taint the soil,” the raven recited Queen Maleficia’s message. “Shall you deem it necessary to use drastic measures, so be it… To call this number back, place a coin into the raven’s mouth. To save this call—”

Lilia groaned, but coughed up a bronze coin so that the Queen didn’t send more ravens to his house on his day off. “Our guest shall be dealt with swiftly, I assure you of that.” Lilia ended his call, the raven blinked, coughed out the coin, and flew off in a ruckus of cawing.

He sighed, and cracked his back. “Hopefully our guest can understand… and not hit me with a broom this time.” With a snap of his fingers, Lilia poofed into his trademark green sparkles, and he was a bat again. Instead of being lost in the mortal realm though, he was off to find you, who was most likely lost in the Underground… hopefully you didn’t get eaten or fell into the bog again, since he doubted the Queen would want a dead(?) or putrid smelling guest.

“Beastie, Beastie, Beastie, wherever could you be?”

…

…

“Where the hell am I,” you wheezed. You had been walking for a good bit, since hey, the bog really smelled bad, plus you didn’t want to stick around long enough where the creature that was screaming last night decided to come back and make an appetizer out of you. So, you were walking. Where to? You had no idea, all you knew was that you needed to find a portal somehow, of the mushroom variety, or royally produced.

Currently, you were fighting gravity and making your way up a steep hill, but you knew you would be able to see over the dense forest canopy once you reached the top, and maybe, just maybe, you would be able to make sense of your bearings. Would you know where you were once you reached the top? Pfttt, no, but at least you would know what exactly was around. A sulfuric rotten egg-smelling swamp was one thing, but you wouldn’t be all too surprised if you found out there was a man-eating daisy patch or some other nonsense here.

Finally, you made it to the top of the hill, and you caught your breath before looking out towards the horizon. To the north, the sea of trees continued for what seemed forever. East, the trees made their way into a grassy plateau where there seemed to be a village of some sort in the distance; quaint. South, uh, the swamp, definitely not going back that direction, you’ve had enough of that swamp. And west, a castle, surrounded by a maze.

“An enchanted faerie ring or royal portal,” you muttered, weighing your options.

You had about twelve days left to get out of this place. You could spend those twelve days trying to find a so-called ‘faerie ring’ in the forest since those things were mushroom circles, but the chances of finding an enchanted one seemed to be slim to none. On the other hand, castles usually equaled royalty, which would equal portal. Knowing royals though, they were probably batshit insane. Also, if they felt like you were lying or trying to dupe them? Hey, they could apparently turn you into a slug or some other easily squishable being if they wanted to. And you really didn’t want to be turned into a slug… now at the moment at least.

“Forest,” you looked at the forest, “or castle?” You could also go east, but the grassland didn’t exactly scream portal potential or had any rowan trees (or any trees for that matter). “That is the question. Look for weird mushrooms and maybe get eaten by some critter, or potentially piss off some royal and end up as said critter. Hmmm.”

You groaned, and flopped down to the ground; both options weren’t all that appealing, or even guaranteed that you would find a portal. Rolling over to your stomach, you opened up the book again, seeing if it had anything that could help you make up your mind on the options in front of you.

Scanning over the table of contents, there was nothing about where to find a portal in the woods. There was, however, a handy dandy chapter on fae etiquette, including government specifications… 

You looked up towards the castle again, eyeing the maze. And started coughing out into laughter at your situation. “Pfttt, didn’t I wish that the Goblin King would whisk me away from my life,” you wheezed. “And here I am! In the fucking Underground with a labyrinth?!” Your laughing subsided into a tired sigh, and you set your eyes back towards the castle. “The irony is astounding really.”

At least you didn’t have to worry about some baby being turned into a goblin… right? 

No, no, you only wished for yourself to be taken away, no one else. But would that mean you would end up as a goblin? Fae? Or as some weird pet or servant to a fae? Hopefully not… and at least you had the somewhat credible book that Mr. Sparkles gave you. 

Shit, I owe him a favour though… CURSE YOU SARCASM!!!! 

Well, maybe Mr. Sparkles will cut you some slack, since ya know, you did save him from Grim… but you also did hit him with a broom… and insulted him… I am so fucked, aren’t I?

…

…

You eventually got to the entrance of the maze (the labyrinth?), and sat down on a bench outside of it, huffing and puffing. “Does everything want to–” you stopped that sentence, knowing your luck, if you said it out loud, it was bound to happen. “Never mind that…”

“Never mind what?” A voice said to your right.

You shot up and whipped your head around, coming face to face with a door(?) with a face. “I-”

“You never mind!” A second voice said, and on your left was another door, sending its counterpart a dirty look. “You know better than to meddle in such affairs!”

The right door, which was a weathered red, rolled its eyes at its neighbour. “Bah! Curiosity killed the cat-”

“But satisfaction brought it back. I know!” The left door, a brilliant blue, huffed. “Ignore them, they do this to everyone.” They sneered (if doors could sneer) to their neighbour. “Don’t you have anything better to do than trick people?”

Did I just get in between these two during something?

The red door got offended, turning even redder by some means. “Like you should be one to talk! ‘Oh my dear traveller, one of us two doors is a liar and does nothing but lie! Do not let my neighbour fool you!’ It’s the same every single time with you!”

It’s giving bitter divorced couple who for some reason still live with each other—

“I would do no such thing!”

“LIAR!”

“NO YOU ARE THE LIAR!”

You groaned, their bickering was starting to give you an all too familiar migraine. “Will both of you shut up?!”

Both of the doors tch-ed at your remark but stopped their nonsensical arguing, and you rubbed at your temple, easing away the building tension. But they turned their attention to you, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and something else… doors couldn’t be fae… right? The book didn’t say anything about talking doors… could they be portals? It couldn’t be that easy, nothing was ever that easy.

“Did anyone ever teach you any manners, mortal?” The red door huffed, turning its nose up at you. 

The blue door looked at you with a similar expression, “Yes yes, awfully rude you know! Lucky it's just us though, and not the mistress. Oh ho ho! She would turn you into a newt for that!”

I wasn’t too wrong about them turning me into a slug I guess… would a newt be an upgrade in this case? Since they have bones— 

“And you’re a door,” you deadpanned, “you both haven’t been polite either, ya know?” You had better things to do than kissass to two sentient doors, so no, you weren’t going to be polite. “So the sooner you tell me which way to go, the sooner I’m out of your… splinters?”

The doors grumbled but didn’t raise any objections.

“As you may have overheard, one of us is a liar,” they both said at once. “One of us will lead into the labyrinth, whereas the other will lead you back to where you started your journey.” They both chuckled, looking at you with amusement. “It is up to you to decide which is which.”

You looked between the two doors, weighing your options. “And what if I just walk into the labyrinth? What happens then?”

The blue door hummed, “Well, it would eat you!” … why did it sound all too cheerful about that?!

“So I don’t really have any other option then, do I?”

“Nope!~” They both gave you cheerful smiles, and you were half tempted to go off into the woods and find that magic portal by your lonesome. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with a pair of divorced doors, and a human-eating labyrinth that belonged to some mistress that would turn you into a newt if she felt like you were being snippy with her.

You sighed. Of both the doors, the blue one seemed more sympathetic, whereas the red door was more harsh… “Okay, red, open sesame!”

The red door looked shocked that you picked it over its counterpart, but it opened nonetheless. The blue door grumbled that you had chosen its neighbour over it, but stayed quiet.

When the door opened, all you could see was black. 

“Do you actually lead anywhere?” You threw a rock in, but no sound came out. 

The red door was silent though; apparently, when it was open, it couldn’t talk. And while you didn’t miss the bickering, you really wanted answers, and the blue door wasn’t saying anything either. 

Sighing, you walked forward, hoping that you had chosen the right door. Once both of your feet were over the threshold, light started to filter in. Did I choose right?! But before you got too ahead of yourself, you felt the ground give way under you, and you were falling; falling towards an all too familiar sulfuric-smelling bog. 

“SHI-”

…

You were back in the bog of eternal stench, and spitting the rotten egg-tasting water out of your mouth again. And this time, Mr. Sparkles wasn’t here to make you magically smell better either. Nope, you were stuck smelling horrible until you could find a change of clothes.

Crawling out of the water, you grumbled and hissed curses towards that red door. Of course, you would end up here again! Why not! Laugh it up, Underground! Laugh it up!

“I hate it here,” you seethed, wringing out as much water as you could from your clothes. 

Shit, the book! But the book was still dry… Fuck you, book. Fuck. You. Of course, the book would stay free of wet and stench, whereas you were now shivering, since the water was frigid, plus you were angry and embarrassed that you had been deceived.

It was no use though just sticking around here lamenting and fuming. So you hoisted yourself up and marched back to the labyrinth; and even though the trip was a good three hours, your anger and pettiness drove you forward.

“YOU-” you hissed, pointing a finger at the red door.

The red door looked at you, looked to its blue neighbour, and then back at you before it started laughing. “I see someone took a little dip-”

You got up in its face, “Fuck you, asshole.” You turned around and marched up to the blue door. “Open up,” you cracked your knuckles, not breaking eye contact. And either your intimidation worked, or your smell was so offensive that the door just wanted you gone; weaponizing the stench works wonders against prissy doors.

“Th-” You remembered your first blunder; do not thank the fae. “You are too kind.” And you stepped through the blue door, which was as dark as the red one, but once the door closed, you didn’t find yourself back in the damned bog. You were now in the labyrinth, and perhaps a step closer to finding a way home.

…

…

…

Lilia found himself in the bog, looking around for the Beastie (you). But they were nowhere to be found, save for a wet spot on the grass and some torn-up moss.

“Ah,” he suppressed a laugh, “they fell in again, I see. Poor Beastie.” At least they’ll be easier to find.

He summoned a glass orb, a looking glass of sorts, and looked inside of it. “Show me the human,” he whispered, sprinkling it with some green magic. “And show me their location.”

The glass orb multiplied into three. The first orb showed a close-up of your face, an annoyed yet determined look on your face. The second orb showed that you were surrounded by hedges. And the third and final orb showed that the hedges were actually the Queen of the Underground’s personal labyrinth.

“… at least they can’t really run off anywhere.” But this wasn’t a great turn of events. Many people, both human and fae alike, had tried their best to navigate the labyrinth. But it was a fickle thing; you had thirteen hours to reach the castle, and if you didn’t within those thirteen hours? You would be stuck within it, as one of the beings that tried to stop trespassers from reaching the castle.

Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose, “Beastie, what have you gotten yourself into?” And he turned into a bat, flying off to try and find you. While the Queen did want you apprehended, Lilia would rather it be with his own hands, and not be held liable for any further actions or decisions you made.

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @cheezy-moon, @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; After a little break from writing this fic, I'm back! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was only for the pay-phone/raven and the divorced bickering doors!

If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!

[wardensantoineandevka]

I will admit I'm a little salty that people, in an effort to prove that there is no good dialogue in Veilguard at all, keep comparing mission exposition to the high point narrative set pieces of prior games. I agree that some of the writing related to plot mechanics and mission exposition in Veilguard is a little too utilitarian, but that doesn't mean none of the dialogue is good or that prior games didn't also sometimes have this issue here and there.

I also generally dislike when people put the bar for good writing — and all writing too, not even just dialogue writing, ALL writing — at mic-drop sentences that still sound good completely divorced from context, because that really just reduces "good writing" down to like fake-deep philosophizing or witty quips exclusively. sometimes, a really good bit of dialogue sounds like a completely normal sentence out of context.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

just saw your 2 years anniversary post ~ your comics make my day !! i always look forward to what you'll post next love it so muchhh ❤️ you're a great artist and storyteller !! hope you have a great summer winter spring autumn <3 (yes its that same previous anon)

Summer Winter Spring Autumn: Year 2 Electric Boogaloo!

[sysig]

I think the world is so wonderful... (Patreon)

[asterwild]

the blue-footed booby (Sula nebouxii) is a seabird found in the tropical and sub-tropical Pacific Ocean, along the western coast of the Americas and the Galápagos Islands.

[azadrithaanatheme]

Unexpected Reunion (Part 1)

part 1 | part 2 - click the images for better quality

First post of 2025 and it's Old Woman Yuri, as robo-god intended.

[ruvviks]

let's hear it for night city's most dysfunctional family everyone || [x]

taglist (opt in/out)

@nistarot, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @ncytiri, @calenhads;

@noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca;

@radioactive-synth, @estevnys, @devilbrakers, @aezyrraesh, @carlosoliveiraa;

@adelaidedrubman, @wardenevka, @samuraifics, @royharpered, @viktorgf;

@claudiawolf

[procrastinova]

before the story