#and now River has a proper character to play with

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

+

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind— 

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose. 

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

+

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

+

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched. 

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #14 | 12.02.24

And November is over! This month has been filled with paperwork, organizing receipts, and so on, which isn't very fun, but it's part of the job!

We are making great progress with everything overall; merch has been ordered and we have received proof and approved it; our voice actors are already delivering the voiced names y'all paid for during our Kickstarter campaign; and more! Let's see it in detail, shall we? :^)

Our dear Raquel has been working hard (I think I say this every devlog, but damn) on reworking the sprites for the extended demo now that the Special postcards for the Kickstarter are done! For this next batch, she'll be working on Ara and Amon, so here's a WIP of how Ara is looking so far! 💜

I think you can see how her design is already more detailed and cohesive in some areas. We'll most likely ask for feedback when Amon is ready too, to test the waters with both characters like we did with Gael and Xal :^)

The street is coming to life! This background is almost ready thanks to Astro. We'll have four new locations in the Extended Demo to help with the pacing and the introduction of our world and story to (hopefully) make it perfect. Or something close to it!

In the writing department, I've so far added 7000 words to the prologue. We have one flavor choice, two personality choices (and several personality reactions), and three "relationship choices". These basically shape your relationship with Evie in this case. For example, you'll be able to choose if you are intimate friends, are warm to each other, or if you prefer something less physical / touchy. And Evie will remember that!

And this is just so far. While River has a kind of "set" personality, I want people to be able to shape some aspects of their life.

In the writing department I should also include the documents I've provided to our VAs, and to our composer, Tomás. More on that below!

We have a proper help screen! Wohoo! 💜

Now you can enjoy Ren'py's default help screen but looking a bit nicer. This is for those who are not familiar with Ren'py's usual keybindings and stuff :^)

Nothing else on the programming side this month. I've focused on writing the script and that's going to be my main job until I can actually start programming something!

As I said before, our beloved voice actors are already working on the voiced names! In fact, Xal's VA (Francfil Pontañeles) and Pride's (Pat Langner) already recorded them! A little surprise is that we have been able to add our default MC's name, River, as a voiced name. For those of you who want to play with that name, you'll also enjoy some voiced lines!

What else—ah! We are already working with Tomás for our OST, and we have settled in 19 tracks total. Those are even more tracks than we expected! This is thanks to you all, and especially thanks to those of you who ordered more merch via Backerkit. You made those four extra tracks possible!

Our merch has been checked and so far only the pins are missing a preview and therefore our approval. We had to edit some files (beginner's mistake!) but being the first time we do this, I'd say things have been rather smoothly! We'd like to be able to start shipping this month, but it may not be possible. Which is a bummer! But well, we settled in December / January, so January it is, if nothing happens!

(Don't mind the colors being too flashy here—they will look more cohesive in game!)

OH, and the last extra bit! I've been working on the personality choices, as you all know, and Kayden has been helping me make the icons that will appear next to those choices for those who are colorblind. An extra thing to make them pop and differentiate them better! I think they are pretty self-explanatory, and if not, well—that means we have to give those icons a twist!

November has been a chaotic month for me due to the aftermath of the floods and my vacation week. The rest of the team has also had their good amount of irl stuff happening around them, but we've made it! The new year is approaching faster than I thought, as per usual, and I hope we can finish 2024 on a good note!

And that's all! As always, please take care, have fun, and enjoy the rest of the week!

[fairyysoup]

cowboy like me

part two: takes one to know one

pairing(s): wild west outlaw!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: The strange man who stumbled into your hiding place is an idiot and also really pretty. It turns out trouble is something you have in common.

cw: mature themes, cowboy/wild west au, slow burn, enemies to lovers-ish?, past eddie x chrissy mention, guns, implied outlaw!reader, death threats, gunshot wounds, definitely inaccurate descriptions of frontier medicine, blood, some dark comedy.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: Behold the newest installment of Rose playing with barbies: cowboy edition. This is a continuation of an initial chapter I posted nearly a year ago now. I want to thank everyone who has been patient with me, since this year has been really terrible for my inspiration and creativity. I do my best to write when I can, but shit's been real hard if I'm honest. So thank you for sticking with me, even when I haven't been all that active on the writing front.

THIS ENTIRE FIC IS EXPLICIT. ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

part one | fic playlist for your listening pleasure

Once he loses consciousness, Eddie’s wound is fairly easy to dress. You find three old bottles of whisky hidden behind a false back to a cabinet, and uncork one to use as antiseptic. 

He hasn’t lost a lot of blood, to be fair. His blouse is ruined, but the blood had barely begun to saturate his coat, and the wound isn't more than a deep gash in his side. It seems that the bullet had only grazed him. 

It doesn’t help your predicament that Eddie is very, very handsome when he’s not actively creating an extreme inconvenience. The shadows make his cheeks look more sunken than they actually are, but his eyelashes flutter like he’s seeing a pleasant dream behind them. They touch his cheeks and make him look like a prince from a fairytale book you had as a girl. 

M’just doing whatever you tell me to, princess. 

He’s a regular damsel in distress, this Eddie character. You wonder what his end goal is. You wonder what he did to be on the run from Jason Carver and his goons. 

But this isn’t a fairy tale, you remember, and nor are you any kind of a princess, despite what he calls you. Nothing is more apparent when you look down at Eddie’s blood on your hands and dress, and you have to use a cut piece of your underskirt to tie against the stitches you gave him with a sewing needle you found at the bottom of a desk drawer. Sterilized with fire and a bit of liquor, of course.

By the time that Eddie finally stirs, night has fallen. You’ve already shed your bloody day dress and soaked it in some cold water from the well out back; which you harvested in the dark, mind you, because you don’t know if Jason Carver’s buddies are still hanging around to see if you actually are hiding a fugitive in here. The last thing you needed was someone seeing you come conspicuously wandering out of a cabin covered in blood, for no discernible reason. 

There’ll be a stain on the dress, but that’s nothing you can’t tie an apron over and call it a day. What you really wish is that the well was a bit more of a river, so you could jump into it and let it pull you downstream, away from all this mess, and take all the blood and grime of the day with it. What you wouldn’t give for some proper soap. 

Eddie groans, and for the first time in hours you find yourself genuinely scared. Scared that maybe his wound was worse than you expected. Scared that he’s gonna die of sepsis right in front of you. Worse, scared that he’s gonna ask you questions, and you don’t know what you’ll even say. 

Your gaze falls on the leather satchel by the door– the one that holds everything you have to your name inside of it. Everything that put you in this predicament in the first place. You have a mind to burn it on the fire, but you hesitate. There’s still hope for you yet, if you can just get out of here.

Eddie’s eyes blink open just as soon as you’ve turned toward your soaking dress, hanging from a pin on the mantle, and you reach to turn the wetter side toward the flames. There was just enough old wood in the cabin to build a half-assed fire, which is about the only thing you can be thankful for at the minute, considering the wind rips through the canyon quicker than a mustang and the cabin gets the brunt of it.

Behind you, Eddie coughs. And then he says something– or, he tries, but it comes out about as pretty as a braying donkey with laryngitis. 

“Hush,” you tell him, and hurry to pour him a cup of leftover clean well water. ‘Clean’ being a term used loosely. It’s water and it wasn’t used to clean your dirty clothes, but that’s about what you can say for it. 

He takes it graciously all the same. After he’s drained the cup, his head flops back onto the pillow in another cloud of dust, and he scrunches his nose up in a way that shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “How long was I out for?”

It’s the first thing he’s said that you can make out, but it’s a question that doesn’t make you cringe to answer it. “Couple hours. Patched your wound.”

“Oh, y’did?” Eddie cracks an eye open and peers down toward his hip– which is when he realizes the gravity of his state of undress. 

You see, the thing about hip injuries is that it’s really difficult to deal with them when there’s fabric blocking your access. And the thing about fabric on a hip is that it’s usually connected to a garment, which on men is usually a pair of trousers, which usually need to come off if you’re going to get anything done. 

Eddie yelps suddenly and yanks a pillow across his groin as a crimson blush blasts over his face. The torn piece of your underskirt is wrapped around his torso– but to get it to stay put, you had to take an extra length and fasten it around his thigh as well. Which means you got very familiar with his anatomy in the process. 

“Well, you, ah–” Eddie shivers, avoiding your eye like the plague. “You’ve been thorough.”

You snort. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a naked man. At least your bandages won’t go anywhere when you move.”

“You a nurse?”

The question makes you scowl, but you’re not sure why it does. Maybe because you don’t want him asking any questions about your life, but you can answer this one. “No. So thank Christ it wasn’t worse than that.”

Eddie chuckles, creases forming in the corners of his eyes. His eyes rake over you, taking in your corset and cotton skirt, now missing a few inches off the hem. The lacey bottoms of your combinations poke out from beneath the cut-off hem of the petticoat. 

“You’re real pretty, y’know that?” he murmurs sweetly, meeting your eye finally. 

You scoff at that, turning away from him finally. It feels a little like admitting defeat. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause I’ve taken your pants.”

“Well, I got your underwear around my waist, so I think we’re even.” 

He grunts as he struggles into a sitting position, still clutching the pillow against his pelvis. It doesn’t do much to cover him; when you turn, you can still see the trail of hair leading from his belly-button to his crotch, his thighs spread apart on either side of it. His legs splayed out across the old mattress, its sheets rumpled and dust covered beyond usability. 

“So, you’re not a nurse but you know pretty well how to dress a wound. So… what do you do?”

You bristle at that. “You shouldn’t move too much, you’ll tear your stitches.”

“Ah– avoiding the question. Okay, I know this one.” He’s overly pleased with himself, flashing you a sardonic grin. “You think I’m a pissing sonofabitch who’ll use anything you say against you, so you’re not gonna tell me anything about yourself, even though we’re gonna be stuck together for god knows how long–”

“And whose fault is that?” You snap. He looks taken aback by your biting tone, even though you held him at gunpoint just hours ago. “I could be miles away from here if you hadn’t fuckin’ waltzed in with all your trouble. I could be moving on. I wouldn’t be stuck here playing house with you. And you’re hogging the fuckin’ bed, so thanks for that, too.”

You huff and turn back towards the fire, smacking it with a poker a few times just for good measure. Sparks fly from the burning wood, emitting a cloud of smoke that billows out a bit, but then gets sucked up the floo. 

“Hey,” Eddie says gently now, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t know that anyone was here. I wouldn’t have broken in if that was the case, y’know? Usually when you’re on the run, you try to avoid people. I mean, what the hell kinda good is someone else…”

Eddie trails off as he’s talking, and your heart starts beating hard enough to reverberate in your ears. You’re still prodding the fire, kicking up sparks, even though it’s about as stoked as it’ll get. 

“You’re on the run.”

His voice is low. Hesitant, like he’s afraid of the answer. 

You nearly roll your eyes at how long it took him to come to that conclusion. You told him you were hiding, after all. “Don’t fuckin’ worry yourself about it now.”

“Aw, hell. Shit.” The bed frame squeaks. He’s trying to get up. “Fuck. Shit shit shit–”

“What are you doing?” You hiss, getting up to plant a hand firmly on his shoulder before he entirely gets off the bed. “Are you insane? You’re gonna tear those stitches and then I’ll have to fix them right back up. Stay. Still.”

“You’re on the run,” he repeats, gazing up at you wildly.

“We both are,” you tell him. “So don’t make it harder on the both of us, all right?”

“But what are you running from?”

You don’t answer him. You’re too busy fussing over the makeshift bandage around his waist, trying to tighten it even though you tied it rather well to begin with, and it hasn’t moved much. 

“What did you take from Jason Carver?” you ask him mildly instead. “He said that you took something from him.”

“Well. First of all, she wasn’t his property.”

“Oh.” You pause, eyeing him closely. 

“And second, I didn’t take anything. I only did what she asked me to.” Eddie looks away from you sheepishly. “And I loved her. Which is more than he can say, anyways.”

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes downcast at the bandage around his middle. You feel your cheeks heating up in spite of yourself. 

“Not that there’s anythin’ to do about it now, y’know,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “He’s got her locked down in some pre-matrimonial agreement and she’s not gonna leave that big bad oil tycoon for some good for nothin’ piece-a-shit outlaw who can’t give her nothing no-how, so.” 

“You clearly have a high opinion of yourself. I’m sure you must have given her something she wanted, or else you wouldn’t be here,” you remark, and you pretend not to notice the crimson blush cresting his cheeks. 

Eddie takes a shuddering breath, his eyes roving around the room rather than looking at you. “Nah… I was just a good time for her. But– but Jason’s got it in his head that I forced her, y’know. That Chrissy didn’t… she wouldn’t have done it willingly. Which I didn’t. I would never.”

“Okay,” you tell him gently, pushing one hand on his bare shoulder to ease him back against the dusty pillows. “Don’t get worked up trying to sell your story, darling. As far as I’m concerned, if you’re not gonna throw yourself at me, that’s one less thing I have to worry about.”

“Who says I’m not gonna throw myself at you, sugar?” He fixes you with a wide grin, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. They’re too sad for that. “I’ve been known to be real loose in my time.”

You give him a deadpan look, and then reach down to gently flick his hip with your middle finger. He jumps, yelps, and then readjusts the pillow against his crotch. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. No good times for you, slick.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Eddie sighs in defeat, laying back like a martyr. “Well, I showed you mine. What’re you running from? Pretty thing like you… can’t imagine what kind of skeletons you’ve got hidden in that corset.”

“Closet, you mean.”

“If you insist.”

You stare down at him, breathing one long exhale through your nose. He’s infuriating, even when he’s just covering up his raw emotions. 

You think for a long moment. He may not be a direct threat to you right now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t turn you in when the fancy strikes for a good enough bounty. 

“Someone… close to me. Made some people angry. And now they’re after me, too. That’s all.” Your halting speech doesn’t lend much credence to your words, but it’s just succinct enough that it doesn’t really matter. Your eyes flit nervously around the room, the satchel in the corner over your shoulder nearly buzzing like it wants to get up and tell the story itself. 

That your brother is dead. That he left you a gun and some papers that could make or break you. And right now, all it seems to be doing is breaking you. 

Eddie doesn’t bat an eye. “Who made who angry?”

“That’s not really your business, now, is it?”

“It is if they’re comin’ after me, too, sugar.” He tilts his pretty head against the pillows, and the fire gleams in his eyes. “Why do they want you?”

“The details don’t matter,” you snap at him. “I’ve told you enough. Now you know. Everything else is personal, and frankly, I don’t trust you.” 

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Shucks. That really smarts, y’know. And here I thought, what with you playing house and seeing my junk and all, maybe we were on the way to some kind of understanding.”

You suck on your teeth. He grins at you like he’s just caught you bluffing in a game of cards. You’ve spent too much time in saloons to not know a grifter when you see one. He has all the personality of a gambler without any of the subtlety.

I play dice real good. Yeah, you bet.

“Go to hell, Munson,” you grumble, turning away from him spitefully. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. But what’s in it for me?”

You’re halfway to figuring out exactly what would be in hell for him, when a bullet bursts through the front door and past your shoulder, hitting the back wall of the cabin. It takes you half a second to register it at all, but by that time, three more shots have taken out the left window.

“Get down!” 

Eddie’s hand snatches your wrist tightly, and the room tilts. You gasp and find yourself on the floor, in a heap, with Eddie’s weight pressing down on you. 

A bullet hits the pillow where his head just was. You can’t help the scream that rips out of you, while feathers drift through the air and bullets fly overhead. Eddie’s hand cradles the back of your head, tucking your own against his neck. Your legs are tangled in his, which is tangled in the dusty sheets from the bed and your torn petticoat. In the madness, it barely even occurs to you that he’s shielding you with his body.

“Where’s my gun?” Eddie pants in your ear.

“What?”

“The gun!”

You swivel your head to the side and spit out a strand of his curly hair that had weaseled it’s way into your mouth in the ruckus. You’d put both his guns in your satchel, and the rifle by the door. You gesture in the general direction of it.

“Motherfuck-!” Eddie’s colorful retort is drowned out by another bullet ripping into the wall just over your heads, spraying wood chips across your face.

The gunfire stops abruptly, following several shouts from outside. Masculine voices ring out in the night beyond the now-broken window. 

Suddenly, a clear voice rings out over the uproar. “Eddie?” 

Eddie turns his head in the direction of the young man’s voice. There’s nothing but darkness beyond the window, but he seems to recognize whoever it is by the sound alone.

“Henderson?” There’s a murmur of laughter from several other voices besides the one that Eddie identifies.

“What’re you doing?” the one supposed to be Henderson calls.

Eddie shifts on top of you and grunts in pain. You turn your head to look at him and see the sweat on his brow. You figure his wound must be hurting him. You lay a gentle hand on his bare shoulder, and he almost flinches when he remembers that you’re underneath him. His skin burns hot against your palm.

“Uh,” Eddie calls, his eyes flicking between you and the window. “Trying not to get shot. What’re you doing?” 

More laughter. There must be four or five voices coming from all around the cabin. With a loud, humorous gasp, Henderson calls back jovially, “Tryn’a shoot you, of course.”

[linderosse]

Cannot wait to see your new design for Echourora. I keep refreshing hoping to see you drop the design and comic.

On a proper question, what do you do with the Priestess/Shrine Maidens/Sage descendants from LttP for Wisdomverse? What's their relationship to the actual Sages of ALBW?

Hahaha I can’t wait to share it! I keep thinking of more things to draw around this little Echo|Aurora concept of mine. I’ve been working on a bunch of them in parallel so I can release them as I finish :).

I’m actually nearly done with the first bit! So many ideas, so little time to draw. I’ve been traveling a lot this week and last week, and it’s hard to draw in a moving car :)

But I can still type in a moving car, so hey, here’s an answer to your question!

I personally am merging all the characters from ALBW into their ALttP counterparts, and that includes the sages. Essentially, you can imagine that the sages from ALBW were the ones trapped in the jewels in ALttP— except one of them was replaced by Fable, because Fable is one of the sages in ALttP, but not in ALBW.

Dot in FSA gets a set of color-coded maidens of her own, so Fable doesn’t need one as well. And using the ALBW sages for ALttP is also much more consistent with the sages from OoT. Here’s a nice graphic that someone made online (not mine; I downloaded this ages ago as a drawing reference).

So, in ALttP: the sages get kidnapped/sacrificed at the start, just like the maidens were. At the end, they all come together to break Ganon’s barrier, with Fable (Zelda) as their leader.

That leads to the question: which of the ALBW sages is replaced by Zelda for ALttP, and then gets to be a sage again in ALBW? My vote goes to Seres, the priestess in blue at the end of the line— though I’m still giving her a role to play in ALttP.

In fact, I’m gonna trace where all of them could have been in ALttP. There’s a lot of fun contradictions to merge :).

Osfala

He’s Sahasrahla’s disciple/grandson, just like in ALBW, and gets kidnapped with the rest of them. This has the added benefit of giving Sahasrahla a personal motive to want to help Link at the start of the game (though of course he’s already down to help). Let’s say you can rescue/recruit Osfala in the Dark Palace in ALttP, because it’s the first Dark World dungeon and it’s near where he and Sahasrahla live in the Light World.

Rosso

I don’t think he has a counterpart in ALttP? If he does, I’ve forgotten. Guess he just gets kidnapped and rescued like the others. He can have the Ice Palace, because although I do like Rosso, I hate the Ice Palace and have to give it to someone. It’s a nice ironic choice for a Fire-aligned guy like him (since Turtle Rock is off the table—it’s Fire-aligned, but it’s the last dungeon and therefore has to be where you rescue Fable)

Gulley

Gulley is the blacksmith’s son and one of the sages in ALBW, and the counterpart of the Ocarina Kid in ALttP. In this merged version, he gets rescued from the Skull Woods dungeon, but he’s too young to hold himself together properly in the Dark World, and gives his ocarina to Legend and then dies when they reach that stump in the forest like the ocarina kid does in ALttP canon. Let’s keep that trauma for Legend.

(Note that a lot of people die in ALttP. It’s fine, dw, they’re all canonically revived at the end of the game)

But then the gang is missing one sage! How will they break the barrier, which requires seven sages total? Fear not, they have a plan. We’ll get to that later though. For now…

Oren

Oren gets to be the adult daughter of the aging King River Zora in ALttP who gives Link the flippers. This has the added benefit of giving the King Zora a reason to help Link despite the fact that his people are constantly trying to kill you. Oren gets rescued from the Swamp Palace, just like in ALBW. Water theme go brrrr.

Impa

Impa is Impa. Rescued from Misery Mire, because why not. Nothing special here.

Maple/Irene

Ah, Maple. She’s the granddaughter of Granny Syrup, the potionmaker from ALttP. Maple was added only in the GBA remake of ALttP as a reference to her appearance in the Oracle games. Her kidnapping would give Syrup an added personal motive for helping Link out.

I’m giving Maple the Thieves’ Town dungeon in ALttP because Thieves’ Town is special. Folks who have played ALttP, or who are familiar with The Secrets We Keep, may remember the dungeon boss Blind the Bandit. Blind masquerades as the captive from this dungeon and follows you— until you lead him to a special room and the light turns him back to his monstrous form.

I love the thought of a fake Maple following Legend around, pleading that she’s real, and to trust her— but Legend sees through the lies. When Legend rescues the real Maple, her dry cynicism is a breath of fresh air, and a distinct reminder that she’s the real version. It gives Legend a connection to Maple that he gets to build on more in the Oracle games.

Legend will also proceed to be traumatized by Blind twice more in the future (including TSWK), but that’s a story for another day :).

Seres

Finally, Seres is the daughter of the Priest in ALBW. In ALttP, the Priest hides Zelda in his church for the first half of the game, and dies valiantly trying to protect Zelda when Agahnim comes for her again. In this merged version, Seres was there too, and can’t do anything to save her father. This has the added bonus of giving the Priest a personal motive to want to help Link in the first half of the game (his daughter is in danger), and giving Seres a personal motive to help set the world to rights again in the second half of the game (she wants her father back).

In this merged version, Seres takes Gulley’s place in the final scene where Fable and the gang blast through Ganon’s barrier, so they still have seven sages. There aren’t really any elemental roles in ALttP and ALBW like there are in OoT, but if you consider the elements to still exist, you can think of Fable as a wildcard sage who can fill Gulley’s role, like Lullaby/Requiem does in OoT as the “Seventh Sage.”

Tl;dr:

And there you go! The ALBW seven, if they were in ALttP.

Did I overthink this? Yes. Will I change details of this later? Maybe. Was this fun to contemplate anyways? Hell yeah!

Thanks for the amazing question. I love these; keep ‘em coming, folks!

Masterpost

[the-ghost-of-asselus-cancri]

"special gift"

fandom: arcana twilight

characters: summoner (mc) x sirius)

you were wide awake in the middle of the night, too anxious to go back to sleep, yet too tired and exhausted to take a walk in the park behind the mansion to clear your head of any troubling thoughts, buzzing like a cluster of unruly bees in your clouded consciousness.

the image of badly wounded sirius painfully stuck in your tired mind: his black, shimmering hair, usually gracefully styled, now a distorted mess, pieces of his clothes sizzling away from magical burns and his body covered in sharp, deep cuts, scarlet blood and many bruises. a horrible realization suddenly strikes you: spica would actually end his life right then and there, if it weren't for alpheratz's messed up mana flow making him faint in the middle of a fight, practically saving the opposing sorcerer from any repercussions or death itself.

a conflicted mess of emotions, like an overflowing river, made you shiver, as you took a ring, a small gift from sirius from the better times back then, and twiddled with it, the bright stone reminiscent of his ever changing eyes, mysteriously shining in the moon light. you wondered how sirius faired in this trying times: was he alone in this plan, healing his injuries by himself, or were there other ones in on it, scheming behind the shsdows? you put in on your finger, cold metal unpleasanttly grounding you back in reality, yet making you feel nostalgic despite everything that happened.

you opened your stella tab and decided to see if another one of his burner magical tabs was on. since sirius was wanted by the law, it was almost an every day occurrence that he changed his number constantly, his old stella tab presumably broken, as to avoid any possible meanings of easy traction. he admitted jokingly that sending you pigeon letters would be a better, safer alternative, and you almost suggested doing just that, until he laughed out loud at your determined expression in response to a half hearted sarcastic one liner.

"hey, you up?" you learnt not to question sirius about whatever this oath of his was, because somewhere deep inside you knew that he would never give you a proper answer, until the right time comes around.

"you shouldn't be up this late, summoner. is something bothering you?" you smiled, though it was bitter sweet, and wanted to type out "yes, you" but restrained yourself, not wanting this conversation to become an another pointless interrogation.

"what's with the stone in the ring you've given me?"

"it doesn't suit your taste in jewelry?"

"no, it's not that! does it have any meaning behind it?"

"oh, so the summoner wants my gift to be special, huh? never took you as a sentimental person."

"stop teasing me, sirius! just answer the question, or I'm going back to sleep"

"sorry, sorry, my fault, I shall tease you no more. in fact, I'm glad you asked, since this particular stone, opal, does, in fact, have a special meaning. it's my birthstone, would you believe it? it usually represents hope and, well, good karma, though I don't think these qualities suit me very well, you, on the other hand... you're like a guiding light to me, summoner, and i hope you will shine blidingly for me until the very end"

"is this one of your plays again?"

"so you think a man on the run has nothing better to do than to write a dramatic play? I'm just kidding, though I meant it, summoner, every word. this text conversation is making me miss you. I'm sorry it had to turn out this way, I really am. please stay away from the other towers, reject spica's insane ideas, if you must. stay safe, (_) "

"you too, sirius"

"I miss you"

"I know"

[lazilybeinglassie]

It's flawed, and I hate it (Beast Yeast Ep 7&8)

I think it's fair to say when it comes to the writing of Cookie Run Kingdom, it is not perfect. Nothing in life is. However, it's definitely been discussed in the circles I'm in that the best way to enjoy the story of the game is to just not think about it too hard and watch the fun and colorful commentary just sweep you off your feet.

Bless you localization people.

When the Third Anniversary introduced the beasts, there was quite a lot of hype around it. Especially around Shadow Milk. No surprise there though, considering this is the Discord/Bill Cipher of the cookie run franchise. Everyone loves those characters. And having him get his update on the Fourth Anniversary, before we met the rest of the beasts, was by all means really cool to have happen.

Yet this post I make here is not to discourage people from playing the game or saying they can't like this update. It's still a fun time. But the story in the latest episodes sadly left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I wanna at least touch on why it did. So be warned, this is probably gonna be the biggest hot take in recent days of the fandom.

Part 1: Manipulation 101

Mind games are difficult to write in general. Especially when you are writing a story that meant for a younger audience. Not only do you have to make sure the kids are following along with the tricks and lies, it also has to be entertaining enough that they can keep watching.

Cookie Run Kingdom definitely has had some decent moments of proper manipulation in it's previous stories before. Mozzarella in the Golden Cheese arc stands out the most right now. But it definitely did not shine for whoever wrote the Shadow Milk arc here. And it mainly has to do with how they made the characters stupid for no logical reason.

Like, White Lily literally follows the gang all the way to the front doors of the Spire, just to decide to turn back and not be in the rest of the episode because she felt like it. If you didn't want her in this adventure, you should have just had them give goodbyes back at the Faerie Kingdom at the start of the journey. It's nothing more than just pointless padding that could have been cut out. I'm honestly not sure why she was added here, it feels super pointless. And you can't call this Shdaow Milk tricking them into departing, cause there was barely an effort of manipulation that actually could be credited to him in that whole exchange with the old man.

I should be fair though, cause the rest of the main characters are just as stupid as she is when they start their journey. And yes, that is a proper complaint to make when it's established in story they know who they are facing. They verbalize many times that they know Shadow Milk is gonna be there, and they are well aware he is a manipulative bitch. They are aware. But they are all written to just . . . fall for the simplest of tricks. Inviting strangers to journey with them. Splitting up the party. SLEEPING IN ENEMY TERRITORY!

The issue remains that a lot of the manipulation doesn't feel rewarding because our heroes have been reduced unnaturally to fall for these tricks. Instead it gives off this artificial villain victory where it's never earned but handed on a silver platter. And it carries on into episode 8 as well, not just 7. And that episode is just a dragged on series of how many times can Shadow Milk use the same threat over and over again on Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Speaking of which-

Part 2: Dragging On Pointlessly

While episode 7 was a poor set up, episode 8 was like an unfinished draft they never completed. The pieces are there, and I adore what they did, but they each fell short in their respective areas.

I think I would specifically describe it all as anticlimactic.

The river being the prime example of this. Looking at how it was designed to be used to force Pure Vanilla to become Shadow Milk's servant/deciple, it really is shocking that it doesn't hold any importance to the story at all. Perhaps if PV's transformation into Truthless Recluse was tied into it, then it would have more weight, but that's just one idea I thought of.

They make it sound like it's this big event when it really doesn't change anything. PV doesn't even appear to be more loyal to Shadow Milk, he just still remains passively annoyed and resistant. Which is disappointing how they could have had more stakes to it to feel more intense.

Chess was a bit more satisfying with how it concludes itself with forcing Pure Vanilla to cheat the game and rely on tricks to beat Shadow Milk. It's a fine moment, golf clap.

That being said, it does start to wear thin that we have to watch Shadow Milk repeat his threats over and over again. By the time the final ultimatum is offered, the weight of it is no longer there. You can't expect different results from the same action like this. It's just not at all motivating or engaging as you keep doing it.

However, that wasn't really the lowest point for the whole update. I can forgive most of that. I can live with it. Cause out of everything I disliked in this update, there was one thing I hated more than all of that.

Part 3: . . . Friend? NEVER!

I had to sit with this one the most. Cause I understand it is there for a reason. Pure Vanilla Cookie's most famous character defining line is after all "any conflict can be resolved through conversation". For him to reach out to Shadow Milk is fully understandable and in character for him.

HOWEVER!

I do not like how the scene played out, even if it ended with Shadow Milk not redeemed.

Yes, I can agree on the idea he wanted to have someone suffer with him. I'm fine with that concept. Honestly, I like that angle. It's fun!

Yet as I look at the scene everytime, all I see is a moment of Devsis telling me "hey, he could be redeemed later on"

And I fucking hate it.

Redemption for a villain for me has two rules to it. First, it must make sense either in theme, character, or story. It doesn't have to be perfect, but it at least needs to feel fitting from what's been established so far. And of it contradicts any of those, then it will stick out like an uneven puzzle piece.

The second being that the chatacter being redeemed must express these traits-

1. Recognizing their wrong doings as bad.

2. Regret doing those wrong doings.

3. Desire a change within themselves.

Each of these are essential in that redemption arc. If they don't, then they are either still a villain, or just pacified (example Red Son from Lego Monkie Kid).

Shadow Milk Cookie fails these two rules. His character is a creature who finds enjoyment in the suffering of others. There's never been exceptions to his rules other than the other beasts. Even amongst his own minions, he is willing to harm them to ensure they won't fail again.

The conversation between Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk, while sweet, is the most jarring moment ever. Not once does it at all feel built up to it, and most of it is designed for you to feel bad about this jester. In which I feel like the steps they took to get to this point were the wrong steps to take.

Granted, he does reject his proposal, but now that seed has been planted into the audience, and if they choose to nurture it, they will not have time to make it work. Because once they get to the last beast member, we will be seeing their arc ending in 2026. We won't get another year to flesh them out, there will be no more beast focused story telling.

I will not pretend to know what the end goal is. No one can. But I am all the more concerned if I will enjoy it. And it may be that I won't. Still, I know I will still give it a shot. Even as I sit in my corner and make my fanfics of what if scenarios. Cause I do still enjoy the spectacle of it all. And it's still always fun to see how the characters get even more quirky than before.

And with that, I end this hot take on a mid outro. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[blueiight]

The Great Flood of 1924 or 1927?aka, a bored trivia post

s1e05 has become the boogeyman of this fanbase for events that largely occur toward the very end of it, but the flood that leads to claudia’s makeshift burials being exposed is very fascinating in terms of chronology. it speaks to how amc iwtv only slightly shifts around history to situate its immortal characters deeply within the environment of a city thats largely viewed by many, including the source material itself, as an ahistorical pleasure garden with no past or present worth caring about.

from @diasdelfuego’s s1 timeline, we have already seen an example of how the show moves with its environment, altering the release date/place of jelly roll morton’s wolverine blues from 1923 indiana to 1917 new orleans [and it be a record the fictional lestat played a role in creating — lestat aiding in a notorious trickster’s story, one of the most oblique lies on louis’s end to make lestat look more sympathetic or one of the funniest historical movearounds on the showrunners’ end, who knows].

this great flood that brings the living situation in rue royale to a head for claudia is another one of them. when lestat and louis read claudia’s diaries, they discover how shes kept careful record of the people shes buried, killed, and mutilated. they interrogate her to ask where the bodies are, and only toward the end of the confrontation does she reveal where she buried them all.

LOUIS: Where are the bodies?

CLAUDIA: Chalmette. Now get out of my room!

LOUIS: Chalmette's three feet below the river line—

CLAUDIA: So what, get out of my room!

LOUIS: What happens when the next storm comes out the Gulf?

and sequenced near immediately, in classic amc iwtv didactic fashion, the next storm comes out the gulf and unburies the bodies claudia buried on very low-lying ground.

now, temporarily exiting the show and into reality, the true flood of southern louisiana in this period occurred in 1927, when the missisippi river valley experienced heavy rainfall.

where disaster stops, and where segregationist city engineers enter, is that bankers and business leaders in new orleans lobbied the governor to intentionally broke the levee outside of new orleans proper, and so he did, ensuring that the city itself would not be flooded, but flooded out much of the low-lying areas in st. bernard parish. remember chalmette? it is in st. bernard parish.

the subsequent conversation lestat + louis have with tom anderson confirm this even more, with tom describing the number of bodies, the 56 ‘floaters’ from the ninth ward [a neighborhood in new orleans that borders chalmette], all people who have been mutilated in some fashion.

tom anderson notes this as well:

Most of the poor fools they hooked out of the bayou are former inhabitants of the Quarter, so don't be too startled if the police come knockin' on your door.

indicating that most of the people claudia killed, mutilated, and buried there were the wealthy, white neighbors of the rue royale mansion and not residents of low-lying parishes that were seen as fodder by the state of louisiana. now why didnt lestat, who was able to hypnotize an entire room of soldiers in episode 3, hypnotize the 3-4 officers that came to inspect their mansion? questions, questions… (that have very obvious answers but are secondary to this post)

referring back to the s1 timeline linked, this great flood of 1927 was either moved up to 1924, matching the decision to move up + alter the creation of the wolverine blues in episode 3 for narrative reasons, and/or refers to the odyssey of recollection, aka., how keeping exact dates and recalling the numerous historical events u have lived under after 145 or so years of misery become difficult. this post is just a fun little trivia bit + something i found to be interesting

[generic-sonic-fan]

The post where I do vague cultural worldbuilding headcanons for Sonic characters??

Sonic and Knuckles are mountain man bros in the sense that they both grew up in the wild raised by animals. They dunk themselves in a river, call themselves clean, and then fistbump about it. They eat fruit right off bushes. Knuckles can find you a damn good tuber in a pinch and Sonic would be able to snatch you a worm if you really wanted it. Knuckles finds it difficult to pick up on mainstream cultural customs but Sonic's always found it easy now that he's older.

Tails and Amy, meanwhile, grew up in towns. These towns had a definite human influence, hence their possession of first and last names, but they still grew up in a Mobian in-group of sorts. They know proper fur/quill care, feel that it's gender non-conforming for a boy to wear clothes and a girl to go without them, and are adept at reading ear/tail gestures. Tails was never really one for any small-town slang but Amy still uses more rural phrasing even now that she lives in a larger city.

Rouge grew up in a large city, so she's more well-versed in cultures other than her own. She's adopted some human rituals because she thinks they're fun, like face masks and shaving some of her body fur. She loves exploring human cuisines because they're "exotic" to her while Mobian cuisine are comfort foods. She's fluent in several different kinds of slang along with the gestures/manners of the different cultures.

Shadow was raised by humans. His mannerisms are unmistakably human. From wearing human-sized shirts around the house, to having a taste for "human" comfort foods, to being completely unable to read ear/tail gestures in conversation, any Mobian is able to peg him as an outsider pretty quickly. While he's absolutely embraced proper quill care, Rouge had to first point out to him that he was doing it wrong- using human shampoo is not going to cut it, hun.

Omega is. . . weird. For the most part, he's predictably alien: what few social customs he's bothered to learn he has to have observed first. Rouge has been a helpful educator on the rare occasion he gives a shit, usually in regards to slang translation to add to his dictionary. He's almost more like Knuckles in the sense that he was isolated and now he's playing catchup. Sometimes, sometimes, though, the assumptions Omega makes will lean more towards human biases. Anyone who values their life knows not to ever point that out to him.

Metal Sonic reads like a robot imitating a human imitating a Mobian. Yes, he can imitate Sonic's gestures, but it's the movement in between that's uncanny. The physicality of his limbs. The weight of each step in his out-of-combat walk cycle. It screams "human". Most of his cultural knowledge, the little that he has, comes from observing Eggman's daily routine. But Eggman is just one human, and an isolated and eccentric one at that. Metal Sonic could recognize a refrigerator but not a washing machine, could recognize a plate and fork but not any other kitchen cookware. His knowledge is piecemeal. His imitations are incomplete. He was designed for combat, nothing more. His unconscious attempts to fill in the gaps are illogical, aren't they?

Silver is permanently locked into a culture called "survival mode". That's a joke, but only mostly. His behaviors more closely match that of someone growing up in extreme poverty. He can't stand to throw stuff away and he has a hypervigilance about danger that someone who grew up in a "bad neighborhood" would understand. Not to mention that any cultural values he has learned are a few hundred years out of date, so his guesses at any customs tend to be slightly off.

Blaze is from a different dimension, which basically reads as just a different culture than the one that's prominent where most of Sonic's friends reside! She actually gets a kick out of sharing her customs and comparing them to everyone else's. She's also from an extremely privileged walk of life, though, and it definitely shows no matter how much research she does to try and be less ignorant about how "normal" life works.

[ostensiblynone]

Speaking to Gibson TV, the Oasis guitarslinger reflected on the instrument's changes and how young players have — and haven't — benefitted from them

Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher said his own son called him out for his inability to shred. His response to the slight explains how guitar playing has changed in the decades since Oasis first came storming onto the Brit-rock scene.

Speaking to Gibson TV, Gallagher said young players today have more tools and information available to them than when he first wrestled with an electric guitar.

“I've seen young kids playing instruments, and they're great,” he says. “There's a lot more information out there now when you're starting, for equipment, what it does and what you should be doing. Tips for this, videos for that. They'd have a sleepless night thinking about what we used to be. I don't know how we got by.”

But their advanced prowess on the instrument doesn't necessarily translate into a career.

“My lad will say ‘You can’t play guitar like that,’ and I’m like ‘Thank the fucking Lord!’ because if I could play guitar like that, you know what I’d be doing right now? Playing guitar like that!

“I wouldn’t be going, 'Maybe...' [sings the first word of "Live Forever"]. You can go anywhere with that.”

As Gallagher tells Gibson TV, Oasis were five years into their career when they played an immense sold-out show at Knebworth House, in the U.K. Yet he was still a novice when it came to understanding the intricacies of his rig.

""Ever seen the shot from the stage at Knebworth?" he asks. "I've got a pedalboard that's on a piece of plywood. It's got a delay pedal on it and a tuner.

"125,000 people. And I didn't even have a proper pedalboard!

“Somebody said to me, ‘Why is the bass, middle and treble all on 10?’ ‘Because it all goes to 10?’ And he’s like, ‘Try turning the bass down.’ I was like, ‘Don't fucking touch it! It sounds great.’

“I was 20 years into it before I went, ‘Middle… Oh, so the louder you turn it up….’ Why didn’t somebody tell me that 20 years ago?”

That iconic Knebworth performance helped Oasis ascend to rock's highest peaks. But following 1997's Be Here Now, Gallagher set about overhauling his rig, plywood pedalboard included.

Speaking to Guitar Player in 2000 to promote the release of the group's 2000 album, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, he explained how his go-to Marshall amps weren't doing it for him anymore.

“No disrespect to Marshalls, but they have one sound, and that's just about it. They're either really loud, or really quiet. But I found that each Fender amp has its own character.”

Gallagher's trusty Epiphone Casino wasn't out of the firing line either. The guitarist was toting "a really cool, wine-red '80s Les Paul Deluxe, a Fender Strat, and a '60s Telecaster that Johnny Depp bought me for my 30th birthday."

Shredding, though, was left to other bands. Oasis's appeal has always been rooted in simplicity, chord progressions that anyone can get behind, and a rock and roll swagger for the masses.

But there is perhaps a semblance of jealousy aimed at the current crop of all-knowing guitarists. In a recent post to X, he revealed “I’ve got no control over the music I make. I’m not adept enough as a musician. All I can do is sit with a guitar and wait in hope for something to happen.

“I call it going fishing… I sit by the river, with the guitar and if I get a catch, great! And that’s what I do, it comes from within.”

—“My lad will say, ‘You can’t play guitar like that,’ and I’m like, ‘Thank the Lord!’ ” Noel Gallagher’s son called him out because he can’t shred. His response was priceless | by Phil Weller | published 21 November 2024 Guitarplayer.com

[kxizoku-ou]

Hybrid Au — Blackbeard Pirates

Ah, hybrid headcanons... the thing I do in every fandom I write for, sooner or later. >3> I'd addressed the topic much more briefly here, but this is the first fully-written hybrid info post on this blog! I spent literal days researching these/typing them out, so I hope y'all enjoy the weird-ish xeno as much as I did... :`D

This character group is up first since they've been stuck in my brain for WEEKS now, and I expect there will be more to come soon! And ofc, requests/questions for this Au are very much encouraged!

((Warning for slight nsfw— specifically, discussion of hybrid genitalia in a biological/medical perspective.))

. . .

Marshall D. Teach — Hippopotamus 

Physical 

Small, rounded ears covered in a thin, sparse layer of fur. Highly mobile (can fold back almost flat to his skull) and tend to move or flick along with strong emotions. 

Short, thick tail with a flat-ish shape and a tuft of fur at the end. Small enough on him that it can easily go unnoticed.

Tusk-like teeth that are more widely spaced (especially in front) than a normal human’s. The upper and lower canines poke out a bit even when his mouth is closed. Special muscle structure allows his jaw to open disturbingly wide. 

Built thick and solid, with dense bones and more muscle than his pudgy-looking shape suggests.

Sheathed penis that stays almost entirely retracted when not erect. Testicles are closer to the body/less visible than on a normal human.

Behavioral

Naturally territorial, especially toward other males. Can turn aggressive with very little warning when what’s “his” is threatened.

Territorial tendencies lessen if he feels subordinate to someone else; a (often subconscious) hierarchy of dominance influences his behavior. Kneeling is an instinctive gesture of submission.

Keen sense of smell. Strong mental association between scents and the people, places, etc. that are connected to them. 

Plays into his species’ highly misleading reputation of being cute/silly, both so that people are more likely to underestimate him, and (less openly admitted) because he likes the attention. 

A sizable portion of his time is spent “resting”— unmoving, eyes closed, and lost in thought. This state is easily mistaken for proper sleep, but he’s still nowhere near unaware or slow to react.

Jesus Burgess — Giant River Otter 

Physical 

Long, sturdy tail covered in a layer of silky-textured brown fur. The tail itself is solid and powerful, and the fur on it, which looks darker when wet, is dense enough to be nearly waterproof.

Stronger teeth than a normal human, as well as a powerful jaw. Nails are sharp and claw-like, and his hands and feet are partially webbed.

Highly sensitive whiskers around his chin and nose. Different than normal human facial hair, they’re meant for gathering sensory input while underwater.

Capable of a wide variety of inhuman vocalizations, ranging from growls to whines. Most of them are instinctive (and somewhat involuntary), and he usually has little idea what the sounds mean.

Partially sheathed penis that emerges when erect. Close contact and roughhousing tend to get him excited... and his self-control only gets worse when he’s distracted by lust. 

Behavioral

Strong hunting instincts; he’s programmed to hunt, and a lack of entertainment quickly leads to aggression. High energy, and gets dangerously agitated when confined for too long. 

Matching the need to hunt, he’s excitable— when something gets him worked up, his self-control plummets. 

Naturally social, with an instinctive need for a hierarchy. While he’s prone to vying for dominance, if someone establishes themself as the leader, he’s surprisingly cooperative. Isolation and a lack of companionship do terrible things to his mental state. 

Prefers having a “den” to himself, and can be picky/territorial about the space he considers his own. The notable exception to this is for people he’s close to; if anything, he’d rather have them close.

When he does get attached to someone, he forms strong, long-lasting bonds. Within these bonds, he’s intensely loyal and annoyingly clingy.

Van Augur — Spectral Bat

Physical 

Delicate, leathery wings, covered in a fine layer of reddish-brown fur, emerge from his shoulder blades. The thumbs at their upper tips have a recurved claw, and the membrane of skin between the fingers heals quickly if injured or torn. 

The wings are big enough to support short bursts of flight, but that same size puts a strain on his back and shoulders. Prone to aching muscles because of this.

Large, rounded ears that look similarly delicate to his wing membranes. They protrude forward and away from his head at a cute slightly awkward-looking angle. 

Sharp teeth with notably oversized canines. Even the molars farther back have sharper edges than human teeth should.

Penis is somewhat tapered (broader near the base, narrowing toward the tip) and has a flatter, less-defined head than a normal human’s. 

Behavioral

Prefers small, dark, enclosed spaces for sleeping in, to the point where feeling too exposed can make it impossible to sleep at all. 

Naturally nocturnal. Though he can force himself to keep a more daytime-based schedule when it’s needed, he’s nowhere near as alert or quick to react as he is after the sun is down.  

Capable of accurate echolocation through low-frequency sounds that normal humans are unable to hear. His vision is good enough that he doesn’t have to rely on it too often, but the skill comes in handy when there’s not enough light to see normally.

Though typically introverted and reserved, when he does get attached to someone, the bond runs deep. 

Usually keeps his wings tucked close to his body when not using them, both to keep them out of the way and as a sort of self-comfort. Also sleeps with his wings folded around himself.

Laffitte — Barn Owl 

Physical 

Has large, feathered wings with an impressive wingspan. The wing feathers are mostly white (or at least, a very light gray-brown), but marked with dark speckles and bands of pale gray.

More patches of feathers are scattered around his back (especially near the base of his wings), neck, and shoulders. 

Can make a variety of inhuman noises, ranging from a rather eerie-sounding screech to a cute, purr-like trill that he claims is a show of contentment. The sounds come out more frequently (and with greater variety) around people he’s attached to.

Extremely keen senses, especially sight and hearing. He’s sensitive to loud noises, and acutely aware of every movement around him. 

Cloaca instead of external penis and testicles, with a small bump near the upper edge that resembles a glans in appearance and sensitivity.

Behavioral

Naturally nocturnal, but can adapt to a daytime-based schedule if the need arises. He’s still functional like that, just not quite as alert. 

Molting makes him short-tempered and dangerously irritable. Between the danger that poses to others and his overall discomfort/dislike of being seen with patchy, unkept feathers, he’ll isolate himself as much as possible during the worst of the process. 

Though not particularly territorial towards others, he has an acute sense of what area is “his”, and a detailed mental map of that space.

Has a slight nesting habit, though he’ll usually suppress the urge unless his living situation is particularly secure. Enjoys snug, enclosed sleeping places that feel hidden from any passerby. 

Can be somewhat anxious about food supply; slight hoarding tendencies start when he’s particularly stressed. Prone to offering food as a gesture of affection to people he’s fond of. 

Doc Q — Sorraia Horse

Physical 

Small, tapered oval-shaped ears with fur that’s a dull shade of gray-brown. They’re positioned higher on his head than human ears would be and have a wide range of motion.

“Mane” of hair trailing from his nape down to around his shoulder blades. Most of it is the same pale blond as the rest of his hair, but the hue gets darker as it gets farther from his head. 

Long, thin tail that falls to a bit above his knees; the coarse hair that covers it nearly touches the ground when he’s standing, and is the same shade as the fur on his ears and mane.

His digestive system (suited only to small, spread-out meals) is unfortunately delicate. 

Partially sheathed penis that’s surprisingly large for his narrow build. Due to the amount of redirected blood, erections make him dizzy.

Behavioral

Perceptive and easy to startle, though his outwardly laid-back demeanor can somewhat conceal it. 

A prey animal at heart, he prefers to avoid unnecessary conflicts. He’d rather leave things up to luck and spare himself the stress... especially because said stress has highly unpleasant effects on his health. 

Between his perpetual sickness and his body’s finicky dietary needs, he struggles to maintain much body weight. 

Feels more comfortable with a “herd” to stick close to, and suffers psychologically if he’s on his own for too long. Isolation is instinctively anxiety-inducing, even when there’s a rational cause. 

Prone to nervous habits, like nail biting, pacing, and picking at clothing seams. They get more frequent (and more self-damaging) when he’s especially bored, stressed, or physically uncomfortable. 

Shiryuu — Doberman Pinscher

Physical 

Triangular, black-furred ears that stand upright (cropped many, many years ago). The fur on their insides is a lighter, brighter shade of brown, and they tend to be sore from hours spent squashed down under his ever-present hat. 

Short, thick nub of a tail (docked at the same time his ears were cropped), usually hidden under thick layers of clothing.

Stronger, sharper teeth and nails than a human. Those teeth come with a strong jaw and powerful bite force; impressive enough to have led to the occasional muzzling for “safety”. 

Thicker, coarser body hair than a normal human, especially around his lower limbs and the base of his tail. 

Sheathed penis that emerges fully when aroused. The part that’s exposed only when erect is vivid, flushed red, and a knot swells low on the shaft during/after ejaculation.

Behavioral

Needs purpose, rules, and routine to function properly. When he’s bored and unoccupied for too long, all the pent-up mental energy starts slipping out in unpleasant ways (for example, violence). 

Having something to chew on serves as a sort of self-comfort; his cigar is an acceptably dignified way to satisfy that urge. 

Wary of unfamiliar people and places to an intensity that borders on paranoia. Too much time caged in isolation left his natural guard-dog tendencies with no other outlet.

Easily trainable, in the sense that once he forms a habit, it sticks. His famously bloodthirsty behavior is one such result.

When he’s attached to someone, he can be surprisingly clingy. His loyalty is hard-earned, but an instinctive protective streak will eventually start to surface.  

Catarina Devon — Spotted Hyena

Physical 

Small, rounded ears that sit higher on her head than a normal human’s would. The fur on them is short, fluffy, and a light shade of sandy brown, with a surprisingly coarse texture. 

Short, fluffy tail covered in matching sandy fur that darkens dramatically near the tip. 

Claw-like (though relatively blunt) nails and sharp, durable teeth with pronounced canines and a powerful jaw behind them. Enough bite force to crack bone with relative ease. 

Functions best on a meat-based diet. Although she can digest even bones with no ill effects, she finds such “scraps” beneath her. 

Clitoris is enlarged to a psuedophallus, which becomes erect with arousal. There are small, rough spines around its tip.

Behavioral

Inclined to a hierarchy-based perception of social relationships, and is dramatically more aggressive toward those who she views as submissive to her in that sense. 

Highly territorial, both over space and possessions. Can easily get violent over perceived territory offenses.

Denning tendencies; her sleeping space is of great personal importance, and she’ll go out of her way to make sure it’s safe and comfortable. Somewhat prone to hiding/hoarding food in her room as well, most frequently when she’s stressed. 

The posture of her ears and tail indicates emotion— for example, flattened ears and a tucked-in tail show fear. 

Though she tries to keep the sounds contained, inhuman vocalizations slip out from time to time. These can range from growls, yips, and whines to the famous hyena “laughter”. 

Avalo Pizarro — Pallas Cat

Physical 

Small, pointed ears covered in fluffy fur. The fur is blueish gray on the backsides, with a darker-colored rim, and white in front/inside. 

Long, thick tail with a dense, plush layer of fur; most of it is the same blueish gray as his ears, save for a black tip, a few rings of black above that, and some sparse, scattered flecks of white. This fur is incredibly thick and serves as excellent insulation against cold. 

Thicker, more visible body hair than a normal human, with notable patches on his chest, stomach, lower limbs, and along his spine near the base of his tail. 

Sharp, pointed teeth with prominent canines (both upper and lower). Claw-like nails that grow in a slight recurved hook. 

Penis has short, dull-ish spines most highly concentrated around and just below the glans. The spines are sensitive to pressure. 

Behavioral

Naturally solitary, and prone to territorial impulses. This preference is only overlooked for the sake of (properly worshipful) attention from others... and even then, his moods can be fickle. 

Spends a lot of time napping, with energy levels that peak around dawn and dusk. Notably more awake and alert at night. 

His fur requires a lot of time and effort to maintain. The fur on his tail (where it’s thickest) is the most high-maintenance, and he’s quite particular about keeping it groomed. He’ll often pester others to do the work of brushing it for him. 

Can purr, but doesn’t do it often. The sound only comes out when he’s feeling particularly relaxed, safe, and/or content. 

Denning tendencies; needs somewhere familiar and safe to hide away and sleep. Despite his massively fluffy, cold-resistant fur, he’ll hoard bedding just for extra comfort. 

Vasco Shot — Red Wattle Hog

Physical 

Floppy, triangular-shaped ears covered in a fine layer of reddish, russet-brown fur. Both ears have a number of notches along their edges, and slight scarring along some of those old tears.

Short, curl-shaped tail with matching russet fur and a thicker, darker tuft of hair at the end. There’s some visible scarring along the length of it, and the curl has grown slightly crooked. 

Two small “wattles” of skin just below his jaw, with one on each side. They also grow fur, but less than his ears or tail. 

His lower canines are long enough to poke out even when his mouth is closed. They grow slowly, but continuously, and need to be worn down to prevent their length from becoming unmanageable.

Penis has a slight curved shape, a tapered tip with a less defined glans, and a small, semi-functional sheath around the base.

Behavioral

Highly social, with a reliance on scent and physical closeness to stay emotionally stable. Isolation does terrible things to his mental state, and he gets lonely easily.

Not particularly territorial (or at least, not naturally). Gets more aggressive toward others when living conditions are poor. When he’s comfortable and not anticipating sudden threats, a lot of his usual violent behavior vanishes. 

Easily bored, and prone to impulsive, destructive choices when it gets bad enough. Having something in his mouth to mess with (whether food or the rim of a booze bottle) is a favored solution.

Inhuman vocalizations are common, especially short, oinking grunts that can indicate a surprisingly wide variety of meanings.

When he’s especially relaxed around someone, lightly bumping his nose against them is an instinctive show of affection.

Sanjuan Wolf — Burmese Python

Physical 

Snake tail in addition to human legs. The tail is long (nearly his total height over again), thick, and strong; its scales are tan, with a pattern of darker reddish-brown blotches outlined in cream.

Scattered patches of scales across his body. The largest one starts at the base of his tail, spreading upward to cover his groin and most of his lower back. Other notable patches include ones on his throat, stomach, shoulders, and upper limbs. 

The scales along the anterior body side, joints, and inner legs/arms are lighter-colored and softer than the main patterned ones.

Slightly forked tongue and sharp teeth, with prominent, fang-like canines. Fangs lack venom. 

Two-part hemipenes that emerge from a horizontal slit low on his pelvis when aroused. No external/visible testicles.

Behavioral

Despite his massive size and the strength that comes with it, he’s generally docile (nearly timid, even) unless provoked, and easygoing enough not to mind being handled or ordered around.

Cold-blooded, and drawn to heat because of it. His sheer size helps keep him warm to some degree, however. 

His tail often tries to wrap around nearby objects. It’s a subconscious reflex (and something of a self-soothing method) that gets harder to control when he’s distressed.

His scales (both the ones on his tail and in patches elsewhere) shed from time to time, and the process isn’t pleasant. Without enough humidity and suitable surfaces to rub the scales against, he’ll spend a few days in miserable discomfort trying to get the shed off. 

Poor eyesight, but acute sense of smell and heat make up for it. Aware of even much smaller living things due to the warmth they emit.

[thefringespod]

Happy #AudioDramaSunday wanderers! We're gonna start things off once again with @doyoucopypod because Delaney when I get you when I get you Delaney-

Having to hearing my friends sob in character hurts me so bad. Dels and Kit did great jobs. If anyone needs me, I'll be unwell <3

I finally finished up season 1 of The Magnus Protocol and wow. No thoughts, head empty, bring back my boy Sam right this instant

@allatseapod continues to be a delight and I'm so afraid of this ocean and it's expired beans. If anything happens to February I'll riot

@woebegonepod dylan when I get you when I get you dylan-

I'm. Unwell. About this episode I'm so worried about what's going on and i miss my beloved cowboy Michael dylan has played a cruel trick (positive) on the audience and I'll never recover

@ethicstownpod has squeezed me once again I'm also unwell about it I'm. CL Hendry when I get you-

Great job by David Ault, the world's foremost expert in playing unethical scientists.

I started @hinaypod this week and while I'm only 1.5 episodes in I'd already kill and die for Mari. I'm so enthralled by the world being weaved I can't wait to keep listening and unraveling this story. Also im so worried about Mari's mom already

Here on the Fringes we've started season 3!! Episode 25 - Followers of the Mighty River is available right now wherever you get your podcasts and episode 26 is live for patrons at patreon.com/pinetreepods

And over on @forgedbondspod I'm working through cast recordings! Editing proper will be beginning in late October/early November with release starting this December!

That's all for this week! Work is so busy it's turning my brain to goop which means I'll probably listen to more Hi Nay tonight to cope

[tamsiblings]

okay i've got things to say about simon knowing about river's assassin conditioning in the movie that i'll talk about later (tldr; don't buy at all that it's not a total retcon and i think simon's reaction to finding out river shot the men at niska's makes that clear.)

but tbh i am more sold on him knowing about her psychic abilities. i used to think he wasn't at all aware in the show proper and was genuinely puzzled, at the start of this rewatch i was more in the space of like. i think he knows subconsciously that there's a lot of shit river shouldn't be able to know but does, but he's still genuinely in denial at this team meeting at the dinner table scene. but now my perspective is like - i think it was subconscious at first. and then he becomes more and more aware. (i'm SO curious about where his thoughts are at in war stories in particular. he notices a pattern on one of river's scans that he finds really significant.) and i can't of thing he's lying his off in this scene now, knowing that yeah, river is some form of psychic, but not wanting them to think that because he's Seen first-hand how people react when they think someone is too different with them, back in safe. and while i don't think he thinks anyone on the crew would go That far, i do think he's very worried about their honestly very precarious position on the ship at this point. so i get why he would lie here.

simon doesn't look particularly confused or surprised by mal's statement here - but he does raise his head slightly and look. kind of concerned.

he tries to play it off with what i think Has probably been his rationalization to himself as he was coming to grips with river's abilities

but mal presses him on it (because he can totally tell simon is trying to walk around the subject)

now, this is ofc subjective but... simon does not look shocked by the suggestion here, to me. he looks more like "oh fuck" and then immediately turns to zoe before he has to respond.

not gonna include a bunch of screenshots of it but the jayne-wash chaos ahdhsh and inara interrupting gives simon some time to gather himself

and when he does, so much of his body language feels... a little forced. like he's trying a little too hard to be confused/look more surprised than he was before.

like, it's very possible that i'm reading into this. but i do think it's incredibly plausible that he either is on some level aware but Very Deeply In Denial - or that at this point, he does know, and he's lying about it and Keeps Lying because he feels increasingly trapped.

and again: i don't think that's an unsympathetic reading at all. simon and river's position onboard has never been stable to begin with, and this only further threatens it, but they are in the very vulnerable position of being highly wanted fugitives who can't just like, go anywhere. it's said by multiple characters (including mal himself) that while it's possible they could find a safe-ish place, realistically, the threat of the alliance is going to make that Extremely Fucking difficult for them. simon knows that. it doesn't surprise me that he would hold onto a lie Really Really hard if he thought it meant keeping river safe.

[karlachbrainrot]

Meet my First Tav-

Wanted to give an introduction to my first Tav the one that I have played over 100 hours of this game in (because I've gone from act one to act three twice now and still haven't went to end game yet).

Just a little something while my inbox is empty- so if you have any requests please let me know :)

I won't subject you to reading if you don't want so here we go-

Name: Sarade Race: Human, mid twenties Class: College of Swords, Bard + Way of the Open Hand, Monk Deity: Corellon Larethian Alignment: Chaotic Good Romance: Karlach

Backstory: Sarade before the nautiloid was a troubadour. Wandering the Sword Coast, and the wilds to deliver a bit of joy into people's lives. It's how she was raised- her parents belonging to a group that sticks to the coast line. Though if you lined said group along a wall and told her to pick out her parents- she couldn't tell ya.

More of a commune sort of thing versus distinct family units. Because it was more communal like that she was raised with a crap ton of different beliefs and lessons to follow. So she's pretty back and forth when it comes to do the things she wants to do, but she's got a few tenets she sticks by.

1.) Give no shit, but take none in return. If someone insults you return the compliment. It's all about being respectful until someone disrespects you- the second they do, gloves off it's time to party.

2.) You are better than no one, but that doesn't make you any worse than them. Kind of goes with the first one, it's why you respect everyone around you. But this serves as a reminder that you aren't hot shit either. You're just as mid as everyone else.

3.) Gods and powerful beings are not to be trifled with. (Given by a man who was polymorphed into a frog for the better part of two years- he does not recommend).

4.) Waste not, want not- you equip yourself with the shit you find (dead, abandoned, on the ground- it's yours for the yoinking), don't spend your hard earned gold on shit you can find on your own. That being said- if it can't be crafted by your own hands- get it or find someone who can.

5.) There is always another way out of a sticky situation. Fighting is a last resort. Running away- never an option. If this was a hill you decided to make a stand on, you better be willing to die for it or get locked up for it.

6.) As much as you are aware of your own strengths and weaknesses, you need to be wary of the strengths and weakness of those around you- the last thing you need is someone who's going to run away when they need to stand and fight or who would send you down the river for a few gold pieces.

7.) The only good rich man is a dead one. No one can be that fancy and have it through good means. There's always something fishy about them. Find it out, take em down. Any means necessary. Though Sarade has taken this to mean more of- she'd rather oust them as pieces of shit, and get public approval before doing what she needs to do, refer to tenet five.

She left her commune at 19 wanting to see more of Faerun, and hasn't encountered them again. She figures fate will pull em back together if need be, but for the time being she understands that she learned what she needed from that path.

Sarade plays the fiddle (violin, fiddle- main difference is she prefers folk to the high class music heard in proper society), and really enjoys being able to wow the kids with certain feats of sword play. Though there was an incident, she almost caught her hair on fire when a trick went awry- she doesn't think that tavern was ever able to rebuild, and she can't step foot in Blackford Crossing again.

Actually she was just leaving that disaster and on the outskirt of Triboar when she was was nabbed by the Nautiloid.

---

But- there you have it- my first Tav, who I have spent way too much time with. If you want to know more about certain in-game options she made or opinions she has on certain characters- I'd be happy to indulge.

[iona-tully]

♛ → THE RIVERLANDS presents IONA TULLY, QUEEN OF THE RIVERLANDS. when the dragons danced in the sky she thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the THIRTY-THREE year old FEMALE who was CARING & JUDICIOUS before she saw the first of the flames, is now RETICENT & JADED after seeing the last. she’s often associated with a lineage that was never to come from her womb, a steadfast voice when facing the banners of her people, and the bond of siblings haunted by the ghost of a cruel father. ( FC: Deborah Ann Woll)

I. BASICS

NAME: Iona Tully

AGE: Thirty-three (Born October 3rd, 111 AC)

STATUS: Queen of the Riverlands

OCCUPATION: Queen, former ambassador

MARITAL STATUS: Widow (Wife to the late Lord Harold Westerling)

CHARACTER ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

MBTI: INFJ (introversion, intuition, feeling, judging)

RELIGION: Faith of the Seven

VIRTUES: Caring, Judicious, Insightful, Principled, Assertive & Empathetic

VICES: Reserved, Perfectionist, Self-critical, Reticent, Jaded & Impulsive

II. BIOGRAPHY

Iona is the first true-born child of the late Grover with his wife, Edma. Grover had already birthed a bastard, Cian, when Iona was born. After Iona's birth, four siblings followed: Emilee, ___, and the twins, Mellara and Niamh.

The princess grew up with an awareness of her father's abusive nature, oftentimes stepping forth to shield her siblings from Grover's cruelty and manipulative ways. Iona was never physically abused by her father, but her reserved nature and tendency to be self-critical certainly come from Grover's barbed words during her childhood.

For most of her teenage years, Iona was a bit of a shadow, a quiet figure who simply behaved like a proper princess. Cian had already come into the picture by then, and Grover had stated his wishes of having him legitimized, turning him into his rightful heir. Iona never felt robbed, despite being the first true-born Tully, and instead formed a close friendship with her half-brother. Cian was an encouraging figure, someone who supported her and believed in her potential. Iona had begun to study more about politics and diplomacy, and Cian's encouragement only bolstered her wishes to play a more active role within her realm, eventually becoming an ambassador of the Riverlands.

Her betrothal to Lord Harold Westerling was arranged in early 131 AC and she married him later that year. What began as a fairly civil marriage began to deteriorate as any attempts to have children failed. Her husband, who’d wished for a large family, was quick to grow upset and retaliate against her. (tw: abuse) Her husband didn’t shy away from making it known that he’d been burdened with a barren wife and even had violent outbursts against Iona a number of times. (Note: It was actually Harold who couldn’t have children, but of course, they had no way of knowing).

Iona became a widow in 135 AC after Harold was killed during the Sack of Lannisport. With no heirs of their own, Theomore (Harold's brother) was set to become the new ruling lord of House Westerling and Iona returned to the Riverlands.

Iona continued to serve as an ambassador, aiding in diplomatic affairs, until it was voted in a small council meeting that she should step down.

Following Cian's disappearance, Iona became regent. It was until his death was confirmed that she succeeded him as Queen of the Riverlands. Her younger brother, was believed to be dead at the time and the River lords were sworn to her. Her younger sister, Emilee Rogare (née Tully) was appointed as her Hand. It was later revealed that Emilee had betrayed her and the Riverlands in favor of the Lyseni, and Iona was forced to carry out the rightful justice against her own sister, having Emilee trialed for treason and executed.

In recent months, talk of marriage has been brought up by the council and the River lords, but Queen Iona was firm in her intention to resolve the Lyseni conflict for good before seeking to get married.

As the Lyseni conflict ended at last, Iona has made it known she will not look outside the realm for a husband, intending for the future king consort to be a Riverlander.

III. CONNECTIONS

House Tully: Iona had a tricky relationship with her father, as most Tully siblings did. She has a close relationship with her brother and sisters, wishing to keep them close in political affairs. Despite Emilee's betrayal, her siblings remain those she trusts the most.

House Blackwood: Iona has much love for her cousins. She does not support the feud they have against House Bracken, for their old history only threatens to cause tension and instability in the Riverlands.

Ronan Bracken: The lord is her Hand and Iona trusts the man greatly. Other than her advisor, Ronan has also become a close friend.

House Westerling: Former in-laws. Iona lived with them for 4 years. Despite her declining relationship with her late husband, Iona befriended her mother-in-law and Lord Theomore, Harold’s younger brother.

House Lefford: During her time in the Westerlands, Iona grew fond of Lady Lanna Lefford and appreciated her gentle nature towards her. She holds Lanna's children in high regard and has offered her friendship to all of them.

More connections, please. Everything and anything you have in mind!

[blackjackkent]

As I mentioned, Rakha is now getting levels in Lore Bard going forward because @zenjestrr has (rightly) suggested that her being able to get Spirit Guardians and run screaming directly into the enemy backline while everyone around her explodes is highly in-character.

My interpretation of this, character-wise, is that Rakha has continued her practice established here of fiddling around with Alfira's lute and is starting to discover interesting things about how it interacts with her instinctive understanding of magic.

Almost immediately after they make camp near Last Light, Rakha retreats to the very edge of the lighted area. Sitting down at the edge of the water, she settles the lute across her lap and begins to pluck gently at the strings.

It's become a common sight in their various camps since Alfira's death. Wyll has watched and listened with interest - mostly from a distance, so as not to make her self-conscious, but today he wanders over, stopping a few steps away.

(It's a gesture of support, in his mind, but deep down perhaps he too feels the deep strain of this dark place... and perhaps he too finds comfort in being near her in a way neither of them have spoken of aloud.)

"Hey," he says with a slight smile. "That's starting to sound like a proper tune."

She doesn't look up; her eyes are fixed intently on the middle distance, staring through the river to something past it. "I wish you could see it," she mutters.

He tips his head sideways. "See what?"

"The Weave... it resonates." She plucks a particular series of notes out with an air of intense focus. "There... I can almost..."

He sits down next to her, very slowly so as not to break her focus. "I don't see anything," he admits quietly. "I can feel you're doing something, but not really what." His magic comes from Mizora; it's not in any way intrinsic to him the way it is for Rakha.

She repeats the series of notes carefully and then huffs out a breath full of frustration. "There is magic in it. The music. If I can touch it, use it..."

She sets her jaw; her eyes drift half-closed and she lets out a low growl and slams her hand along the strings, playing all the notes at once in a single sharp chord.

Light flares around them, a burst that sets every blade of grass glowing. Wyll looks down at his hands and sees the light sparkling over his skin, glimmering like fire without heat.

Rakha, too, is shimmering with it, in her eyes and through her hair and along her arms. Her eyebrows have lifted and just for a moment he sees her face transformed with an attitude of transcendent joy. Then the moment passed, and she is serious again, calm, quiet, her gaze hooded over.

"There," she mutters. "That's it..."

"Wow," Wyll whispers. "How did you..."

"I don't know." She shrugs. "It just... felt right. It felt right..." She looks down at the instrument in her hands, brushes her fingertips carefully along the fretboard. "The magic here is so wrong, Wyll," she adds in a low voice.

"I know." Wyll hesitates, then very carefully reaches out and rests a hand on her arm. He can feel every muscle in it flexed as if ready to snap. "But look at you - making your own light, just as I said you would."

An almost imperceptible smile tugs at her lips. "Yes..."

[namig42]

random OC ask: say your OC is a love interest (in BG3 or a relationship-heavy game format of your choosing) — what does their first romance or "deepening the relationship" cutscene look like?

OOOOO, I'VE NEVER CONSIDERED THIS BECAUSE I'M THE ONE ALWAYS ROMANCING OTHERS. WHAT A GOOD QUESTION.

Strap in because this is going to be a loooong post. I could make a whole write up for each of these interactions with how intricate they are and my process behind each one. It may even be fun to do another post exploring what their character arc would be if they were proper companions in a BG3 run instead of just a Tav/Durge character.

These are all written with the idea that each of them are companions in your party during a standard BG3 run. There's still the same premise of the threat of tadpoles and the Absolute, so there's some common ground that the love interest (you) has with each of the members immediately to bring them together.

---

Wyndolyn

Wyndolyn will approach you early on in the evening and ask if you'd like to take a walk with her later on when everyone else is asleep. If you agree, then she'll wait for you by the edge of camp that night before leading you down to the river. As you walk in the moonlight along the bank, she'll open up to you a bit and take you to a spot that reminds her of happier days. She smiles a bit more and her face softens as she tells you about one of her sillier memories from when she first used to run off into the woods outside Baldur's Gate. She laughs a bit at how dumb she was, and comments that she probably isn't much brighter now. She meets your gaze for a moment, then turns her eyes to the river. She proceeds to wade into the water a bit and grabs a stone to give to you. It's a smooth, round stone that fits well in your hand. "I always like to keep something like this in my pocket because it makes me feel at home. I thought you might like one, too." She blushes a bit as she takes your hand and places the stone in it, then wraps your fingers around the rock. She holds your hand for a lingering moment before letting it go and taking a step back, smiling at you. After another moment of looking in each other's eyes, she'll say that it's getting late and that you two should head back to camp for the night. With a light touch, she takes your hand and leads you back to your tent, saying a warm goodnight before heading to her own bedroll.

Helena

Helena is often shy. As you garner approval with her, she'll let you in on her witty, snarky comments, small stash of pickpocketed goodies, or the little pranks she plays around camp. She's slow to open up, but she becomes even more fun and chaotic when she does. She especially loves it if you're willing to help her cause a little commotion around camp or while out on an adventure.

The moment you know that you've made strong headway with Helena is that one night, while everyone else is asleep, she'll wake you up with a gentle nudge. When you open your eyes, you see Helena is sitting next to you and shaking. She isn't looking at you, but her hand is still lingering on your shoulder. Her eyes look a million miles away. "S-sorry... I just... really didn't want to be alone right now..." She leaves her hand on your shoulder, the touch so subtle you barely feel her fingers. After a few moments of sitting like that, her breath starts to stabilize and she'll ask if you'd like to take a walk with her. When you two get far enough away from camp that she doesn't think anyone will overhear you, she admits that she's embarrassed about the situation and that she even considered waking you. She tells you how she has nightmares sometimes, bad ones, and always hates waking up alone. You were the first person she thought to reach out to in that moment, and she's grateful you sat with her. "Please don't tell anyone about this. I promise I'll be fine by the morning. This just happens sometimes, is all. I get over it and everything goes back to normal when the sun comes up. This can be our little secret, okay?" She holds her finger up to her lips with that last statement and gives you a playful smirk, though she still looks a bit nervous. You agree to keep this to yourself, and she thanks you while giving your hand a small squeeze. You make your way back to camp afterwards, her hand grazing yours as you walk, and say goodnight to each other before returning to your separate bedrolls.

Dahlia

One night, around the campfire, Dahlia will ask if she can share something personal with you after everyone else goes to sleep. She doesn't see the issue with her wording, but the way it comes across, it sounds like it could be a confession of sorts. If you tell her yes, she'll smile and tell you to meet her in her tent later that evening. When you come to see her, she's sat on the floor writing in a book. When she hears you come in, she looks at you and her smile brightens. She scooches across the floor to make space for you to sit, but you're still stuck sitting very close because of how cluttered her tent is with books and random bits of cloth that are covered with her yellow and green thread. Not to mention her large stature that already takes up most of the space.

Dahlia shows you the book she was writing in and confides that as much as she's always loved to read, she's never really tried her hand at writing before. She's always wanted to write a book of her own, but felt that she never had the right inspiration. Now though, with an adventure like the one she's been forced into with you all, she thought that it would be a great time to start. She'll ask you if you'd be willing to read what she has so far and tell her your thoughts. When you go to read it, you notice that the name that comes up the most commonly is yours. She mentions the others and is very detailed about the places and events, but her writing seems to be the most focused on you, your actions, and her thoughts about you, all which are quite flattering. She doesn't seem to realize that though, and so after a few moments, she'll say, "I've never felt capable of voicing my thoughts, but for some reason, I feel like I can with you. I'd love to know what you think. Do you think there's anything I'm missing?" She leans in a bit closer to you, and in this moment, you can either kiss her, take her hand and tell her your thoughts, or simply lean back and excuse yourself.

Let's assume you kiss her since we're going for romance. If you do, she'll be shocked. She doesn't pull away, but it takes her a moment to reciprocate. After a moment, she'll pull away with wide eyes. "I... I didn't think... I never thought..." She has a hard time finding her words, but what it comes down to is that she has never been loved like that and never imagined she could experience a kiss like the ones she's read in countless stories. She's ecstatic and stuck in a moment of shock. "Could I try that again?" she asks after she regains a bit of composure, and if you allow her to, she'll lean in and kiss you once more, this time a bit deeper and with more intent. The screen will fade to black afterwards, leaving the two together in Dahlia's tent in each others' arms.

Vero

One night, after making eyes at you across the fire all evening, Vero will make her way over to you and ask if you'd like to spend some time together that evening. She's very collected and precise in her delivery. If you say yes, she gives you a soft smile and tells you to come by when everyone else has gone to bed. "Don't keep me waiting too long, alright~?" With that, she goes off to her tent with a bit of a sway in her step. When everyone else is asleep, you make your way to her tent. Just as you're about to enter, you hear something from inside. It's Vero's voice, and she sounds distressed. "Dammit! Why'd you have to go and make a mess now? You bloody imbecile! Idiot, idiot!" When you open the tent, you see Vero on the floor, surrounded by instruments. She's holding a drum that has a massive hole where the drum skin should be. The wood seems to be cracked and jagged too, as if someone tried to rip it in half or smash it unsuccessfully. There's a few bloodstains on the wood, and looking at Vero's hand, you see a large gash on her right palm. The rest of the tent is very tidy and organized, but Vero looks frantic. She sees you and her shaking ceases. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks turn red, something you've never seen before, as she yells, "get out!" She waves at you frantically with her bleeding hand to get out of her tent, leaving you out in the cold.

After a few moments, she collects herself and steps outside. She smooths her hair back with her clean hand and looks you in the eye as you two stand out in the evening air. "I'm... Sorry about that." You ask what happened, and she tells you that she was trying to tidy up for you. Light some candles, lay out some blankets, all those sorts of things, very romantic and whatnot, and when sorting through her instrument collection, she doesn't know what happened. Her eyes fall to the side with her next words and her hands start to fidget a bit. "Sometimes... Sometimes I do things without realizing what they are until it's too late. For some reason, I saw my drum and... Well..." She turns to meet your gaze again, her fingers still twiddling. "Let's call it an intrusive thought." After a moment, her fidgeting stops and she takes your hand in her uninjured one. She looks at you with a sheepish smile, and her typically cool, calm demeanor is missing. She seems softer, more unsure of herself. "I'm sorry, I must've spoiled your evening with all this." If you tell her that nothing has been spoiled, she'll chuckle a bit. "You're sweet to say such flattering things, even if you don't mean them. Would you still want to spend the evening with me, even after that unsightly display?"

If you tell her yes, she'll pull you by the hand and lead you back into her tent where you sit together on the soft purple blanket she laid out, surrounded by soft silk pillows. She reaches into a small chest and pulls out some gauze, then holds it out to you. "Would you mind...?" she asks with that soft, nervous voice. If you say yes, she offers you her hand to gently bandage, then when it's done, she leans in close to you and places a gentle kiss on your lips, her bandaged hand resting on your leg and her other hand on your cheek. After a moment, she pulls away, smiles at you, and thanks you for your kindness. The scene fades away to the next morning from there.

Sahed

Sahed approaches you one evening when the others have all moved to their sleeping spots and you're preparing for bed. He pulls you to the side when you're walking to your bedroll and confesses to you that he's been watching you since you've met. He believes you've proven yourself to be a remarkable individual time and time again so far on your journey together. He's not impressed with most people, but he finds you to be a rare specimen. As he's praising you, he steps into your space, closing the distance between you two. His voice lowers and his finger starts to trace the back of your hand as he tells you how he'd like to know more about you and your abilities. He leans in close to your ear as he asks, "won't you let me learn all there is to know about you, little pup?"

If you tell him yes, he'll give you a devilish smile, take your hand with a soft grip, and lead you away from camp. Once he feels he's lured you far enough, he'll release his grip on your hand, take a step away to face you, and command you to remove your clothes. If do as he says, he smirks and will move in close to circle you and examine your exposed form. He does not touch you at all, only looks with an intense, degrading gaze as he moves slowly. After what feels like ages, he steps back to where he was standing before and crosses his arms. "Kneel for me." If you follow his orders and kneel at his feet, he'll reach down and hold your chin with a gentle touch. "Good pet," he says with a silky voice, then kneels down to reward you with a soft, chaste kiss. As he pulls away, he stares deep into your eyes and says, "I want you to be mine. If you serve me and reveal all your secrets to me, you will have all my affection. Is that what you want, little pup? To serve me?" If you tell him yes, then he will kiss you once more, leaning in this time for a much deeper kiss. He leans further into you until he pushes you down to the ground, and from there, the scene fades to black.

Velora

Velora will approach you one night and ask if you'd like to spend a bit of time with her. She has a surprise planned, but needs to wait until everyone else is asleep before she can show you. If you agree, she lights up and tells you to come find her tent when the others have all gone to bed. Later that night in Velora's tent, she has a plethora of flowers scattered about on the floor. She smiles when you enter, waving you to take a seat next to her. "I was hoping to do something nice for everyone and make some flower crowns. Do you think that'd be silly?" If you tell her it wouldn't be, she beams and turns her attention back to her piles. She has them sorted by flower types and colors. "What do you think would work best for everyone? I found a few night orchids, and I know those are Shadowheart's favorite. Maybe these red poppies for Karlach? Though they might burst into flame if she tries to wear it... Maybe I could make her a wreath?" She turns to you and looks in your eyes, pondering what colors would suit you. "What about you?" she asks. "What flowers would you like?" She waits for your answer, and after you point at a flower, she'll pick a few out of the pile she has and begin to weave something together. As she goes, she blushes and tells you about how she used to love making crowns when she was small, but she never had anyone to give them to besides her parents. "I always had so many piled up in a basket in my room. It means a lot to finally have people I can make these for."

She finishes a crown for you and leans in close to place it on top of your head. "Well, what do you think?" You can either simply tell her you like it, or close the gap to kiss her. If you kiss her, she's shocked. She pulls away quickly, falls back on her bottom, and covers her mouth. She is stunned into shock. After a moment of staring at you with wide eyes, she'll stutter and make her way back to the flower crowns, mumbling about what the other party members might like. She avoids eye contact with you and is burning bright red as she tries to weave another crown with shaking hands. You can move closer to her and kiss her on the cheek or ask if she's alright. If you peck her on the cheek, she'll freeze and turn to face you, covering her cheek with her hand and leaning away from your body. You sit like that with her for what feels like a while, and eventually, with a face still burning and eyes wide in disbelief, Velora will slowly and hesitantly lean in to kiss you one more time. Eventually her body relaxes and she leans into the kiss a bit more. After a moment, she'll pull away with a soft, nervous smile on her face. Her eyes, which were wide in panic just a moment ago, are now soft and sparkling. "I've never had a true love's kiss before. What a wonderful experience." If you are willing, she kisses you again, this time without the hesitation that plagued her only a moment ago, and the scene fades out from there.

Gardon

Okay, Gardon is a dragon, BUT HEAR ME OUT. Since he is tadpoled in this scenario, the effects it has on his body limit his powers greatly. He is trapped in his dragonborn form for the time being since that was the form he received the tadpole in, but similarly to Astarion, the effects of his curse are negated. He still is sick and breathes lava instead of fire, but he is not compelled to do evil like before and for the first time in centuries can finally act on a will truly of his own. This leads to him being very hesitant to be rid of the tadpole, since in this state, he can finally be a force of honor rather than chaos.

With that in mind, if you show morals of honor and good, Gardon will approach you one evening. He will sit next to you by the fire and stare into the flames. "It's odd..." he speaks, unprompted. "The only being I've ever admired was someone from so long ago. I haven't seen her in centuries. When I look at you though..." He turns his gaze from the fire to you. "You remind me so much of her. You are a mortal she would've found worthy of her respect." He is hesitant to place his hand on yours, but does so with a clumsy touch. He has only hurt mortals like you for so long and is so afraid to do any damage. He leaves his hand on yours for a while, then eventually stands and turns to face you. "It is late. You should turn in for the evening." You stand up next to him, and as you do, he reaches for your hand one more time. He holds it in both of his and squeezes it gently. "Good night, my friend." With that, Gardon makes his way back to his tent, not to sleep, but to think about these feelings and what he should do.

---

This post is the culmination of hours of thought and editing over multiple days. I really wanted to sit down and think what scenarios would really feel right and intriguing for each character and how they would approach their own vulnerabilities and insecurities (or completely avoid them. Lookin at you Sahed). I think Vero may have been the most difficult to figure out. She's fairly complex, and I wasn't sure if I should approach this with her as a bhaalspawn or not. I did come to a decision, but I'll leave it open to interpretation what you think! We even got Gardon in there for anyone who wants to romance a real dragon, which I totally respect. His scenario is much less detailed for now, but he has a lot of his own character growth to do before being able to romance anyone, especially a mortal.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Who would you try to romance? Let me know if you'd like to see any of these events in more detail or where they lead to next! I could expand on these stories all day!