#Triptych Soul

[amarilke]

°˖✧ Catwalker redesign for @kuromori4's fic Triptych Soul (read on AO3) ✧˖°

I'm so happy to finally share this handsome boy's redesign ˖✧˖ to think the first sketch I did of this picture is almost precisely four months old!

I was so nervous about this because I find his design from the show absolutely beautiful and I tend to lack creativity as far as clothes and accessories go... but @kuromori4's and @fandomofone's reactions were absolutely encouraging and the three of us worked together to get to this final version (still mourning sleeveless Catwalker lol), so this is really a product of our collective love for this story ✧

I really won't thank the @mlbigbang2024 moderators and the cosmic alignment that brought us together enough. Please go read this incredible story and fall in love with Catwalker as I did!

Disclaimer: I’m sharing my art as fan work, with no commercial use or agenda. All credits for Miraculous’ characters go to the original creators and trademark owners.

[kuromori4]

Mapo Tofu

I finally did some art for my own fic! 😅

Read Triptych Soul, Chapter 7 : Chat Fight

Thank you to @amarilke for late nights helping me with lighting and such! <3

Catwalker had already swallowed down the bite of Char Siu and had now picked up a nice big chunk of Mapo Tofu. This time, it was Ladybug’s eyes that bulged wide.  “Oh no, I forgot—!” Too late. Catwalker popped it in his mouth, and Ladybug pulled a face as she waited for his reaction. As she suspected, Catwalker’s face turned a deep shade of red from the neck up, and he made a little strangled noise in his throat. “—it’s spicy,” she finished with a wince. Chat Noir was an absolute wuss when it came to spice. Catwalker shook his head wildly, swallowed down the lump of tofu, likely whole, and began coughing and sputtering while pounding at his chest. “No—” he coughed. “It’s—it’s good.” His insistence wasn’t convincing; his eyes were watering.

[kuromori4]

I concur.

ladywalker

[somewhat-stable-askblog]

To all of the sillies... favourite pizza toppings (or if they don't like pizza then favourite pizza alternative...)

{“Honestly I’m okay with any topping on pizza...”} [“Pineapple.”] (“Can we like get Ravi outta here?”) [“Can we get YOU outta here?!”] {“Can we not-���} (“Myyyy bad. Anyways. Goldfish.”) [“THATS NOT EVEN A TOPPING!!!”] (“Anything can be a topping if you really try.”) [“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!?!”]

[byjotaaa]

happy blood moon season!

[automatayaoi]

acherontia styx -- a species of death's head hawkmoth, defined by the skull shaped marking on its thorax and its fondness for honey

much like the fly, one may trap it with sweetness and sugar, and its pinned wings make a lovely decoration for any wall.

for further dissection notes, please see here

[fandomofone]

Look at this sad, beautiful cat boy and tell me he doesn't tug on the heartstrings. Catwalker might be in his darkest hours but that golden glow will always come looking for him. ❤️

The detail in @ohwwhuvcreations's art gets me every time. The gorgeous lighting, the warm, soft tones... the dust motes y'all!! 😍

Go check out Triptych Soul now!

His hair was draped haphazardly over his face as he slept, but from what she could tell, the scratches on his cheeks looked much better than they had last night. Now that she was seeing him cleaned up and illuminated in the soft morning light, Ladybug finally had the chance to catch a clear glimpse of him. He didn’t look like Chat Noir at all.  … Did he?

Here is my piece for Chapter 6 of Triptych Soul!!

The @mlbigbang2024 was a lot of fun! Thank you to @kuromori4, @amarilke, and @fandomofone for welcoming me into the group!

[weirdlookindog]

Witold Pruszkowski (1846–1896) - Zaduszki (All Souls' Day)

first part of the triptych, 1888

source

[the-illustrative-interloper]

The Feelings of a Hunter - Triptych

As Mina slips into the trance, she braces herself to enter the wretched Count’s psyche. But as she falls into darkness, she feels a familiar hand in hers.

“You were always so clever, Mina,” Lucy whispers. “And I know your cleverness will save both of our souls. You will not remember when you wake, but while you are here in the places between, I will be with you. Together we will catch the beast that stalks in the night and ensure he never harms another. I love you my dear. Be strong. You are not alone.”

[themalhambird]

ROP Ladies Weel Day 4: Power, Strength, Courage (@ropladies)

A Triptych of Drabbles for Disa, Princess & then Queen of Khazad-Dum (but not yet).

Power

In your earliest memories your mother sings, and the mountain sings back. As soon as you can speak, you try to mimic her vocalisation. She, laughing (not laughing at your haphazard efforts, but for joy that you make the effort) promises to teach you- when you are old enough. For, she says, stone-singing is no mere trick, picked up lightly. It is a sacred skill from Aulë, a power that makes you steward of the Mountain’s Secrets. Master it, and you shoulder a Duty to act in the interests of all dwarves in Khazad-dûm, not just you and your own. 

Strength

The first time your skill is tested, you are not ready. You are merely a person at hand who can, and when there’s a shaft collapse, time is everything- and so you step forward and start to sing without a second thought while runners go for a proper master. Fewer workers were trapped than immediately crushed– but by the time the real Stone-singer arrives, the bulk of the rockfall is cleared, the majority of the survivors pulled free. “Well done, love,” your mother says, an arm squeezing your shaking shoulders. “I have it from here- take a rest, well done.”

Courage

You do not sing at your mother’s funeral, for The Mountain reflecting nothing but the silence- the loss of that magnificent voice- feels a more fitting tribute than the echoes of your own grief. Afterwards, you venture alone to the surface and make your lament to the stars. It bursts forth from the very depths of your soul and when you are done you return to Khazad-dûm, and you place your hand upon the stone.  “I don’t know,” you say. “If I can be as good a steward as Mam was. But I promise I’m going to damn well try.”

[amarilke]

Adrien Loves Coffee is the sweetest, most adorable chapter in Triptyich Soul so far. Go get your daily dose of Adrienette coffee ☆～(ゝ。∂）

As usual, a big shout out to @kuromori4 for bewitching me with her words, to @fandomofone for her editing work and to @ohwwhuvcreations for being an inspiring artist to work with! Thank you @mlbigbang2024 for putting us together!

Disclaimer: I’m sharing my art as fan work, with no commercial use or agenda. All credits for Miraculous’ characters go to the original creators and trademark owners.

[kuromori4]

I'm incredibly excited to finally share with you a teaser for my upcoming fic and entry to this year's MLB Big Bang! @mlbigbang2024

Summary: 

A routine akuma attack takes a potentially deadly turn when Chat Noir attacks Ladybug instead; his strange, non-responsive behavior rattles her, and Ladybug quickly finds herself with her back against a wall and at his mercy. 

When Chat inexplicably flees, Ladybug begins a long and desperate search for her partner. Worried out of her mind and left with no clues to follow, she finally receives a distress call and dashes off to find him.

However, it’s not Chat Noir who shows up to meet her, but Catwalker, a mysterious hero she’d only met once, years ago. Ladybug’s heart sinks— where is Chat Noir? Why does Catwalker have his Miraculous? 

Catwalker, disheveled and in distress, insists that they’re in danger; Monarch has captured Chat Noir and intends to use him as a weapon, and claims he only narrowly escaped himself.

None of it makes sense— If Monarch has possession of the Black cat Miraculous, then how is Catwalker also wearing it? How could Chat Noir and Catwalker both be transformed at the same time?

Ladybug is baffled by his most outrageous claim yet; according to Catwalker, Chat Noir is a Sentibeing. As if that wasn’t shocking enough— he claims that he IS Chat Noir!

Teaser: Darting away from yet another launched attack, Ladybug ran for it, trying to put a safe distance between them. Now that the akuma had been dispatched and her cure activated, any damage that Chat doled out wouldn’t be reversible. That included any damage to herself, Chat Noir, or the city. She’d have to be careful.  Chat had crouched down on all fours now, keeping low to the ground and watching her. His eyes reflected the moonlight, but remained as cold as ice. Devoid of thought or awareness, like he was sleeping with his eyes open.  “What happened to you, Chaton?” she wondered aloud, more to herself than to him.  He abruptly sprang into action again, closing the distance between them with incredible speed and agility, and it took all of her focus just to avoid the Cataclysm still bubbling in his right hand. She found herself stepping back– and back– and back again, as his attacks grew fierce and fast. That was until– She hit a wall. Shit. Her eyes widened as his arms boxed her in, framing her body against the wall. His right hand flew faster than she could perceive, and Ladybug did just about the dumbest thing she could imagine.  She closed her eyes. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the fear that had overwhelmed her; the fear for her life, or the fear of her partner’s cold, empty green eyes being the last thing she saw before her demise.  Whatever the reason, her breath caught painfully in her chest as she uttered a weak “Kitty…?” and waited for the final denouement of Ladybug.

A huge thank you and shoutout to my beta, @fandomofone and my artists, @amarilke and @ohwwhuvcreations, for helping me bring this fic to life! And to everyone in the MLB Big bang server who I've had the best time hanging out with! <3

[somewhat-stable-askblog]

*aggressively pets ravi* hello little critter hihihiha, oh also hi aylin and the other one idk wtvr

[“I demand you to STOP. I am not a little critter.”] (“Not bro acting like they’re getting attacked…”) [“I’ll attack YOU if you don’t shut up.”] (“My fault og.”) {“hi-“}

[kuromori4]

👀 don't you just love it when things are on your wavelength? @fandomofone @amarilke

if I was given writing reign over one episode of ml, I wouldn’t tell you but there would be signs (a cat walker returns episode that featured Nathalie)

[ladyeckland28]

The Feet Of Hannah Tingle

A Comedy horror by Lady Eckland and Ms Darkwood

Pendleton & Sons: Where Souls Go To Staple

The fluorescent lights of Pendleton & Sons Document Solutions hummed a dirge for ambition. Grey cubicles stretched towards a perpetually overcast window, each containing a soul slowly dissolving into the beige monotony. In one such cubicle sat Charlotte Eckland, mouse hovering over a spreadsheet cell containing a number so meaningless it might as well have been ancient Sumerian. Her shoulders slumped, mirroring the wilting pot plant beside her monitor – a leaving gift from Brenda in Accounts two years ago, now clinging to life with grim determination.

To her left, Yin Darkwood was deep-diving into the internet's murky depths. Her screen wasn't filled with pivot tables, but with grainy JPEGs of supposed UFO sightings and forums debating the reptilian nature of the Royal Family. Yin wasn't just bored; she was existentially suspicious. Everything was a potential conspiracy, from the suspiciously uniform shape of digestive biscuits to the way pigeons always seemed to be watching.

Across the aisle, Glennis Riley nervously adjusted his spectacles, polishing the lenses for the third time that hour with a small microfiber cloth he kept in his top pocket. Glennis existed in a state of perpetual low-grade anxiety, amplified by Yin’s constant stream of paranoia. He was attempting to reconcile expense reports, occasionally sighing deeply and running a hand through his thinning hair. His desk was impeccably tidy, in stark contrast to the controlled chaos surrounding Yin.

Their lives were a triptych of drabness: lukewarm tea, printer jams, pointless meetings about synergy, and the crushing weight of another Wednesday (as it was today, April 2nd, 2025) that felt exactly like Tuesday, which felt exactly like Friday. Escape, as always, came through the glowing portals in their pockets and on their desks. YouTube was their preferred anaesthetic.

Charlotte, seeking distraction, typed random words into the search bar. "Soft..." "Cozy..." "Relaxing..." The algorithm, in its infinite and often disturbing wisdom, offered up a thumbnail that caught her eye: perfectly formed, immaculate bare feet resting on a plush velvet cushion. The channel title: Hannah's Sexy Feet.

Intrigued, slightly baffled, Charlotte clicked.

The video opened on the aforementioned feet. They were elegantly shaped, the toenails painted a demure rose pink. A voice, smooth as silk and undeniably feminine, began to speak. "Hello, my little foot fanciers," it purred. "Hannah here, ready to share a little slice of heaven with you."

The camera panned up slightly, showing Hannah Tingle from the shins down, lounging on what looked like an incredibly expensive chaise longue. She wore silk pyjamas. She picked up one foot, cradling it gently. "Feel how soft they are?" she whispered, stroking her own arch. "Like warm velvet. I moisturise them three times a day with my own special blend... organic shea butter, a hint of lavender, and... well, a girl's gotta have some secrets, hasn't she?"

Charlotte felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. It was oddly mesmerising. Hannah continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Imagine these tracing patterns on your skin... gently... teasingly." She flexed her toes. "Or perhaps," she brought her foot closer to the camera, tilting her head just out of shot, "you want to know what they smell like?" A delicate sniff. "Clean linen, a touch of rosewater... and something else. Something... intimate."

Charlotte swallowed, her mouse hand frozen. This was... unexpected. And undeniably doing something to her. Over the next few days, Pendleton & Sons faded further into the background. Charlotte devoured Hannah’s back catalogue. There were videos of Hannah walking barefoot on grass, wiggling her toes in sand, even suggestively crushing ripe berries underfoot. The comments section was a bizarre mix of breathless adoration and outright creepiness, but Charlotte found herself adding her own, anonymised appreciations. 'Amazing!' 'So beautiful!'

She started DMing the channel, expecting no reply. To her shock, 'Hannah' replied almost instantly. The messages started innocently, discussing foot care routines (Charlotte suddenly developed a keen interest), but quickly shifted. Hannah was flirtatious, complimentary, and seemed genuinely interested in Charlotte.

Hannah's Sexy Feet: 'Your comments always make me smile, lovely. You seem to truly appreciate the artistry 😉'

Char_Eck: 'They're just... captivating. You have a way of describing them.'

Hannah's Sexy Feet: 'Perhaps I could describe them to you in person sometime? 😉🦶'

Charlotte’s heart hammered against her ribs. A date? With Hannah Tingle? The foot goddess of YouTube?

"She asked me out," Charlotte breathed, staring at her phone during their designated fifteen-minute afternoon break.

Yin, who had been explaining how contrails were actually nano-particle delivery systems for mind-control agents, paused mid-sentence. "Who asked you out?"

"Hannah. You know, from that YouTube channel?"

Yin’s eyes narrowed. Glennis, who had been meticulously arranging his pens, dropped a ballpoint with a clatter. He bent to retrieve it, his face flushed.

"Hannah Tingle?" Yin hissed, leaning closer. "Charlotte, no! Have you not been listening to anything I've told you?"

"What are you talking about?" Charlotte frowned. "She's lovely. And very... descriptive."

"Descriptive?" Yin scoffed. "Charlotte, she's a prime candidate! Think about it! The perfect features, the weirdly specific obsession, the anonymity – she never shows her face! It's classic infiltration technique!"

"What infiltration?" Charlotte asked, exasperated. "She just really likes her feet!"

"Or," Yin lowered her voice dramatically, "they're not her feet. It's a disguise, Charlotte! There are forums dedicated to it. People think she's part of the Xylar Collective – bio-mimetic scouts sent to assess planetary weaknesses!"

Glennis, having retrieved his pen, nodded nervously, adjusting his tie. "They say they probe... sensitive areas, Yin! For weaknesses! Frightfully invasive, if you ask me!"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Oh, for goodness sake. It's just a foot fetish channel! It's a bit weird, maybe, but she's not an alien!"

"How do you know?" Yin pressed. "Have you seen her face? Has she mentioned family? Does she ever talk about, I don't know, tax returns?"

"We mostly talk about feet," Charlotte admitted, flushing slightly.

"Exactly!" Yin slammed her hand on the desk, making Glennis jump and clutch his chest. "It's textbook diversion! Focusing on one insignificant detail to distract from the larger deception! Charlotte, promise me you won't go."

"I am going," Charlotte said firmly. "It's just drinks at The Soggy Otter. What's the worst that could happen? She tries to give me a foot massage?" A part of her wouldn't entirely mind that.

Yin looked desperate. "Okay, okay. Go on the date. Fine. But," she leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a terrifyingly practical sort of madness, "after the date... we grab her."

Charlotte stared. "You want to... kidnap her?"

"It's an intervention!" Yin insisted. "A citizen's investigation! We take her back to mine, restrain her – gently, obviously – and we get the truth out of her. For your own safety! And potentially, the safety of the planet!"

Glennis wrung his hands, forgetting his pen momentarily. "Oh dear. Kidnapping? Are you quite sure about the legal ramifications, Yin? It sounds awfully... actionable."

"It's fine, Glennis, it's for the greater good," Yin waved a dismissive hand. "Think of it as a... surprise wellness check. We just need to be sure she's not a Xylarian foot-probe."

Charlotte laughed, despite herself. "You're insane. Absolutely not."

But Yin was persistent. Over the next two days, she bombarded Charlotte with 'evidence': blurry photos allegedly showing strange reflections in Hannah’s toenails, audio analysis 'proving' her voice had subsonic frequencies common in reptilian species, complex diagrams linking foot-related YouTube channels to known alien abduction hotspots. Glennis added worried affirmations, forwarding articles about people who vanished after meeting strangers online, often muttering things like "One really can't be too careful these days."

By the time the date rolled around, Charlotte was still determined to go, but a sliver of doubt, nurtured by Yin’s relentless paranoia and Glennis’s fussy anxiety, had taken root. The kidnapping plan, initially ludicrous, now seemed... almost prudent? In a completely deranged way.

"Fine," Charlotte sighed, the night before the date. "We do it your way. After the date. If she seems even slightly weird... or tries to probe me with her toes... we bundle her into your car. But if she's normal, you owe me fifty quid and you have to stop talking about aliens for a month."

Yin grinned triumphantly. "Deal. Glennis, get the duct tape."

Glennis swallowed hard. "The... heavy-duty parcel tape from Stationery? Will that suffice?"

"It'll have to."

Ankles, Ales, and Abduction

The Soggy Otter was exactly as charming as its name suggested. Sticky tables, the faint aroma of stale beer and regret, and lighting dim enough to hide a multitude of sins, or perhaps, an alien disguise. Charlotte, wearing her best (and only) non-work blouse, nervously scanned the patrons.

Then she saw her. Seated in a corner booth, bathed in the amber glow of a faux-Victorian lamp, was Hannah Tingle. Or at least, the top half of her. And she was stunning. Flowing chestnut hair, high cheekbones, warm eyes, and a smile that could melt glaciers. She looked disarmingly, disappointingly normal. And human.

"Charlotte?" Hannah’s voice was even smoother in person, less breathy than on YouTube, but just as captivating.

"Hannah? Hi." Charlotte slid into the booth, her palms sweating. "You look... different from your videos."

Hannah laughed, a musical sound. "Well, you usually only see me from the shins down. I thought it best to bring the rest of me tonight." She gestured to her feet, tucked demurely under the table in elegant, low-heeled shoes. "Though they're here too, of course. Wouldn't want to disappoint."

Charlotte blushed. "Right. Of course."

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily. Hannah was witty, intelligent, and asked thoughtful questions about Charlotte’s life, managing to make even Pendleton & Sons sound vaguely interesting. She spoke of her 'online content creation' as a form of performance art, exploring themes of sensuality and intimacy in unexpected ways. There was no mention of Xylar Collectives or planetary weaknesses. She even complained about the unseasonably damp April weather in Nantwich.

Charlotte felt a wave of relief wash over her, quickly followed by annoyance at Yin. She was just a woman. A beautiful, charming woman with a foot fetish niche.

"So," Hannah leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling, "tell me, Charlotte. What is it about feet that fascinates you?"

Before Charlotte could formulate an answer that didn't sound completely mortifying, Hannah subtly slipped off one shoe beneath the table. Charlotte caught a glimpse of a perfectly pedicured bare foot resting on the worn carpet. Hannah’s toes gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wiggle.

"Is it the vulnerability?" Hannah mused, her voice dropping slightly. "The way they carry us through the world, yet are so often hidden? Or is it just... the shape? The softness?" Her foot brushed lightly against Charlotte’s ankle under the table.

Charlotte froze. It wasn't aggressive, wasn't probe-like, but it was definitely... intentional. And incredibly effective. That familiar warmth spread through her again, stronger this time. Okay, maybe she wasn't entirely normal. But alien?

They talked for another hour. Hannah was captivating. Charlotte found herself laughing, sharing stories, feeling more seen than she had in years. The foot under the table remained a tantalising, static presence against her leg. When Hannah suggested they get some air, Charlotte readily agreed, momentarily forgetting the ludicrous plan she’d half-heartedly signed up for.

Outside, the night air was cool. They stood awkwardly for a moment under a flickering streetlamp.

"I had a really lovely time, Charlotte," Hannah said softly.

"Me too," Charlotte replied, meaning it. All thoughts of conspiracies had evaporated.

Suddenly, a battered Vauxhall Corsa screeched to a halt beside them. The back doors flew open.

"Now!" Yin yelled from the driver's seat, her face grimly determined.

Glennis tumbled out of the passenger side, looking pale and flustered, clutching the roll of parcel tape as if it were a life raft. "Right then! Prepare for... intervention!" he announced, his voice cracking slightly.

"What the-?" Hannah started, turning in confusion.

Charlotte’s mind raced. Oh god, they're actually doing it. Part of her screamed No!, but the seed of doubt Yin had planted, combined with the sheer momentum of the situation (and maybe a tiny, traitorous flicker of curiosity) made her hesitate for a fatal second.

Glennis, despite his nervousness, made a surprisingly decisive, if awkward, move towards Hannah, holding the tape out. "No sudden moves, please!" Yin, abandoning the wheel, darted around and grabbed Hannah’s arms from behind.

"Get her in!" Yin grunted.

Hannah struggled, bewildered. "Charlotte? What is this? Who are these people?"

"It's... an intervention?" Charlotte stammered, feeling utterly ridiculous as she lamely helped Yin push a protesting Hannah towards the open car door. "A wellness check?"

"Get off me!" Hannah yelped, but she was surprisingly easy to manoeuvre. It was almost too easy. Between Yin's surprising strength and Glennis's slightly panicked attempts to assist ("Careful now! Watch the door frame!"), they bundled her into the back seat. Charlotte scrambled in after her. Glennis hurried back into the passenger seat, fumbling with the tape roll.

"Drive, Yin, drive!" Glennis urged, adjusting his skewed glasses as Yin slammed the driver's door shut and peeled away from the kerb, leaving The Soggy Otter and Charlotte’s dignity far behind.

In the back seat, Hannah stared at Charlotte, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal. "Charlotte... why?"

Charlotte couldn't meet her gaze. "My friends... they think you're an alien." It sounded even more idiotic spoken aloud.

Hannah blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she started to laugh. It wasn't a panicked laugh, but a rich, rolling sound that filled the small car. "An alien? Is that what this is about? Because I like feet?"

Yin glanced in the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable. "We'll see who's laughing, 'Hannah Tingle'. We're taking you somewhere secure for questioning."

"Secure?" Glennis muttered nervously, trying to tear off a strip of tape with his teeth. "Yin, your flat security is hardly up to snuff. Remember that draft excluder incident?"

"It'll do, Glennis," Yin snapped. "Just... be ready with that tape."

Glennis looked doubtfully at the struggling YouTuber, then at the roll of stubborn parcel tape in his lap. This was not proceeding with optimal efficiency. Or maybe, Charlotte thought with a sinking feeling, it was going exactly according to Yin's insane plan.

The Unmasking in Flat 3B

Yin’s flat smelled faintly of damp, instant noodles, and paranoia. Conspiracy charts adorned the walls, connected by lengths of red wool. A haphazard pile of books – The Reptilian Elite, Chariots of the Gods?, Is Your Cat a Government Drone? – teetered on a coffee table. It was the perfect place for an interrogation, provided the suspect didn't mind questionable hygiene and the overwhelming sense that the truth was not only out there, but probably hiding behind the sofa cushions.

They’d manhandled Hannah onto a sturdy dining chair Yin had dragged into the centre of the living room. Glennis, after several flustered attempts involving getting tape stuck to his fingers and complaining about the lack of a proper dispenser, had managed to secure Hannah’s wrists and ankles to the chair legs with several wraps of the brown parcel tape. It looked less like restraint and more like the chair had been badly packaged for shipping. Hannah, surprisingly, hadn't fought much after the initial shock, instead watching them with an unnerving mixture of amusement and curiosity.

Charlotte hovered awkwardly by the doorway, feeling like a prize idiot. "Look, Hannah, I am so sorry about this. They're... enthusiastic."

Hannah raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Enthusiastic? Charlotte, they abducted me based on a foot fetish and some internet rumours." She tested her bonds slightly. They held, but didn't look particularly robust.

Yin planted herself in front of the chair, adopting what she clearly thought was an intimidating interrogator stance. It mostly made her look like she needed the loo. "Alright, 'Hannah Tingle', or whatever your designation is. The game's up. We know what you are."

Hannah sighed dramatically. "Do you? Because right now, I feel like a slightly bewildered YouTuber trussed up in a flat that smells like conspiracy theories and despair. What exactly do you think I am?"

"A Xylarian!" Yin declared. "A bio-mimetic scout! Sent here to assess vulnerabilities via... podiatric manipulation!"

Hannah blinked. "Podiatric manipulation?" She looked down at her bound feet, still clad in their elegant shoes. "You think I'm trying to take over the world... with my feet?"

"It's a viable infiltration strategy!" Yin insisted. "Lulling targets into a false sense of security through sensual distraction!"

Glennis nodded quickly from beside Yin, nervously clearing his throat. "They say you find the ticklish spots! To map our nervous systems! Most irregular!"

Hannah threw her head back and laughed again, that same rich, rolling sound. "Oh, this is priceless. You genuinely believe this."

"Stop trying to distract us with your human-like mirth!" Yin snapped. "Confess! What is your mission? Who sent you? And are those feet even real?"

Hannah stopped laughing, her expression shifting. A strange stillness came over her. She looked from Yin to Glennis, then her gaze settled on Charlotte, holding it intently. The amusement was gone, replaced by something calculating, ancient, and utterly unreadable. The air in the room grew heavy.

"You want the truth?" Hannah asked, her voice losing some of its silken quality, becoming flatter, more resonant.

Yin leaned forward eagerly. "Yes! Finally!"

"You're right," Hannah said calmly. "I'm not Hannah Tingle. That's just a construct. A... convenient vessel."

Glennis gasped audibly, taking a step back. "Good heavens!" Charlotte felt a cold dread mixed with a perverse thrill. Yin was right?

"And my mission?" Hannah continued, her eyes still locked on Charlotte. "Observation. Assessment. Earth is... fascinating. So messy. So emotional. So easily... tickled." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. It wasn't Hannah's smile anymore.

"And the feet?" Yin demanded. "Are they part of the disguise?"

"The feet," Hannah said, a strange reverence entering her tone. "The feet are exquisite, aren't they? Such complex structures. So sensitive. Humans hide them away, treat them as mundane, even ugly. But they hold so many secrets, so much potential for... interaction." She flexed her toes within her shoes. Charlotte could almost feel it.

"Interaction?" Charlotte whispered, finding her voice.

Hannah's gaze softened slightly as it rested on Charlotte. "Intimacy. Sensation. Your species craves connection, touch. You focus on hands, lips... but you neglect the foundations. The parts that ground you." She paused. "Some of us appreciate them more."

Yin was practically vibrating with vindication. "I knew it! Xylarian foot probe!"

"Not Xylarian," Hannah corrected, sounding almost bored. "That's such a primitive designation. We don't have... names, like you do. We simply are." She looked back at Charlotte. "You were drawn to the 'artistry', Charlotte. You sensed something beyond the superficial."

Charlotte felt confused, scared, and strangely flattered. "What... what are you, then?"

Hannah surveyed the room, the cheap furniture, the conspiracy charts, the two humans gripped by fear and confusion, and the one utterly bewildered one. "We are explorers of sensation. Cartographers of nerve endings." A low, rhythmic clicking sound started emanating from her throat, almost like a purr, but deeper, more mechanical. "You want to see? You seem... more open than your companions." She nodded towards her own neck. "There's a seam. Just under the jawline. Very fine. Part of the bio-mimetic layering."

Yin recoiled. Glennis made a small noise of distress. "Don't touch it!" Yin hissed. "It could be a defence mechanism! Corrosive substance! Paralytic agent!"

But Hannah was looking only at Charlotte, an invitation in her unnervingly calm eyes. "Go on, Charlotte. You started this. You deserve to see what you brought into your life. What you felt a connection with."

Charlotte’s heart was pounding. Every rational thought screamed 'Run!'. Yin was right. This thing wasn't human. But another part of her, the part that had been mesmerised by the videos, the part that felt a bizarre connection to this creature, was undeniably curious. Was this the ultimate intimacy Hannah had hinted at? Seeing beneath the surface?

Slowly, hesitantly, she approached the chair. Yin and Glennis watched, frozen. Glennis looked like he might faint. Hannah remained perfectly still, only the soft clicking sound continuing. Charlotte reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth skin of Hannah's neck.

And there it was. A faint, almost invisible line, tracing the curve of the jaw. A seam. It felt... artificial. Like the edge of a very sophisticated mask.

"Go on," Hannah (or whatever it was) urged, the clicking becoming slightly louder.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte hooked her fingernail under the edge. It peeled back with disturbing ease, like cheap wallpaper. Underneath wasn't flesh, but something else entirely. Pale, faintly luminous, and textured like... like smooth, damp rubber.

She pulled gently. More of the 'Hannah' skin peeled away, revealing the structure beneath. It wasn't horrifying in a gory way. It was horrifying in its utter wrongness. Too many slight, subtle curves where angles should be, a faint bioluminescence pulsing beneath the surface.

"Keep going," the creature clicked, its voice now distorted, deeper, multitimbral.

Charlotte pulled harder. The mask came away from the cheek, the nose, revealing... more. No recognisable features, just shifting, pale, rubbery flesh. And then she reached the eyes. The warm, human eyes detached with the mask, leaving behind... multifaceted, insectoid orbs, glistening blackly in the dim light.

Glennis made a choked, gagging sound and stumbled backwards, tripping over Yin’s pile of conspiracy books and landing hard on his backside. "Merciful heavens!" Yin scrambled backwards, tripping over a pile of UFO magazines.

Charlotte, holding the eerily lifelike 'Hannah' face in her hand, stared at the thing strapped to the chair. It wasn't humanoid at all beneath the neck. The torso seemed segmented, and what she had assumed were legs under the silk pyjamas... weren't. They were thinner, multi-jointed appendages, ending not in feet, but in clusters of fine, feathery tendrils that twitched slightly. And there were too many of them. Six, at least. Maybe eight.

The clicking intensified, morphing into a series of low, guttural chuckles that seemed to vibrate in Charlotte's bones. The creature flexed. The brown parcel tape, designed for cardboard boxes, not extraterrestrial explorers of sensation, strained audibly.

"You wanted to know," the creature rasped, its multifaceted eyes fixing on Charlotte. "You wanted... intimacy."

Rip. One of the wrist restraints gave way with the sound of tearing paper.

"Now," it chuckled, the sound wet and horrid. "Let's explore... your sensitive areas."

Rip. Rip. The other wrist tape tore. Then the ankles. The tendril-tipped appendages unfolded, stretching out with unnerving speed.

The Alien Tickle Monster was free.

The Tickle Chase

Panic erupted in the small flat. Glennis, still on the floor, scrambled backwards crab-style, yelling "Get away! Unhand me, you... you... tickling fiend!" Yin fumbled behind the sofa, searching for a weapon – her hand closed around a sturdy umbrella. Charlotte dropped the 'Hannah' mask, which landed face-up on the carpet, its empty eyes staring accusingly.

The creature unfolded itself from the dining chair, rising to its full, unsettling height. It was vaguely insectoid, vaguely cephalopod-like, all pale, rubbery flesh, segmented limbs, and those terrible, feathery tendrils that quivered with anticipation. It wasn't massive, maybe five and a half feet tall, but its proportions were all wrong, making it seem both fragile and deeply threatening. The clicking chuckle intensified.

"Run!" Charlotte shrieked, finally snapping out of her horrified trance.

She scrambled for the door, grabbing Glennis by the arm and hauling him unceremoniously to his feet. Yin, brandishing the umbrella like a sword, yelled, "Back, foul creature!" before realising the sheer inadequacy of her weapon and promptly turning to flee as well.

The creature moved with startling speed, its multiple limbs skittering across the floor in a way that defied normal locomotion. It wasn't chasing them aggressively, more... playfully? Its tendrils reached out, brushing against the fleeing Glennis's leg as he stumbled towards the door.

Glennis let out a noise that was half-yelp, half-giggle. "No! Stop it! Ghastly! It tickles!" He stumbled, nearly falling again, a bizarre mixture of terror and helpless laughter contorting his face as Charlotte dragged him out into the communal hallway.

"Leave it!" Yin yelled, slamming the flat door shut. They could hear frantic, multi-limbed scratching and that awful clicking chuckle from the other side.

"We can't just leave it in there!" Charlotte gasped, propping Glennis against the wall as he tried to catch his breath between horrified giggles. "Mrs. Higgins!"

"Mrs. Higgins thinks the council uses fluoride to control squirrels! She'll cope!" Yin retorted, fumbling with her keys to lock the door, which seemed utterly futile. "Stairs! Now!"

They clattered down the echoing concrete steps of the apartment block, Glennis still emitting choked giggles and gasps of "Intolerable!" and "My nerves!". The door to Yin's flat burst open above them with a crack of splintering wood. The skittering sound pursued them.

They burst out onto the street, into the relative normality of a Wednesday night in Nantwich. A few late-night dog walkers and pub-goers stared as two terrified women and one utterly flustered, giggling man sprinted past.

"Where are we going?" Glennis panted, straightening his hopelessly skewed tie even as he ran.

"Anywhere but here!" Yin gasped.

The skittering sound was closer now. Charlotte risked a glance back. The creature was loping down the street after them, its pale form almost glowing under the orange streetlights. Its feathery tendrils waved gently in the air. It looked utterly absurd, yet terrifyingly relentless.

"Split up?" Charlotte suggested breathlessly.

"No! Stick together!" Yin countermanded. "Safety protocols dictate concentration against single anomalous entities!"

They veered sharply down a narrow alleyway smelling of bins and damp brickwork, hoping to break line of sight. They emerged onto the deserted High Street. Shops were shuttered, the only signs of life the flickering neon of a takeaway kebab shop at the far end.

"The Kebab Krazy!" Yin wheezed. "Civilians! Potential witnesses! Or distractions!"

They pounded down the pavement. The skittering was right behind them. Charlotte could almost feel the feathery brush of tendrils on the back of her neck. She risked another look. The creature paused, tilting its multifaceted head, and seemed to sniff the air. It focused on a discarded political leaflet plastered to a bus stop. It reached out a tendril and gently... tickled the photograph of a local councillor. A low chuckle echoed in the night.

"It's distracted!" Charlotte hissed. "Keep going!"

They burst into the Kebab Krazy, nearly colliding with a large man attempting to balance a tray of cheesy chips and a can of dandelion and burdock. The smell of roasting meat and chili sauce filled the air. Two bored-looking teenagers manned the counter.

"Help! Alien! Dreadful tickling creature!" Glennis gasped, collapsing onto a plastic orange chair and fanning himself with his hand, finally managing to suppress the giggles into ragged breaths.

The teenagers exchanged unimpressed glances. The man with the cheesy chips slowly edged away.

"Alright mate, bit early for that isn't it?" one of the teenagers asked laconically, wiping down the counter.

"No! It's real!" Yin insisted, pointing wildly towards the door. "Pale! Far too many limbs! Armed with tickling tendrils!"

Just then, the creature appeared in the doorway. It paused, its black eyes sweeping over the scene – the greasy counter, the rotating elephant leg of meat, the bewildered humans. It seemed momentarily confused by the bright lights and the smell of garlic mayo.

The man with the cheesy chips dropped his tray with a clatter. The teenagers’ jaws dropped.

The creature took a hesitant step inside. Its tendrils twitched. It focused on the dropped cheesy chips, lying sadly on the linoleum. It extended a tendril and poked curiously at a cheese-coated chip.

"Oi! Get out!" yelled the braver of the two teenagers, grabbing a long metal tongs. "No weirdos! We've got hygiene ratings to think about!"

The creature retracted its tendril from the chip, seemingly offended. It emitted a series of high-pitched clicks and turned its attention to the teenager. Its tendrils quivered menacingly.

"Don't provoke it!" Charlotte yelled. "It... it tickles!"

The teenager looked utterly confused. "It tickles?"

Before anyone could react further, the creature scuttled sideways, its limbs moving with that unnerving speed. It didn't go for the teenager, but instead darted towards the giant rotating spit of doner meat. With surprising dexterity, several of its tendril-tipped appendages wrapped around the warm, greasy cylinder.

And it started... tickling the kebab.

A series of rapid, feathery strokes danced across the surface of the meat. The creature emitted a low, continuous chuckle, its multifaceted eyes gleaming with what looked like intense concentration, or perhaps, pleasure.

Everyone in the shop stared, utterly dumbfounded. The alien tickle monster, the explorer of sensation, the cartographer of nerve endings, was currently engrossed in giving a doner kebab the tickling of its life.

Yin slowly lowered the umbrella she hadn't realised she was still clutching. Glennis, mouth agape, simply stared, his earlier panic replaced by sheer, uncomprehending astonishment. Charlotte just watched, her mind struggling to process the sheer, unadulterated weirdness of the scene.

The creature seemed entirely absorbed in its task, clicking and chuckling as it meticulously tickled the rotating meat.

"Right," said the teenager, slowly lowering his tongs. "Okay. That's... not standard."

Yin nudged Charlotte. "Now's our chance. While it's... communing with the processed lamb."

Slowly, carefully, they backed out of the Kebab Krazy, leaving the alien to its intimate moment with the doner. They didn't run this time, but walked briskly, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. The skittering sound didn't follow. The last they saw of the creature, it was still diligently tickling the kebab, seemingly lost in a world of greasy, meaty sensation.

The Aftermath

They finally stopped several streets away, leaning against the cold brick wall of the closed Nantwich Museum, chests heaving, minds reeling. Glennis was smoothing down his trousers and muttering about needing a stiff drink, Yin looked strangely exhilarated, and Charlotte felt a confusing mix of terror, adrenaline, and profound embarrassment.

"See?" Yin finally panted, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "I told you! Alien! Though," she frowned, "the kebab affinity wasn't covered in any of the literature."

"It... it tickled the meat," Glennis said, sounding deeply disturbed. "The sheer impropriety! Why would it do such a thing?"

"Maybe it's assessing the texture for colonization suitability?" Yin mused. "Or perhaps it's just really, really weird."

Charlotte just shook her head, leaning it back against the bricks. "Hannah's Sexy Feet... was an alien tickle monster." She started to laugh, a slightly hysterical sound. "It wanted intimacy... with seasoned meat on a stick."

The absurdity washed over them. They looked at each other – three ordinary office workers who had just kidnapped (sort of), unmasked, and been chased through Nantwich by an extraterrestrial being obsessed with feet and tickling.

"So," Glennis asked, adjusting his glasses meticulously, "what is the protocol now? Do we inform the authorities? The parish council?"

Yin shrugged, straightening her jacket. "Go home, I suppose. Lock the doors. Perhaps invest in some feather dusters for defence? And definitely avoid the Kebab Krazy for a while."

"And work tomorrow?" Charlotte asked faintly. Pendleton & Sons seemed like a different universe now.

"Well," Yin considered, "we can hardly tell Mr. Henderson our P45 reconciliation is delayed due to an encounter with an intergalactic entity with boundary issues regarding kebabs, can we?"

They stood in silence for a moment, the strange events of the night settling around them like bizarre, unwanted fog. Charlotte thought of the 'Hannah' mask lying discarded on Yin's floor. She thought of the creature's unsettling chuckle, the skittering limbs, the feathery tendrils. And weirdly, she thought of those perfectly pedicured feet on YouTube.

"You know," Charlotte said slowly, "part of me still thinks those were really nice feet."

Yin rolled her eyes. Glennis just shuddered. "I think I need that cup of tea now. Very strong. Possibly with a biscuit."

The walk back to their respective homes was quiet, punctuated only by the distant chime of St Mary's Church clock and the lingering smell of doner meat that seemed to follow them through the damp April night. Their drab lives had just taken a sharp left turn into the utterly surreal, and somehow, the prospect of facing those grey cubicles tomorrow felt even more ludicrous than being chased by an alien tickle monster.

[automatayaoi]

how about 6 and 23 from the ask game for spirit and stein!

🌙 Casual F/Ovember Ask Game 💫

Be honest, what was your first impression of s/i when you first met them?

🍓 "Do I really have to be honest?"

💉 "Worried you'll make them angry?"

🍓 "W-well, my first impressions of them weren't the, uh, nicest...?"

💉 "Neither were mine. I've little trust for witches, let alone one that Death had been hiding for nigh on centuries, so my first thoughts on meeting Styx was that they were a threat and a fascinating oddity."

🍓 "Of course you make it even weirder with your...weirdness. I mean, I guess I wasn't too different when I first learned about Styx. I was still healing from my last fight with a witch, and turns out there was another one right under my nose! And they were creepy, just, sitting there in that dark little cell..."

💉 "You might want to stop there, Senpai..."

Be honest— do you easily get jealous?

💉 "Not particularly. Styx dislikes most people, so I can be sure they will summarily curse anyone they don't like getting close."

🍓 "You say that, but I can see you getting all pouty every time we cuddle on the couch without you."

💉 "I do not pout."

🍓 "You're doing it right now! Aaaanyway, I probably get more jealous than I really should, I just can't help myself. I get paranoid about it."

💉 "Hypocrite..."