#Monster soup is something I am going to be thinking about for a long time....

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Aw! XL cooking reminded me of when I was working with children and they'd get nightmares/scared of monsters, so was go to the garden and make Monster Soup! Anything that looked good would go into the nearest source of water (often a bird bath) so that the monsters would know we are kind people and stay outside and not come inside. Also the monsters would think of us as friends and protect us instead of scaring us. Now I'm hoping that I have turned any of these kids into bad cooks bc I was like that flower looks good! Toss it in! 😅😄😄😄

Thank you for reminding me of this memory!

I'm-In-Love-With-The-Monster Soup.

[blondephenobarbitol]

A list of Nightmare Time episode ideas that I thought of and I think would be cool:

1.) Mr. Chasity has been trying to sell the old Waylon Place for far too long. After trying and failing over and over, he decides to take matters into his own hands by going in himself to see what all the fuss is about. But nothing could have prepared him to meet the real ghosts of Waylon Hall. And boy oh boy do they have shenanigans in store. (The episode would be called 'Unholy Ghost') .

2.) It's been a few months since Hatchetfield was destroyed in that awful 'accident'. Emma and Paul have been living under the aliases Kelly and Ben Bridges. (there can be a joke where Emma doesn't even pretend to care about her alias and Paul cares too much.) They live in Colorado now. Emma's finally started her pot farm, and Paul is working in marketing. For the most part, they have a good life. Only Paul's acting a bit different lately. Emma caught him humming company jingles, tapping his foot to a beat she can't hear. Maybe those spores he inhaled had some effect on him. It's probably nothing, but he's never sung in the shower before...(I don't have a name for this one yet.) .

3.) Max Jägerman is failing remedial algebra. In fact, he's doing so poorly that his dad shells out and hires him a tutor, PJ. (Bryce's nerd from 'Literal Monster.) He reluctantly lets her help him. At first it seems to work and his grades are rising steadily, but as PJ lets her guard down, Max starts to notice some things. Strange symbols scribbled in the margins of her notebook, almost like...jagged smiles? Weird stains on her hands, when she gets too close she smells like roadkill. And there's this white spider that keeps showing up in his room. Sometimes he feels like it's trying to tell him something. Or warn him. Without knowing what he's gotten himself into, Max has to evade getting his soul swallowed by a hungry god of darkness. (The episode is called 'Dirty Dude Soup') .

4.) Charlotte Sweetly is jealous. Her church friend, Carol Davidson, has exactly the kind of life she wants. Charlotte's seen the way her boss talks about his wife, and would give anything for Sam to feel that way about her. One day, Charlotte finally gathers her courage and asks her how she does it. Carol takes pity on her, and decides to reveal an important secret: it's all the product of a ritual, an ancient spell she stumbled upon on a trip to an amusement park. She claims that ever since she did it, her husband can't get enough of her. "I am all he sees. He calls me the apple of his eye." Charlotte doesn't believe her at first, but Carol gave her the instructions, and why the hell not? She tries it. Unfortunately, Charlotte messes up the wording. The spell still works, but not quite as intended. And an all-seeing police officer could be a good thing, but Sam is not a good police officer. (maybe let's call this one 'Omnipocop'. But that's awful to spell so suggestions are welcome) .

5.) While trying to be an assistant, Steph accidentally botches one of Pete's science projects. He forgives her, but she still feels bad even as he assures her it's no big deal, throwing the mix of chemicals out his window just to prove it. What he doesn't know is that the last family that lived in the Spankoffski house buried their dog in the backyard, and Pete's chemical slurry just brought it back to life. On a probably unrelated note, Paul has been trying to ignore the damage he's finding in his apartment. He's been chalking most of the tipped over garbage cans and torn apart cushion up to rats--giant rats?--or maybe a squirrel. But when a decades-old "missing dog" poster shows up on his doorstep, he can't ignore the truth for any longer. (the episode would be called "Patches' Revenge" and I thing it would work because it's just the right amount of weird. It would end with Paul teaming up with the nerds to defeat undead Patches with science.) .

6.) To his utter delight, Miss Holloway finally agreed to go out with Duke on a proper date. Nothing huge, just some ice cream and a walk on the beach. They're both enjoying themselves when Miss Holloway hears something. Duke can't hear it, but he still follows her down the shore to some kind of cave grotto, where she claims the noise is coming from. She tosses a pebble into the water, testing how it might react. A few moments later, the pebble come flying out again. Duke is stunned, but Miss Holloway tosses her ice cream cone. Sure enough, a few moments later is comes flying back, perfectly dry. They've clearly discovered something, and over the next few days, Duke and Miss Holloway experiment and try to learn about the grotto and the water in it. It's too deep to see the bottom, so their tests mostly involve tossing different things to see how they'll react. Little do they know, there was a reason Miss Holloway could hear a noise coming from the cave. There's a reason it drew her in, too. There's something singing to her, something that lives at the bottom of the grotto. And with each thing they feed it, it becomes a little bit stronger...(and then it's called something unassuming like "Wavecrest Cave")

So that's Nightmare Time season four all lined up. Please tell me if you have a good name idea for episodes 2 and 4. Also if anyone wants to use these as writing prompts, be my guest (just tag me so I can read them)

[aquaquadrant]

Hiii question!!!

What would the hels be for each member of the soup group, and what part of the original players do they represent?

I remember we know Pearl's already, but I forgot her name and what trait she is. I think it was something about 5 am Pearl with less chill?

Impulse.. I don't think we've met his yet? My guess just knowing Impulse probably has something to do with pettiness and also untrustworthiness (3rd life)?

And Gem! This is who I was really asking about but I decided to add the rest of the soup group in because why not :) My guess is that it has something relating to Geminislay? I would also assume based on 4+ years of watching her that her hels counterpart would likely being very sarcastic and have very dry humour. Like the rare times Gem pulls the sassy card are always hilarious and I think that hels!Gem should get to speak like that all the time :)

Also would you be okay with me taking this au/universe and writing some of my own stuff using different characters? As of right now I don't think I'll actually post it anywhere, but I have a lot of silly ideas mainly regarding the soup group and empires crew, but since this is you and Lunar's au I wanted to ask first before actually going anywhere with them <3

oooooo ok so first off, absolutely. while i’ve done a lot of worldbuilding for the HTP au, i def don’t own the concept of hels or helsmits- that was a gift bestowed to the fandom by welsknight and my interpretations are just one of many. all i can claim to really own are my original versions of the helsmits, who again, are one of many, and my storyline. so i’ve got no prob w you doing your own thing, and if i did, that’d be pretty unreasonable of me imo.

BUT YES, soup group. so we’ve actually met both pearl and impulse’s hels so far in ‘from eden,’ though only very very briefly. pearl’s hels is opalescentmoth, a giant monstrous moth hybrid who lives in a cave and eats players that come across her. she’s huge and has big fuzzy wings and antennae and multiple arms and massive compound eyes. her defining traits would be unhinged-ness (??? however you’d say it) and silliness. so yup, basically 5 am pearl all the time, but now she’s a man-eating monster.

impulse’s hels was introduced more subtly via a chat convo as instinctEV, atlas’s rival in the redstone business. he’s a demon like impulse is in this au, but with all his demon attributes cranked up to 11. big scary boi. horns, fangs, glowing eyes, forked tongue, forked tail, maybe even some kinda freaky demon legs, the works. but one of instinct’s defining traits is insincerity, so he sorta throws ppl off with his supposedly kind demeanor. in reality he’s more preoccupied with his other defining trait, hyper-efficiency, and only cares about other players so long as he can use them.

now, neither gem nor her hels have showed up in the au so far and probably never will. i do have a vague concept for her tho. i’ve always pictured gem as some variation of deer hybrid, whether it’s just an elf with antlers, a faun, or full-on cervitaur. so her hels is capricornslay, a unicorn hybrid (yes i know the actual capricorn sign is a goat, don’t come for me). i haven’t nailed down her traits, mind you, just the Aesthetic. she’s a centaur with a horn, and she’s like the old-fashioned unicorns on medieval tapestries and the side of vans, all delicate with the cloven hooves and lion-like tail. big ‘the last unicorn’ vibes. but her deceptive beauty and gentleness belies a hidden viciousness. she portrays the dark side of the forest, like that creepy old bog and mossy decay vibe, while gem portrays the light side of the forest, the cheer and vibrancy and life. cottagecore and dark cottagecore, u know the vibes.

[harringtown]

Omg I saw the obscure friends-to-lovers prompts and #3 is absolutely meant for Steve. He’s always getting hurt and you’re always the worrier and then suddenly you’re sick and he has no idea what to do because his parents never took care of him

yesss omg I am always here for anything that taps into Steve's childhood issues ahfkhsh <33333

-

First, it was chicken pox at eleven. Despite having it as a kid, his mom wanted nothing to do with a scratching, whining boy, and his dad used work as an easy excuse. So, it fell to you, the next door neighbor who wasn’t much older than Steve, but had already gotten sick years ago and couldn't get sick again. 

Then, strep throat at twelve, which you didn’t catch from him, either. The flu at thirteen, and a nasty cold at fourteen, and so on and so forth. Always Steve in the sickbed and always you tending to him with an ease he was jealous of. 

For someone who walked around the world like a burden, to Steve’s surprise, he didn’t feel that way when you force fed him chicken noodle soup and laid damp cloths on his forehead. 

And also to his surprise, you never faltered. Never seemed scared or overwhelmed, even when you were too young to be playing nurse. 

One would think that after years of being taken care of, some of that caretaking would have rubbed off on Steve. 

It didn’t. And now, you’re the one in bed, with a scarily high fever, your skin gleaming with sweat and your limbs trembling. 

Give him a monster to kill, and he’s good to go. But this isn’t his territory. This isn’t his territory, and he’s trying very hard not to lose his shit, and he’s not doing that well. 

“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” he says. He’s going to wear a hole through the carpet after so long pacing over the same spot, but he can’t stop. “Make sure this isn’t something more serious than the flu.” 

“It’s the flu,” you say. “I just have to ride it out.”

“Ride it out? Really? That’s your medical opinion? Cuz, I gotta say, I doubt an actual doctor would agree with you on that one—”

“Steve,” you say, voice low and raspy. He pauses in his pacing, frowning. “You’re freaking out. You need to sit down.” 

Steve’s frown deepens as he sits on the edge of your bed and immediately pops back up. He’s all nervous energy and twitchy limbs. 

“You made it look so easy,” he says. “When we were kids, you handled it like it was nothing. You never looked scared. Never got pissed at me when I puked on your shoes.” 

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that,” you murmur, eyes half lidded, a tiny smile on your lips. You reach out a hand, and Steve takes it, letting you pull him back down onto the bed. 

Your skin is warm and clammy, but Steve just holds on tighter. Your eyes flutter shut. 

“Our whole lives, you’ve taken care of me," Steve says. "And you did a damn good job of it. But now, the one time you actually need my help, and I’m—” 

Your eyes are all the way open, now. Your brows furrow, and you push yourself half into a seated position against the pillows. 

“Stop,” you say. “Just because I didn’t always need you to… I don’t know, fight my battles, for me, doesn’t mean I didn’t need you.” You swallow thickly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t need you now.” 

Steve wilts, and he draws your hand against his chest, pressing it to his heart. He’s crossing a dozen invisible lines he’s set for himself over the years, but you’re not stopping him. 

“Besides,” you murmur, “I don’t love you for your bedside manner. Which gets a B- at best.” 

And it’s hardly the first time you’ve said those words, but in the last few years, love came less and less on either side. For Steve, because it meant more than it used to, and saying it like he would to a friend felt like some kind of betrayal. 

This is different. The hesitance in your tone and the quick aversion of your gaze. 

“You—” Steve starts.

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you say. “I know you heard me.” 

Steve inhales. Holds his breath for a long moment and gathers his courage. 

“I did,” he says. “And I love you too.”

You smile, and your eyes flutter shut, but not before you say, “I know.”  

A laugh slips out of Steve’s mouth, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your skin warm. And even though your eyes are shut, he smiles back.

[themimsyborogove]

idk if ur still taking requests/ideas or not, but if so, do you think you could write a little something about Magnus taking in a young warlock and teaching them magic, like how Ragnor did all those years ago with him?

I’m sorry this took so long, anon. I hope you’re still around✨

——

Crickets chirped loudly from their hiding places, and a breeze blew across the crowded alley holding the Kyoto Shadow Market, raining bright fall leaves onto the stalls. Magnus generally preferred to come to Kyoto in spring time, when it was the cherry blossoms shedding their petals like a warm pink blizzard, but fall certainly had its charms as well.

He stopped to examine a stall selling fruit and flowers gathered from the parts of Faerie more easily accessed from gateways in Japan, and harder to find in New York. He was contemplating the flowers, trying to determine which he might need for potions in the near future, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Magnus grabbed the hand before it could reach out and snatch one of the fruits. “I wouldn’t do that,” he murmured, soft enough that only the would-be-thief could hear. “Stolen faerie food isn’t safe to eat.”

“Let go of me, asshole!” the girl he had grabbed said in the kind of stilted English that had likely never been used outside of a classroom full of kids giggling over swear words they had learned to fluster the teacher. She was wearing a school uniform track suit with a huge scarf wound around her neck.

Magnus steered the girl away from the faerie stall before she could draw more attention to herself.

“Is this your first time in a Shadow Market,” he asked, switching to Japanese.

The girl looked relieved and stopped trying to struggle out of his grip. “I didn’t know where to go. I saw lights I had never seen before, and I followed them here.” Her free hand reached up to touch the scarf around her neck, bulkier than the material should have been, and Magnus had an inkling of what the answers to the rest of his questions were going to be.

They had broken out of the thickest part of the crowd, and Magnus spotted a stall selling noodles, the stools around the bar-like table shielded by a half curtain.

The girl watched him warily as he ordered two bowls of noodles and gestured for her to sit down. “I don’t have any money,” she said.

“I know,” Magnus replied. “It’s obvious that you’ve never tried to steal anything before. If you’d had money, you would have used it. Sit down, you must be hungry.”

The girl sat and looked between her bowl of noodles, topped with a thin slice of fried tofu, and the fox-like faerie who had served them to her. “Kitsune udon,” she muttered under her breath, with the air of someone still astonished to find out how much of their folklore was based on truth. “I never thought about why it was called that.”

“Do you have a name?” Magnus asked. She might not yet, depending on how long it had been since she found out what she was. Magnus hadn’t for a long time in the gap between the normal child he thought he had been and the person he had found himself to be.

“Aoi,” the girl mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of soup. She ate slowly, Magnus noticed, taking a long time between one bite of food and the next. He also noticed that she hadn’t removed her scarf, despite the warmth of the noodle stall.

“I’m going to make a guess, and I want you to tell me how close I am,” Magnus said. “Something about you changed suddenly, and frightened you so badly, you ran away. Kyoto is filled with foxfire lights, which you were suddenly able to see. You followed them here and found yourself surrounded by all manor of things you thought only existed in stories.”

Aoi nodded, something about the movement awkward and uncoordinated. “I turned into a monster,” she whispered.

“Not a monster,” Magnus said gently. “A warlock, a magic user, like I am. Warlocks bear marks showing what they are,” he gestured at his own cat eyes, “but sometimes the marks and the ability to use magic don’t come until a child is older.” Aoi look like she was thirteen or fourteen. Old for a warlock mark to manifest, but not unheard of.

“It was my school trip. Everything was normal, and then suddenly it wasn’t,” she said. “They all screamed when they saw me,” she added in a strained whisper.

“No one here will scream,” Magnus said.

Aoi unwound her scarf, revealing an elongated neck, coiled around itself like a snake, that she had done her best to hide under the fabric. She watched Magnus warily, like she still expected him to scream and run for the hills. When he didn’t, she relaxed a little.

“How did this happen to me?” she asked.

Magnus sighed. “Warlocks are children of humans and demons. The demonic blood is what marks us and gives us the ability to use magic, but it doesn’t make us monstrous or evil. No more than any other person at least. Some demons can shapeshift. It’s likely your mother never knew what had happened.”

Aoi scrubbed a hand over her eyes, wiping away the tears before they could fall. “I can’t ever go home.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Magnus said gently. “You said your warlock mark appeared during a school trip. There’s a chance your family will still welcome you home.” It happened, sometimes, to warlocks who were lucky.

“Did your family welcome you?”

“No,” Magnus said. “But I have friends who grew up loved, despite what they are. The choice is yours. If you want to return home, I’ll go with you and help explain your situation. If you would rather stay here, I’ll teach you how to navigate the Market and how to glamor yourself so normal humans won’t notice your warlock mark.”

“I want my mom,” Aoi said in the kind of small plaintive voice that made her sound very, very young.

Magnus waved his hands, a Portal forming right inside the curtain of the stall. The kitsune behind the counter glared at him. Most Downworlders considered it rude to open Portals in the middle of the Market. Magnus ignored him and stood up.

“Then let’s go and hope for the best,” Magnus said. “Think of home and this will take us straight there.”

Aoi’s eyes went wide with awe. She looked down at her own hands. “Will I be able to do this kind of magic?”

“With enough time and training,” Magnus said. “Being a warlock isn’t all bad,” he added with a wink. “Now think about home.”

Aoi wound her scarf back around her coiled neck, took a deep breath, and led the way through the Portal.

[faux-fires]

(Not a) Drabble-a-day#7

DING DING i made it a whole week! I don’t want a medal but I would like a pony

because i have decided to just go all-in on being shameless and self-indulgent today’s drabble features my boy leo hawke. all you need to know is he’s a red!hawke and i love him, he’s terrible at using words and he calls his dog fang like a fucking edgelord.

anyway here’s wonderwall (not a drabble) day#7, prompt “fear”. it’s over 3k words long. this is just who i am now, mom!

The thing about Leo Hawke was, he was violent. He was surly. He was as blunt as a rock through a window. He punched a rock monster possessed by a demon in the - face? - in the Deep Roads and it certainly was the most Hawke thing Anders had ever seen.

Anders didn't mind. He'd never claimed to be perfect. But Anders wasn't sure he could agree with their other friends that he was particularly angry.

Oh, it looked like it, hanging out in the Hanged Man's common room, watching the bar fight go on around you because someone had tried to touch Isabela - Isabela! As though she couldn't handle herself! - and Hawke had bounced their face off the bar. It probably felt like it when you were pinned under those ferocious golden eyes, Hawke looming over you, all muscles and grim purpose. Or if you cracked a joke about the wrong topic (Fereldans, the war, darkspawn, sisters). And Maker knew Carver certainly was wrathful, even if, compared to his brother, it felt something like being menaced by a lapdog.

But Anders knew rage. Leaving aside his own... indiscretions, the faint echo of meat under his fingers and Rolan screaming in terror, he'd once watched Command Tabris scale an ogre using her two swords as climbing spikes and then sink her teeth into its throat, a vision both incredible and incredibly disturbing.

Hawke didn't have that. Anders would be the first to acknowledge - privately - that he spent too much of his time watching Hawke, but he just didn't see rage where Hawke's other friends apparently did. He was curt. He was honest. He wasn't very good at talking, and when he decided violence was the answer it was performed with breathtaking efficiency... but he wasn't angry like Kallian was angry.

Varric squinted at him every time he said this, usually after their weekly round of Wicked Grace. "Blondie," he'd say, eyes twinkling over the top of his huge cigar, "Hawke's fond of you. Have you considered you might be biased?" And every time Anders would flush, because Hawke was gorgeous, with broad shoulders and those incredible golden eyes, cool and bright like a wolf. And he was nice to Merrill, who was cute enough, he supposed, if you were into elves.

He hadn't come to Kirkwall looking for wolf's eyes and a furrowed brow. He told himself that sometimes of a night, when the tension in his belly got too much, became an ache, a burn, and he had to roll over in his lonely little cot and surreptitiously try to take himself in hand. He'd come to help at the Gallows - Karl at first and now that that was impossible their kin in all but blood. He'd taken a spirit into himself and it hadn't been enough but it couldn't be for nothing, either. And Hawke liked Merrill, probably. Hell, maybe Isabela, who was a catch and had actually made him smile at least once, something Anders hadn't yet managed. Or possibly even Fenris; Anders spitefully told himself he could think of no other reason to keep the elf around.

But he couldn't ignore the way Hawke came to the clinic when he had downtime. He'd slip in silently, usually in the late afternoon, his slobbering mabari at his heels; and he'd pass away the hours sitting quietly at the back, winding rolls of bandages or stirring the thin soup Anders always had bubbling away in the corner or scrubbing cots or even stitching sheets with absolutely no change of expression, and when Anders asked why would just shrug and say, "No jobs going on. Don't want to be stuck at home. Gamlen's a cunt," before clamming back up.

Anders didn't push him on it. Maybe he should, but why break his own heart? Leo never said anything, and Anders never caught him looking, so maybe he just liked being around other Fereldans. Maker knew his clinic was full of them. And it was nice to have company that didn't want him to examine its disfiguring genital herpes. Someone who was helpful, who could be counted on to hold down a patient for a complicated procedure, or bounce out one determined to cause mayhem, or even shadow Anders when he had to make deliveries despite Kirkwall seeming to consist of 10% genuine citizens and 90% armed thugs engaged in vicious turf wars.

Like now. He hated deliveries to Hightown; the thugs and the guards were all one and the same, both equally likely to eject him forcefully from the area, but Hawke was friendly with the guard-captain (somehow) and so he was allowed to pass with little more than a dirty look. The moonlight sent long fingers along the polished marble tiles of the market; the air was perfumed with jasmine and the smell of the flowers on the vines delicately scaling the sides of the manor houses.

The mabari - Fang, if he recalled correctly - was trotting at his left without a care in the world, its tongue lolling gormlessly from its huge jaws; Hawke was on his right, one thumb hooked in the leather strap holding his staff-spear to his back. Anders had asked him to accompany him with a long, rambling and awkward speech about feeling more secure with company, and his only comment had been, "Fine," and now Anders was trying not to wonder if maybe he talked more for Merrill, because if he started down that path he knew the bitterness would spiral, but maybe Hawke didn't know how bad an idea the blood magic was, and maybe Anders owed it to him to explain? They passed a pair of patrolling guardsmen, who nodded at them, but Anders barely noticed. Hawke had to know Merrill was bad news, but would interfering really pass the act of a good friend? What if -

Hawke's hand abruptly seized his elbow, and Anders glanced up at him sharply, startled out of his spiral. Leo's mouth was tight, his eyes glinting warily in the grey light. He was looking back the way they'd come, and now Anders could hear it, the footsteps of the guards - but Aveline knew Hawke, he came in and out of her office -

Belatedly he recalled the gang of pretenders in guard uniforms said to haunt Hightown at night and groaned inwardly. Of course. He turned his own head to the side, trying to gauge distance, but he could see only shadow. Fang had stopped his gormless gawping and was keeping closer to their side, his hackles up, his great head swiveling backward every few seconds. A quick glance around revealed they were coming up to the northern quarter, not too far from Fenris' squat, or the De Launcets; the street had widened to a thoroughfare surrounded by delicately piping columns and overhanging roofs, and just as Anders noticed this, more shapes stepped out ahead of them, slipping from behind the columns like shadows.

"Andraste's knickerweasels," he grumbled, drawing to a stop. Leo hesitated besides him, his face expressionless but his eyes darting from intruder to intruder, wary; Fang was snarling now, a low, rumbling noise, hackles firmly up. He had planted himself between Anders and the nearest shadow and was facing it head-on, a solid mass of muscle and fur. Anders sighed, shoved his package of cock ointment into Hawke's hands, and pushed past him; it was hard, Hawke's body rigid and unmoving. "We don't have anything worth stealing," he said. "I'm the Darktown healer, perhaps you've heard of me? All I've got is three copper. You can have them if you like."

The shapes came closer and became men and women, armoured head to toe in silver and orange. All of them were wearing helmets. None of them seemed to be in a hurry to step up and really take charge of this robbery, so Anders unhooked his coin purse, jangled it sarcastically so they could hear how pitifully quiet the noise was, and tossed it onto the fancy marble tiles ahead of them. The nearest figure bent, picked it up, and balanced it on his palm before pocketing it. After a moment of hesitation, Hawke unhooked his and threw it in the same direction. It sounded weightier, but not by much.

"Can we go?" Anders asked, as a different figure picked up Hawke's purse. "We've given you everything we have, unless you want my special salve for crotch-rot."

The figures glanced at each other, then the one that had grabbed Hawke's purse, evidently choosing to fill the slot of leader, said, "No."

Anders turned to face them fully. "Why not?"

"Liar." She drew her sword slowly from her scabbard and pointed it carefully at Hawke. "We know you, Dog Lord. We heard you struck it big in the Deep Roads."

Hawke narrowed his eyes, and Anders said, "And you think he's, what, carrying a wheelbarrow of loot in his pockets?" He laughed, although it sounded thin even to his own ears. "Even if he did, it takes time to convert ancient dwarf treasures to actual, real money. And he'd be a fool to carry it around with him. We've given you what we have; let us go."

"No," she said again, simply. "Captain Qerth says we don't get to eat unless we bring home something worth a damn." She nodded over their shoulder, at one of her fellows. "Separate them. Then we'll find out if they're being truthful."

Anders sighed irritably as someone grabbed his wrist from behind and yanked him back a few steps from Hawke. "Fuck you," Hawke snapped, and then reared back as someone tried to grab him from behind, "Get your fucking hands off me! Leave him alone! Don't fucking touch him!" Fang barked and darted forward, snapping futilely at the legs of his would-be muggers, and they moved in an awkward circle.

"I'd let us go," Anders said, and spun in his assailant's grip; he channeled a pulse of ice magic through that skin contact.

The man holding his wrist dropped it in a heartbeat, his eyes widening through his visor slit. "Robe!" The effect was instantaneous; the pair that had been trying to grapple Hawke immediately backed away, drawing their swords, as did the others hanging back. Fang slunk closer to his master, still snarling, and Anders shook his wrist disdainfully.

"I'm not powerless," he told the leader, and deliberately called the ice back to his hand, holding it up to his eye level so they could all see the blue glow. "You don't want this. We've given you what we've got. Let us go on our way."

She seemed frozen for a second, her eyes flicking between him and Hawke, her sword still outdrawn and Hawke's coin purse still clutched in her free hand. Anders lifted his hand higher, and watched the way her gaze followed it before flicking - up - and behind -

He turned, so the arrow took him in the belly, instead of the spine. The impact was honestly more startling than anything else; one moment he was standing there, holding aloft his icy hand, and the next - sitting on the floor, feeling like he'd been butted in the abdomen by a determined goat, except there was a feathered shaft in front of him, comically out of place, and when he touched it, there was something wet and red at the base. Hawke screamed wordlessly beside him, a rough, violent noise that seemed utterly out of place in the stillness. He glanced up at the roof that had been behind them, saw the figure crouching low there, the bow in its grasp. "Oh," he said, brow wrinkling as it calmly and unhurriedly drew another arrow from the quiver on its back, "But I'm a healer," and then the world bucked.

At first he thought he was passing out. But no, when the ground finished rippling he was still there, sitting in the middle of a swanky part of Hightown with an arrow sticking out of his gut like phallic symbolism, which was good, because he'd been shot by quite a lot of arrows in the Wardens and he'd hate to think he was starting to lose his tolerance. It was starting to hurt, though, so he leaned forward, placing his palms on the ground and pushing himself back up to his feet with only a little bit of wobbling, and turned around. Fang was barking and cavorting on the spot, spittle flying absolutely everywhere. The gang of thieves - all of them, archer included - were...

... lying in a heap against the far wall, groaning and twitching. Every now and then one of them would make a small, pitiful movement, like they were trying to escape, but it was like there was some invisible force pinning them there, preventing them from leaving, and Anders didn't think that was just a simile because he could see the Fade surging around Hawke, who was standing there, both feet firmly planted on the ground, hands outstretched, teeth gritted.

Anders had heard about force magic before. He'd known, abstractly, that it was a specialty in the Gallows, and that Hawke's father had been a Gallows mage. He'd never seen a mage use it before, not like this. One of the gang, flailing desperately to escape the confines of the force of the spell, managed to get her arm free, but Hawke's eyes narrowed and he pushed his hand out and Anders could tell by the way the Fade heaved around him what was going to happen even before her arm shattered, crushed by the sheer weight of the magic Hawke was using, and it was terrifying and terrible and an awful thing to do but it was also -

Magnificent.

Anders swallowed. The arrow in his gut was starting to hurt more and more; he looked down and realised his hands were shaking. He stepped closer, touched Hawke's shoulder, and he meant to say, let's get out of here, but when Hawke's gaze snapped to him he found he couldn't speak in the face of Hawke's expression, the bared teeth, the unholy light in those wonderful wolf's eyes, and it wouldn't have mattered even if he had because Hawke's eyes swept down his body to the arrow and his face hardened into something fierce and cold right before Anders, and the Fade was shivering around him again, responding to Hawke's wild and untrained talents, and then the air smelled like ozone and Anders realised Hawke was summoning lightning, and not a small amount of it either.

The wind picked up. The cloud appeared before them, waist high, and Anders could feel a buzzing in the back of his teeth. He'd never been a very good primal mage; fire and ice had generally worked better for him before Justice, before he could tear his way out of problems, and he'd seen Hawke cast the occasional bolt but it had nothing on this, this cloud that grew and grew under Hawke's direction while the would-be thieves groaned and shuddered on the floor, voices rising as they realised something was happening. He could smell the acrid scent of their animal fear, and part of him thought, they deserve this, they tried to hurt us, they shot me, show them why mages are feared -

But he wasn't that far gone. He put his right hand on Hawke's wrist and said, "Let's go, Hawke."

And Leo looked at him, and Anders could see it now, the expression that the others believed was rage. His teeth were bared; his nostrils flared. His eyes were so wide he could see their whites. He was breathing heavily, like a horse after a long gallop, and his muscles were shaking under Anders' hand, and Anders knew that face, because he'd seen it so many times himself. He'd pulled it so many times himself. Leo snarled, "Don't touch me," and there were sparks crackling between his teeth; the thunderstorm he was bringing into the world had grown large enough to spit tongues of lightning across the tiles. The muggers were wearing such wonderfully conductive full plate.

Anders swallowed, but he didn't look away. Instead he said, "I need help to get the arrow out," and tightened his grip on Hawke's arm, and dragged his hand down - with difficulty, Hawke's muscles were locked, his arm rigid with tension - to press Hawke's hand against the arrow-shaft thrusting through his stomach. Hawke blanched. His eyes flicked back to the muggers and then at Anders. His pupils were so small. Anders lifted his left hand from where it had been hovering over the arrow and slid it over Hawke's wrist to join his right, pushing his thumbs into Hawke's pulse point, and he had no idea what his face looked like but he stared Hawke deep in his beautiful, panicked eyes and said, "Please, Leo," and watched the way Hawke's face collapsed.

The thunderstorm winked out of existence. Whatever pressure had been holding those pretend guardsmen dissipated like it had never been there. Leo shakily looped his free arm around Anders' shoulders; Anders let himself lean forward, forehead pressing against his broad chest, hands still wrapped around his wrist, and murmured, "Make sure they go."

Hawke's eyes flicked back to their assailants as if he'd just remembered they existed. "Fuck off,", he snarled, and Anders kept his face pressed against Leo's chest until the last of the footsteps vanished. Hawke was shivering lightly, and Anders knew, now, that it wasn't anger. It had never been anger. "Anders," Leo said, "What do - what can I do? What do you need?" His voice was anguished, and Anders' heart ached for this man, this frightened, fierce man. All this time they'd thought of Hawke as iron, but he was a man, a mage man, in Kirkwall, and Anders knew better than anyone how lonely and terrifying that could be.

"I'm going to break the arrow and pull it out," he said, "... Just keep me upright while I heal myself."

Hawke's arms tightened around him, but it honestly wasn't that complicated. Anders had been a Grey Warden, and he was possessed; one arrow was nothing. He'd been stabbed through the chest with a whole sword and ripped Rolan into pieces right after. The bottom half of the shaft clattered to the ground a moment later, followed by the arrowhead once he'd gotten an arm around his back to pull it the rest of the way through. His fingers were slick with blood by the time he healed his kidney and what felt like his intestine, but he stuck a hand inside his coat and wiped it off against his chest rather than on Hawke. Hawke, who was shaking minutely, and Anders felt such a wave of sympathy and affection it left him quite breathless.

He hesitantly curled an arm around them and set his palm on the small of Leo's back, in something like an embrace, and Hawke made the smallest of noises and clung to him even tighter, and Anders didn't know what to do or say. In the clinic when he thought about Leo he'd thought about his huge biceps or his cool gold eyes; he'd pictured Hawke laying into his enemies, ripping apart silverite. He hadn't pictured that heartbreakingly familiar expression, or counted on that intense surge of compassion within himself. He pressed his face into Leo's chest, feeling the lightning-reverberations of his heart and against his cheekbone, and said, so softly he barely heard himself, "I'm alright, Leo. I'm fine. It's alright."

Leo drew in a shuddering breath. "I should have... I should have killed them all. Fuckers could be squealing to the guard about us."

"Maybe," said Anders. He reached up and placed his hands flat on Leo's stomach, felt the tension there. "I doubt it. They'd have to explain why they were wearing fake uniforms first. We'll move soon," he promised. "But until then... I'm fine. You're fine. Breathe with me," and he let his chest rise and fall a few times, exaggerated, the way he'd watched Oghren bring Kallian back to herself after she went too deep into her rages. He felt Hawke's chest hitch, but after a moment he began to move, copying Anders, and eventually his heartbeat began to gentle.

For a moment they stood there, together on that Hightown street under the soft light of an indifferent moon, curled into each other in something that was so close to an embrace it could have featured in one of Anders' nightly fantasies. Anders knew it never would. He felt like he understood Hawke more now than at any point since they'd met, like tonight he'd been handed a compass and a map and knew how to find his way around Hawke's inhospitable landscape, and it felt - special. Important. He felt another pulse of warmth for the man whom he'd once witnessed punch a rock monster possessed by a demon in the face, a kind of boundless affection for this wonderful, scarred human being, who stirred soup in his clinic and always kept Anders where he could see him.

Leo sniffed and let him go too soon, but he didn't shrug Anders' hands off his chest. He looked remorseful in the face of Anders' sympathy, and Anders couldn't keep from lightly rubbing his thumbs back and forth along the leather of his jerkin even as Hawke avoided eye contact, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Leo flushed - difficult to see in this grey light, but Anders knew him.

"We can go back to Lowtown, if you like. I'm sure your mother would be pleased to see you," he said, and when Leo glanced at him self-consciously said, "Or we can go to Darktown if you want. There's room in the clinic. Anything you want.

"Darktown," said Leo immediately, "I like your clinic. It's yours."

"Oh," said Anders, dumbly, and then smiled as the words sunk in. It occurred to him with a pang that now he'd had this taste of Hawke - this well-guarded sweetness, this uncertainty, this glimpse of the man he was past all the snapping and snarling and surliness - it was going to be harder to face his lonely little cot tonight, but it was only a little pang. He hadn't expected anything else, after all. That he had this much was a gift. Leo must have seen something on his face, because he hunched his shoulders, mumbled something else.

"What was that?"

"I, uh. I dropped your cock-rot cream," said Hawke, guiltily. "When the bastards jumped me." Defensive. "I think they took it with them when they ran off. Sorry." Sheepish.

"Huh," Anders said. His mouth twitched, despite himself; he covered his mouth with his hand. Leo's eyes flicked to his and hung there, as though surprised at what they found, and Anders grinned wider. "Sorry," he said, "Just picturing their faces when they limp back to base and - hah - show their boss their prize. I drew diagrams for the user. They were - detailed," and he was chuckling despite himself, and Leo's eyes widened with comprehension, and then - and then the corner of his mouth twisted slowly upward.

He was smiling.

It was hesitant and shy and it was the first time Anders had seen Hawke smile for him, and Anders realised, like a sledgehammer to the gut, that he wanted to see it again. He wanted to hear Hawke laugh. He wanted to see him happy, and it was like the world dropped out under his feet but also like everything made total sense. He stooped forward instead and buried his face in Hawke's chest, because Maker, they hadn't known each other for very long, and he didn't think he could control his face, because he loved Leo Hawke.

Fuck.

Leo didn't ask him any questions; he slipped his arms around Anders' shoulders and held on with arms that were no longer shaking, and Anders closed his eyes tight and thought, one day. But not this day.

Hawke didn't need a lover, not right now. He was a mage alone in Kirkwall, and Anders knew all about that fear and that sadness and that aching kind of loneliness only apostasy could bring. He needed a friend, and Anders didn't mind being his, and if nothing ever came from it he would be glad enough for that. After all, he was the only one of Hawke's friends who had recognized the rage for what it really was. Take that, Merrill, he thought.

He'd never claimed to be perfect.

if you want more leo you can find him starring in fluffy romcom Bound (feat: severed heads) and swinging post-series Through a Forest Wilderness (feat: romantic war crimes) on ao3.

[mhdiaries]

Wave 1 Ghoulia Yelps Diary 

*kindly sent in by @fedorasquidwithglasses*

July 15,

I went to the mailbox to see if the book on monsterlecular biology I ordered was there and by the time I started back to the house it began to rain. Needless to say I was soaked by the time I got back inside. Everyone thinks I am so smart but if I were really intelligent I would carry an umbrella with me wherever I go.

July 16,

I woke up with a monster cold this morning. Ugh… I just wanted to lie in bed and simply un-die. Sir Hoots A Lot kept me supplied with tissues and books so I did not have to get up and mom even brought in some lukewarm dragon noodle soup although I am quite sure it was hot when she left the kitchen with it.

July 25,

I started a new book today. Actually it is a graphic novel… okay comic book. It is all about a zombie boy who gets pecked by a radioactive hummingbird and gains the power of super speed. I know it is just a made up story but a ghoul can dream can she not?

July 31,

So there is this zombie boy and I have become completely enamored with him. He plays on the casketball team and he is sweet and smart and I get tongue tied every time I am in his presence. I attempted to ask some of my ghoul friends what I should do but all the advice they gave me just seemed wrong. I even thought about sending a letter to one of those teen monster magazines:

Dear Relationship Know-It-All,

I am totally head over tombstone with the most engaging zombie boy but I am too nervous to talk to him. Please send your most generalized reply with a solution so diluted that it has no possible application to my current situation.

Signed, Thoroughly flummoxed in his presence

I did not, of course, send the letter. The last thing I want to do is publicly announce my inability to function in the presence of the opposite sex. It really should not be this difficult but it does require a certain amount of spontaneity and unscheduled events are not my fate.

August 15,

Today was the day I had scheduled to make a trek to The Maul in order to take advantage of their back-to-school fashion sales. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond my control involving a flat tire, an intransigent hunchback and untimely solar flares I goes to The Maul about 4 hours late. I was able to makeup most of the time because I had a list of things I needed, which allowed me to bypass shopping and proceed straight to buying mode. The last stop on my list was the shoe store and I got there just as they were closing. I tried to talk to the store lurk into giving me just a few minutes but she did not understand zombie so she just rolled her eyes said “Sorry we’re closed,” and started to pull down the roll up security door. This caused the whole day to come crashing down on me and I started to fall apart. It was then that something remarkable happened. An arm reached around from behind me and stopped the door from closing. Then through my tears I could see that the door was being pushed back up and store lurk’s eyes had gone very wide. I do not know where she came from, but Clawdeen, perhaps the most intimidating girl at Monster High, stood there in full Alpha mode. “She said she had a list and that it wouldn’t take long, and since you are trying to close five minutes earlier than your posted hours, I suggest you open up and wait on her.” The lurk swallowed hard and said, “Of course Ms. Wolf.” Clawdeen put her arm around me and said, “Come on ghoul friend let’s try on some shoes.” It was one of the most enjoyable shopping experiences of my short zombie life. I even bought an extra pair on Clawdeen’s advice and when we were done she and her brother Clawd gave me a ride home so I didn’t have to take the bus. It is unfortunate that Clawdeen is still angry at Cleo because of the way Cleo and Clawd’s relationship ended. In retrospect though, I suppose Cleo should not have started dating Deuce the day after she dumped Clawd but what do I know about relationships?

August 20,

I made the acquaintance of a new girl today. Her name is Frankie Stein and although her understanding of zombie is quite rudimentary, she only asked me to repeat something twice. She had many questions about what it is like to be a zombie. Her inquiries showed a remarkably limited knowledge of zombie life and culture but I was happy to oblige her in her quest for knowledge. Her first question was, “Why do zombies only speak zombie but write in vernacular?” Okay, she did not use the word “vernacular” Anyway… I told her that it was a function of our unique zombie physiology. Actually, I believe I said that it is the way we are made – like a werewolf gets doubly hairy and ferocious on nights with a full moon or a vampire not being able to go out in the sun without totally covering their skin. It just is. I look forward to getting to know Frankie better when school starts. She is monstrously sweet.

August 31,

I received my “Zombies are monsters too!” t-shirt and bumper sticker in the mail today. The bumper sticker will have to go onto my wall until I get my license but I will proudly wear the t-shirt, under something else, because I hate drawing undue attention to myself. Yes I am being contradictory here. I want to make a statement but I do not want to be noticed while I am doing it. Why a statement? Well, it is not as if zombies are treated poorly by the “legacy” monsters but sometimes we do get treated like background noise which is a little disheartening. Yes we only speak zombie, yes we slowly shuffle along, yes we often appear to be devoid of personality but the same observation could be made about any teenager. Regardless, I am just as special as any pedigreed monster. Speaking of pedigreed monsters, my iCoffin just went off to remind me I am supposed to meet Cleo de Nile tomorrow.

September 1,

Spent the day at Cleo de Nile’s helping her get her class schedule organized. While Cleo does have the reputation of being arrogant and demanding, which she is at times, she can also be generous and helpful. How does she help me? It is hard to socialize when you are as shy as I am but Cleo will not allow me to sit on the sidelines. When we first became friends she took me around and introduced me to everybody – even Clawdeen! Now I am included in every social event and I have so many good friends at MH that while I am still shy they will not allow me to be invisible. I am still closest to Cleo though because she took a chance on getting to know a quiet and nerdy zombie girl when she really did not have to.

September 6,

Although I have enjoyed my time off for the summer I am eagerly anticipating the resumption of the school year tomorrow. I know that I am unusual in this but school is where I get to focus on my two favorite activities, acquiring knowledge and spending time with my friends.

[wonderlightdaydreams]

An Introduction to Daydreaming

Have you ever wanted to fight dragons? Travel the multiverse? Make soup?? Well, my neuronaut friend, you're in luck! You could do all of that and more for exactly 0 dollars and 0 cents by daydreaming! More than that, you could learn how to make your life better by turning it into a daydream! Yowza! By the end of this essay, you will learn how to go on adventures of your own, find out that magic is real, and so much more!

Now, what is daydreaming? It's exactly what you think it is and nothing like what you think it is. In the most literal sense, daydreaming is simply going into your mind and imaging scenarios. Think of it as a solo TTRPG or just an imagination exercise. However, everything changes when you focus on intensifying the daydreams and making them a part of your physical life. By eroding the barrier between the physical world and the world of daydreams, you, in turn, make your physical life magical! In fact, to a certain extent, this is the same practise done by many religions. I don't want to generalise too much; however, many religions encourage their practitioners to imagine themselves in the presence of a deity of some form or to even imagine themselves in a scenario outside of their physical body. This is not to delegitimize these practises or these religions; in fact, I truly believe that the spiritual experiences that come with these practises are real! If anything, this goes to prove the often overlooked power of daydreaming and how it can positively impact one's life.

How exactly does one daydream? While many do it naturally, many have also unlearned it for a variety of reasons. The best way to describe it for a wide variety of people is to simply imagine a movie playing out in their mind, but for many, it is not that simple. For example, those with aphantasia or countless alternate reasons In this case, I would encourage the individual to experiment to find out what works for them. Keep in mind that the aim is to experience a story, so however that works for you is truly beautiful and shows the diversity of daydreaming!

Now,what are some methods that enable you to achieve these wonderful things? There are as many methods as there are brains; however, there are two categories I have found to easily sort these methods: Augmented reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) daydreaming. Keep in mind that these are the methods that I know of, and I am sure that there are countless others that I am not as familiar with. That being said, let's begin with AR daydreaming!

AR daydreaming is augmenting your current reality by adding a daydream layer on top of it. A couple examples could include imagining yourself as waitstaff in a fantasy tavern while doing your dishes or fighting a monster while taking a test. This type of daydreaming is especially useful for individuals with busy lives or if you need to be doing something while daydreaming. The key to this kind of daydreaming is to match the mood of the scenario to what you are doing in the physical world. For example, it would be unwise (but not impossible) to daydream about a relaxed slice of life while exercising. AR daydreaming is an excellent strategy to add magic to one's everyday life!

The other group of methods would fall into VR daydreaming. These strategies are characterised by fully detaching yourself from physical reality and entering a daydream truly without limits. While these strategies do require the luxury of time, they are often more immersive and intense. However, you don't have to just lay still; they could be done while doing almost anything, as long as you can detach from the action itself. VR daydreaming is the more common strategy, and I would recommend it for first-timers, and for good reason! It is truly the best way to get immersed in your adventure.

Now for some tips that I learned to help you on your daydreaming journey. First and foremost, shame is something I struggle with regularly. In terms of this shame, here is some advice to keep in mind: Your daydreams do contribute to the wider world, as you are expressing your unique self (even if you do not do it openly). As well, you don't owe the world a thing! You don't have to conform to the world around you. In terms of more practical advice, a bit of music goes a long way. The specific kind of music is again different for everyone, but in terms of my recommendations, the artists Woodkid, Two Steps From Hell, and 2WEI are all amazing. As well, any instrumental music does wonders for scoring your daydream (I'm listening to Caravan by John Wasson, and it's great for this kind of thing). Also, it may be wise at times to listen to the music before daydreaming to it, as there are times that the music does not line up with what you planned out for the story. As well, make sure you are in a location where you won't be disturbed, or at least not suddenly; the last thing you want is for you to be called for dinner at the peak of the plot!

I hope you enjoyed this quick look at this long-ignored art form! Many write daydreaming off as frivolous, but it's anything but! Due to the fact that it exists solely in one's mind, it is arguably one of the purest forms of art, despite the backlash. May your journeys be plentiful, young traveller!

[onthesandsofdreams]

Behind Her Back

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Pairing: Sansa Stark x Sandor Clegane Rating: T Summary: When Sansa announces that she booked them a vacation in a haunted house, Sandor pretends to be excited. Because might be a grouch, but he loves this woman so badly, he'd walk through hell for her. Words: 1163 Notes: For @hisyetisgirl Prompt(s): 23.- Not on my watch by @fictober-event

Read @ AO3

When Sansa announces that she booked them a vacation in a haunted house, Sandor pretends to be excited. Because might be a grouch, but he loves this woman so badly, he'd walk through hell for her.

And yes, he knows that he should tell her that he is a ghost buster, but he knows that the moment does, Sansa will want to tag along and he does not want that. Not because he thinks she could not handle it, but because the monsters and ghosts that he kills, moves to the great beyond or whatever, are aggressive enough that they could genuinely be a trouble for Sansa. And he'd be damned if he would let any harm come to Sansa.

So, first order of business is doing research on the house Sansa has rented. He finds pretty much the usual. Classical ghost things, until one of his co-workers comes back and lets him know that there's a murder suicide that took place and that a child had died in the house with no explanation.

That is when he curses and tries to dissuade Sansa from taking their vacation there. But Sansa will not be moved, the house is beautiful - he'd give the owners that - and is near a beach and it promises to be a good place to rest and relax.

But it also promises things that go bump in the night.

"Not on my watch," he hisses and packs an extra bag with everything that he needs to clear the location. Or, at the very least, make sure the ghosts don't bother them. "You're not hurting my little bird."

And so, he goes with Sansa to the vacation home.

Once there, he rushes to the bedroom they will share and creates a thin circle of salt around the bed and places a cross soaked in holy water beneath the it. That should do it.

And when Sansa is busy unpacking her things, he goes around the whole house throwing holy water, salt and saging the places he knows that are dark enough. Thankfully, Sansa's tired from the drive, so after unpacking, she takes a nap and that gives him more time to clear the house to his standards. And to make something light for dinner, he will not have his little bird go hungry.

The basement is one of the darkest places he's ever been. The air is so thick and dark, he near chokes. But he is Sandor Clegane, ghost buster extraordinaire and he refuses to give up. He cleans the air and clears the basement as much as possible and leaves a line of salt and weirdwood paste at the end of the stairs, so that whatever it's down there stays down there.

The child's room is much easier to clean, he simply makes contact with the child and gently guides them to the great beyond. The room feels lighter after that.

Once that is done, he makes a simply soup and sandwiches for them. He opens a bottle of Sansa's favorite wine and wakes her with dinner in bed.

"Oh, Sandor, you shouldn't have!"

He shrugs, "Perhaps not, but I didn't feel like ordering in. Besides, we did bring food here. I would rather eat that."

Sansa pouts, "So, no going out to dinner?"

"Of course, but I didn't feel like doing so today." He does not say he's about to fall asleep thanks to all the work he did when she was asleep. "I wanted a home cooked meal."

"You're a worst nester than I am."

"As long as you keep my secret, I'll survive."

Sansa laughs and turns the television on. They watch a movie as they eat and cuddle in bed. He falls asleep while Sansa reads a book.

And he wakes up to the sound of someone banging a door. Sansa's already up and ready to investigate, he all but bolts because hell no, he's not letting her go alone. He manages to grab his weirdwood pendant and walks behind her as quietly as he can. It's the godsdamned basement door.

He stops Sansa from going down, and he walks in instead. His weirdwood pendant feels cold and he knows that something is trying to leave the basement. So, he works his magic to at the very least silence the thing. To his surprise, it works.

But it is then and there that he knows that he'll likely won't rest well all week.

Sansa is thrilled at the thought of actually being in a haunted house. "I know my siblings think I'm a coward, but this is exciting. I'm not even the least bit scared."

He mentally curses Sansa's siblings for calling her a coward and for now making her excited to be here. "Well, let's hope the ghosts let us sleep, at least," he grumbles.

And that is how it goes, Sansa being thrilled at the slightest change of temperature or gust of wind, and he, running behind her with holy water, weirdwood paste, salt and sage.

At the end of the week, he's tired and all that he wants is to go home and collapse in their bed, in their not-haunted apartment and have some words with Arya Stark.

"You know, it's a shame that we did not see a ghost." Sansa said. "Beyond the noises, I mean. And those can be explained with air and other things like that."

"Yeah. I mean, you've taken quite the few photos, who knows, maybe you captured something." Oh, he knows that he should not be encouraging her, but she looks so heartbroken, he can't help himself. "A ghostly photo, that would be fun, no?"

"I suppose." Sansa sighs. Then, she beams. "Ohhh, maybe we should go to the cemetery near Baelor's sept, rumor has it that you can actually see things there."

Bloody hell. He really is going to have to tell Sansa what he does for a living, doesn't he? "Sansa. I'm a ghost hunter."

Sansa blinks. "Yes, dear I know."

"I - what?"

"Arya told me. She said that you were one of the best in the business, but I didn't say anything until you did, did not want you to think that I didn't trust you."

He groans, he definitely will be having words with Arya. "Is that why you wanted to come here?"

"Yes and no." Sansa admits easily enough. "I wanted to come because I liked the house and the location, and I figured that if there was anything here, you'd tell me where to look."

He rubs his face with both of his hands. "Sansa... I cleaned this place."

"By cleaning you mean..."

"That I took care of the uglier things in here."

"Ah. Oh well. So... how about we visit the cemetery?"

Gods but this woman was going to drive him mad, but he loved her and he would move heaven and earth for her. "Sure. Sure. Let's explore the cemetery."

The kiss Sansa gives him is worth it.

[chalterdh22]

Chapter 12: When was the Last Time you Laughed?

After sitting and hanging out, we all decided to go inside and eat.  We had plenty of food from Greef now, so I heated up some soup for the three of us.  I went to eat outside, so Din could take his helmet off and eat with his son.  He protested, and I just walked out pretending not to hear.  Plus, it was quiet outside of the cabin, and the suns were setting.  It was quite beautiful.  I could hear a small, one-sided conversation happening inside.  It was sweet.  Grogu really was trying to get Din to talk more, but again, he was clueless. 

Eventually, both Din and the kid walked out and said they were done.  I stood up so they could sit down in his only chair outside.  I leaned against the porch and stretched my arms above my head and yawned.  “Long day, huh little guy?”  He yawned as well and leaned against my leg.  I picked him up and put him in his little cot for bed.  As Din waited outside for me, I was thinking that he and I have never really had a conversation that the kid wasn’t around or a part of.  Maybe I’ll get to know him a little better, I thought.  I leaned against the porch rail again and looked at him.  He was staring out into the open field.

“What was the conversation you had with the kid earlier?”  He asked.

“Yeah, about that.  It’s nothing really, just something he wants you to do.”

“Well, tell me and I might do it.”

“Doubt it,” I replied.  “Plus, it’s not what you do really, it’s more of an emotional reaction.”

“What?”

I sighed, looked at him.  “He wants to hear you laugh.  He says he’s seen you grin, not smile.  He’s heard you chuckle, but not laugh.  He just wants to see you happy I think.”

Din looked down.  “I am happy.” 

“Yeah, that’s convincing.  Look, I know you Mandalorians are serious, secretive, and always on a mission of some sort, so I know you guys aren’t just sitting around, telling jokes, and laughing.  But Grogu is your son, and it’s important for him to grow more emotionally stable than you!”  Wow, where did that come from?  By now, Din had stood up and walked towards me.  I stopped leaning against the rail and stood straight.  I knew I wasn’t in any danger by any means, but my experience is to be ready when someone approaches you.

About a foot away, he leaned in and asked, “How do you know that’s what he wants?  How do I know you’re not just making up lies?”  Good question, I thought to myself.  I tried to think of a way for him to believe it and then it popped into my head.  I saw a flash in Grogu’s mind once of what Din looked like without his helmet on.

“Well, I know what your face looks like, for starters.  Not completely, but small images.  Grogu showed me somehow.”  Din stood there motionless.  I sighed and continued, “You have brown hair with a curl to it.”  I closed my eyes to get that visual back.  “Brown eyes.  Some facial hair.  And you don’t look like a monster like some people think!”  I still had my eyes closed and smiled when I talked about him.  It’s just so weird because I have never seen his face.  What if I was misinterpreting something he showed me.  No, I’m certain that it was Din’s face. 

When I opened my eyes back up, he was inches in front of my face.  It startled me, and I took a step backward.  He grabbed my arm as I almost fell off the little porch.  “Thanks.  Was I correct?”

“Yes, you were.  I don’t get it.  How do you talk to him and see things? 

I shrugged.  “Dunno.” 

He took a step back and relaxed a bit, so did I.  “So, when’s the last time you laughed, like a good laugh?”  I asked, changing the subject.  He thought for a minute as he sat back down in the chair.

“Years I imagine.  I think I was still a kid.” 

“Whoa, that’s not ok.  We’ll have to work on that!  And don’t worry, no one else will be around.”

He stood up and without looking back at me, said he needed to go get some rest.  “Goodnight,” I told him.  He didn’t reply.  He seemed sad when he told me it had been years since he laughed.  I still thought Grogu, and I had a great start to the plan, but how do you tickle a Mandalorian covered with armor?  I’d have to sleep on that.

[shipwreck-letters]

hi sorry for disappearing for weeks i was hibernating

i just wanted 2 ask how you'd think the monster manor story would progress (like how'd the characters develop, how u think it'd end and what u think of the character that was teased but never released)

im kind of losing hope ab MM ending or even just having a good story because of the recent announcement adydhwnbehdisjcm

Long, long post incoming. I ramble a lot, my brain is like Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. (I missed you, though! Nice to see you again! How have you been?) (Also swearing,,,swearing- Edit: There was much more swearing before I read over this and took out the Dorian shit, because I really wanna shake them by the shoulders and-)

I honestly think about this question ALL the time. And by the end of this, I do have an idea for an ending!!! It's down below. It's just a lot of rambling beforehand.

ERYTHEIAAAAAA- Am I spelling her name right?? She's really pretty, really strong, her character design speaks, but I wish we had more.

I don't have much I can really say about Erytheia, because I always get stuck on what Lynne said about "sounding like a Greek chorus" That always stops me from trying to write her myself, because ???? WHAT- I do not know enough about Greece, or Greek mythology, to even begin to do that. I am an Indigenous country bird. I feel so bad, though- Maybe I could try again and get back to you on that. No promises, though 😭😭😭 That would honestly, in my opinion, need to be something that maybe some more people can talk more about and come to an agreement on.

I wish we could get just one line, one sentence, one paragraph of dialogue or set-up. I miss her, and I only saw ONE sketch of her.

The way Sage's story took a crazy turn, and how he ended up 6 months during the new war; I would have never predicted that at ALL- So it's like,,,I wonder if a crazy twist would happen with MM-

But it doesn't seem like there would be a whole "Upright/Reversed" thing, because MC is clearly competent enough to not have Casimir or Rainier fall back into their vices again. That would be so dumb for them to establish this change, and then say "haha whoopsie yes Casimir become the beast- Yes Rainier, break out and raise hell as a dragon on Earth" like,,,that would be dumb-

I'm talking out of my ass, I think, because Casimir and Rainier aren't my OCs, but it seemed like we already met them during their arc? During that time of change and sadness, and hopefully it would be a story of change for the future.

Surrounded by people that are in the same boat as him, he'd have a new focus on getting to know these people, MC, and have an outlook of fixing these rooms, sharing his story and his own knowledge about things! Getting to know them, too. Maybe his curse was like a self-fulling prophecy, because the only times he transformed with MC is under intense stress or emotions. He never transformed when Rainier lost control, he was perfectly fine.

So I think...Casimir's rooms/arc were semi-complete during those chapters, and that tale. In general, very very very general. It gave me enough to hypothesize, and Rainier is the same. But...Still not enough. It's not Lynne-approved, Lynne-directed, Lynne please come back and swipe your story-

Maybe during these times, he'd have a few transformations that he can't help. He'd be really nervous, because now he has access to hurt others, not just himself or the House. But but but- I think....that MC or Rainier or maybe even Erytheia stands up to the beast enough times that it starts to change. It begins to go away, and Casimir doesn't even realize- He still has the traits, and the abilities that comes with it, but I think that Casimir wouldn't even realize until MC mentions the beast and someone is like "you transform?" and Casimir is like "....Now that you mention it-"

I think it would come to a head with MC, honestly- This character that is unwavering, the glue that holds everything together...There's gotta be a moment where they're like "Well now everyone is together, I guess my job is done here" But they try to leave and it's like,,,,No, actually. MC deserves to be cared for, as well. They (you, the reader, too) need reassurance and repair beyond just being looked at as the fixer-upper, the sunlight-

I think once MC has a moment where they realize for a moment that they can also accept that this home isn't just for the characters, but for them, too- They can stay, or go, maybe with Casimir to the modern world, or with Rainier to Almithara, but there will always be a home, here, a refuge.

That's what it was always meant to be, right? I think that would be an ending that I would like to see, anyway. Not too personal, not too vague, but being able to leave or stay with the character(s) you romance, augh. I want to see Rainier's home, I want to show Casimir the world 🎶, I also want the fade to black scene I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT-

It wouldn't be chaotic crazy like LL, where there's war or death, but those topics do come up in terms of Casimir's past, or Rainier's jobs regarding the Magister. But the past is not an end-all-be-all, and the House was meant to be a place where you can get help, be helped, and then be let go again. (I think- It had to be, no way did the House intend to just keep them there forever)

Casimir couldn't leave, because he couldn't see that. Rainier couldn't (can't) leave, because he couldn't (can't) see that. With a group of different minds, it's a cycle of helping each other, helping yourself, and also....Being able to romance or have a great friend and support because of that.

That's what I think, anyway. If I was a Fictif Ambassador (which I do not ever want to be tbh), I wouldn't have much to say regarding any completed stories, or even Into the Mist, but for Monster Manor? I fully believe that's a good ending. That's what I would bring, and I will milly rock someone for saying it needs to be darker, or grittier, or whatever.

I know that it would be different, working under such harsh conditions, and Dorian....Ugh. What a shitshow.

What was the point of the whole Ambassador roles, they approved the Asra tale??? That was so lackluster- Who wrote and approved that shit- I just want to talk, Dorian.

There's still much that I want answered and it makes my eye twitch that Dorian is pulling this horseshit buffonery...

But I might do that in another post. Here's a little brightness that I've been thinking about lately:

Bendy and the Ink Machine. The Dark Revival. It came back! It's so fantastic, it's beautiful. I hope that LL and MM can get the same treatment- A revival. A good ending to beautiful concepts and aesthetics. Sage, Anisa, Felix, Casimir, Rainier, Erytheia, and even Fin- They fucking deserve it. Maybe the devs can bring them back, slightly redesigned, with a different name, but ultimately the same plot and vibe.

I won't ever "drop" Monster Manor, it's gotten me through some stuff, and still does! It brought me Finch, it brought me friends and a fandom! I owe it a lot, and I hope we can see it to a completed end.

But...Do make sure to record the story, screenshot it, what have you. Prepare to prepare, is what my uncle says about tough situations.

[elvirie]

tagged by @cityofdiangelo

what book are you currently reading?

i'm re-reading the pjo series rn! currently on the sea of monsters

what do you usually wear?

literally any shirt i will find in my drawer, hoodie, jeans.

how tall are you?

i have no idea. around 165 cm, i think

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event?

gemini! i share my birthday with zoe saldaña

do you go by your name or a nickname?

my name irl, nickname online.

did you grow up to become what you wanted to be as a child?

uh. i didn't totally give up on school, so ig that's a step in the right direction, at least. personality wise? not really, i don't think.

what’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at?

i'm good at cooking (at least i hope so) and i'm very bad at math.

if you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?

i wish i could share but i haven't written anything in. a long time. so yea, there's nothing 😭

dogs or cats?

cats!!

what’s something you would like to create content for?

i'd like to start writing fanfics for pjo again but. writing anything really would be a miracle.

*what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

the entirety of the witcher franchise. i've been playing the wild hunt non stop lately, and when i'm not playing, i'm listening to the audiobooks.

what’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

eh. i wasn't excited, exactly, but christmas very underwhelming.

*what’s a hidden talent of yours?

i can have REALLY good memory when i want to. a.k.a. when i'm learning the most useless and unnecessary stuff, usually, lol.

what’s something you wish to have at this moment?

more time off of school 😭 i've been gone for almost a month and i dread coming back

tagging: @diaingelo @i-spilled-my-soup-again @crushing-on-nico-di-angelo @deyjahvu @thebigqueer and anyone else who wants to join!! (i'm sorry if any of u were tagged before afsdhgsdf)

*edit: how in the world did i manage to miss two questions 😭 added them now. in my defense it was like. 2 am.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Taggled by @gillianthecat

NAME: Gale. Might be more reluctant to hand that out, but I was on the 'net in that weird, comfortable point between 'ACK THE PREDATORS WILL GET YOU!' and 'ACK THE GOVERNMENT WILL GET YOU!' so it's already out there. Any really determined stalker could find me and I've accepted this.  

SIGN: Cancer. I don't actually believe in astrology, but I love sets and symbolism, so I've paid attention to it since a young age, and I've yet to see a description of my sign that isn't a pretty sharp little personality snap shot. And before you say 'Oh, but they're made vague so you can interp-' no. That's the point. I've never seen a description of, say, Taurus that you could make resemble me if your life depended on it; I've never seen a description of Cancer that needed interpreting what so ever. I don't believe in it, but it describes me. Also, having grown up on the coast and loving the moon, the adjacent symbolism resonates.

HEIGHT: 5'9 3/4"

TIME: 6:57, give or take

BIRTHDAY: July 8th. Typically have dinner with either Mum or Dad and Step-mum, depending on schedules, and open presents. Also take a moment to recognize that I've surrvived another year without going nuts, being hit by a truck, contracting the black death, etc.

FAVOURITE ARTIST/BAND: Over all, probably Heather Alexander, but I'm a music fiend, so take that with salt. Lots of salt.  

LAST MOVIE: Encanto, I believe, although it may have been Downton Abbey: A New Era. I think Encanto though.

LAST SHOW: Can't remember the last show I completed. Probably 'Good Omens' if mini-series count. If not...Jeeves and Wooster. Currently watching BBC Ghosts.  

WHEN I CREATED THIS BLOG: Sometime in 2017  

WHAT I POST: It was created for getting inspiration for my fanfiction, so bits o' ficcage, but it's expanded to pretty much anything Downton related, or just 'stuff I like', with a good helping of whatever I feel like whinning about right now (largely writer's block and my cat keeping me from the bathroom), and the occasional bit of politics if I feel it's super important. That doesn't happen much, though, because I absolutely detest politics.  

OTHER BLOGS: @snapsandshots is my photography blog and @allthemonsters is my Monster High specific photography blog

DO I GET ASKS: Occasionally, but normally in response to something I've asked first. Don't mind as long as people aren't being trolls. I ignore trolls...or I would, if they tried contacting me. I don't think that's ever actually happened.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Around 8, assuming lack of insomnia

WHAT I'M WEARING: White Calcutta cloth trousers, green microfiber polo, glasses, slippers. Hatred of temperatures over 75.

DREAM JOB:  Nothing that actually exists. Being able to make a living off of my random collection of hobbies is a literal dream, and I would love it.

DREAM TRIP: My parents gave me a trip to the UK in 2020 as a 40th birthday present. ... ... ... It'll happen eventually.

FAVOURITE SONGS (and quotes from them, just for some spice): This list is too long for words, so I'll just toss up a few things that people have probably not heard before.

Hap'n Frog of Cambreath (Heather Alexander): How many of you can catch a fly?

A Gypsy's Home (Heather Alexander): And the road is wide and the sky is tall and before I die I will see it all!

Stone Soup (Heather Dale): The stone is in the kettle, the water's on the boil, the work is always lighter when there's many hands to toil.

Somebody Will (Heather Dale): But I am willing to sacrifice something I don't have for something I won't have, but somebody will some day!

Letter Between A Little Boy And Himself As An Adult (Abney Park): Dear Mr. Brown, one day I’ll be you, and though I’m only eight now, you need to hear my rules.

Were-owl (S.J. Tucker): Who, who, who is it dares to find these feathers, stroke this skin?

The Rift (Leslie Hudson): So cut me out ‘cause I will hurt you Lock me up ‘cause I will make you fall Turn your back ‘cause I’ll betray you For love or loss I’d give my all

And as always, I am absolutely miserable at tagging! So if you would like to do this, have a blast!

[keefwho]

October 30 - 2023 Monday

3:06pm

Still thinking about what I want to do with myself to start changing something. I think constantly trying to express myself is a good first direction. Its just barely started helping me get a grip on who I am and made me feel a little free like I used to. First and foremost anything I feel is valid and my wants are appropriate, until I determine they aren't. I guess I'm trying to take a sort of "innocent until proven guilty" kind of approach with myself because I'm too used to shooting myself down right away. This is a sort of extreme opposite response.

Its hard to know when to act on something. I can't constantly keep trying to figure things out because it gets tiring and inefficient. Maybe it's every time I feel stressed/sorrowful which is unfortunately very often because I feel like my problems go deep. Maybe every time I feel like writing or talking about it means I can do something to address my current state. I know I want to do acting more than talking, I've fallen into the talking trap. I know I used Daisy to feel better under the guise that a "talk" will help but it usually doesn't. The occasional emotional support is healthy but I've caught myself wanting to talk basically all the time like she's my therapist. It's not fair to her and not effective for me so I will be cognizant of that moving forward. That being said, there are some things I think I do want to talk with her about as long as I can confirm to myself that it is actually needed and I'm not just overcommunicating. I intend to do this right because I care about whatever is going on between us. Dare I say it's one of my top 3 priorities.

I feel afraid to admit that sometimes because I'm reminded of a previous dynamic where the other party was so interested in me but I wasn't reciprocating in the way they wanted. In my case it made me distance from them even more because I got more and more uncomfortable. But I sorta led them on because I didn't want to let them down and at the same time I was convincing myself that I wanted to be there. But I didn't. So I have unfounded fears that I am that same position but I'm the one caring too much and pushing her away. It's the only experience I have which kinda sucks.

8:17pm

Another evening spent feeling a little forgotten. I don't have any reason to on the surface and I know that. But I feel like this a lot and that's okay. As long as I come to terms with it I can figure out how I want to proceed. I'm just so tired of every day being a fight. Its like nothing can be good. Even if things are, I assume they aren't going to last and catastrophe is just around the corner. I so rarely feel okay anymore.

10:46pm

I don't really wanna talk about my day right now but I'll at least summarize. I have lots of weird feelings right now and way too much on my mind.

Breakfast was a jimmy dean sandwich and rice. I had to go to the store to pick up some water and soda and my weekend drinks but they were out of water. Mom was supposed to pick some up for me when they got more in today but she must have forgot. I'll live as long as I get it tomorrow. Stream went well. I remember doing Inktober well and the commission. I ran out of things to work on though because I needed responses from people but I worked the rayman meme thing I had with Daisy's horse.

Afterwards I did my workout well, I was a monster on the treadmill. Also cleaned up just a bit before showering again. I took care of myself while I was at it which made me late to lunch. Lunch was some more homemade soup I've been making lately. Its a really good meal, especially after a workout. Since there was no way to stick to my usual schedule, I made sure to revise it and stick to the new times all day. I got the request done quickly and finished that rayman pic before moving onto a drawing of Zipp I had on my desktop. Afterwards I played some Cities, some dungeons, and watched Twitch kinda on and off. I took care of myself again because I was stressed out I guess and wanted a distraction. Daisy called at bedtime and we chatted just a little bit before she fell asleep.

I think I want to make this blog only about recounting what happened on a given day and I might make a new one for my deepest darkest feelings. If I do that it might be on a different website and totally anonymous. I should probably just have a physical journal to write in or a notepad file or something but I do want them to be maybe potentially witnessed by strangers. I just want to be seen in a way. But since I'll be dumping some pretty heavy and specific stuff it's gotta stay extra secret.

[iekeejkeek]

new ending for the ringmaster tickle 🎩🐈‍⬛✨🤡🪄

(Let skip the clown bc it will took so long and i’m lezzy)

ENJOY

After a running you get teleport to a giant table “what how did I get up here” you look little confused but the big smile of the tickle monster just slowly Stan up at you “no no no not you” and yea is your man

Ringmaster :)

“HELLO LITTLE FRIEND HERE COME THE REAL FUN” you try to run but well he pink you up take your shoes off and use a………tiny feather to tickle your feet (is his power lol) “HAHAHAHA NOHOHO WHAOHOH EVEN IS THAT” he just smile and use more feather to tickle your tummy and side “NOOOO HAHAHA EHEHE NOOO STOOHO I CAN’T HAHAHAH” not just your tummy and side your leg are tickle by the tiny feather to your neck your hips your bottom belly “TICKLE TICKLE LET SEE THE SMILE ON THE FACE TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE” it is so tickle for you that everything is so dark…oh no you have to get yourself together don’t let him do that “no…no I can’t see anything uh………no” you pass out 

you wake up in the table again

“YOU CREEPY MAN” ringmasters still sit here smile you look mad he keep look at you little boy/girl and smile 

“WHAT YOU GOING TO DO HEHEHEHE”

You look at him I remember of how you win for the first time “I remember someone here have a tickle nipple am i right” ringmaster look little scared but try to scared you more “what…you think is going to work is not-” you running and jumping in his white shirt “NO NOT IT” you look at it nipple and think “hm you know I going to tickle your nipple and make you milk” ringmaster look so scared “NO WHAT” you laugh little “just kidding is going to be fun right”

You started to tickle a left side nipple first “tickle tickle tickle” he try to hold the laugh “oh a little hole here hmmm………should I tickle it?” You think for a second…

“hmmmmm yea why not” you tickle a little hole and outside to

“HAHAHAHA NOT IT HAHAHA” he’s laughing so hard that you can hear it in here “tickle tickle it little cheese will make you laugh” you keep tickle fast and fast “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOH” now you go to a other side of the nipple you think of how to make more tickle and well…you lick it

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH STOP IT YOU MOUSE” you think for a second and came up to him “how about neck tickle instead” you started to tickle his neck while he’s laughing so hard with some tears of happiness 

“HAHAHAHA STOP…YOU MAKE ME CRY NOWAWAW HAHAHAHA NOOOO” you when hide in his shirt right now so he can’t touch you but… he’s too tried to do that anyway “AH HAHAHA…hahaha…ahhh…” uh oh or should I say YAY you win “ha…! Look like I-” he still up !

“You not getting away with…it” you look at his you were little scared but well you still in his shirt so “breast tickle…is my last thing with you…!” You tickle the breast with only one figured and you know is working “HAHAHA…AHHH…pass out.exe lol” 

Oh………you make him pass out

WILL YOU WIN

“Oh finally…wait what is that a sound uh oh a clown…!” He is coming is here you little scared bc of how tall he is…he comes in look at you

“Hey master I’m hungry- oh you…he pass out bc of tickle isn’t he…I know bc laugh is so loud” you so at him “you uh yea…so you hungry?”  “yep…i’m not going to be mad at you if you make me a cheese sandwich :)”

What no…i’m making you a ch-”

“WAAAAA”

“Oh for goddess”

“Fries cheese sounds”

“Yay thx you :o]”

“Can I leave after it…btw a soup is tomato and onion”

“Yes…and sounds so yum :o>”

You leave it circus walking in to the big village with a lot of houses human and soul and ghost you wonder what is happened next in there will you found him the demon of jealousy will you just got a old grandfather give you a something you will have to use for it but will you not forget about it joyful circus is used to be…

The end (little mouse tickle end)

After you left bc is funny of how he small cheese for the circus :)

🎩:what the hell…is that cheese sandwich? 🤡:yea you want some masters :)

🎩:give me…the sandwich and the soup…right now I’m…hungry 

🤡:here you go…

🎩 and 🤡: *eat sound*

🎩:is good is that kid make it

🤡:yep

🎩: I…hope he/she coming to visit here soon

🤡:me to master

👒🕷: give me the sandwich you clown

🤡: no lol uh how did you ever get here…

Enjoy it hmmm…😄

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Ghoulia Yelps

The private thoughts of Ghoulia Yelps. Please refrain from reading my diary.

July 15,

I went to the mailbox to see if the book on monsterlecular biology I ordered was there and by the time I started back to the house it began to rain. Needless to say I was soaked by the time I got back inside. Everyone thinks I am so smart but if I were really intelligent I would carry an umbrella with me wherever I go.

July 16,

I woke up with a monster cold this morning. Ugh… I just wanted to lie in bed and simply un-die. Sir Hoots A Lot kept me supplied with tissues and books so I did not have to get up and mom even brought in some lukewarm dragon noodle soup although I am quite sure it was hot when she left the kitchen with it.

July 25,

I started a new book today. Actually it is a graphic novel… okay comic book. It is all about a zombie boy who gets pecked by a radioactive hummingbird and gains the power of super speed. I know it is just a made up story but a ghoul can dream can she not?

July 31,

So there is this zombie boy and I have become completely enamored with him. He plays on the casketball team and he is sweet and smart and I get tongue tied every time I am in his presence. I attempted to ask some of my ghoul friends what I should do but all the advice they gave me just seemed wrong. I even thought about sending a letter to one of those teen monster magazines:

Dear Relationship Know-It-All,

I am totally head over tombstone with the most engaging zombie boy but I am too nervous to talk to him. Please send your most generalized reply with a solution so diluted that it has no possible application to my current situation.

Signed, Thoroughly flummoxed in his presence

I did not, of course, send the letter. The last thing I want to do is publicly announce my inability to function in the presence of the opposite sex. It really should not be this difficult but it does require a certain amount of spontaneity and unscheduled events are not my fate.

August 15,

Today was the day I had scheduled to make a trek to The Maul in order to take advantage of their back-to-school fashion sales. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond my control involving a flat tire, an intransigent hunchback and untimely solar flares I goes to The Maul about 4 hours late. I was able to makeup most of the time because I had a list of things I needed, which allowed me to bypass shopping and proceed straight to buying mode. The last stop on my list was the shoe store and I got there just as they were closing. I tried to talk to the store lurk into giving me just a few minutes but she did not understand zombie so she just rolled her eyes said “Sorry we’re closed,” and started to pull down the roll up security door. This caused the whole day to come crashing down on me and I started to fall apart. It was then that something remarkable happened. An arm reached around from behind me and stopped the door from closing. Then through my tears I could see that the door was being pushed back up and store lurk’s eyes had gone very wide. I do not know where she came from, but Clawdeen, perhaps the most intimidating girl at Monster High, stood there in full Alpha mode. “She said she had a list and that it wouldn’t take long, and since you are trying to close five minutes earlier than your posted hours, I suggest you open up and wait on her.” The lurk swallowed hard and said, “Of course Ms. Wolf.” Clawdeen put her arm around me and said, “Come on ghoul friend let’s try on some shoes.” It was one of the most enjoyable shopping experiences of my short zombie life. I even bought an extra pair on Clawdeen’s advice and when we were done she and her brother Clawd gave me a ride home so I didn’t have to take the bus. It is unfortunate that Clawdeen is still angry at Cleo because of the way Cleo and Clawd’s relationship ended. In retrospect though, I suppose Cleo should not have started dating Deuce the day after she dumped Clawd but what do I know about relationships?

August 20,

I made the acquaintance of a new girl today. Her name is Frankie Stein and although her understanding of zombie is quite rudimentary, she only asked me to repeat something twice. She had many questions about what it is like to be a zombie. Her inquiries showed a remarkably limited knowledge of zombie life and culture but I was happy to oblige her in her quest for knowledge. Her first question was, “Why do zombies only speak zombie but write in vernacular?” Okay, she did not use the word “vernacular” Anyway… I told her that it was a function of our unique zombie physiology. Actually, I believe I said that it is the way we are made – like a werewolf gets doubly hairy and ferocious on nights with a full moon or a vampire not being able to go out in the sun without totally covering their skin. It just is. I look forward to getting to know Frankie better when school starts. She is monstrously sweet.

August 31,

I received my “Zombies are monsters too!” t-shirt and bumper sticker in the mail today. The bumper sticker will have to go onto my wall until I get my license but I will proudly wear the t-shirt, under something else, because I hate drawing undue attention to myself. Yes I am being contradictory here. I want to make a statement but I do not want to be noticed while I am doing it. Why a statement? Well, it is not as if zombies are treated poorly by the “legacy” monsters but sometimes we do get treated like background noise which is a little disheartening. Yes we only speak zombie, yes we slowly shuffle along, yes we often appear to be devoid of personality but the same observation could be made about any teenager. Regardless, I am just as special as any pedigreed monster. Speaking of pedigreed monsters, my iCoffin just went off to remind me I am supposed to meet Cleo de Nile tomorrow.

September 1,

Spent the day at Cleo de Nile’s helping her get her class schedule organized. While Cleo does have the reputation of being arrogant and demanding, which she is at times, she can also be generous and helpful. How does she help me? It is hard to socialize when you are as shy as I am but Cleo will not allow me to sit on the sidelines. When we first became friends she took me around and introduced me to everybody – even Clawdeen! Now I am included in every social event and I have so many good friends at MH that while I am still shy they will not allow me to be invisible. I am still closest to Cleo though because she took a chance on getting to know a quiet and nerdy zombie girl when she really did not have to.

September 6,

Although I have enjoyed my time off for the summer I am eagerly anticipating the resumption of the school year tomorrow. I know that I am unusual in this but school is where I get to focus on my two favorite activities, acquiring knowledge and spending time with my friends.