#and just...i'm waiting for you here i am

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Jack Rebaldi's bombastrap really hits different.

[egophiliac]

doylist explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: probably something about space constraints and making sure two sprites in one seat aren't covering anyone else when they're not in focus

watsonian explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: he snuck in and is hiding from the teachers, don't give him away 🤫

(I've reached my limit of unsuccessful attempts at pulling them before I need to save keys for Halloween, so I've been living vicariously through youtube videos...but the fact that Gidel just pops up from under the desk to wave his arms around happily is really testing my resolve. D: I'm gonna die when they finally get to do alchemy...)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flower Empowered.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[sleepinglionhearts]

Oh, it’s gonna be the way you always thought it would be

but it’s gonna be no illusion

Oh, it’s gonna be the way you always dreamt about it

but it’s gonna be really happenin’ to ya

[theminecraftbee]

every time i exit like, an exchange writing period, and i no longer have a deadline, i start to become dizzy with "i should be writing right now--no writing??? i do NOT need to be writing right now??? cannot be right?????? writing??????"

anyway i've decided to use a poll to make you all into people who can create a deadline for me (and also i've started using habitica and want to try to write a LITTLE daily). there's no guarantee this is the one i'll actually go with given i've asked this like SIX TIMES in the past few months but this time it is a poll and also this time i'm trying to start writing daily again, so maybe this time it'll stick, idk??? so:

[shalom-iamcominghome]

This isn't, like, the biggest deal, but I do find it funny when people are almost... surprised or shocked that converts unironically believe in judaism and also unironically align themselves with jewishness. It's just something I've seen a small handful of times and it's like... of course I (and others!) unironically believe in this stuff. I'm not putting in this work because I don't have enough going on in my life

[egophiliac]

ENG PLAYERS I BESEECH YOU

I have been informed that you guys are getting part 4 of episode 7 tomorrow, which means we are FINALLY going to get the official romanization of Revaan's name, somebody please tell me because I need to know what it is.

like, yes, it's probably just Revan/Levan, but look, I'm sitting here with my finger over the button of all these Laverne and Shirley jokes and just waiting for the opportunity to deploy them --

[bungobble-my-balls]

Ok no one else is allowed to smile softly at Atsushi before letting themselves get killed to stop him dying with them anymore, he's got enough going on as it is 😭

Bonus with all three of Atsushi's girlfriends looking at him softly

Atsushi harem but the catch is they all keep telling Atsushi to go so he doesn't die with them.

Reading the dialogue between them actually makes me feel sick it's literally a pattern! This keeps happening from Lucy's 'you have to live on' to Sigma's 'let go, or you'll die too' (not this panel but 3 panels before) to Akutagawa's 'you damn fool, hurry up and go'!!!

The patterns....the patterns!!!

[evostrashbin]

waking up in a world where Resplendent Grima is finally real, life is good

[lloydfrontera]

y'know what's funny in a 'not really funny at all but i have to laugh or i'll start biting people' kind of way??

the adaptation team working overtime to make the relationship between javier and lloyd look so much less deeper than it actually is in the novel makes the novel look so much gayer than it already did on its own. like. sorry but your attempts to cover up the homoerotism just makes it stand out more in its absence.

because if there truly was nothing remarkable about lloyd and javier's relationship and they were just very good friends and nothing else then why take the time and effort to change it in the adaptation so they look less close than they actually are.

why skip entire scenes that make their relationship deeper. why change their dialogue and thoughts so they're less invested in one another. why give interactions that they had with each other to their romantic interests. actually why give javier a whole new love interest that did not exist in the novel.

why go through so much trouble to change something that is so important in the source material if there truly was nothing else going on in the novel.

what was it about their relationship that made the adaptation team decide they just needed to change everything about it so they weren't as close and attached as they were originally.

if they were truly nothing but platonic with each other in the source material then why change their relationship so much in the adaptation that it's almost unrecognizable.

what about it did they find so unappealing that they simply had to modify it until it was but a shadow of itself.

in trying to cover up something they only managed to call attention to it by the people who knew what was there originally. now we know that they wanted to get rid of it so badly they were willing to butcher the story and plot for it.

it's really funny :)

[pondhue]

i love reading people's replies and tags and comments but not in a "obsessed with numbers/placing my value on interactions" way. i mean it in a, "wow. i love this thing so much. and people also love this thing. and they love the thing i made out of love and appreciation i have for said thing and we can love and appreciate it together" way.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trigun Thoughts Vol. 1 Pt. 2

So now that I've finished with volume 1, I just wanted to write down a couple thoughts I've had and neat things to point out so far

When I was watching Stampede, I took note of a few kind of textbook avoidant behaviours Vash engages in, and lo and behold, here he is in the manga displaying even more of them. I'll list out a few here.

In order, we have:

Casually asking for a time limit on the interaction (ie. "How long do I have to keep this up before I can leave?")

Attempting to lose people in a crowd

Leaving without saying anything (and as a bonus, dreading being recognized in public)

Over-indulging or over-involving oneself in social events to create a viable excuse to leave suddenly (in this case, he uses alcohol as a reason to "pass out")

Sleeping to avoid unwanted conversation

Escaping to the bathroom to get away for a bit (and also to grumble about it haha)

Playing off sincere reactions by deliberately allowing them to be misinterpreted to avoid personal questions

It's really obvious, even this early in the manga, that Vash is intentionally avoiding prolonged interaction with people, and only involving himself in situations by necessity. He doesn't like attention on himself - the only reason he intentionally draws it is to divert it away from others.

The reason for this is a bit muddy though. It does seem that Vash doesn't particularly enjoy being caught up in drama, and it is also very likely he wishes to get in and out of places as quickly as possible to avoid them getting caught up in his drama too. It may even be that he finds prolonged socializing kind of tiring; that he needs a certain amount of time to himself.

But then there's also this bit, shortly after the celebration, where he pretends to pass out.

This brings in a bit of a guilt aspect to it. It likely has to do with July, or maybe it's due to something else (at this point, we can't say), but I think it's notable that Vash cuts things off shortly before they become intimate. He can play along to make others happy and to share in their joy for a bit, but the second things get too personal or focused on him, he will quietly slip away. Now this is specifically an instance of physical intimacy, but I think it'd probably hold for emotional intimacy as well, given the continuous avoidance and misdirection he does to prevent too many questions.

I made some commentary on Stampede Vash's self-punishing behaviours - specifically, the way he denies himself food. I don't want to get too into it because I don't know if everyone reading this has seen Stampede, but food is framed as something to be shared in the show - so, denying himself food is denying himself the right to share with others, which is denying himself belonging, which is denying himself any semblance of intimacy. (It means other things too, as food-sharing is associated with Rem, but I don't want to get too into it here.)

Vash in the manga doesn't seem to have the same issues with eating, but this is a similar premise - he's denying himself intimacy out of a sense of not being deserving of it.

So, then, there are probably many interwoven reasons for Vash's avoidance - he's sick of the chaos that follows him around, he doesn't want others getting hurt, he gets tired from having to "play it up" all the time, and he seems to also feel that he doesn't deserve that closeness. I'm intrigued to see how Vash's avoidance will be tackled going forward (I'm assuming it will?), and I suspect, more than there being one right reason for it, that all these reasons are actually true to an extent.

On a completely different note, this panel here is the biggest mood. I feel it in my bones.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 110

Okay so we all know about how Regis told Dandelion in the books that his blood smelled nice, which was most likely about how none of his wounds were infected and whatnot, but what if it wasn't? What if Jaskier has a special type of blood, whether magically made, cursed, or perhaps just o- or some shit lmfao Either way, Vampires LOVE this shit. Their favorite delicacy when they choose to partake. This becomes a problem when Jaskier has a hurt foot and Geralt takes him to a medic. A vampire, whether the medic, the medic's assistant, or just someone lurking outside who caught a whiff of the blood, is like "Jackpot!" and tells all his little vampire friends, and now they're hosting a big feast just to drain this guy. But it's such a delicacy, the vampire decides maybe they should only drain him a little, so he can keep the human around, so the human can regain his blood, and they can drink from him AGAIN! Oh yes, marvelous! He throws the best parties! Jaskier wakes up with a horrible headache. He's dressed incredibly fancy, though he doesn't think these are his clothes- Speaking of which, he also doesn't think this is his room at the inn... Is he- Is he fucking chained to a dining table? "Let the buffet begin! I hope you're thirsty my friends!~" Fuck. He hopes Geralt gets here quick-