#been drawing them so much… the lore just keeps getting better (more miserable)

[accidentalautomaton]

every love story is a ghost story.

ouahhhh the blorbos docked ship for a little while… @streetlight-spam

[crystallinestars]

"Bullying into submission" is unfortunately an excellent way to put it 😔 People really need to learn that while feeling the need to vent is more than okay (just look at how much I've complained so far lol), making posts / snide comments with the sole aim of creating Drama or Discourse or straight up jumping into someone's space to berate them for quietly enjoying themselves in a way you don't approve of is truly the best recipe if your goal in life is to be miserable 24/7, on top of being a huge dick move.

I was also thinking about what other anons have brought up (how they feel straight up alienated by popular hcs always being one 'extreme' or another with no in-between) and I feel like these discussions (including the ones on social constructs, loved your input about that btw) are all linked by a common factor: some people try to draw hard lines in the sand in order to neatly categorize stuff in easily identifiable boxes or tropes. Sometimes what we could call "the norm" seems so ingrained in people's minds that it does not even occur to them to try and question this status quo, and so a lot of nuance is either lost or not even explored to begin with. At least that's how I see it, I still need to think about this some more.

I'd say that these "hard lines" aren't only drawn between all we've mentioned, but between communities too. I'm going to say this kinda clumsily but like, why are we treating anyone who isn't "just gay / lesbian / straight" as if they were an enemy and/or a threat? Is it some kind of insecurity that can only be soothed by constant validation? Why is it that when someone dares to make something slightly different, we're bringing out the pitchforks?

This hostility (and just the fact that these discussions / this Discourse seems very cyclical) kind of reminds of a tweet I saw a while ago. I unearthed it for the occasion lol:

"People love to pretend it’s so weird that others get upset when you claim something they like is bad lol.

Slandering something that another person appreciates is akin to insulting/questioning their intelligence, especially when it comes to a piece of work."

The original post was about slandering works as a whole, but I think it can also apply to more specific aspects, like enjoying something in particular in a given work. Why are we pretending it's weird that people get upset when you keep telling them (explicitly or implicitly) that their fun is lame at best? I know people love to say "that's just how the internet is, Get Used To It" but honestly? It's such an empty excuse and it makes me want to bang my head on a wall, because why couldn't we just all keep our manners to begin with??

I feel like I'm answering everything in a weird order lol but about Welt, that's pretty much what I had heard about him! I've been thinking that I should at least look into Hi3 a bit, just to see the links between the games and Mihoyo's overall evolution 🤔 And I didn't know about that lore book! I don't even know if I'm surprised about this reaction but I do know that fandoms sometimes confuse the hell out of me because I've seen just as much Guizhong enjoyers as I've seen people shipping Zhongli with Childe??

I'm just going to say it bluntly: people should REALLY pick a struggle and/or another hill to die on, because having a meltdown for something like that is just embarrassing. It does prove your point about the shipping lenses tho, because I can't think about another reason why a LORE BOOK would have made them feel so threatened 💀 I had seen the tantrums about Dottore (apparently he's too evil??) and Raiden (she's not evil enough??) but this?? MAN.

Kind of makes me think that people are lowkey hypocritical with their need to have canon confirmations, because they love to brag about THEIR pairings but as soon as the possibility appears that the devs MIGHT offer some kind of confirmation on one they don't like, even if it's one as 'marginal', for lack of a better word, as this one, they break out in hives. And the Thoma and Ayaka situation is just another proof that 1) YOU SHOULD NEVER FULLY TRUST LEAKS and 2) the bar we talked about keeps getting lower in hell.

And YES! I also felt like there were a lot of things about Alhaitham that were there to tell the players that while it's true he comes off as odd, eccentric, blunt, etc., he's rather kind all things considered! He's letting Kaveh stay in his house even if they don't particularly get along, he sticks to his moral code, he recognized Dehya's capabilities, he helps Tighnari with Collei's education, and so on. He seems to be the type of person that won't go out of their way to be palatable to others, but he also never goes out of his way to hurt anyone? And what's more, if you're willing to hear him out and truly pay attention to what he says, you'll realize that he's actually quite helpful? In a way that he's giving advice and letting people come to their own conclusions? At least that's what I can think about off the top of my head, so it's kind of hysterical to me that he gets reduced to "That Asshole Feeble Scholar".

This ask is getting long again (and messy) but I still want to add that I've seen your discussions about Nilou, Candace and Kokomi with Kaveh and it might be biased and/or controversial of me to say this but honestly? I think people, no matter their identities, just don't like women / don't even acknowledge how much they dislike women. As you said, same-sex pairings (and i'd say BL pairings in particular) are that much more popular and I'm getting pretty sure that it's in part due to the fact people don't pay attention to the female characters because they might be assuming they'll be boring. I've seen so many people bashing Kokomi, especially her story quest, yet they praise characters like Itto to high heavens? I know that it's 'to each their own' but sometimes I do feel like people don't give some (female) characters much of a chance to begin with.

At least to me it's pretty funny to see the difference between how you and the others have talked about your ideas for ships, and how the fandom talk about haikaveh lmao.

Kavelou shippers: I think they could bring out the best in each other, they could bond over their shared love for the arts and share ideas for their respective fields of expertise!

Loud Haikaveh shippers: omg they're roommates lol, when do you think Alhaitham will impregnate his 'c a n o n' malewife?? Why are kavelou idiots such snowflakes, 'conflict' is essential to make a pairing worth it and we're allowed to enjoy some fictional toxicity

Also, a bit of a side note, but it hasn't escaped me that people love to say that "toxic pairings are valid" for their BL preferences, but Acheron and Black Swan get exactly 1 deadly dance video and suddenly it's the most disturbing thing they've ever seen??

Anyway, I've seen you mention at least twice that you're thinking about making either a different blog or creating a discord server for all these rants you receive, and I think it's a lovely idea! I'm pretty sure I have an account on discord that I haven't touched in years so it has probably been deleted by now 😭 If there's anyone else interested in it would be a great alternative for you to separate your writing from the rants :)

Once again, I hope you're having a wonderful day or evening!

🪻

There is a lot to unpack here, but I will try my best to respond to everything. I'm sorry in advance if I don't touch on every point.

Regarding your "hard lines" comments. It's true that people draw boundaries between what they find acceptable and not, and while this would ordinarily be a good thing, here it's more to do with controversial topics like race, sexuality, gender, etc... and I can't help but wonder if the reason for such behavior is due to politics.

Most of this behavior is present in the western and english-speaking parts of the internet where American politics reign supreme. From what I have heard and seen, the progressive side deems everything that is considered the majority (heterosexuality, white skin, male gender, etc) as the opposite of what they stand for, therefore it must be conservative, which is bad. There's a lot more at play here than just progressive vs conservative, but I am not well-versed in politics, so I won't speak on it too much. Plus, this is all just a theory. But as I've said before, the West loves to drag politics into every aspect of their lives, fandoms included.

The quote you found is actually spot-on. Acting surprised when you insult something people enjoy or relate to is surprised pikachu behavior. Though I suspect these people aren't actually surprised, but are just trolling the people they offended, and are gleeful they managed to get under the skin of those whose views they dislike.

I think the lore book tantrum is another example of people wanting their characters to be "shiny toys", as you put it. Having an indication for a NL relationship between playable characters is a no-no for gacha games. It offends a lot of groups of people. For example, those that want to pair Zhongli with Childe, or self-ship with him, and the same applies for the Guizhong side (even though we had no idea what she looked like at the time). For some reason, there's not as much negative reaction if the ship being teased is same-sex though. Might be because it offends less groups, but it's still a baffling phenomenon for me.

Which brings me to the point about female characters.

I agree with you that female characters get hated on. In the anime and manga spheres, have seen a lot of comments about female characters from various fandoms, and the main complain with them was that they are not as fleshed out as their male counterparts. Female characters lack complex writing and character development, and get reduced to plot devices or love interests for the MC. Even in media made by women for women featuring female protagonists, some of these protagonists are pushovers that rely on male characters to save them. There is a desire for women to be equal to men in media, but it's not common to see.

It doesn't help that in Genshin, the first three chapters had bad writing, especially for female characters. Though not all, majority were were one-note characters with not much complexity or plot behind their actions, unlike male characters. This has improved significantly since Sumeru's debut, but I doubt it's enough to change the minds of some people.

So to make my point; female characters get hate for being boring. I also feel like women are the ones who hate on female characters the most? I have seen both fujoshi and yumejoshi communities hate on female characters for being the love interest of their favorite male character and getting in the way of their ships.

I am hesitant to delve into the topic of why some fujoshi hate female characters since it's not something I completely understand. I did a bit of research into why they prefer BL over NL, and while the gripe about female characters being boring was a main factor, there was also a lot of misogyny. I'm sure there are some other reasons aside from these as to why women hate female characters, but this topic is too complex for me to navigate just yet.

I will defend Kokomi with my life 😤 She got a lot of hate even back in her beta, and her story quest came under fire, as well. I thought her story quest was decent, though maybe my judgement is clouded because I love her so much. Regardless, her character is awesome and I relate to her a lot, so Kokomi slander will not be tolerated 😤

Regarding the difference between haikaveh and other Kaveh ships, I can only think that one is a fetishization of a gay relationships, while the other is a genuine appreciation for the dynamic between characters.

I actually saw only positive comments under the Acheron and Black Swan dance video. Yeah, there were jokes it was toxic, but I didn't see anyone complain about it, though I believe you when you say some people found it problematic. BL gets a lot of special treatment, I would say. Everything that's deemed bad/boring in GL and NL pairings is often painted as being better/good if it's BL. I've only seen a couple of "omg toxic yaoi ❤️" posts, and while those were jokes, it's shocking how much people love to pair enemies together. I see a lot of depictions of abuse in BL, and the shippers love it, so I suppose it's not that surprising? I find it concerning, though.

Anyways, thank you for your well-wishes, and have a great day as well!

[skybluesaeran]

I need a break from reality so here are some GE Saeran headcanons

As we saw from day 10, he's a bit awkward in the chats with the rfa at first, so it takes a few weeks for him to ease into conversation naturally. His speech is really formal for the longest time even after that, but eventually he settles into more relaxed interactions with the rfa

He becomes close with Yoosung. He's been trying to get Saeran to learn how to play LoLoL, but after a couple nights of playing together, Saeran more or less stopped being active on the computer because he was still tired of looking at computer screens from his time at Magenta.

Yoosung doesn't complain because Saeran is better at it than him after just a few matches, so he doesn't follow up on it.

He doesn't care for social media. He understands how to use it, but he has no interest in making himself miserable by keeping up on anything other than a webcomic or two.

The concept of webcomics fascinates him. Yoosung introduced them to him, too. He tends to find one he likes and binge reads it until he's all caught up. Things with mystery or lore appeal to him because he likes to get analytical and philosophical with the media he consumes. Keeps a small notebook for reflections and predictions.

He's a sucker for a good adventure with a romance, so long as there isn't anything triggering like abuse or violence. Enjoys a wholesome story with a happy ending just as much as any mystery.

Saeran is 100% the kind of person to get lost in a hobby so you have to check in on him periodically and remind him to eat, lest he spend 7 to 10 hours gardening without rest. More than once he's spent the whole day in the garden, only to just take a break after he's realized the sun is already setting.

Outside of nature, I can see Saeran having casual artistic interests or hobbies, too. He prefers painting to drawing because it doesn't make him feel compelled to get everything perfect. The permanence and decisiveness of painting keeps him from dwelling too much on his progress. He likes painting landscapes, especially ones with big blue skies. And of course he uses the garden for inspiration. He mixes media sometimes, using flowers in his works.

Casual piano player. He's been teaching himself by observing YouTube videos. He knows a couple songs after about a month. They're simple and cheerful like a music box. Peaceful melodies like each of the character piano themes in the game. Yes. Saeran definitely knows how to play Endless Struggle. 😭

Of course everything takes a backseat to gardening (except you)

When his hair starts to grow out, he really wants to bleach it again, but his therapist has been working with him on accepting himself fully as he is so he decides to go natural again

You and the twins have regular movie nights. Sometimes Zen and Yoosung join, too. Saeran is ok with pretty much anything except horror or gore. He likes laying on the couch with his head in your lap while you watch movies.

You're his biggest weakness, so Saeyoung likes to use it to his advantage and one time dressed you up in a cute kigurumi to mess with Saeran.

Speechless and face burning red, Saeran covers his hand with his mouth to keep from making surprised noises of adoration. Doesn't know how to express his feelings because he's bursting with them so he practically faints on the spot because it's too cute. Saeyoung uses the opportunity to take the last strawberry ice cream bar from the freezer.

Yoosung and Saeyoung once dared you to say something really cliche and cringey to him just to bet on his reaction (like some sort of cheesy line from a k drama or calling him oppa).

You were curious so you obliged. It was a real "finish him" moment - like he was KO'd on sight, and Saeyoung even made a small eulogy in the chat. They definitely filmed it.

His face is red enough to match his hair and that's what motivates you to keep messing with him.

...Until he banned his brother from visiting for a week because the last time you two pulled a stunt, Saeran was putting away the dishes and lost his balance, nearly losing a hand to the knife he was putting away. For everyone's safety, you agreed to at least refrain from teasing him while he's handling sharp cutlery.

[the-silentium]

Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity  ♥️

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ / @lightning-wolffe​ / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @clone-rambles​

______________________

The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain. 

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey. 

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death! 

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements. 

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now. 

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground. 

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out. 

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question. 

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough. 

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain. 

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return. 

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier. 

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it! 

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively. 

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm. 

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you. 

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something." 

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged. 

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages. 

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever. 

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd. 

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self. 

"I'm just stretching..." 

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen. 

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead. 

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme. 

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow. 

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons. 

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all. 

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while. 

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later. 

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group. 

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles. 

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear." 

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?" 

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right. 

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom. 

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore. 

It didn't change the fact that it was hard. 

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand. 

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not." 

"Break your hand?" 

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.  

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child. 

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black. 

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays. 

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist. 

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated. 

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet. 

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies." 

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck. 

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner. 

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore. 

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out. 

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge. 

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost. 

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar. 

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister. 

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do. 

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket. 

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free." 

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief. 

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace. 

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world. 

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do. 

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world. 

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick. 

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected. 

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas. 

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground. 

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him." 

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true. 

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain. 

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-" 

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away. 

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze. 

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually. 

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand. 

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity. 

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together. 

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder. 

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat. 

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with. 

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back. 

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship. 

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory. 

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position. 

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group. 

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally. 

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer. 

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs. 

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle. 

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot. 

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you. 

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping. 

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast. 

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before. 

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment. 

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs." 

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then. 

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter. 

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice. 

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N." 

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally. 

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it. 

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better. 

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile. 

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow. 

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot. 

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed. 

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology. 

"We'll know it now." 

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly. 

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face. 

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form. 

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward. 

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others. 

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome. 

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed. 

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter. 

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat. 

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.  

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed. 

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact. 

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill. 

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention. 

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?" 

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important. 

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening. 

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!" 

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could. 

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him. 

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat. 

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet. 

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath. 

They all believed it.

[thatgirlonstage]

I'd be very interested in a ficlet about the Witcher daemon AU you messaged me about a while back, if that's something you ever meant to actually write out. 👀👀👀 If not that, then, hmmm, some soft geraskier, maybe with this sentence from a prompt list that went around: "Is that my shirt?"

I got too into writing Sad Jaskier Hours + puppy therapy and the length got away from me but here is that inciting scene I talked about, in full prose

(And now that I’ve done this one scene I feel freer to do more stuff in this AU, so more later possibly)

Witcher & HDM fans please forgive me my lore sins, I have only seen the Netflix Witcher and I haven’t read HDM in like over decade, so please hand wave any wrongness as crossover changes

———

The words still stung.

They felt physical, still crawling over Jaskier’s skin like ants four days since he had come down the mountain. Whenever I find myself in a pile of shit, it’s you, shoveling it. He half expected to wake up to them tattooed across his arms like the mark of a pariah. “Stay away from this one. No one who knows him wants him around.”

Geralt was prickly and stubborn and rude and what friendship Jaskier got from him came quietly. It came in his perfect recollection of all the stories Jaskier told him, no matter how inconsequential or how much he professed to be annoyed by Jaskier’s prattling. It came in those rare, sardonic smiles Jaskier had gotten better at drawing out over the years. It came in his acquiescence to let Jaskier wash his hair whenever they could afford hot baths, in the yellow-eyed glare he sent anyone who tried to cheat Jaskier at cards, in the way his shoulders would relax and he would start humming along under his breath when Jaskier practiced music by their shared campfire. It came in the softest press of lips against his forehead, when Geralt finally came back from Yennefer’s the night after the djinn and thought Jaskier was asleep. Until the mountain, Jaskier had thought it came in the lack of any serious objection to his presence, in the way Geralt seemed to take it for granted that they would travel together for a while each time they ran across each other. Now, he was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood. He was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood a lot of things, and only imagined others.

He poked listlessly at his fire. His lute sat with his pack, untouched for a week. Kazia, his daemon, perched on a fallen log opposite him, preening her feathers for lack of anything else to do. Even she had been almost entirely silent the last four days, making none of her usual songbird chirps as she and Jaskier made their lonely way back—Jaskier wasn’t even sure where he was going. Away. That was all. Away.

Some rustling in the woods made his back stiffen. He tossed another log on the fire, hoping to deter whatever was out there. It had been a while since he’d camped this far out in the woods without Geralt to scare off anything that stalked the nights. He’d been so unable to face running into Yen or Geralt or even the gossip about them back in town that he’d just struck off into the wilderness. Hopefully that piece of stupidity wouldn’t be enough to actually kill him.

He held out a finger for Kazia, and she hopped onto it. He deposited her on his shoulder. “Fuck him, right?” he asked. Despite his best effort he found no flippancy to put into his voice, only bitterness.

“He didn’t mean it,” she said. “You know he didn’t.”

“No,” Jaskier said. He poked the fire, flipping over a log, sending a burst of sparks skyward. “I wish he didn’t mean it.” He leaned back, careful not to jostle Kazia on his shoulder, bracing his palms on the ground. Tilting his head up, he could see the light of a few stars, just managing to poke through the canopy. “I tried,” he said, and hated the crack in his voice. “I’ve been trying for so long but— what else could I have said? What else could I have done?”

She nuzzled her head against his cheek. “I don’t know, Jask. Maybe nothing. I’m sorry.”

He kept staring up at the stars. Silence fell again, Geralt’s final terrible words scraping him raw.

Witchers didn’t have daemons. When people said they felt nothing, had nothing human left in them, they pointed to that fact. You couldn’t possibly be human without a daemon. Even the likes of elves and dwarves had daemons. Witchers were monsters in the shell of something that had once been human.

Jaskier thought that was a load of horseshit. He hadn’t wavered on that point. Geralt had his own fears and feelings and wants like anyone else. Jaskier was just beginning to believe he might have misinterpreted what some of those feelings were.

He nudged Kazia to get off his shoulder and pulled his blankets up. Blankets, plural, because his own had proven woefully inadequate for the mountain and Geralt had, with a grumble, come over in the middle of the night to the miserably shivering Jaskier and dumped a thick, scratchy wool blanket over him, and when Jaskier had protested, Geralt had said it wasn’t cold enough for him to need it, and then Jaskier had forgotten he had it before he fled. Gave him a blanket, and then a day later screamed for fate to get Jaskier out of his life. Jaskier hadn’t quite managed to parse that yet. It hurt too much to look at.

“Do you expect me to keep watch?” Kazia quipped. “I can hear something moving around out there. I don’t like it.”

Jaskier curled his hands around the blanket, tugging it around himself. “Hopefully the fire is enough to scare it off,” he said. “I need to sleep or we won’t be able to make any progress tomorrow.” He turned, a little petulantly, on his side, facing away from Kazia. “It’s not like I can do anything if something decides to come eat us, even if I am awake.”

He heard the flutter of her wings as she took off into the low branches of the nearest tree. “Sleep lightly all the same,” she told him.

Jaskier didn’t respond, tugging his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes, and willing the world to disappear for a while.

**

Kazia’s frantic chirping woke him with a start.

“Jaskier! JASKIER! Jaskier WAKE UP!”

He blinked his eyes open, squinting in the dim light of the dying embers of the fire, and found himself staring directly at a giant white wolf.

He shot up and back in instinctive terror, hands scraping against rocks and roots. “Geralt—!” he squeaked, on reflex, and felt his heart twist somewhere beneath the terror as he remembered no Witcher slept beside him. Kazia was fluttering frantically around his head. He stared at the wolf. The wolf stared back.

It was a gigantic thing, its shoulder probably higher than Jaskier’s hip if he were to stand next to it. It was white from head to toe, shining like a ghost in the firelight. Its eyes gleamed yellow, a misplaced pang to Jaskier’s heart. Something about it felt off, not-quite-a-wolf, almost as if it were a daemon, but that didn’t seem right either. He wondered for a moment if it were a mage’s daemon — out here apparently alone as it was — but that wasn’t right either. He’d met Yen’s daemon, a sleek black feline thing with four eyes and two tails. He’d known it for daemon instantly, despite its strangeness. This wolf just seemed not quite right, somehow. He tried and failed to place it in Geralt’s endless bestiary, and came up blank. If there was a monster that looked almost exactly like a wolf but wasn’t one, Jaskier hadn’t heard of it. At least it wasn’t eating him. Yet.

He stayed frozen for a long few minutes, he and the wolf just staring at each other. Kazia landed on his shoulder, puffing herself up as much as she could, her claws digging in just shy of breaking skin. He tried to calm his thundering heart. Maybe the wolf would just go away. Maybe it had smelled what meager rations Jaskier had left. Should he make a go for his saddlebags and toss his last piece of salted beef at it? Would it attack him if he moved?

The wolf did not leave, nor did it attack him. Instead, after a long enough pause that Jaskier was afraid they’d be stuck at this impasse all night, it ducked its head and whined. It shifted forward, almost cautiously, as if it wanted to avoid spooking him. It snuffled around his feet, at his blanket, and whined again. It took another step closer. Then, to Jaskier’s terror, it butted its head into his chest.

Jaskier inhaled sharply, quickly, trying not to hyperventilate. The wolf whined again, one ear flicking. It moved its head back and butted against him again — not with any force, just pressing its head into Jaskier. It reminded him of...

“Do... do you... want... pets?”

His voice sounded hysterically high in his own ears, but the strained tone didn’t seem to scare the wolf. It butted into him again and whined emphatically, almost a quiet howl. Very, very tentatively, Jaskier lifted one hand and, telegraphing his movement so the wolf could pull away, gave the wolf a quick little scratch behind the ear.

The wolf gave a little huff and — of all fucking things — wagged its tail. It whined and turned its head into Jaskier’s hand, so Jaskier gave it a longer scratch this time. He could still feel Kazia’s heart thumping a million miles an hour, but her panic had abated somewhat. She hopped off his shoulder and onto his head, letting him lift his other arm to pet the wolf’s side. Up close, now that Jaskier could focus on something besides just size and eyes and teeth, the wolf seemed nearly pitiful. It was far too skinny beneath its fur, with mangy patches here and there. He caught sight of a line of scratches across its haunches. One eye looked crusty and swollen, as if it were infected.

“Poor thing,” Jaskier murmured. “Did you get left all alone too?”

The wolf howled, a low and piteous sound. It butted its head against his chest again and pressed into him. Jaskier wrapped his arms around the wolf, taking comfort he hadn’t wanted to admit he was craving in its solidity and warmth.

“Jask...” Kazia took off from his head again. “I don’t know if I like this. I thought she was a daemon at first but she’s not. I’ve never been mistaken about that before. I’ve never even heard of anyone being mistaken about that before.”

“She?” Jaskier leaned sideways, peeking between the wolf’s legs.

“That’s not the point!”

“I know, I know.” Jaskier leaned back from the wolf, getting another look into her face. “You’re... not a daemon, are you? You can’t be, you wouldn’t have come up and asked for pets if you were a daemon.” The wolf looked back at him, her gaze almost too steady for mere animal intelligence, but she didn’t speak, and no one jumped out from behind a tree to strangle Jaskier for molesting their daemon. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he murmured. The wolf only whined and pawed at the blanket where it had pooled on Jaskier’s lap. “You want to sleep with the blanket and the fire, I bet. I don’t blame you, it’s cold out there tonight.”

“Jaskier!” Kazia wailed. He looked over and shrugged helplessly at her.

“Do you want to tell the giant wolf to go off and mind her own business?” he hissed. “If she were going to eat me, I think she’d have done it by now.” He looked back at the wolf, one finger still idly scratching behind her ear. “You promise you’re not going to eat me?” The wolf huffed, blowing in his face. Jaskier, for the first time since he’d arrived at that godforsaken mountain, laughed. “I think she’s telling me I’d taste bad,” he said to Kazia. “You’re probably right,” he confided in the wolf. “I haven’t had a proper hot bath in two weeks.” The wolf huffed in his face again.

Kazia fluttered down to a nearby branch, and then again to the log she’d been on before, and then up near the wolf. The wolf looked at her, her gaze steady. Kazia landed on the wolf’s head.

“Kazia!” Jaskier yelped, but the wolf went still, and then let out another very quiet howl. Jaskier felt Kazia soften, saw her feather down smooth.

“Oh,” she said. “She’s so sad.” She looked up at Jaskier. “I still don’t know what she is but— I’ve never heard a sound that sad.” Jaskier’s fingers curled into the wolf’s fur. He leaned forward, resting against her shoulder.

“That makes all three of us,” he said. “A fine group of sad, lonely outcasts, hmm?” He shifted, trying to spread the blanket so the wolf could lie on some it without leaving Jaskier cold and exposed. Kazia took off again, landing back on her perch on the branch. “Here,” he said to the wolf, patting the blanket. “You can stay the night with us, if you want.” The wolf’s tail wagged again — just a brief lash back and forth — and then it turned itself in a circle, settling down against Jaskier’s side.

He was not going to cry for how all the times he had wished Geralt would lie down beside him, to keep him warm in the night. But he curled a hand in the wolf’s fur and let himself be lulled by her quiet breaths. “You know,” he mumbled, just on the cusp of sleep, “if Geralt did have a daemon, I bet she’d look exactly like you.”

**

After breaking camp the next morning, Jaskier got barely a hundred paces before he found the carnage.

The graveir’s throat was torn out — arduously, ripped along the edges, its thick skin snagged again and again until its head was all but severed from its body. It smelled of rot, its fingers were bloody, and it had white wolf hair sticking out of its wounds. The wolf gave a quiet whine when Jaskier froze at the sight of the thing. He glanced down at her, back at the graveir, and back at the wolf.

“Did—” He swallowed thickly. “Did you do that?” he asked. The wolf looked up at him and barked once. She stalked over to the graveir, growling at its body. Jaskier felt suddenly very faint. He steadied himself against a tree. Kazia flitted around his head, concern radiating off her.

“That thing got so close to our campsite,” she said. “Way too close.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, not quite hearing himself. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Hey,” he called the wolf back over, and gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Good girl,” he told her. “Very good girl.” He looked up at Kazia. “I think she ought to come along as long as she wants to.” Kazia flitted down to land on his shoulder, puffing herself up territorially.

“As long as she understands that I’m your daemon.” Jaskier almost smiled, and tickled a finger over her head.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite, Zizi,” he teased. He glanced down at the wolf again. She was smiling, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was clearly enjoyed the scratches. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. She howled in response, that low, piteous noise from last night, as if she dared not be any louder. Jaskier stood back up, hefting his pack, shifting the lute case against his back. “Right. I am not spending another night almost getting eaten alive, so let’s try and find the road again today.”

He traipsed off through the woods, leaving the mangled graveir behind him, Kazia flitting about his head and the mysterious wolf loping along at his side.

—————

(if it’s not super clear, that 100% is Geralt’s daemon. the conceit is that in this world part of becoming a witcher is being severed from your daemon, but Geralt’s escaped after that happened and she’s been wandering the wilderness. she’s lost a lot of herself, which is why she can’t speak and it’s iffy how much she understands, but she still remembers the smell of her lost human :’) and hopes that Jaskier can lead her back to him)

[jellycreamjammedart]

I know you well enough. I know you have Crow lore to come up with that valid design. Hand it over.

Uh oh sisters! Caught!

Okay so, @frechiiie has this AU where game mascots are kinda like actors, also Banjo and Conker gay and dating, talk about a RAREpair ;)

A couple days ago I saw him answer an ask about Conker having a bar buddy who actually told him off drinking himself stupid and stay with Banjo since the bear was clearly a positive outlier in his life. Apparently figuring out who could be this bar-buddy was hard.

Then like a day or two later? My brain remembered that post and went like "THE CROW!!!" And I answered "THE CROW!!!" right back at it.

Of course Catastrophe Crow is a fictional game just like Petscop but shhh lemme have this lmao.

But you asked for Crow lore. So... YOU GET CROW LORE:

So in a setting where the game was a real release and also a real flop in the late 90's era of cute cartoon animal protagonist hype of the time, Catastrophe Crow was just one more of these. At least it would have been much better if it remained that way. Since the crow protagonist was straight up based on a drawing made by the dev's daughter Thea, the mascot was strongly associated with her. The game at its core was meant to be the dev's Christmas gift for his daughter.

Except, well.... yeah, just like in the ARG things took a very drastic change due to the dev's personal life falling to dust mid-development. No one knew what the heck he was doing with the game anymore, not even the crow themself. To make matters worse, their association with the daughter caused an unhealthy projection, where the crow often was treated as if they WERE Thea or somehow supposed to be a connection to her.

At late development the dev seemed to have let go just a little bit and tried to make the game a gift to his other kid instead, his younger son Nils. Didn't cause the crow as much of an association as it did with Thea but it was kind of implied. However everything was too far gone at that point and this change of focus hardly impacted anything.

The game was released last minute with fewer copies than most, and right before N64 era ended with the release of the Game Cube too. So it didn't release at a very favorable time-frame. Man, if only that was the issue, though...

YES THE GAME IS EXACTLY LIKE THE ARG PIECES DEPICT IT, INCLUDING THE CREEPY UNCANNY STUFF. So OF COURSE it flopped HARD, possibly traumatizing tons of unexpecting young players before it fell into obscurity of faded (or suppressed) childhood memories and eventually lost media myths.

Soon after the game's release, the dev and his company fell off the face of earth, leaving the crow to deal with the aftermath. They could consider themselves one of those "abandoned mascots" for all they knew. Due to this and having fallen into forgetfulness, they don't have many friends now.

Now years later, they're just a traumatized, fucked up little fella who can't set on an identity for themselves, and occasionally frequents the bar so that they can be a little less lonely while trying to forget their problems for a while. So they end up becoming (one of) Conker's bar-buddy. Their broken wing has long since healed of course, but it does feel a little weaker than it probably should so they still wear some kind of support on it (they probably need physiotherapy...) therefore they prefer to fly only if they really need to, on account of coming out with a temporarily sore wing.

I like to think they may seem rough around the edges, but still retains a very soft inside. They came like smoking too to calm their nerves though tries to keep it to a minimum, and will always stop and stub their cig the instant a non-smoker approaches them because they don't wanna force their bad habit onto others, that'd be just such a dickish thing to do.

Being that fucked up fella but still really wanna see their friends thrive despite they being miserable, you know? They def would push Conker off to the better and healthier option of staying with Banjo instead of drowning his sorrows away even if he made them company doing so; They don't wanna be selfish and drag others down with them.

They definitely struggle with names for themselves; They used to be okay with being named after Thea but after the whole projecting that was put onto them.... yeah no thanks, they're at the very least very sure they're not someone's dead kid. For very similar reasons they don't like being called Nils either. And in the game they were only explicitly referred to as Crow which is... well, imagine you being born and your parents naming you just "Human." Yeah. So they tend to let people call them whatever nicknames they wanna. Heck, nickname them "Scrunkly" and they'll chuckle because of how silly it sounds-- and lord knows how much they need a good laugh.

I really like the idea of Conker and Banjo both being this feathery dud's friends later (maybe Conker comments to Banjo about the conversation the crow had with him,) and try to help them get better too. Whats goes around comes around Also them and Kazooie being bird friends and both being like the gay couple's best friends!

Anything else I'm throwing in the air and just letting others take this and do away with it hehe.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, jimtremor!

For @jimtremor, who asked for basically anything. I did my best with that.

Read On AO3

*****

Useful Information

“Mr. McCall will be in the North Dorm and you Mr. Stillinski will go to the East.” The director of student affairs passes them Welcome packets, across his desk. Hn,

They both start to protest but Deaton holds up a quieting hand and stands, quickly moving them both out of his office. “I’m sure you’ll both adjust just fine. If there’s anything you need, my office hours are Monday and Friday 8am to 2pm.” He closes the door in their faces

****

“This is the stupidest idea ever,” Stiles says dropping his pack just inside the door to his new dorm. Stiles notices right away that the room is painfully neat for a college dorm.

“You can’t just throw people together and expect them to form proper pack bonds.”

He flops onto the empty bed across the room from what he assumes is his assigned Alpha and waits what he’s told is the appropriate amount of time for his new roommate to respond but the wolf just flicks hazel eyes at him, before going back to reading his novel.

“Scott— my best friend Scott, we applied to this place together. He’s going to be an Alpha and I’m going to be his bad-ass Emissary.” The wolf continues to ignore him and after a few minutes, Stiles huffs and starts unpacking.

It takes him a few minutes more to realize that his dorm is amazing. There’s a fridge. Not a mini fridge. A full-sized fridge in what might serve as a very quaint breakfast nook. The open area has a desk, a TV and closets next to the beds. When he opens the door to his, he finds a dresser and plenty of room for his meager belongings. His dad had been very proud of the fact that he entered college with a change of clothes, a martial arts trophy, and a six-pack (abs not beer). So Stiles was carrying on the family tradition. Sort of.

There’s a bathroom and if Stiles didn’t know any better a tub big enough to house jacuzzi jets.

“This place is amaaa—"

His roommate reaches over and clicks on a small iPhone dock that looks like a radio. It starts blasting some sort of German metal. Stiles stares at him for a moment before pulling out his grimoires ‘fine be that way then.’ he thinks, flipping through the pages to a spell he needs for his next class.

Scott is so going to hear about this dick.

****

“—a serious neat freak, and he acts like he can’t be bothered to answer even the simplest of questions. I swear Scotty we need to go over somebody’s head. It has to be a mistake that they split us up.”

“Derek Hale!?” Scott suddenly shouts sitting up from Allison’s lap. Stiles glances around hoping his best friend’s dorky exclamations aren’t drawing attention annnd yep people are staring.

“As in Hale Observatory? As in Hale Hall? AS IN THE HALE EXPLORATORY MEDICAL DEPARTMENT FOR THE SUPERNATURALLY INCLINED? The people who might be able to find a way to cure me?”

He says the last part much quieter. He’d worked harder than he ever had at anything to get into this private college. Hoping against hope that they’d somehow turn him back human. It wasn’t that Scott didn’t love every minute of being a wolf, it just came with a lot of baggage, including possibly outliving everyone important to you. Every human anyway.

“There’s no known cure for lycanthropy,” Allison says quietly.

Stiles glances up at the heavens, his ears burning. “Yeah my roommate is Derek Hale. Geez Scotty it’s not that big of a deal.” Scott stares at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“You—you’ve lived your whole life here and you think rooming with a Hale is not a big deal? The Hales own half the town and probably your house Stiles!” Scott’s volume is going up again and Stiles tries not to roll his eyes.

“Having a rich family doesn’t make you a big deal Scotty.”

Scott sputters his eyes going to Allison in a desperate plea for back-up. She just shrugs. Right. She just moved to Beacon hills so she wouldn’t know.

“HaAVing A RIcH FaMILY dOEsn’t maKe You a bIG DeAL.” Scott says half snidely, half mockingly under his breath.

Stiles cocks his head to the side, like he’s trying figure out who the crazy person was possessing his best friend and they begin one of their famous silent conversations.

‘I’m not an idiot’ Scott thinks at him

‘I know Scott but really it’s no big deal. He’s like a totally normal asshole. A painfully neat asshole.’

‘Think you can maybe talk to him about the whole *my best friend is a werewolf who didn’t ask to be a werewolf thing*? Maybe mention that your best friend is desperate for some guidance as to where to find a cure’

‘There’s no cure for werewolf-ism Scott! And Scotty. Friend. Buddy. Pal. I can’t even talk to him about where to put my toothbrush in the bathroom. Apparently it’s important to keep your toothbrush as far away from the toilet as possible. He even has this little protective cover on his.’

“Huh. I just thought of something.” Allison says breaking into the silent conversation. “Maybe they want you to be the new Hale emissary.”

Stiles and Scott both turn to stare at her.

“Huh” they both say

She pretends to study, but Stiles can totally see the dimple at her cheek deepen.

****

Derek is particular about his space, and his things. It’s normal for a wolf. Even at boarding school they hadn’t made him share a room, although maybe that had more to do with the hefty donation his mother had made and less to do with his werewolf sensibilities.

Stiles is in his space for less than a day and he’s somehow everywhere. He smells woodsy- like wet leaves and rain when he finally decides to shower off the cheap body spray. He puts his toothbrush in the wrong spot on the sink and unpacks his one box of belongings.

There’s a pile of spell books on the floor under his bed and pots of herbs line the windows. He doesn’t know what’s in the jars in his fridge and he doesn’t want to know. Instead, he politely tries to tidy Stiles’ things, but it seems like they just gravitate back to where Stiles left them. He does his best not to growl whenever the emissary walks into the room.

His annoyance level is already high. The welcome packet was clear that he was meant to start a pack with this kid. That they should spend their time working together and bonding for the sake of their future pack.

Everything about him was a mess, and Derek didn’t do messy. Not anymore. He’s half asleep when the scent of arousal teases at his senses. He wants to growl but he’s done that for the last several hours. This was definitely not happening.

****

‘Use your finger. Just one. You should be able to find it pretty easily.’

Stiles groaned into his pillow. He was on a dry spell. And when he was on a dry spell he always thought of Lydia. His other best friend, the girl who helped him find his G-spot. He’d flirted with every big dark-haired wolf he came across, but they’d all turned him down. It was strange. It was almost like they were actively trying to avoid even talking to him.

Stiles reached into his pajama bottoms, the memory of Lydia’s very thorough instruction all those years ago is still his favorite, although watching Derek workout was a close second.

“If you’re gonna jerk it, at least have the courtesy to do it when I’m not here. Stiles jerked his hand from his underwear at the miserable tone in Derek’s voice.

“Um..”

“Yeah, I can smell it. For days.”

Stiles groaned and dragged his pillow over his head.

‘who thought the human/werewolf hybrid dorm was a good idea anyway?’

****

Derek keeps his face neutral as he listens to Dr Deaton’s analysis of werewolf mating practices. He’s a little more accurate than the usual crowd but there were still things he’s getting wrong. The emissaries were always considered some kind of authority but human experts on werewolf mating rituals tended to start off wondering if human werewolves really grew knots whenever there was a full moon.

Deaton is at least trying to debunk a lot of the weird lore humans tended to apply to werewolves and it sort of gives Derek hope. Maybe this year he *won’t* have to listen to a half assed lecture on werewolf anatomy and moon cycles. Derek’s hope deflates when he hears the words Transitory Bite.

The last time he put a temporary mark on someone it almost started a war between hunters and humans and gotten him shipped off to boarding school. His mother had kept him out of Beacon Hills for three years. It had taken joining forces with his uncle to convince her he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Now he was being told to mark some random dorky kid like it wasn’t a total imposition. He had a right to choose or not choose to mark someone and his mother needed to understand that he wasn’t interested in his life spinning out of control a second time.

“I’m not doing it.” Derek gets up to leave but Deaton steps in front of him hands raised. “I assure you Mr. Hale this is necessary. Starting a pack and choosing a mate can be extremely difficult. A transitory bite will allow you to test your compatibility with the mate you were matched with.”

“It won’t work” he growls eyeing Stiles

Stiles’ face is bright red, and he keeps his eyes on the toe of his sneakers. He’d been wearing them since high school. They were his favorite pair. He wishes he’d thought to clean them sometime in the last six years.

So that’s why everyone had been treating him so strangely. He was probably Derek Hale’s mate. He really should have read the welcome packet. He tunes out the rest of the conversation and tries to ignore the hot twist of humiliation in his stomach.

Derek tries to focus on what Deaton is saying but Stiles scent is rapidly changing. The burnt ash flavor of Distress and Despair fills up his senses and it’s all he can do not to gather the entire boy into his arms and run away with him.

“I don’t need this there are—there are plenty of wolves who would love—love to have me for a mate.” Stiles gathers his things as he tries to save face. It’s bad enough this is happening, but he can’t bring himself to look at the other pairs.

“Fine”

Stiles is almost to the door when that single word freezes him in place. He swallows and waits.

Derek moves him back against the nearest wall, with just a few intimidating steps. His hand lands on Stiles’ shoulder, his fingers brushing against the skin at the base of his neck. Derek’s hand slides up the side of his throat, and Stiles sways toward him. He growls at his traitorous body and forces every muscle to stay stiff as a board. The corner of Derek’s mouth kicks up and then he’s leaning in, letting his teeth scrape across the smooth skin at the base of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles gives an unmanly squeak when Derek’s teeth skin in, the pain just barely registering before he feels the brief swipe of Derek’s tongue across the wound. Derek stares at the mark for a long time before turning and leaving.

***

Stiles only has two classes with Scott, but he and Derek share the exact same itinerary. Even though Derek can’t really do the magic part, they’re expected to show a united front, so he sits off to the side and glares at everything and everyone.

Stiles spends his time doodling the different angles of Derek’s head during each class into the margins of his grimoire. When there’s wolf lore he flicks his eyes across the room to Derek. His can almost tell by the set of Derek’s brows whether the stuff being taught is accurate or total bullshit.

He tries to connect with the other students in his classes, but they tended to cut the conversations short or avoid him altogether. He’s pretty certain this only happens when Derek is around. He starts to feel boxed in, like the only reason he was there was to be slotted into the Hale pack, like everything about his future had already been decided. His whole week had been classes more about pack politics and somewhat less about exploring his abilities as an emissary.

Lydia listened patiently while he complained. It was a call that had lasted all the way across campus, and back to his dorm. She wanted to roll her eyes. For a kid who was curious about everything, Stiles hadn’t shown the slightest interest in learning about the alpha he’d been assigned to.

Stiles complained constantly that he was always around. Which was technically exactly how he was supposed to behave toward his potential mate. Lydia was testing herbal mixtures. Hopefully the small satchels would give Stiles some semblance of privacy or at least get Derek to give Stiles some space.

“You need to read the welcome packet Stiles. It’ll help you adjust to living with a wolf. And come to the party tonight.” Lydia says flipping through her notes. “I’ll introduce you to some guys who definitely won’t say no.”

He keeps glancing at Derek, but Derek’s attention stays on his novel, his thumb, sliding to leisurely turn pages. Derek’s pretending not to listen again, so he decides to be that guy. He refused to stay trapped in whatever game Derek was playing.

“Yeah. I’ll be there. I’m really looking forward to getting dicked down again” Derek doesn’t look up, but Stiles can practically feel the way he pauses in the middle of a page turn.

He hides a smile and goes to brush his teeth.

****

Lydia flits through the party commiserating with her numerous slightly-better-than-facebook acquaintances. They make it to the kitchen with Stiles only being handed three phone numbers and groped four times. He briefly wonders if other potential alpha mates are treated this way and then he remembers that he kinda wants to be treated this way.

Stiles is wearing his best button-up and his sluttiest pair of jeans. He fully intends to end the night with his legs wrapped around someone, anyone. It’s a surprise when they leave the kitchen with their drinks and Stiles is brought up short by the feeling of eyes on him. It only takes him a minute to spot his alpha across the room.

Derek is slouched onto the frat house’s well-worn couch like some kind of artist’s dream. He’s wearing tight black jeans ripped in all the right places and a leather jacket. His gaze starts to heat up as Stiles’ eyes hungrily catalogue every inch of him. Stiles eyes settle on the bulge in the tight jeans and Derek just lets his legs relax open. Stiles’ mouth goes dry and his dick gives a hard twitch.

Stiles does his best to ignore the feeling of the wolf’s eyes on him. It’s annoying that Derek can’t seem to make up his mind about ignoring him.

***

Stiles loses count of how many drinks he’s had and that’s when he gets the best idea. He can feel the wolf’s eyes on him as he moves across the room and one of the frat brothers steps into his space. Price or Preston something. He doesn’t even bother listening to whatever the guy is saying, just steps close and bites his lip.

Preston’s eyes drop to them and immediately his tone changes and he wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist. Stiles grins and runs his hands up Preston’s chest. Preston draws him close.

“I love the way emissaries smell,” he says leaning down and taking a deep breath against the side of his neck. Stiles laughs, because at best he smells like Axe shampoo mixed with a litany of the various herbs they have to learn to mix. It’s not a great combination. He tries to put some distance between him and the wolf, but Preston keeps, pulling him close and grinding against him.

Stiles thinks blearily that he’d like to get laid but not in the middle of a werewolf frat party and definitely not with the guy who thinks Axe and sage are a great combination. He tries to tell Preston this but Preston just keeps rambling on and Stiles’ alcohol soaked brain reminds him in his fourth grade teacher’s voice that it’s important to be polite and listen when people are talking.

This was a bad idea.

He suddenly feels Derek is next to him, and he wants to tell him that he has the prettiest eyes, but Preston is still talking, and he has to keep pretending to listen.

“I need to have a word with my roommate” Derek’s eyes flash as he glances at Stiles before stepping between him and Preston. Stiles watches as Preston stutters and stumbles, like a fan meeting their idol. He tilts his head and drops his shoulders in some parody of submissive behavior. Stiles scoffs and glances around the room. None of the humans are paying attention but all of the wolves are watching them closely.

He watches Derek tilt up Preston’s chin with one wicked black claw. “A Beta should know better” He pulls back his lips in a parody of a smile and shows his long sharp teeth. Preston swallows and raises his hands as if he only just realized he’d been flirting with an Alpha’s future mate. He moves as slowly as he can and backs out of the room one step at a time. Derek watches him until he’s certain the other wolf is gone and turns back to Stiles.

Red begins to seep from behind his irises and his smile turns hard. “I’ll kill anyone who touches you.”

He says it softly, but he’s still showing Stiles his teeth.

Stiles holds his gaze ignoring the little thrill he gets from the way Derek is looking at him. “I’m not your property wolf.”

“You are” Derek responds his eyes fully red. Derek’s hand settles around the back of Stiles’ neck, his thumb just barely brushing against the still-tender mark.

Stiles takes a shuddery breath, unable to break the hold Derek’s possessive gaze has on him. He relaxes his shoulders tilts his head back just slightly. It’s enough of an invitation but Derek doesn’t move to kiss him. Instead, he leans in until his lips against Stiles’ ear.

“Careful who you tease,” he breathes

Stiles shivers, wanting to call out to his alpha. Derek is long gone when he’s finally able to catch his breath.

****

Stiles doesn’t light the herbs Lydia mixed. He was tired of living like some reclusive monk.

He knows that Derek will probably know immediately. He knows the smell of sex could linger but he doesn’t care. He wants Derek to know and he wants Derek to come for him. He imagines the wolf coming home right when he’s just about there. He knows he’d probably run not because of embarrassment if Derek saw him.

He’d run because he knew Derek would chase. He’d run because he wanted to be caught. Stiles lets his imagination free. It’s been a week and he’s tired of caring about Derek’s sensibilities.

It would be a real hunt. Derek would simply stay on his heels nipping at him playfully, claws tearing off bits of his clothes. Stiles would run until he couldn’t breathe and then Derek would show himself. The wolf first. Its sleek black fur would glow under the moon and Stiles would lie back and tilt his chin up.

“Alpha.” He’d whisper, and Derek would take his human form naked and proud under the moon, he’d stare down at Stiles with a cocky grin. He’d enjoy watching Stiles submit to him.

“Stiles,” he’d growl and Stiles’ cock would stand up.

Stile bit into his palm, his fist flying over his cock, the sweet-smelling lotion he used as lube squishing between his fingers and making a lewd sound with every movement of his hand.

Derek’s teeth would sink into him properly this time and claim him, claim him, claim him…

Stiles gasped and came all over his fist.

Fuck. He needed to get laid before this got out of control. Before it got more out of control.

****

“So. Uhhh, about yesterday…”

Stiles is standing awkwardly in front of Derek’s bed. It’s all he’s been able to say for a good five minutes. That and some version of ‘Huuhmn. mn.’ Because Derek is currently shirtless. His feet are hooked into the openings between the bars on the baseboard of his bed and he’s burning through crunches like there’s a delicious zero calorie chocolate cake waiting for him if he hits a thousand.

His eyes skitter around the room because he knows if he keeps his eyes on Derek Hale for more than a few seconds he’ll end up embarrassing himself. He drags his palm from his chest down, just barely remembering to stop before he hits the waist of his jeans. Even he can still smell the lingering scent of sex in the room. He’s almost certain Derek’s lip curls up slightly at this but it’s hard to tell, what with all the sweat and muscles flexing.

It’s another ten minutes before Derek finishes his workout. Stiles completely forgot what he wanted to talk about. He just stands quietly watching Derek’s tight abs. When he manages to meet Derek’s eyes the wolf is glaring at him, and Stiles tries to open a hole in the floor with his mind. He doesn’t try too hard. The power of his will had been known to surprise him from time to time.

The wolf moves around him with a disgusted sniff and heads for the bathroom.

He looks even more annoyed when he exits the shower. It’s a full 3 minutes of Derek staring at the back of his neck before he finally lets himself meet the wolf’s eyes.

“What?” he asks. It’s easy enough to pretend he doesn’t already know. Derek’s kind deeply respects druids, just not Stiles shaped Druids apparently.

“You’re an Alpha-Mate”

Stiles blinks. This is first time since he was marked that Derek brought up the subject. And he sounded kinda… Pissed.

“Sooo….?” Stiles draws the word out to emphasize his confusion.

You. Are. An Alpha's. Mate.” Derek’s words come out a harsh growl that makes Stiles feel cold everywhere. Cold and Embarrassed.

“I’m not the one…”

“I’m not the one throwing myself at every wolf I come across!” Derek snarls.

Stiles cheeks pinken, but he hold’s Derek’s terrible gaze.

“I’m not the one denying my mate.” He says the words as quietly as he can, but they seem to echo loudly in the room once he’s said them.

It’s Derek’s turn to take on color.

Stiles doesn’t regret saying it.

He regrets not following when Derek walks out.

****

Allison and Scott both tell him he’s an idiot. For an hour. And then they make him read the welcome packet. He realizes after his third read-through he might owe Derek an apology.

When he gets back to their room Derek is organizing his herb garden. He keeps arranging them first by name, then color. He clears his throat and Derek pauses but doesn’t turn around.

“Did you know that wolves get really territorial about people they live with? That they only like certain people in their personal space?”

Derek moves from arranging plants to slotting his books into the low bookshelf next to his bed.

“And did you know that a wolf’s mate should probably never throw themselves at other wolves?”

He hears a quiet scoff and Derek finally looks at him over his shoulder.

“You’re asking me, a wolf if I know about wolves?”

Stiles shrugs and continues “Because I didn’t know.” He says stepping up behind him and wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist.

“You should have read the welcome packet Stiles”

Stiles lets out a choked laugh and presses his mouth to the back of Derek’s neck.

“Yeah. I know. It really is full of useful information.”

[cosmiciaria]

Assassin’s Creed Unity Review/honest thoughts/discussion - SPOILERS (long post)

So I decided to finally settle on a proper review – although this one is going to be more of what here in Argentina we call a "sincericidio": basically I will spit my guts out and cry in one corner, while being completely honest about my feelings. I will try to keep most spoilers at bay, like I always do, but there's just one thing I cannot not talk about which is THE spoiler so – I want you to be considered warned.

Before I start, I should state, since this is my review and reviews are quite personal actually, why this game is so important to me and why I wanted to play it so bad. There's a combination of factors, and obviously this game isn't going to strike the same chords with everyone, so bear in mind that this is strictly subjective and, right now, personal.

First factor and I think the most important one: I like writing. Wait, don't leave the review just yet. I like writing and creating characters. I have many. Lately I've been revisiting a character that had a very sad backstory and added quite long happy ending for him. I made him fall in love again. He's black haired, wears a short pony tail… his new love interest is a redhead with wavy hair… ok, you get me now, don't you? And what's worse, is that their story takes place in a fictional world that resembles quite much Europe of 1800's. So clothes and ballrooms and palaces and big, fluffy dresses are a thing in this story of mine. I think that, if you've ever created a character, to find another fictional, similar character in any medium is going to draw your attention to that product right away. It did happen to me with Cal Kestis from SW Jedi: Fallen Order, I have another redhead baby boy that needs to be protected at all costs. It's a way for us to 'see', let's say, or imagine our characters being brought to life.

Second factor: I love Paris. I visited Versailles and Paris back in late 2018, and I went there with zero expectations, only to fall in love with France. I love the Château de Versailles. I love palaces. I love the Seine. I love the Louvre. I love it. All of it. If I could, I'd live there. Sadly, I'm poor and speak little to no French at all.

Third Factor: I'm learning French! I dream with the day I can speak like five languages as well as I speak English (I studied it for ten years so… it kinda makes sense that I feel comfortable with it). I'm still struggling with French, but I will get there someday. I will. Because I love it. I love the language. Oui.

Fourth factor: I also really really, really like the French Revolution, and I've never, much to my surprise, watched or played any series, videogame, movie or anything that takes place in such a context (if you have recommendations, please drop them right away!). And I say "to my surprise" because I really like that part of History! So, to live in almost first person how the French Revolution unfolded – to hear the chansons and to see people gathered in crowds at every corner, listening to a liberty preacher wielding the French flag – that was glorious.

Fifth and yeah we're done: I love Les Misérables. I know it happens way later than the French Revolution, but since this musical (and the 2012 movie) became my 'home', I can't help but feel a stronger connection with everything I said above. I can watch that movie over and over and I will still sing Empty chairs and empty tables with tears in my eyes, despite its flaws.

I had like every reason to play this game. And it paid off.

Before plunging into it, I did read the novelization. Sadly, it was only to satisfy my soon-to-be-fulfilled obsession with the game, since I don't think the quality of the narration was, uhm, that good – it felt like you needed to have played the game before reading it. And I get it, it's a videogame adaptation, that's fine, but when you look at it as standalone book, it doesn't stand alone that good. What disappointed me, though, wasn't the narration, which was what I totally expected it to be, nor the dialogues or the ending – it was Élise. I was bit weary about this because she came across as completely different character than what I had in mind about her, and I didn't like her. At all. In the book, at least. I didn't like her because she had a few comments and took some decisions that made her look like she was stupid and/or selfish. I can understand the selfish part; I do not want to even believe that she's stupid. So that's why the book was a bit of a letdown for me. I recommend it, though, if you're a fan, because there's a book exclusive character that really gets the plot moving and he's endearing: Mr. Weatherall. Oh, what a man.

Now, regarding the game itself – it shouldn't come as a surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed it. As I've stated in another post, this game is barely an Assassin's Creed, since you delve like zero into the AC lore, and it's just an excuse for your character – Arno – to know parkour. Which in fact he knows before becoming an assassin, so it begs the question, why is this game even in this franchise? I digress. It's an AC game at the end of the day and that won't change.

But do not jump into this game expecting it be your average AC story. I firmly believe that the creators wanted to convey a different story here. For starters, Arno is no hero. Arno doesn't want to save the world. Arno doesn't care about any artifact or magic or creed. Arno only wants to discover who's the man behind De La Serre's death. That's his main driving force. And behind that, there's this undeniable and yet quite destructive feeling that pulls him forward: Élise.

Élise and Arno's relationship goes deeper into this story than it's noticeable at first glance. When you look back upon the plot, you discover that without their love 'subplot', there's no plot at all. If I may be so bold, I would even argue that Arno's story is a tragic love story. All the assassin's lore, all the betrayals, the first few assassinations, it all falls back into the background when Élise returns to the stage almost halfway through the game. And even though they only share like one kiss or two during the 40 hours of gameplay, there's still this latent, persistent motivation behind each of Arno's actions, that he wouldn't be doing what he's doing if it wasn't for Élise.

And it all comes down to that one line: What I wanted was you.

I cannot stress enough how much I loved all of the drunkard memory of Versailles. I think it embodies Arno's perfect character development. The constant rain and the bluish filter on every framerate added to the overall depressing atmosphere. I felt miserable while playing those quests, and the moment he steps out into the entrance of the Château de Versailles and reflects on his past decisions – decisions that have been stolen from him, because he could never defend himself nor change the course of actions on his own accord – that exact moment that he sits down and cries, I cried too.

Because all the game, all the memories, all the dialogues go in a crescendo only to crumble into this abyss. And this, in turn, creates a fleshed-out character, with a believable development, believable feelings, believable motivations. I can feel for Arno, I can understand him, I pity him, and I want to hug him. The whole game reaches its peak in its main character's worst moment: when he realizes that he's screwed everything up.

And not always do we get a story where the main character doesn't win. He just doesn't. Underneath its revolutionary streets, this story reeks of inexorability and fatality. You know it, you know it in the back of your head, but you push that thought apart because you want to enjoy jumping over rooftops and finding the best strategy to kill that man. There's this underlying, looming melancholy in every memory that you play in, and that's why the end doesn't surprise us.

It makes us cry, of course, but it didn't come as a surprise at all. If you're shocked about the end, then you haven't been paying enough attention to Élise's dialogues, to the tone of the story, to her letters, to where this plot was going. Because, like I said, the story is about Arno and Élise's relationship, it isn't about defeating the bad guy. And there was only one way that story could end.

*cries in French*

*Je pleure beaucoup*

I know the game has been panned by players for its performance. And being the 2020 year of our lord, I cannot say I reject those allegations, since it's been 6 years since the game was released. I hope enough patches were implemented to salvage the bugs. I only came across one bug in my entire playthrough which bothered me a little: some NPC's would sometimes pop into cutscenes and phase through the characters like nothing. At first it was funny, but then towards the end it happened two more times, in important cutscenes with our lovely couple, which kinda destroyed all immersion, if you know what I mean. The rest was fine: it never crashed on me, I didn't encounter the infamous, horrendous bug that unleashed memes in internet, never a T-pose or something that rendered the game unplayable – nothing, only that funny bug I mentioned. I did see the drop in framerates, specially in very crowded areas – but to be honest I never saw a game with so many NPC's together in the same place, like, hundreds of them, each with unique animations and varied models. I only come from playing Syndicate, and even there the number of NPC's was lower. Here is jarringly unreal, I didn't know the French Revolution was THIS jam-packed with people!

On a graphical department, this 2014 game still holds up. Very well. I think it even looks better in some scenes than some of its successors. The cutscenes were sometimes very cinematographic, with close ups, zoom outs, certain angles, with quite real lighting and shadows. I know it's not Naughty Dog and it doesn't have the whole Sony battalion behind, but damn if some of the character's expressions were really good. It didn't happen often, so when one of them had this very specific face I was like *insert surprised pikachu meme*.

I also enjoyed the music a lot. I don't know why but the one from the main menu stuck with me for a while. All of the songs have this Versailles, aristocratic tone to it which put me in the mood.

I have only one minor complaint and its entirely optional, let's say – I want to platinum this game. But I don't own PS plus, because it's, uhhh, expensive in my country (do not want to indulge in dollar exchange rates right now). And there are like two trophies only obtainable through multiplayer, which renders my trophy hunt useless. But, alas, I knew this before buying the game. I think that games shouldn't come with multiplayer trophies for the platinum. If you have to pay extra for something, it must be completely optional. And so should be the trophies related to it. It's a bit disappointing, though, because after finishing this game I want so bad to return to it, but if I can't platinum, I don't see myself coming back to it soon. Either way, I could still earn the rest of the trophies, but that would only enrage me more when the last 3% is going to be locked forever *cries again*.

All in all, my major question at the end is: why does this game receive so much hate? I guess if I came from a hardcore fan standpoint I could understand it more. If I had played all its predecessors before this one, I would also feel that the gameplay and the objectives are repetitive. That the challenges are bs. But the stealth aspect has been improved, the parkour has been redesigned and adapted, and as of now, bugs aren't a problem anymore. I want to believe that when a remaster for the PS5 comes out or, I don't know, if someone by divine grace has an epiphany in the near future regarding this game, people will change their mind on this one and will appreciate more what it wanted to be, than what they made it to be. After all, this is Arno's story. Arno's tragic love story.

Also this game is beautiful JUST LOOK AT IT LOOK AT IT!!! 

Sorry couldn’t help myself

[koiandjelly]

So Fila’s actual past isn’t very detailed, because she’s not a main OC, and I haven’t spent a ton of time actually thinking about her as a character lol. 98% of my Creativity goes to my original content characters, cuz someday when I finish actually crafting my worlds, I’m gonna write a book. I’m aiming for the lofty goals of making a full, fleshed out, intricate— just fuckin’... a whole ass Multiverse system comparable to the Lore content of Tolkien’s works, or The Elder Scrolls— gah fuck y’know what, I’m changing this post from being about my Fantasy Life OC to being about my creation baby, the effort of about 6 years (I am 20 years old, and although I didn’t know it at the time I started, I was 14 when I made the shitty Fire Emblem Manakete rip-off race that I’m gonna actually now talk about, because holy fuck this ain’t gonna fit in a parenthesis “btw have some info” bubble)

A’ight so I have a hard time keeping track of time, especially in a large scale across years. Apparently it’s related to being severely depressed without medication (communication error on my part, my parents are very lovely and helped me ASAP when I spilled the beans) while also having moderate to severe ADD. So, ya know, keep in mind that I was yet another terribly depressed 8th grader when I talk about my creation’s early days. I wouldn’t experience that time of my life for any sort of payment ever. It was goddamn miserable, because when I was midway through the age of 14, not only did the aforementioned depression spring up, but I also realized I was bisexual (And I live in the infamous state of Alabama, for reference. Don’t fear for me though, I was too unnoticeable to be bullied if anyone did know, and my wonderful mother, whom I love and cherish with all of my heart, is one of the few Christians that actually... like... do what their own God tells em to. That is, Jesus. I’m an atheist and have a general discomfort about the idea of super powerful entities actually existing irl, but I do agree with the stuff I’ve heard and remember from a decade ago in Church about Jesus. Good guy. But yeah my mom not only accepted me and reassured me when I came out, but she’s gone even further and is of the opinion/fact that lgbt folks are, really, good and normal and that God created them, so she really genuinely just... loves and accepts me. There’s no “I love you despite of this” in the equation and I am so grateful. But again. I digress)

Pause after that sidetrack, to recap, all of my medical issues began to emerge about 6 months before I turned 15. Including what I hate most, the emergence of my Fibromyalgia and Sjogren’s Syndrome, and for an added kick to the flesh, an undifferentiated connective tissue disorder. Meaning, as what I understand it to be, a nameless chimaera of many symptoms in a way that the disorder either is it’s own thing, or just can’t easily be recognized as any one disorder. And I had anxiety. If I recall correctly on *that*, forgive me cuz it’s been a while since it’s been diagnosed/brought up in a significant way, I have or had either general anxiety *and* social anxiety, or just lightweight versions of both, or something, but at the time I was horribly shy and I couldn’t even talk to the teacher after class about schoolwork, even though I tried rationalizing it to hell and back that I shouldn’t be scared— as you’ll guess, shit didn’t work out til I got medicine for it, because no amount of logic and rational thought will change the fact that I was struggling because of a literal disorder, an error of the brain, and as with that walking with two shattered femurs ain’t gonna work, trying to talk when the talk machine broke... ain’t going to goddamn work.

God. I am rambling a lot. But anyway, shit fucking sucked as a teen for me, because I got that wombo combo, prepare for trouble, make it double, precision strike at my existence as a person during fucking already difficult puberty— I am rambling. It’s 4:55am as of this sentence lmao. I had a nasty cocktail of both mental illness and physical disorders pop up once puberty hit me, so I, through many events starting from loving to draw as a toddler, to play pretend stories of heartbreak, betrayal, and death as best an 8 year old could understand via playing with Polly Pockets, and all the creative power I inherited from my Dad, plus the motivation borne through a need to escape, I started making my own characters.

So, to return to the present state of my creations, which will now be referred to as Bounding Beyond the Stars, or BBtS, I’m gonna get some things out of the way. Just to clarify, yeah? I have created my worlds in a way that is specifically meant to stand apart from the irl universe as we know it. I’m certainly not a knowledgeable researcher with any level of comprehension on Spacial law and quantum physics and shit like that. So hey, if something ever seems... like, off, or wrong? Unless it’s pretty obviously wrong in the “hey you just googled how a thing works, and misunderstood it, and made a detail based on a failure to understand stuff and that’s dumb in a catastrophic way that even a high school level viewer would notice...” kind of mistake, then hey, shoot me a message. But if some sort of universal rule seems fucky in the way that it doesn’t make sense, but isn’t a catastrophic structural error... well, Imma use that sentence to start a better one. For an example of a catastrophic error, perhaps... this: “This planet has no seasons cuz of its shape and axis! And it is also like twice as big as Earth!” That would be catastrophic alone because anyone with a grasp on planetary gravity or something, may go and think “if it’s that big, gravity’s gonna be way more intense”. And you’d be right! Which is why I usually account for those things with... *Magic*.

Before I split this post for Length reasons, and I’m sorry the majority of this was me rambling about how my general experience with life sucked from ages 14-17, I’mma state something very important about all my creations.

Magic, which will be explained in depth at a later point, is a fundamental, essential, and omnipresent force of not just any one universe in my Multiversal Trio. It is a key piece of Reality itself, as magic is the flow of many multiples of millions of unique and mysterious energies, concepts, and laws existing anywhere that Is.

To end this post, I’m going to put a quick summary and explanation why I’m rambling about any of this: The rant about my age and circumstances at the start are relevant because it’s necessary context for the tone and type of writing my creations are built upon. The foundations of BBtS are borne from a sometimes angsty, sometimes genuinely upset 14 year old who found escape in the art of Creation. There have been many, many, many heavy edits, rewrites, scrapped info and ideas, and even more info built upon it. It used to be pretty pointlessly edgy in a lot of ways, and redundant in grimdark, morphing into *grimderp* plot devices and character traits. The way it’s written today, I like to think the lore of my many high fantasy-alien societies, and all its denizens and creators and whatever else, are still written to be dark, be dangerous, even angsty... but more skillfully so, with the sort of nuance a 14 year old wouldn’t really even begin to understand. Cuz I still like high stakes stories with real consequences and character deaths when appropriate. And I enjoy characters who have tragic pasts, but now that I’m older and I’ve seen and read about and done so much more— I can write that stuff *better*. And more over, what I’m most satisfied with, is that I’m more in touch with myself as a person, and I’ve evolved many of my personal beliefs and ideals and all the things of the world I can have opinions on. But most of all, I’ve reached a point where I have consumed enough content from others to where I have figured out how to write something that should be interesting, and maybe a bit new, because I put a looot of Damn focus on identifying, and understanding, writing structure, cliches, plot holes to avoid, character traits to handle differently, and just generally making something that’ll appeal to both me, and my audience, should I get that far.

[joulethieves]

Thank You.

thank you to ellie/ @amamiyakitagawa, who found me from balvaan AO3, became my tumblr friend, then my wifey, encouraged me to stream, and stuck with me since the beginning, since night one on 7/11/17, when i was delirious with joy at the remake and sitting in some german family’s mansion basement with a TV the size of my ass, dogsitting idiot labradoodles and axolotls; for staying in streams for hours on end whether it was just us or not. for making me laugh, and indulging in all my stupid headcanons, and being general garbage with me. your presence in my stream throughout this past year speaks volumes and i love you too bitch.

a HUGE huge thank you to @airknight, who also has tuned in since night one, staying for hours on end as well. who was a constant goldmine of information throughout, who helped me patiently through the great crystal, through everything else imaginable, who always showed up to the stream with a friendly disposition even to weird randos that showed up, and who always had something nice to say.

thank you to @chaoticrice, my fellow XII streamer, rarepair lover of dalmscan orphan babs/their archadian bf’s, my fellow fic writer, and good friend. i’m glad you decided to stream too, and look forward to more of your streams. thanks for making it to tonight’s stream even though you were at a baby shower, lmao.

thank you @livvyplaysfinalfantasy, who kept my love for the game alive in 2011/2012 when you started documenting your XII playthrough, and have remained my internet pal ever since. i enjoyed your presence in my streams and your constant source of lore. it’s weird to think how long we’ve followed each other! lol

i wish i could describe the joy i felt on the first night i played the remake. it was really monumental to me. there aren’t a lot of Things i look forward to and it was so refreshing to have that excitement. i’m not a particularly giddy person but i fell asleep that night after 5 hours (y’all really stuck around for five hours and i love you for being a part of that, ellie/izzie/vik/spud/feeny) with a smile on my face. i didn’t even think that was possible. thinking about it still makes me emotional: i was so happy, not just because of the game, but because of you guys. i couldn’t keep myself away from the game, but also, from sharing that excitement with those who tuned in. who talked. who watched. it almost became lonely to play by myself. it was nice to play with other people to talk to.

thank you to the friends that have stuck with me, popping in and out. the game took me long enough to finish, with bouts of Moods that kept me away from it weeks to months at a time. but no matter what, it never changed that i always loved playing this game, and it was amazing to be able to document it through my first ever attempt at streaming, since july 11th.

my two fondest memories (aside from the first night), i think (though this one is hardly a memory), is getting blackout drunk and failing miserably at the captain basch stream. feeny and ellie and izzie were there to witness it, and idk, that was just so hilarious to me, in concept. because i literally don’t remember that much of it. (i was so mortified by the stream footage i deleted it, a regret i now have.)

my second fondest memory is doing archades with ellie and @carnsy, doing the chop quest and making cracky jokes, JULES E_E, and headcanons. it was just us three in that stream in the middle of the night (for me), but it was really, really fun. that’s all that matters.

to be able to chat about headcanons on stream and joke about ships, that’s just...really cool that i was able to do that, and i’m in awe that you all stuck around, through my weird voice and lisps and bad cockney accents.

streaming this has helped give me a spark of joy and i laughed a lot. i can only hope to keep doing it with other games and would love for you to join me, old friends and new, if i play something you’re into.

i don’t know why this game stuck with me so much. all i know is that it did. the fact i draw so much inspiration from balthier and vaan, and xii’s window into ivalice in general, certainly helps. i hope that something else hits me the way this game does, because we aren’t getting a remake of a remake, lol. they did such an amazing job on it, and i am so happy i got to tell the director/producer that in person at PAX east 2017. 

this game has helped me make so many good friends (Ellie, Izzie, Vik, Spud, Tori, Raze, Jay, Sovaz, Carn, Mike, Vivi). im so glad i made it to share that excitement, joy, constant yelling about headcanons, au’s, ship bullshit, and my writing - my writing, which i haven’t honestly done since 2008, until this game came out. my writing, which i still struggle with a lot, but i really really hope to have some good stuff this year, and i hope to become better. this game is my muse. it’s hard to believe i hadn’t written in nearly nine years until it came out again, but it really has been that long. and i’m so glad that i asked in july if anyone wanted to watch me stream it - having never thought about it before - and getting the response i did. i know i took an age and a half to beat it. thanks so much for those who stuck around, or were even just a part of the first couple weeks, as that joy is still so fresh in my memory and heart. for those who joined in mid-journey. for those who made me laugh. thank you. the ffxii-the-remix tag may be finished but i will continue to be garbage on this blog for the game, and my ship. 

and to the followers of this blog that have dealt with my shit, thank you too. thanks for every like and reblog. i see them all <3

anyway time for new game plus bye

#rememberbhujerba

[moranmagic]

GDS3 Essays

I didn’t think I would do this yet but everyone else is so why not. I’ve also already written a post script about what I think I did well and where I missed the mark that you can read here.

1. Introduce yourself and explain why you are a good fit for this internship. 273 words

My name is William Moran and I've been playing and thinking about games my entire life. I graduated from Ohio State University with a bachelor's degree in English and currently operate a Jimmy John's store as the general manager.

I tackle problems with a critical eye and mind—I want to analyze how the details contribute to the greater picture. What's our objective and how do the small things we do along the way affect our ability to reach it? I trained at this in college as I looked at how all parts of a text are structured in order to convey and create meaning. I use this at Jimmy John's as I set short term and long term goals and work with my team in order to make those dreams our reality. I've observed and toyed with these interactions through games played since I was a child. I understand that changing any aspect of a game will change how it plays and I care about finding out how to make changes that will make games better.

I value gaming for the unique and entertaining experience it is, the way it creates a story, and how that brings people together. Games allow us to share a positive experience, sometimes with complete strangers. Creating that experience, giving people opportunities to make meaning and build stories with each other through game play, is the more important thing I feel a game can do.

If I am selected for this internship, I will devote myself to ensuring that Magic continues to be the incredible success that brings people together by creating fun new experiences for them.

2. An evergreen mechanic is a keyword mechanic that shows up in (almost) every set. If you had to make an existing keyword mechanic evergreen, which one would you choose and why? 343 words

Skulk was considered by R&D as an evergreen mechanic contender and I know a lot of players also thought it could be a shared mechanic for blue and black. It turns out the design space for skulk isn't very big. More than that, my assessment of the mechanic is that it's an evasion mechanic and putting it in blue and black doesn't make sense—those two colors already have the most evasion in the game and don't need more. I also think they want a shared mechanic that cares about combat between creatures. But I'm not talking about a shared mechanic for blue and black here. I'm talking about how I believe skulk could be useful to a different color.

Green's only evasion mechanic is trample. While green does get the odd Charging Badger and other small creatures with trample, it makes the most sense on large creatures that have more power to trample over blockers. Green lacks an evasion mechanic that makes sense for when its smaller creatures need a way to get through. What can we do there?

I propose skulk. I would suggest using it on small green creatures for evasion. Primary in green, then secondary but very sparingly used in blue and black only if their gluttony of other evasion mechanics really don't make sense for a design. Skulk does have limited design space and while I think green can make uniquely good use of it, my suggestion can't change that limit. Shifting it to green at least puts it in a color that has yet to see it and without it being a block mechanic it can be used more sparingly here. Some prior cards could even be made as color shifted variants in green (such as a creature with skulk and deathtouch).

Green's Giant Growth effects make pumping a skulking creature after blocks are (not) declared more of a reality. Now my 2/2 skulking bear might actually be five damage to the face if my opponent chooses not to trade with their own small utility creature.

3. If you had to remove evergreen status from a keyword mechanic that is currently evergreen, which one would you remove and why? 300 words

For me there is a hands down best answer that no other current evergreen keywords can even compete with: defender. I'd drop it.

Defender is a down side mechanic that prohibits a creature that has the mechanic from attacking. By the very nature of the mechanic, you can't use it a lot in set design. Defenders just sit there and eat damage without being able to progress the game toward an end and this simply prolong the game often without advancing the board state in a meaningful way. On the relatively few cards that use defender it would be no issue simply to write out this creature “can't attack.”

The bulk of defender designs can be classified as one of two types. The first type is 0/N creatures where they have zero power and some amount of toughness. With the ability to buff these cheaply and since they are costed knowing they can't attack, these designs absolutely need “can't attack” rules. But since you don't typically put a bulk of game play focus and rules text on a literal wall—sitting there blunting attacks doesn't make for exciting games—writing out the defender rules text on these cards won't greatly distract from other important elements.

The second type is a group of creatures designed around the idea they they lose defender. Hightide Hermit is the latest of these designs. By ditching defender and rewording he ability that causes it to be able to attack as if it didn't have defender, you can actually drop a line of rules text and the design looks cleaner to me overall. I'd word it as “Hightide Hermit can't attack unless you pay EE.” It parallels Propaganda effects and I'd really want to consider this wording even in a world where defender lives on at evergreen status.

4. You’re going to teach Magic to a stranger. What’s your strategy to have the best possible outcome? 348 words

First, let's define the best possible outcome so we know what we're hoping for: the stranger should walk away wanting to play more Magic. The best way we can get that result is for them to have fun.

When teaching a game, especially Magic, it's easy to get bogged down in the trap of explaining too much of the rules up front. Having taught a few people how to play Magic, my preferred method is to play first and explain as we go. I'll grab two of the new Planeswalker decks and give a brief hook about what they'll be doing: “You're an evil dragon mastermind and you want to make my life as miserable as possible!” Then we draw seven cards.

I like to play the very first game with our hands revealed. This lets me advise them about what to play—”Start with a land. Put it on the table in front of you.”—and if they have questions they can point to a card and ask me without feeling they're showing me information they should keep hidden. “Now you use that land to cast a spell. Turn it sideways to show you used it this turn.” Ideally they're casting a creature and soon swinging with it to attack me. Their first Magic experience is that they're really playing and I've explained the bare essentials like how lands match up with the colors of mana on costs.

They don't hear about a hundred different rules and specific game terms that would distract and overwhelm them. Perhaps most importantly, they see a narrative develop. Mighty wizards build up their forces by casting spells and increasing their power supply until one of them can tip the odds in their favor and seize the day.

I want them to enjoy the world and story of Magic they get a glimpse of through the cards. I want them to have fun trying to beat me in the game. If I can accomplish those two things then I know the answer to “Do you want to play again?” will be an emphatic “YES!”

5. What’s Magic’s greatest strength and why? 277 words

Without a doubt the best thing Magic has going for it is that game after game it still remains immensely fun. It does this by immersing the player in so many ways; the art looks cool, it's a social experience, it provides a unique challenge, there are so many ways to play it, and every game you play feels fresh and engaging.

I picked up the game back around 2006 because it looked interesting. I kept playing it because I was having fun even though I wasn't really sure my friends and I were playing it correctly. New players will come into the game out of curiosity, or because their friends play it, or because they found a sibling;s old cards in a shoebox. They'll stick with it only because they have fun with it. If they don't have fun then they'll put it down and look for something entertaining.

Players keep playing Magic because it's fun. Maybe it's the lore, or grinding tournaments, or obscure rules interactions that enable silly combos, or just spending time with friends playing a game. Whatever it is, they've found the parts of Magic that are the most fun for them. If those parts stop being fun, it's only a matter of time before they ask themselves how much longer they should indulge a hobby that stopped being as entertaining to them.

One immensely difficult aspect to continuing Magic's success is determining how all these different players, from the beginner to the veteran, enjoy the game and ensuring there's enough of that in the products released each your that they all remain happy and excited about what Magic is doing.

6. What’s Magic’s greatest weakness and why? 252 words

The answer's simple; complexity. Magic is so so so complex. It's hard to learn and harder to master. That's a big barrier to learning the game and even a barrier to continuing the game—even pros have limits as to how much complexity they can handle.

Now complexity isn't all bad. It's also a strength of Magic. The game wouldn't be as rich and rewarding as it is if it wasn't also complicated. But the trick is focusing that complexity so that there's a payoff for putting up with it. I shouldn't finish a game of Magic and feel like I just did taxes, but there can be some mentally taxing situations within the game. There can be difficult things to learn and rules to be aware of.

Ideally the complexity is fun. Tracking Storm count is just tedious bookkeeping except I know the payoff is coming and that it's me one shotting you with a Tendrils when that number gets high enough. That's the secret to making complexity work for the game; always point it toward a fun result. If the player knows a payoff is coming then the act of getting there becomes less tedious and even becomes a source of enjoyment.

The players trust that if they're doing something then there will be a reward for it. There HAS to be a reward. Point them in a direction and have it fizzle out after they've spent time and effort getting there and that's when complexity is really Magic's bane.

7. What Magic mechanic most deserves a second chance (aka which had the worst first introduction compared to its potential)? 257 words

Cipher is solid as an idea but it was executed poorly. What it did well is promise free copies of spells and require players to attack to get them. What it did poorly is hamstring development since the potential copies were unlimited, have limited design space, and use wonky wording (encode?).

I want a mechanic that still delivers free copies of spells and encourages attacking, but which can be developed better—and I'm not going to use “encode” to accomplish it, just words already commonly used in Magic. I'm calling the mechanic Spellstrike—you strike your opponent and you get spells. Think of it as Rebound meets Cipher. I'd word the reminder text something like “If you cast this from your hand, exile it on a creature you control as it resolves instead of putting it into your graveyard. After this turn, when that creature attacks, you may cast this card from exile without paying its mana cost.” This successfully navigates the failures of cipher while monopolizing its best aspects.

Because the second cast can only ever happen one time, the initial payment for the spell can almost certainly be less than what we saw for cipher (I would hope spellstrike doesn't ask 2UB for a 1/1 with flying). If triggering upon attack proved too powerful, it could be adjusted to be a combat damage to an opponent trigger as well, but my hope is that this successfully expands the design space since the mechanic now works as a combat trick and thus on instants as well as sorceries.

8. Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your favorite and then explain the biggest problem with it. 292 words

Eldritch Moon cranked the dial on Eldrazi to 11 when some people had had enough of them at 10. I'm not one of those people. I love Eldrazi and Shadows Over Innistrad block was such a unique blend of Emrakul and Innistrad that I fell madly in love (pun intended). That block, and Eldritch Moon specifically, is some of the best Magic I've ever experienced—from limited to constructed to the art, story, and individual cards, it all rocked! Which makes it a real shame that it came right after Battle for Zendikar block and part of the audience was burnt out on Eldrazi.

BFZ block particularly agitated people with some mechanical choices (devoid for one) that soured peoples' opinions of Eldrazi. Add into that Eldrazi are already contentious because of their specific game play previously (battle cruiser Magic and annihilator) and creatively because they look unsettling and destroy your favorite plane. People were ready to move on from Eldrazi after BFZ block and there was no better way than with the best plane ever, Innistrad. With no downtime between Elrazi catastrophes, instead the perception was that these horrors went on to destroy that plane in irreparable ways.

The lesson to take from this is to be aware of how a player's perception of “it's the same thing all over again” can link disparate mechanical elements because they share some important creative similarities. The Eldrazi of SOI block and incredibly different from the Eldrazi of BFZ block. Melding Eldrazi with horror was a spectacular move. But since the block was preceded by an Eldrazi block, all four sets were viewed almost as one mega block  with shared failings when SOI block would have been better appreciated had there been some downtime between them.

9. Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your least favorite and then explain the best part about it. 297 words

Aether Revolts, especially draft, didn't transform the format substantially. It's not that it was bad, just that if I'm going to draft Kaladesh block, I'd rather draft triple Kaladesh instead of Kaladesh and something that feels like the set Kaladesh but isn't. What did Aether Revolt do best? Revolt!

How appropriate that the keyword mechanic that shares its name with part of the title of the set, revolt, was so dang good. I looked at revolt and though, “Seems like a remake of morbid.” And it is in part, sure. A creature dying will trigger revolt. But it's so different from morbid that it stands on its own in ways I wouldn't have guessed at first. Bouncing something back to your hand, exiling or flickering something, they all trigger revolt. I can still throw a little 1/1 against my opponent and see if they'll kill it. But I can also sac my Evolving Wilds. Let's talk about that for a moment because it highlights one of the best aspects of revolt and how it's definitely not just a morbid clone.

Typical game play with Evolving Wilds is to play it and then crack it on your opponent's next end step to search out your land, withholding the information of which land you want as long as possible while still getting it untapped to use on your next turn. But what if you need revolt active? Perhaps the best play now is to hold onto my Evolvng Wilds so I can activate revolt whenever I need to. I need to assess if the mana and fixing is more important than the revolt boost.

Any mechanic that can make me reassess a basic aspect of the game that I usually take for granted is doing some really good work.

10. You have the ability to change any one thing about Magic. What do you change and why? 282 words

I would abolish the legendary rule and make legendary simple a marker with no rules baggage.

Legendary is a negative mechanic in the rules sense—you can only control one copy of a legendary something. If you put four copies of of a legend in your deck then most of the time drawing multiple copies of that leaves you with dead cards in your hand. But on the flip side, legendary cards are usually cool and powerful cards that players will want to play even more than normal. They aren't often so powerful that a player needs to be limited to only controlling one copy at a time and the few times that is true, rules text on the specific card that recreates the legendary rule in some manner would do the trick.

Legendary creatures are things players want to play and they will be better able to play them if they can put four copies in their decks without being penalized for it with dead draws of what would otherwise be an awesome draw. Furthermore, ditching the legend rules means Magic is free to make anything a legend if it feels legendary. Why would you want to do that? Commander is such a popular format that it's snagged a dedicated yearly product slot. The best way to support that format is by printing more legendary creatures and being free to make creatures legendary especially when they will encourage a new deck archetypes in the format. If legendary is only used as a marker for cool unique creatures without rules baggage then, once again, you're free to make anything a legend if it feels legendary. Commander players around the globe will rejoice.

[hekate1308]

Signs Of Evil

I expanded this. Enjoy!

Day 30

It’s been a month since he was quick enough to find his doppelganger in the parallel world and convince him that ending his miserable existence was the way to go and saved the world before he closed the gates of Hell once and for all. Souls can still slip through – can’t allow the increase in ghost activity – but there’ll be no more demons wreaking havoc apart from those who happened to be on earth when he slammed the door shut.

It gives him plenty of time to relax and occasionally visit the boys. Things have been quiet for a while now, since he conveniently showed up to kill off Satan’s spawn and Cas was miraculously brought back to life once again, human but healthy.

He’s walking down a hallway in the bunker; Dean made it abundantly clear that he prefers it when people “knock on doors and walk through them in case I am polishing my gun” so he’s decided to fulfil that particular wish.

A noise emitting from one of the store rooms draws his attention. With a blink of an eye, he’s standing right in the middle of it, looking down at...

Oh. He is somewhat surprised the Men of Letters managed to get hold of a basilisk’s egg.

Rather risky keeping it around.

Basilisk’s eggs are very powerful and as such very valuable, but there are a few drawbacks.

For one, it’s hot and could easily set anything it touches ablaze.

Well...

Anything with a shred of decency, that is.

Because the biggest irony of all concerning basilisk’s eggs is that only evil entities – demons, angry ghosts, occasionally a witch if she manages to be as wicked as his mother was – can touch it without getting burned.

Eggs like this one also have a tendency to move on their own, probably compelled by the same instinct that makes their parents turn anyone who looks at them directly into stone.

It has managed to open its box and roll halfway across the floor.

There’s a pair of gloves and pliers lying nearby, proving the boys already know what’s up.

He reaches out and takes it in his hand.

Huh. It even feels warm for him, and that’s saying something.

He carefully puts it back in the box. As he leaves the room, Dean strolls into the hallway.

“Crowley”.

“Squirrel. I put the egg where it belongs”.

Dean catches on immediately.

“Thought I heard it. Does this about once a month... thankfully it can’t get through the door, the Men of Letters were too careful. Thanks. Can be a real son of a bitch when it wants. We haven’t found a way to destroy it yet”.

He nods. Not even he is aware of a way to accomplish that.

“You staying for dinner?”

He doesn’t need to eat of course, but he will admit that Dean is a good cook.

“Since I’m already here...”

Day 40

He’s back at the bunker again. Dean, Sam and Cas are preparing to go on a hunt and he has nothing better to do, so he tags along.

No one says anything against it when he gets into the Impala. The backseat; he doesn’t feel like fighting over riding shotgun today.

“Do you have credentials?” Dean asks when they’re half way to Iowa.

“Sure” he replies. He’s always made certain that he can get in wherever he needs to be.

“Alright then, you can take the locals.”

His badge works like a charm. The little old lady at the reception of the police station even flirts with him a little, which surprises him because it’s easy to tell she has the kind of soul that should have flinched away from him subconsciously.

There’s a reason some people never meet demons. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, which Mrs. Grover seems to lack.

He shrugs and moves on.

It turns out to be an easy salt-and-burn, but he still hangs around because he’s got nothing else to do and at least the boys are fun.

He drives back with them to the bunker too.

And only when the case is well and truly over and he’s said his goodbyes does he stop and think and realize he just went on a hunt with no other reason than he could.

Day 70

He’s had to put the basilisk’s egg away too more times in the mean time. They thing is growing annoying; he’s less and less disposed to deal with it, but it would be far more troublesome to force the boys to use the gloves and pliers all the time.

Is it just his imagination or is it growing warmer, too? He should perhaps do some research; not that it melts its box one day. Then they’d really have a problem.

“Ah, Crowley. Great, you can help me out. What does this phrase mean?” Sam, who he’s materialized in front of, asks.

“The bone of the unborn” he reads. “I am assuming you didn’t know that babies having died during their birth was an ingredient, Moose?”

“Who is using babies as an ingredient now?” Dean asks, stepping into the library.

“Hey Crowley, didn’t expect you back so soon”.

He doesn’t sound annoyed, and really, it’s been a while since he visited them last...

A whole of three days, he suddenly realizes.

Oh well.

There’s so much time on his hand these days, and Dean just got a football for the bunker.

Day 90

He appears in the bunker’s shooting range and watches Cas fire another round.

“Bulls-eye, Feathers”.

Cas rears around, gun in his hands.

Crowley raises an eyebrow.

“That won’t work on me, I’m afraid”.

The former angel relaxes.

“Crowley”.

“Thought I’d drop in, see how you were getting by”.

Neither of them mentions he only stopped for dinner yesterday.

“Also, I put the egg back into the box... You should really look into that, it’s getting hotter”.

“Hotter?”

“Yes”.

Cas tilts his head to the side and studies him and for the first time in a long time, he can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t tell him about the curious revulsion he feels that’s getting stronger every time he has to face the egg. Must be his imagination. And that look on his face makes him uncomfortable enough.  

Day 120

“Crowley” Dean says when they’re about to retire and he’s getting ready to say his goodbye and return to the luxurious hotel he’s currently staying in.

“We cleared this one” he points to a door, “But no loud music between the hours of two and eight am”.

And with that they leave him to... get acquainted with his own room.

Alright then.

It’s plain, simple, comfortable. Nothing like the hotel where he has room service and a huge flat screen.

He moves in immediately.

That night, the egg comes crashing down again.

He could swear it’s a few degrees hotter than the last time.  

Day 130

“Crowley. Did you bring a hell hound into the bunker?” Dean asks at breakfast. “Because I could have sworn something licked my hand in the war room.”

“Of course. You know her. Juliet.”

“Juliet... Alright, but why?”

“You gave me a room. I can’t let my girl camp outside when I have a room.”

“Your – you know what, just tell her no chewing on anything, and she’s not allowed on the couch”.  

Day 150

He can find nothing that would explain why the egg is becoming hotter every time he picks it up, but at least Cassie knows so someone’s keeping an eye on it when he’s not around.

Not that he’s gone so often. After all, they gave him a room, he might as well use it.

“Good morning – oh, Sheriff Mills. Girls”.

The sheriff looks quite well. Their date certainly did her no harm, he hopes, somewhat taken aback at his own reaction.

From what he can remember of his human life, he’s experiencing something almost like shame.

Before anyone can stop her, the one he thinks is called Claire Novak, Cas’ vessel’s daughter, marches up to him and punches him in the face.

She’s pretty strong for her age.

“Claire!” Jody calls out, clearly worried, and the others quickly move behind her.

Dean seems to be a bit conflicted as to who to shield against whom. It’s almost... touching.

The last thing he wants to do on this fine morning is provoke a fight though, especially since he’s pretty sure he’ll have to deal with the damn egg again soon.

And he did try to kill her, after all.

“I suppose I deserved that” he says mildly.

He ignores Sam’s incredulous stare.

Day 200

The egg’s almost too hot to hold now, but he can’t find a single reason in lore why it should be.

“Crowley, we’ve got a case!” Dean calls out.

He moves to find him in the hallway.

“I’m worried about the egg” he says.

“Cas told us. Don’t worry, we strengthened both the box and the door” Dean says.

He can’t feel any enhanced protection, but Dean knows what he’s talking about.

He shrugs his shoulders and forgets about it.

Day 250

“You can trust anyone in this room” Dean tells the other hunters they met on their newest case.

Of course they immediately look at Crowley. His time on the throne is still well remembered, it seems.

“I don’t know...” the woman begins, slowly. “After all you did, working with a demon...”

Dean snorts.

“Come on guys, do you really think he’d be a member of our team if we didn’t trust him?”

Talking is suddenly difficult.

It’s a strange thing to have, the trust of others.

Day 300

He can actually sleep when he puts his mind to it, and it’s a pleasant way to pass the night. Otherwise, he just waits for the boys to wake up or corrects the mistakes in the Men of Letter’s library or takes Juliet on a walk.

Even the others have got used to having to wake him for breakfast, although they were a little weirded out at the beginning (it’s not his fault he doesn’t need to breathe, and he told himself he wasn’t feeling bad when Dean came to get him and thought he was dead for a second).

So, when a crash wakes him up, he blinks and groans realizing it’s the stupid egg again. Juliet sniffles at the foot of his bed.

He just hopes it didn’t wake up anyone else. Dean is just getting used to a regular sleep schedule, and Cas still has problems drifting off now and then.

Definitely uncomfortably hot now.

Day 365

It’s been a pretty relaxing week – Sheriff Mills even came to visit and was civil to him – and he sighs when he hears the tell-tale thump from the library.

For some reason, he feels Cas’ eyes follow him as he leaves the room.

Also, he really dreads dealing with the egg, now. He must be growing soft after all

 Even without Cas’ text, he would know.

After he told them of Crowley’s worry about the egg, they did their research and there is only one explanation why someone would think the thing was too hot to touch.

And to be fair, he hasn’t considered the demon pure evil since...

Point is, Dean has been waiting for this for a while, so the crash and the curse coming from the store room don’t bother him.

Neither does the sight of Crowley, staring at his burned hand with a shocked expression on his face.

Dean picks up the gloves and the pliers and puts the egg away.

“Don’t touch it just like that again”.

He lightly touches his shoulder.

“Come on, you need that taken care of”.

From their own experience, he knows the burn will be a bitch.

As they walk towards the war room Dean says, “Being good isn’t that bad, you know”.

Crowley doesn’t say anything, but from the corner of his eye, Dean can see a small, pleased smile on his face.  

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Demi-Canon Series: Part 1

Welcome to another round of ‘Frenchy is sick of looking at this and needs to get it off of her Drive account’. Consider this the first of a small group of pieces under the same banner of “demi-canon”: things that had the potential of happening in the actual canon of Seven Cities lore, but may or may not actually play out this way.

Also, cause I really liked the dumb play on words.

4027 words, set pre-Seven Cities, before Alex and Tahir are really anything like friends. Menstruation very heavily implied/featured so a warning to those who need it.

If Alex had been given longer than two hours to ready herself for eight months at sea, she might have been prepared for this.

As it was, she had done rather well on her own. The forging of her own examination papers, the hurried sewing of extra padding into the crotch of her trousers, the only slightly illegal procuring of excess of wads of fabric and a thoroughly-cleaned sponge – all of it had worked long before Tahir had become privy to her situation and added an extra set of eyes on her back. For all of the hurrying she had done, Alex still considered it a rather brilliant ploy of playing the average pressed sailor.

Except that she hadn’t had the time to plan for pain.

It was a rare thing, but once every couple of months, Alex would wake with the telltale throb low in her gut, and crawl down into the first dark space that she could find to wait it out. On the street, that had been as simple as finding a dry, quiet piece of ground out of sight of the city guard; on a ship, there was neither a dry nor quiet piece of ground to be had, and her absence was always too easily noticed by the bosun’s wandering eyes.

And this morning, it felt remarkably like someone had a grip on her insides, and was determined to squeeze the life out of each one in turn.

She tucked herself further into the shade of the ship’s bulwark, forehead pressed against her knees, an emergency flask of water cradled hot and empty in her lap. A few minutes ago, she had pressed it to her lips, desperate to out coax another few drops. In a few more, she would try again. She had passed the last hour the same way, miserable and thirsty and lying to herself, and she certainly didn’t intend to break that cycle. Baseless routine was better than sitting around waiting for the pain to stop. She was fool enough to believe that, at least.

A shadow crossed over her as she reached for the flask again, blocking out the sun in a great stomping of boots that stopped inches away from her bare toes. Alex felt her lips draw into a scowl. Only a handful of men on board wore boots on deck, after all, and while she wouldn’t dare to sneer at an officer, none of them would stop to give her more than a passing glance.

Tahir was another matter entirely.

“Mr. Sheffield!” His voice boomed somewhere overhead, low and laughing. “Slacking off again, I see.”

Alex pulled her head from her knees and glared up against the halo of bright sun around him.

“Sick,” she croaked out. That, so far, had been enough to scatter anyone who had done more than step over her outstretched legs on their way to the quarterdeck. Sympathy, like dry, quiet spaces, was hard to find on a ship.

But Tahir didn’t recoil, or shrug and wander off like the rest; through her half-open eyes, Alex watched him look her over in one slow pan, lingering just a bit too long on the position of her hands low over her stomach to be casual.

Then his shadow moved away, and she felt two wide hands wrap full around her arms and yank her suddenly to her feet.

She yelped and latched onto his wrists, scrambling to find her balance as the deck disappeared below her. Tahir’s hands held steady onto her arms despite the clawing she was doing though, and managed to keep her upright until her feet found the hot wood underneath them again. He let go as soon as she staggered away, then clapped a good-natured hand onto her shoulder.

“Aye, you and the rest of us too,” he said with a wide grin. “But you don’t see anyone else hanging off the rail all day, do you?”

Alex shrugged him away with a grunt and stooped to grab her flask from where it had fallen, tentatively rolling her shoulder. Tahir’s exuberance usually left it tingling and numb; today, he had exercised a remarkable amount of restraint, one that didn’t match his casual attitude about putting her back to work when she was so clearly miserable. The man was hopelessly oblivious on even his best days, but this seemed almost performatively so.

Which meant he was up to something.

Another knot of pain squeezed suddenly low in her gut and Alex grimaced, bracing herself on Tahir’s arm. When it passed, she looked up and caught him watching out of the corner of his eye.

“I doubt you’ve got much sickness left in you, seeing as you’ve been here an hour or so,” he went on, quieter this time. His eyes darted away, back towards the quarterdeck. “Might wanna come help me so you don't have the bosun chasing your heels.”

Alex snorted and pushed herself away from him. For all the casual tone, Tahir’s voice carried a weight that she couldn’t quite place, an earnest bidding that was so unlike him that she almost asked him what he was scheming outright since he was doing such a miserable job of hiding it anyway.

His hand fell across the span of her shoulder before she could decide though, and began easing her towards the lower decks. She scowled and shrugged him off again, but let herself be led, too curious and too miserable to do much more than grumble.

They climbed down into the gun deck, then down again, twice more. Tahir made idle chatter about what work needed doing while she stumbled wordlessly after him, filling the silence with talk of the inventorying the hold until they passed into the lowest deck of guns and out of earshot of most of the crew. Then he fell suddenly quiet, and she felt his hand tap lightly on the back of her arm as he gestured to the floor. Peering into the gloom, she could make out the faint outline of a hatch that led down again, this time into one of the ammunition magazines. It was already propped open, waiting.

Alex yanked herself away from Tahir’s side.

“What’re we going there for?” she asked, her voice firm despite the shaking in her knees. She had only been into one of the ship’s arsenals a few times - the gun crews had a particular dislike for her, and tended to ensure she was nowhere near them or their work - but she knew enough what the tight, dark space looked like; how well it hid the things that wanted to stay hidden.

Tahir stepped away like he already expected her unease and offered a pacifying gesture.

“Easy,” he said, with a small grin she thought would have been reassuring if not for her heart pounding on her ribs. “We’re just reorganizing. Powder boys’ve made a mess of things down there, you know.”

His voice had that weight again too, the same bidding and earnest that made it sound rather like he was trying very hard to get her to trust him. She suddenly realized that she knew the tone, recognized it with a familiar wrenching in her gut that had absolutely nothing to do with her monthly bleeding. A dark, isolated part of the ship, in close quarters with a man twice her size and strength - on anyone else, that tone was warning.

But she had also seen Tahir cheerfully threaten to put another man through a table for harassing a barmaid one too many times to think him capable of anything quite so sinister. She steadied herself with a breath and swallowed the thumping knot of her heart in her throat.

“Right,” she said after a moment, waving him forward. “Go on, then.” She still tugged at the knot of her rigging knife when he turned away though, just to be sure it was there, before following him down. There was always some small comfort in knowing that she was capable of drawing blood if she needed to.

A dim lamp was already burning overhead when they dropped down into the hold, the negligence of some boy hurrying along and forgetting how little powder it would take to blow out their hull. Tahir grunted as he crossed to it.

“You’d think they’d know better,” she heard him mutter as he started coaxing the flame back to life. “Scurrying around cannonfire like they do. That’d be just our luck; lamp gets knocked off its ring and suddenly the whole damn ship’s on fire. All cause some brat’s got the notion that it’s too much work to douse a light. Little shit would probably complain about space on the longboats too...”

Alex grunted, half in amusement and half with the effort it took to wedge her shoulder against an overturned shot barrel on the opposite side of the room. She managed to get it mostly upright again before she caught Tahir staring at her from across the room, snickering quietly into his shirt collar. She frowned, pausing with the barrel leaned hard against her shoulder.

“What?”

He said nothing, just stifled another round of faint snickering. Alex’s frown suddenly became a scowl, and a knot of anger coiled thickly in her chest. Grunting, she shoved away from the barrel and it collapsed flat onto its side with a deep, shuddering crash.

“So do you intend on standing there giggling like a whore with empty pockets, or will you actually be helping me?” she sneered, gesturing toward the barrels that had been dragged away from their places in the stocks along the wall. Tahir’s laugh pitched up slightly before he smothered it back down again.

“Helping you do what, exactly?” he asked, grinning. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Reorganize,” she said slowly, drawing out the word as if explaining it to a child. And then, with an accusatory jab of her finger, “That’s what you said we were here to do!”

Tahir’s grin widened. “And you believed that, did you?”

Alex’s heart leapt into her throat as he ducked underneath the lamp swinging overhead. Her fingers snapped reflexively over the grip of her rigging knife, but Tahir turned away before he got anywhere near her, crossing instead to another corner of the room where sacks of sand had been piled high against the wall. One of them, she noticed as she stared, had deep dent worn into it, as though something large had been sitting on top of it for a very, very long time.

Tahir shoved a line of powder kegs set along the wall aside, then turned and nudged the dented sack with the toe of his boot.

“Go on lad, take a seat. You’re not looking like you’re much for standing right now.”

Alex snorted and let her hand drop away from her knife. Her heart still pounded angrily at her ribcage, but she found herself moving towards the sack at his gesture anyway. Suspicion aside, she could feel her knees wobbling harder underneath her, and their trek through the ship had sapped the last of what little energy she had been able to muster.

She set herself down gingerly onto the worn sandbag and leaned back against the ones piled behind her. It was a hard seat, with a back that sat a little too upright to be perfectly comfortable, but it was still infinitely better than being slumped against a bulwark and baking in the hot sun. She wiggled a little bit further into the groove, stretching her legs in front of her and relishing the tug of the muscles in her knees with a relieved sigh as the pain in her back eased slowly away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Tahir stealing a glance her way and grinning.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said as he pawed through the small line of powder kegs. She raised an eyebrow and he nodded to the sandbag below her.

“Took Sam ‘n I a full week to make that comfortable.” His face contorted into the perfect picture of a grimace as he looked her up and down. “Just figures that it’d be some brat of a midshipman what reaps the spoils.”

Alex snorted, letting her head drop back against the stacks as her eyes fell closed. “I’m sure you slaved away too. For hours on end, instead of working.”

He laughed. “We did!”

“And now,” she went on, a grin touching the corners of her mouth. “I’m to kiss the ass that did all of that fine sitting about, am I?” She flicked her hands upwards in a gesture that would have been grand if not for the way she was slumped lazily back. “O’ hail thine glorious rump, whose girth, on a lesser man, may have staved from us the possibility of a throne suited to only the most distinguished gentlemen.”

She heard a gentle huff and then grinned in full as her hands were swatted away.

“Little shit,” Tahir snapped, though it still sounded remarkably like he was trying not to laugh. “It’s a damn good thing I like you. Here.”

Something thin and cool and leather dropped suddenly into her lap, heavy with a sloshing weight inside. She recognized it as one of the ship’s canteens as she craned her neck to look and glanced back up at him, brow furrowed.

“What’s this for?”

“Drinking, s’far as I’m aware,” he said dryly, without looking up from where he was sliding powder kegs back into their places along the wall. Alex rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m certain I don’t,” he replied. “But if you’ve got the notion that I can get ahold of anything that ain’t small beer and water on this ship, you’re either truly daft, or you're flattering me.” He flashed a wry grin over his shoulder. “And honestly, I don't think you're rightly capable of either.”

Alex grunted, ignoring both compliment and insult in favor of uncapping the flask and giving its contents an investigative sniff. Just water, she decided; over the smell of salt and leather, she caught the faint sweetness of sugar that came in all of the ship’s ration water to mask the taste of its souring. In any other circumstance, the thought of drinking something that spoiled would make her stomach turn. But now, desperate and dry, with the gritty feeling of salt still plastered to her tongue? Her mouth practically watered.

Tahir chuckled as she took a deep, greedy draw, propping his elbow against one of the nearby shot barrels.

“Careful, lad. You’re gonna make yourself sick that way,” he warned, though he made no move to stop her. Alex pulled the flask away just long enough to shoot him a withering glare.

“Couldn’t be doing much worse than I am right now, can I?” she muttered against the lip of it, then took another long swig. The barrel beside her creaked as Tahir pushed himself upright.

“Sure,” he said, with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “And I s’pose seasickness’d pair real nice with your being on the rag, huh?”

Alex’s throat suddenly wrenched shut around her swallow of water. She sputtered, lurching forward over her knees in a fit that devolved quickly into a round of deep, ragged coughing. Something shifted beside her and Tahir’s hand suddenly clapped firmly on her back, tapping twice, hard, until she was sucking in grateful lungfuls of air again.

She wiped her mouth across the length of her sleeve when she had caught her breath, and turned back to him with a glare.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

Tahir leaned back against the barrel behind him, smirking. “You thought I didn’t know? I’ve got five sisters, Alex. Your playing seasick was about half as convincing as if you told me you could fly.”

He stooped down and grabbed the flask that had clattered to the floor, pressing it back into her shaking hands. She scowled, but took another begrudging sip to stifle the last rumblings of the fit in her chest. He had known all along. The thought settled uncomfortably in her chest, loose and fluttering.

“So,” she hedged after a moment. “Rousing me from the rail, the dark room, all that talk of work that needed doing…” She ticked the words off on her fingers, letting her voice trail off as Tahir shrugged.

“I saw enough what my sisters suffered, what my mum did for them,” he said casually. “Figured you could use an excuse to disappear for a few hours."

Alex huffed, a short, incredulous breath through her nose.

“An excuse that’d get you discharged and me killed if anyone were to catch on,” she corrected, her voice going sharp and thin with earnest. The fluttery, nervous thing in her chest bounded up again, shuddering against her ribs. “That’s not a thing sane people do, Tahir. The fuck were you thinking?”

He said nothing at first, just fixed her with a quiet, searching look as he pushed himself onto his feet again. It stripped her bare, that look, and she folded her arms over her chest like it had suddenly become a pane of window glass, and he could see the frantic thing running itself ragged inside.

“I was thinking,” he said at last, in a voice as placid as lake water. “That you do a piss-poor job of giving a shit about yourself. And that there ought to be someone who does.”

The thing fluttering in her chest fell suddenly, deathly still. With it went the steady hammer of her heart, the even tempo of her breath, and about all she could manage was to put her gaze firmly away from anything that looked even remotely like Tahir’s direction.

She knew the sentiment shouldn’t have surprised her. He had never been quite so blunt about it before, but the whole ship knew that Tahir was a little soft - that behind the gruffness and the imposing silhouette, he was always the first to take stock of the new midshipmen, always the first to lend a penny to the man running dry in the bar seat beside him. He was a collector of favors after all, or so the joke went.

But this felt different, somehow. She already owed him something well beyond a friendly face or a penny lent. Hers was a debt of the compounding sort, the kind that doubled with every moment he spent not dragging her before their captain. By all rights, Tahir should be asking her to find him flasks of water, and relief from the sun, and a seat worked into a sandbag over the course of a week. But he didn’t. Hadn’t. Wouldn’t, she was pretty sure, except to make a joke about it.

And if it wasn’t a matter of gathering favors, and if it wasn’t a matter of repayment, the reason Tahir did anything for her at all resembled something that looked remarkably like fondness.

Alex tightened her grip on the flask in her hand, so hard that the edges bit angrily into her palms, and squashed the rest of the thought into silence.

The barrel squeaked beside her again and pulled her attention back to her left, to where Tahir was peering down at her and frowning so hard that his brow had furrowed into a neat little line of knots. They smoothed out as soon as she looked up, his tense look flashing away in an instant as it was replaced by an unsteady version of his usual grin.

“And besides,” he continued, with a touch more volume than was necessary. “I can’t rightly let you die out there. You’re the only one who listens to my jokes, and it’s only ‘cause you’ve got to.” He crossed his arms over his chest, recovered enough to paint his face suddenly, dramatically grim. “If you go, the world’ll lose them forever.”

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes and trying her marked best to pretend the last few moments away as he had. “So I would have to die for you quit trying to be funny, is that it?”

Tahir nodded gravely, and she sank back into her seat, blowing a deep, billowing sigh through her cheeks.

“Well, shit,” she muttered. “It’s a real fucking shame that I’m so selfish, innit?”

Tahir broke first, buckling into a deep bellow of laughter - real laughter this time, so loud that Alex had to shush him around the grin she felt creeping involuntarily over her lips.

“Guessing you feel better,” he managed once they had both collected themselves enough to speak.

Alex tucked her grin away, shrugging. “Guess so.”

Her limbs still shook, of course, and she could feel the last little tongues of pain still working somewhere deep in her gut, but the worst seemed to have finally passed. Laboring under the beating sun again sounded like a fate for the dying, but Alex’s well of stubborn resolve ran deep. She gathered herself up in a breath and slid forward, pushing up onto her feet with a grunt -

And ran her shoulder straight into the flat of Tahir’s palm.

“That wasn’t meant to make you move,” he said with a chuckle as he eased her gently back into her seat. “Though I know better than to try and stop you if you’re committed to killing yourself out there. But you’ve still got a bit of time before anyone comes looking for you. Half an hour, by my estimate.” His grin curled into something smug and self-satisfied. “Double that, if I’m to be covering your ass.”

Alex sniffed, folding her arms over her chest. It fluttered underneath them, his words skirting too close to a reminder of her deep debt and how little he felt she owed him.

“I’m not asking for help,” she reminded him. Tahir nodded.

“Of course not. I don’t expect miracles of you, lad.” He sidestepped her half-hearted kick, laughing. “We’ll just call your debt a bottle of whiskey when we’re on shore again, aye?”

“A bottle?” Alex snorted. “You’ll get a glass, if you get anything at all.”

Tahir let out a great, heaving sigh, so deep and dramatic that his whole body sank with the motion of it. “Fine,” he agreed with a helpless shrug. “But only ‘cause I know you couldn’t afford a bottle of whiskey on your best days.”

She kicked at him again, less half-heartedly this time, and caught him in the ankle.

“Careful, old man,” she teased as he stumbled back, swearing. “You keep tripping like that, you’ll throw your back out.”

“I’ll throw something,” he snapped, his words thick as he forced them through his gritted teeth. “You, maybe. Clear over the side of the ship.”

“You’re the only one who swims,” Alex reminded him with a wide grin. “You’d have to come get me, or at least pretend the effort.”

She expected a retort, of course - had already imagined three between the end of her words and the raise of his eyebrow, ranging from, “I wouldn’t have to do shit,” to a particularly filthy gesture that would tell her her exactly how much effort he would expend for her sake.

Instead, Tahir just shook out his ankle and muttered, “You’d owe me twice the whiskey, then.”

No disagreement, no threat that he would leave her to drown, even as a joke - just a restatement of the payment that they both knew he would write off the moment she did.  The thought clung thickly to her ribs, tying each breath to the bone.

Luckily, it was the third time that he had unbalanced her today, and she was getting to be an old hat at choking down her feelings; he took the snort and the roll of her eyes as signs that he had won, and turned, smirking, towards the ladder before he saw how white her knuckles had gone on her flask.

“Try and rest for once,” he told her as he swung up onto the rungs. “You’ve got an hour.”

And then he was gone, up and out of the magazine despite his supposedly sore ankle. She heard the heavy thuds of his boots crossing over her, shaking sand loose from the boards overhead until they melted into the faint creaking of the ship, and she suddenly found herself alone with the shaking in her chest that hadn't stopped yet.

[jolienjoyswriting]

The Maze of the Manor, Ch. I

Chapter 1 of "The Maze of the Manor," an Essence of Ragnarok story.

Oh… hi, Mark.  I didn't see you, there. So, I actually wanted to write a completely unrelated story… but, I'm kind of scared that, after all the pre-production work I've done (character models, research, lore, etc.), it wont turn out like I want it to.  So, I've been writing other things, instead. This, in particular, is a story I've been mulling over in my head.  It's one of those "seems like a fun idea, but I've got other things to do" sort of ideas.  But, like I said… I've got cold feet about the story I actually want to write, so I made this, instead.  x:

Word count: 17,853 – Character count: 2,939 Originally written: May 29th, 2019

A pushy bat and a reluctant fox go out to see a spook-house!  Zoinks!

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    “This ain’ what I expected t’ find, at all…!  Of all th’ things ta– un… believable!”

    Joseph softly panted, his ears flicking as he looked up from his… rather compromising position.  Seeing his best friend standing at the door gave him relief… until he realized why she covering her face and shaking her head.  Slowly, he turned his attention back to the person that had led him to being in such a predicament… only to see sweet, red eyes and an innocent, white-furred face… albeit, with some red stains around the mouth… staring back.  It was like they were looking to him for answers, as well.  Unfortunately, all the fox could tell either of them was…     “I– I can explain…  Uhn… I think…?”     The black-furred bat rolled her eyes.  “Oh, this ought’a be good…”     But, what, exactly, happened?  And, how did get to that point…? –––––

    “C’mon, Josey!  It’s Masquerade Week!  What better way t’ join th’ festivities than by goin’ to a real, live, spooky house…?  It’ll be fun!”

    That was the story Jessica sold her companion, the one-eyed, golden-furred fox by the name of Joseph, as she dragged him out of his house.  Truthfully, he really didn’t feel like going out… or, really, doing much of anything.  Two years prior, he’d lost his girlfriend in what could only be described as “a series of injustices.”  It really messed him up in a number of ways, such as leading him to stay indoors more often and lose motivation with his freelance music compositions.  Still, his friends wanted him to get out and have some fun, once-in-a-while – it was “good for him,” they said – and, for-better-or-worse, Jessica was the most adamant about it, often dragging him to one place or another… sometimes, completely against his will…

    “But, I don’t want to have fun!” Joseph protested as he found himself dragged by the arm of his black turtleneck sweater.     “Sure, ya do!” she immediately countered.  “Everyone likes fun!”     “You’re lying!”     “Nuh-uh!” the girl in the turquoise sweater and hip-hugging denim jeans further countered.  “What’s life without a li’l fun?”     “Safe…” was Joseph’s guess.     “Boooring!” was his companion’s correction.  “Now, siddown, strap in, ‘n let’s gooooo!”     “Doesn’t seem like you’re giving me much choice…”     That observation was a little self-evident, all things considered.  She had already pushed him into his car’s passenger seat, pulled the seat belt over, and fastened him in.  Once she slid over the hood of Joseph’s green compact car, she hopped into the driver’s side.     “This’ll be a hoot!” she told him while pulling the key from the fabric rolls of her cowl-neck sweater.  “I promise!”     “If you say so, Jess…”     “Hey… would I lie t’ you?”     Joseph grunted as she started the vehicle.  “Only if it was for a good cause…”     “Exactly!  Now, let’s get’a goin’!”     With that, she pulled out of his driveway and onto the road some meters away.  Not long after, they were on their way to her so-called “spooky house.”

    “Say, Jessie…”     The red-head with the pink fringe hummed to her companion.  Her red-and-green eyes were focused on the road, but her ears pivoted toward him, showing that he had her attention.     “Where did you say this place was?  We’ve been driving for a while…”     “It’s way-way-waaay out ‘n th’ boonies!” was her cheerful reply.  “Ever hear of a place called ‘Talwar Village?’”     “You’re… you’re talking me to Talwar Village?”  Joseph scowled.  “Jessie, that’s… like… almost a day’s drive over!”     “It’s a good thing we’re leavin’ now, huh?”     Joseph looked at the clock on the dashboard.  It read “11:20 AM.”     “No– Jessie, stop the car,” he said as he whipped his head back toward the driver.  “I did not agree to a road trip!  Stop, turn around, go back.”     “Oh, don’t be such a whiner, Josey!  It’s not like ya had someplace t’ be!”     “Jessica, I’m serious.”  He glared at the perky bat.  “Stop.  The car.  Now.”     Jessica didn’t respond to his stern order and just kept on driving while quietly humming a song he recognized as one of his own.     “Stop.  The.  Car.”     Again, she didn’t respond.  Joseph was starting to get angry…     “Jessica U. Ingmann, if you don’t stop this fucking car right now, I will–”     “You’ll what?” she finally snapped.  “Bail?  Yank th’ wheel outta my hands?  Go ‘head!  See what ‘appens, bitch!”     The fox’s ears folding into a somewhat-hostile position and he growled, baring his teeth at Jessica.  Clearly, he didn’t appreciate being encouraged to cause a car accident.

    “Jessica…” he eventually called in a much calmer voice.  “Please.  I don’t want to go on a road trip.  I’m asking nicely… turn the car around and take me home.  Okay?”     At that point, the bat-girl finally glanced his way.     “Gods damn it, Joe…” she said with a sigh.  “Yer such a big baby sometimes…”     “You all-but-kidnaped me to go on some mystery road trip with you, Jess!  You won’t even tell me where, specifically, we’re going!”  He sighed, as well, before calming back down.  “I didn’t want to come and I don’t want to go…  I just want to go back home… where I can’t upset or hurt anyone.”     “Dunno if ya noticed, kiddo… but, if ya ain’t drove me off, by now… nothin’ ya say ‘r do’s gonna bug me, none.”     Joseph blinked, his ears perking.  Jessica was grinning at him.

    “Yer gonna have t’ trus’ me on this trip, Joe.  Ya know I’d never do anythin’ that’d make ya miserable!  ‘cept eat all yer food, that one time.  Buuut, heeey!  I promise, this trip’ll be worth it.  Jus’… ya know… be patient?”     She paused, retrieving a small device from her collar, which she handed over.     “Play some cell phone games ‘f yer bored?  Ya dun have t’ talk ta me ‘n it’s okay ‘f yer mad at me.  Jus’… ya know…  I want’cha t’ see this place.  I been.  It’s worth it.”     “I…  Of course, I trust you, Jess.  It’s just…”  He gave another sigh before looking down at the floor of the car.  “You’re just so impulsive, sometimes…  I barely even had time to get dressed, I didn’t brush my teeth or comb my fur…  I’m surprised you even grabbed my phone.”     “‘course, I did!”  She grinned a little more.  “We migh’ get lost, where we’re goin’!”     “Really.”  When she gave a nod, he lightly chuckled.  “We’ll see, I guess…”     “Tha’s th’ spirit!  Ooh, speakin’ of… hope we see some’a them!”     “I’ll keep an eye out.  And, Jessie?”     Her ears gave a flick.  “Mm?”     There was a brief pause… then, Joseph told her, “Thanks.”     “Oh, dun thank me, love!”  The bat-girl wiggled in her seat.  “I’ve been dyin’ t’ get’cha inta this place!  Watchin’ ya react t’ all th’ obvious spookums is gonna be so much fuuun…!”     “Heh.  If you say so…”  The fox flipped open his phone and booted up a game before telling her, “Just don’t be surprised if my reaction to jump-scares is pretty dull…”     “Weee shaaall seeeee, mwa ha ha ha haaah!”     Her “spooky voice” finally got Joseph to crack a smile… which made her smile even brighter!  She always enjoyed trying to cheer him up, but it really made her day when it worked!

    Time moved on as the numbers on the travel meter added up.  Two pit-stops and dinner at a truck stop delayed their journey ever-so-slightly, but as the sun swung from one side of the sky to the other, they knew they were drawing closer to their destination.  That, and there was a road sign signaling “Talwar Village” being ten kilometers away.

    “Man, when I said this place was ‘almost a day’s drive,’” Joseph commented as he noticed the sky, “I wasn’t thinking it really would be!  But, yeah.  It’s getting dark.  I can see the stars– well, I could see the stars, I mean.  All these trees kind of make it hard.”     “It’s okay, Josey!” the driving bat told him.  “Soon, it’ll be completely dark ‘n ya can look out th’ window at th’ beaaautiful night’s sky right above us!”     “I also kind of forgot that Talwar really was out in the sticks.  Uh, no pun intended.”     Jessica snorted with laughter.  “Suuure, it wasn’t!”     “My brain’s just wired for puns, sometimes – you know that.”     “Mm-hmm, jus’ like my brain’s wired fer tacos.”     The fox tilted his head.  “Uh… I don’t think that’s how–”     “Here’s our turn!”     Joseph hadn’t been full paying attention, but…     “Huh?  Wait.  What did that big sign say?  It looked important.”     “Dun worry ‘bout that, Goldie!  Jus’ settle in fer a long, bumpy ride!”     “What do you mean, ‘a–’ guh-uh-uhh!”

    Before he could finish repeating her thought, he got his answer.  The road had suddenly turned rough and bumpy – and, for good reason!  In the glow of the headlights, Joseph saw that…     “This road isn’t paved.”     “Yep!  Rather, nope!” Jessica corrected herself.     “Jessica…”  Joseph looked at his companion with concern.  “Why isn’t this road paved?”     “‘cuz, it’s a primitive road!” was her overly-simple answer.     “Is this a road…?”  He gave a heavy grunt as the vehicle hit something that made it jump.  “You sure someone didn’t just cut a swath through the woods and call it a day…?”     “This is a recognized road, hun.  It’s even on maps!” she assured him.  “But, it just ain’ maintained by Talwar.”     That made Joseph curious…  “Why not?”     “Well… it’s partly ‘cuz th’ owner’a this land won’t give th’ township permission…  ‘e kinda jus’ wants t’ be left to ’is lonesome.”     “Oh.  I see.”  Joseph paused… then, he hummed.  “Wait.  he wants to be left alone… but, he has a haunted house?”     “‘Spooky house,’ Joe!” she corrected with a grin.     “Okay, ‘spooky house.’  Still, it seems a little suspicious that–”     “This road ain’t really s’posed t’ be driven on by modern vehicles,” Jessica suddenly interjected.  “It’s s’posed t’ be driven by carriage!  Adds to th’ atmosphere!”     “Oh.  That… actually makes a lot of sense.”  Once again, he had to pause for thought.  “Wait, if this isn’t supposed to be driven… why are we driving it?”     There was another pause, though it was Jessica’s, instead of his.     “I know th’ guy what runs th’ house,” she eventually told him.  “‘e invited me over t’ see what’s what, ‘n… stuff!”     “Wait, but you said…’”  The fox narrowed right eye…before remembering that it was hidden under an eyepatch.  He narrowed his left eye, then, before saying, “This sounds a little–”     “We’re here!!”     Joseph gave a blink, staring out the windshield.  Situated ahead of their vehicle was a rather large, rather imposing manor that took up quite a lot of real estate within a grassy clearing within the deep woods.

    Just from what he could see, the large building was roughly the width of four-or-five normal houses and it appeared to have at least three floors to it, including the ground floor…  It was also painted in shades of brown, ranging from dark chocolate to cocoa with some of the trim being sand-colored.  There were many windows in front and one-or-two balconies on the second floor, as well as a large porch in front with six steps leading up to a massive double-door.

    “What… hang on…”  Joseph squinted.  “Is that… are those…  Jessie?”     “Yeesss?” the girl asked, grinning as she turned off the engine.     “This place… doesn’t look spooky, at all.”

    A closer look around revealed to Joseph that the porch was decorated with some colorful paper lanterns and, curiously, there was a swinging bench on the porch with some floral-print cushions.  Some of the windows of the manor also had small plants on their shelves and several of them had elegant curtains on the inside.  However, there was a distinct lack of bats… ravens… dark clouds or lightning… anything even remotely “spooky!”  In fact, it just looked like a fancy mansion that didn’t even look that old, much less imposing.

    “Oh, dun let th’ cheery exterior fool ya!” Jessica told him as she exited the vehicle.  “It’s th’ real deal, ‘nside!”     “No, seriously, Jess…”  The fox frowned as he left his car and followed the excited bat up onto the porch.  “This place just looks like a hidden millionaire’s house… or, something.  I mean, did you see the potted plants?  Look at this cute little swing!  Jessie, this place is not spooky…”     The bat-girl tilted her head, giving her companion a curious, almost innocent look.     “In fact,” he continued, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you just hauled me to some random location, far away from town!  Are you even sure this is the right place?”     “‘f this wasn’ th’ right place…” Jessica started with a smirk, “would I ‘ave th’ key?”     Joseph gave a blink as the girl withdrew something from her pocket.  It did, indeed, look like a metal key… one that was perfectly ordinary and seemed to match the modern lock on the right-hand door.     “I dunno…?” he said as she unlocked the door.  “Knowing you, you might’ve got a key from some dude you were dating, then decided to go raid his house while he was away on vacation…”     “Joseph.  Really.”  Jessica gave a look of disbelief.  “Would I do that?”     “I dunno.”  The fox smirked.  “You tell me.”     For a few moments, Jessica didn’t respond.  After that, she gave a wink and a grin, wrapped one hand around the old-style door handle, put a thumb on the lever, and gave it a push.  Not long after, the door opened inward, revealing the interior of the manor to them both.

    Joseph had expected the inside of the mansion to look a little different from the outside… but, he hadn’t been expecting the radical difference between the styles!  The outside looked like it had been maintained and updated with the times, but the inside almost looked like something from the era of magic and superstition!     The foyer led straight ahead and onto another set of double-doors at the end of a colossal hallway that, to Joseph’s view, might have been even bigger than the entryway of the Tower of Masamune!  The hall, itself, looked wide enough to house several vehicles side-by-side, and the number of doors on the ground floor, alone, was astounding!  There must have been a good thirty doors on that floor, alone… which made him wonder how many more doors were up on the first floor, which lay at the end of a tall flight of stairs on either side of them.     Aside from the doors, there were also all the hallmarks of a stereotypical “spooky mansion,” such as suits of armor beside some doors and statues of various figures he didn’t recognize resting on pedestals beside others.  There were a couple of velvet-cushioned chairs, here-or-there, and many paintings of people – mostly fancy women – on the walls.  Finally, hanging above them was a massive, elegant chandelier made of crystal and gold.  He wasn’t sure if it was powered or had candles… but, it lit the entire room without trouble, either way.

    “Gah!!”     Suddenly, a resounding thoom from behind caught Joseph’s attention!  When he spun around to see what it was, he noticed… Jessica was grinning from-ear-to-ear, clearly trying not to laugh.  It was pretty obvious that she’d been the one to slam the door, trying to scare him.

    “What the Void, Jessica?!” he half-screeched as he put a hand over his chest.  “Are you trying to give me a heart attack…?”     “Told’ja this place was spoooooky, kiddo!” she laughed.     “That wasn’t ‘spooky!’” he protested.  “That was just… just… startling!”     “Jus’ gettin’ ya ready fer th’ spooks t’ come!”     The fox huffed and grumbled.  “You’re an ass, Jess…”     “‘n, yer adorable when yer frightened!” she retorted with a grin.  “Looket yer fur all stickin’ up ’n stuff!  I jus’ wanna pet’cha ’n tell ya everything’s aaall okay, aww…!”

    “What… ever.”  Joseph sighed, shaking his head.  “Anyway… what do we do, now?”     “First, I wanna show ya somethin’ cool…”     “Okay.  Lead o– h-hey, what are you–?”     “Take my hand, Joe,” she warned in an oddly serious tone.  “Dun want’cha gettin’ lost.”     “How could I get lost?” he asked as she led him toward the left staircase.  “This place doesn’t seem like it’d be hard to navigate…”     “Oh, trus’ me!  I been lost ‘n ‘ere, plenty!  Had’a wait fer Ro t’ come ‘n find me.  Was kind’a embarrassin’.”     “You had to wait for who to come find you?” Joseph asked.     “Ro,” she repeated as they sped past the first couple of doors on the first floor.  “Ya know!  Th’ overly-dramatic batty-bat what–”     Jessica came to a sudden stop – both in vocalizations and in motion.  Joseph had yanked on her arm.

    “I’m sorry…  Did you say… ‘Ro?’  As in, ‘Count Arturo Moretti?’”     Jessica’s ears fell, but she didn’t turn his way.  “Uuuh…”     “Count Moretti, Lord of the Moretti Clan of Vampires?”     “Uuuuuhh…”     “The same Vampire Lord who wants to flay me alive just because we’re friends?”     “Uuuuuuuuuuhhh…”     “And… this is his manor?  His home?”     Jessica didn’t repeat herself a third time.  Instead, she just gave an audible swallow.     “You brought me to the home of a guy who wants me dead?  You brought me into his domain?  You willingly put me into what could possibly be the most danger I have ever been in?  All because you were… what?  Bored?”     “I… th-thought you’d think it was neat…?” the bat skittishly responded.  Once she gave a nervous laugh, though, she had to turn around.  Joseph had wrenched his hand free from hers.     “Welp,” he said as he spun around, “this was a waste of time.  I’ll be outside.  In the car.”     “No, wait, don’t–!” Jessica called.  When the turned, though…  “Shhiiieeeet…”     It was too late.  Joseph… had vanished.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Hello I am here and so are you, so we have one thing in common already

✿Short and Sweet✿

I am looking for an 18+ long-term partner whose primary pairings are M/M. I don’t want anyone who takes things too seriously, RPing is a relaxing pastime and if I’m stressing about replying constantly/meeting word counts I’m going to hate it. That being said I do like doing paragraph replies with anywhere from 300-1000 words, depending on how long my replies are I can reply every day or every week (it really just depends on my motivation/mood/schedule)

Please skim over my interests and the like at the bottom to see how compatible we are. Since I’m looking for a long-term partner, I’d like for us to have several things in common. Please don’t contact me if only one or two of our interest match up. <3

✧Settings✧

Sci-fi/Space Opera

Post-apocalypse

Medieval/Fantasy

Modern Day (No generic High School/ Domestic stuff)

Historical

War

Fandom: Warhammer 40k, Star Trek, Star Wars, Mass Effect, Voltron:LD, Fallout, Elder Scrolls, Dragon Age, W.o.W., SnK, Tokyo Ghoul,  (I only do OcxOc in fandom settings. I will not play, or play against canon characters)

✧Kinks/Other✧

Likes

Size Differences

Power Bottoms

Gentle Giants

Fem Boys/Crossdressing (both as a sexual and non-sexual thing, really just depends on how it’s presented)

Monster boys/Men

Robots

Aliens

Toxic relationships

M/S Relationships

Bondage

Dislikes

Standard dislikes (Toiletplay, Bestiality, Pedophilia Etc.)

Incest

Mpreg

✧Contact✧

Email: Dunkmastersassquatch@gmail.com

Skype: Dunkmastersassquatch (Kaptain Krunch)

  ✿Long and Detailed✿

I am looking for a totally rad person who is 18 years of age or older and who places value in long-term partnerships/friendships. I like to get to know my partners and would like to be able to speak casually with them about our ideas or whatever. If you are also looking for someone who just wants to kick back and have some fun making our characters miserable then please continue below to see how well our interests line up!

✪ About Me✪

Age: 20

Times Zone: Central Time

Occupation: Severely depressed college student

Hello, I write and also draw and also am looking for an RP partner who shares many of my interests so we can write together for many, many years and over many RPs.

I’m pretty laid back about most things. I just ask that you communicate with me about things instead of just assuming and that you are fairly literate. (Text speech/ Lingo is a-okay as long as it’s OOC or fits the RP)

I’d like for us to be friends as well as partners because it helps motivate me to write/draw/ feel the good vibes ™. So please, please talk with me about your interests/ fandoms/day as well as any plot ideas or twists you may have because I will certainly jabber on about mine. BTW Feel free to say no to my ideas if you’re not interested, I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll get over it. (I will assume the same goes for you)

✪ About My Roleplaying ✪

Comfort level word count: 300-500

Tense: Third Person, Present (will do past if it’s super important to you)

Frequency: Depends, but if I’m at my comfort level I’ll probably be able to respond multiple times a day. Anything above that will of course take me longer.

I would prefer to RP over skype or some other IM system ( I could be convinced to get a Discord, but the thing is my internet is super slow and downloading it would take an hour, I’m not exaggerating it’s that bad, and I just really don’t feel like doing that right now)  however, E-mail is also okay.

Skype: Dunkmastersassquatch

Email: Dunkmastersassquatch@gmail.com

Grammar and what not is kind of important I guess, but not as important as content. I’m not sure if this ad is really an accurate example of my writing potential as I’m just kind of spewing out whatever. That being said if you’re okay with the level this ad is written at, then you’ll probably be okay with my actual writing. If you’re not okay with it then, eh, take a chance?

As for my characters, I play Doms, Subs, and Switches and don’t really have a preference for one over another. Keep in mind that sometimes my subs are whiney, uke boys and sometimes they will twist your nips and call you a cuck. AKA my character’s personalities are not dependent on their position in bed, HOWEVER sometimes their personality will, coincidentally, line up with the stereotype of their position.

✪ Pre-existing Ideas/Interest✪

Just to show you kind of how my mind works. Feel free to ask for one of these (and add to them <3) or not. The summaries don’t indicate which character I want to play (because I’m mostly good with playing either) so let me know if you have a preference towards a character.

✧General✧

Sci-fi/Space Opera:

1. I have this alien race that are essentially gender neutral, like there’s no way to tell their gender unless you get in their pants. They pretty much consider even KNOWING what gender they are as extremely intimate and somewhat taboo. So they take forever to choose a mate and when they do it’s for life. I’d be pretty down for doing something with that.

2. A near-homeless man finds an old broken down robot behind one of his favorite restaurants. It’s an old, outdated model, but he thinks he can fix it up with just a little time.

Post-apocalypse:

The world is broken, it’s times like this when people need to come together to rebuild what was lost. Like that’s going to happen, every semi-competent faction is vying for control of more land, more money. Its times like THIS when smart people, really smart people can get ahead. That’s just what the tactician is doing. He’s a smart guy who’s never lost a battle and he’s up for grabs to any faction that’s willing to shell out the cash. However, smart guys like that tend to make enemies and the faction he’s working for insists he have a bodyguard.

Supernatural:

1. It’s an equal exchange, the vampire bites you and gets fed and the represents they release gives you the high of your life. It’s only good business to do it in a hotel room or something so you’re not tripping on the streets, but what happens when your vampiric dealer doesn’t want to leave. (I have a bit more to this world so just ask if you’re interested)

2. He’s always been a bit of a loner, a ghost to society. When he moves into his new apartment he doesn’t really see it as much of a change, until he lays down to sleep and feels hands running through his hair.

Medieval Historical/Medieval Fantasy:

1. (Medieval Fantasy) This was the big expedition, this cave was going to have all the riches of his dreams. The cave-in however, that wasn’t to be expected. These cave were abandoned right? So why can he feel something watching him.

2. (Medieval Fantasy) After 10,000 an evil necromancer awakens from the curse that paladin put on him, he’s ecstatic to find out his Orc bodyguard was cursed too. Now they can continues their plans for world conquest and also get some revenge.

3. (Medieval Historical) He’s a highwayman all he wants is your money or your life. One day an unsuspecting priest comes along and tries to bargain for his life with the word of God. It’s didn’t work, but something in his eyes kept him from killing the priest.

4. (Medieval Fantasy) Someone’s plotting to kill the king and all bets are on the shady court magician. There’s no proof though, so the king assigns personal servants to all within his court as a “gift” (to spy) Maybe the court magician isn’t as evil as everyone says….or maybe he’ll have his new servant face down in the gutter by tomorrow.

Modern Day:

1. He’s been crushing on the cute boy in his precalculus class since the semester started. He finally gets the never to ask him out, only to later find out that his love interest is a furry. What’s a furry?

2. He had no clue his dorm mate was a mass murderer, what even more surprising is that he’s in love with him. (Killing Stalking sort of thing)

3. Crime Bosses weren’t supposed to fall in love, especially not with someone in law enforcement, even if that “law enforcement” is a mall cop.

Historical:

I don’t really have any prompts of my own I just put this here to let you know I’m into this too. Do refrain from using real people from history, I’m not into that. (Including real events/facts is A+ tho.)

Superheroes (actually mostly villains) and stuff:

1. He’s the number one fan of the number one bad guy in the world. Sure he wants to see the world burn, but if the posters on this nerd’s wall say anything it’s that he wants to watch it burn too.

2. The boss isn’t the smartest guy around, but that’s why he’s here. His henchman and unofficial bodyguard, he’s content to let his boss run about with his foolish plans even if the ones in his own head are 10x better.

✧Fandom✧

I will only do OCxOC in fandom settings. I will not play or play against canon characters. It’s just not my thing, sorry. v-v

Warhammer 40k:

*While I’m not a super lore whore I will try to keep pretty close to it. This means that, yes, I expect any Space Marine characters to be impotent. But I mean hey have you SEEN the size of their fingers, I mean, tsk, come on…COME ON…*

1. A Tzeentch/Slaaneshi psyker finds an ancient deamonic staff of domination (it’s prolly Slaaneshi too, let’s be honest) which forces its user’s will on one other person. Being a whimpey little psyker he decides to use it on a chaos lord of Khorne, who is pretty upset about the whole thing, to say the least. (this is actually based off two of my O.C.s we can keep as close to their story, or as far from is as you’d like.)

2. Love can bloom…or it can violently explode within the chamber of an ancient Eldar long rifle. While exploring some ancient ruins one day, a lone rogue trader finds a discarded rifle on the floor. Upon picking it up he finds that it…speaks to him? It’s really got a tongue on it too, but hey it’s too awesome of a weapon to give up.  (Yes this is a relationship between a man and the soul of an ancient Eldar that resides in a gun….)

Star Trek:

1. The son of a prominent Romulan commander abandons his duties and becomes a notorious smuggler. Now he’s on the run from the Tal’ Shiar (who are trying to drag him home), a Ferengi trader (whom he may or may not have sold faulty weapons to) and a Klingon bounty hunter (who he’s tempted to be captured by.)

2. Comfort women were a common sight within the quarters of Cardassian soldiers during the occupation. However, this Gul would rather seduce a known Bajoran resistance fighter. After all the greater the challenge, the greater the reward.

 Star Wars:

1. An admiral is supposed to be reliable, smart, and efficient he is, after all, in command of an entire fleet of ships. This admiral, as CT-7465 has found out, is a little too young and laid back for the job. (Clone Wars Era)

2. They were supposed to stay together, best friends fighting side by side against the Sith, until he became a Sith. (Pre Prequels.)

Voltron:LD:

1. A Galra commander is dragged along by one of his friends to one of those ridiculous slave auctions. He expected to sit there bored as his friend lusted over all his new “options”. For the most part he was right, but why does that boy keep catching his eye? (A sort of sweet Galra bby)

2. A Galra commander is fed up with spending his nights alone, he needs someone to share his bed and he wants them to be perfect. So he picks up one of those slave order catalogues and starts filling in all his specifications. When his slave finally arrives, he’s not quite what was ordered. (An abusive Galra bby)

3. (Alt. Universe) The Human Empire dominates the galaxy under Emperor Shiro Takashi and a recently promoted chancellor now has the kind of money he needs to fulfil one of his most devious fantasies: owning a Galra pet.

 Fallout:

I don’t really have any plots for this either, but I would absolutely love to do something in this universe!

 Elder Scrolls:

He’s a nord:  strong, hearty, well endowed, and he’s got Talos to thank for it. Now these elves come in and tell him Talos is no God, well that’s just not right. But the Thalmor agent that’s threatening his arrest is really, really handsome.

Dragon Age:

1. The Inquisitor is just a normal guy who happens to have a glowing hand. Completely normal right? And normal people don’t really find the company of extravagant Teventer mages and buff Qunari spies to be all that appealing (no matter how handsome they may be.) No, he needs someone simpler, someone who can remind him he’s still just a normal guy. (I don’t really consider the inquisitor to be a canon character b/c they’re kinda player based.)

2. Seheron belongs to no one but the ones who live here, he wishes the Qunari and the Teventers would learn that and leave his home alone. He’s getting sick of only feeling safe when the fog covers him. (Fog Warrior/Qunari Soldier)

W.o.W.:

Does it count as necrophilia if they’re Undead?

Blood elves are pompous stuck ups and orcs are barbaric savages, so why are they fighting on the same side?

   Tokyo Ghoul: *Trigger Warning for suicidal thoughts*

A recent high-school graduate learns he’s contracted a terminal disease. His parents are too poor to afford treatment, in fact they’re too poor to support him or his four siblings. Since he’s going to die anyways, he might as well spare them the cost for the few months he has left. But he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else having to clean up his dead body. Maybe he can at least be useful in killing himself, ghouls eat people, right?

✧Tropes✧

Monsters: I love QT monster boys (slime boys, nagas etc.), but I also love big bara giants. My thing is either: their head and torso are humanoid and everything else can be whatever OR they have to be a full blown, all out monster (they have to have sentience though, I’m not into bestiality stuff.)

Size Difference (ranges from slight difference to HOLY HELL YOU ARE MASSIVE WTF I ONLY COME UP TO YOUR STOMACH): I love big bara boys who fall in love with small tiny babes. The big bara can be all super macho or whatever I’m into that too, but what I really, really like is when they’re a squishy romantic who is completely devoted to their bby. Like they are willing to do anything their tiny love says at a moment’s notice. Bonus if the tiny boy is an absolute argumentative spitfire.

Age Differences: I don’t care how big the age gap is so long as the youngest is 18 or older.

Hey, Listen: This seems like a good place to put one of those “if you’ve read this far” things, not that I expect everyone to. However, if you have read all this then put the words “coco for cocoa puffs” somewhere in your message to me. <3

Toxic Relationships: Physically or mentally abusive (or both). Things can either work out in the end with the abusive cunt changing their ways, or not. I’m good with either.

Angst: I’m completely okay with letting characters straight up die. If that’s not something you’re into just say so and we can keep it fairly happy. However, if it’s something you’re willing to do HIGHFIVE!

Hopeless romance: In complete contrast to Toxic relationships I’m also into 100% fluffy and supportive relationships (so long as they both go through some hell. Can’t keep things too happy)

One-Sided: I love when characters think they are in a hopelessly one-sided love (but in fact aren’t). What would make it even better is if they are casually having sex with each other (because their friends with benefits/ one of them thinks the other is imagining someone else/ whatever) while both of them are secretly in love with each other, but neither of them knows it. Love is confusing.

Yandere/Ice King: Self explanatory

Unlikely Lovers: This could be characters who hate each other, but are hopelessly attracted to each other, people on opposing sides (Good Guy/Bad Guy) who fall in love, or characters who hate each other at first due to prejudices (ex. Orc/Elf) but are forced to work together and fall in love along the way.

✪ About 18+ Content: ✪

✧Violence/Cursing✧

I am okay with gore and death and the eternal void so long as it’s fitting/ pre-planned/ we’ve been writing together for a while and you know what you want to do won’t upset me.

I’ve avoided doing it (I think) in this ad out of respect for other’s preferences, but I my cuss level is that of someone who has recently stubbed their pinkie toe against the corner of the bed. So, if you want to contact me please be okay with that, it’s understand able if you yourself don’t want to cuss, but don’t try and force that standard on me. (This goes for pretty much everything else involving ideals/morals)

✧Sexual Situations✧

Obviously, you have to be 18+, even though I kinda said that at the very beginning I want to say it again. If you’re not 18+ and I find out you’re not I will immediately drop you and also likely report you as underage to which ever site you came to me from. You are endangering people when you pull that kind of stuff. So, if you’re under 18 (even if you’re 17 and your birthday is just two months away or the age of consent in your country is below 18) don’t contact me.

Anywhoo, I love smut, but I don’t want it to overtake the RP. I am pretty kink friendly, but I do have limits (which I’m about to list) if there’s something you’re having doubts about just ask, please don’t assume what I’m okay/not okay with.

Kinks I enjoy:

<3 <3 BDSM: Collars, bondage, S&M

<3 Violence: Biting, Scratching, Light asphyxiation

<3 <3 <3Power Bottoms: AKA I love when the smaller guy gets it in the bum, but he’s got complete control of how his top moves (demanding that he slow down/speed up that sort of thing)

Kinks that I think are pooie:

Pooie

Watersports

Necrophilia

Pedophilia

Bestiality

Incest

Mpreg

[zoraydas-domain]

Oh you're going to regret having so many characters! Can we get... 10, 29, 33 and 41 for Jasttor, 7, 12, 18 and 35 for Helmi, 10, 20 and 31 for Integrity, 6, 22 and 24 for Quilana? Aaaaaaaaaaand 9, 19, 23 and 24 for Ilweth!

Jasttor

10. What energizes and drains them the most?

Jasttor really likes exploring new places. He wants to see all of it and he’ll go climb on the damn rocks like a crazy person to check it all out. It also gives him the best view if he’s trying to sketch out a map, when he does it. He’s also super energized by any form of contest, whether it be a great spar or game with a clear winner.What’s draining for Jasttor is having to sit still for long amounts of time. He can do it, and he has, but he doesn’t like it. He likes to be up and around instead of listening to, say, a long speech or lecture or something. He’ll be inexplicably tired after having his brain “turned on” without moving for so long.

29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative?

Jasttor, like I’ve mentioned a few times, likes drawing maps. Especially of new places. It’s kind of like taking a picture of a place you’ve been and looking back on it later, remembering all the stuff you did there. This makes him really good at exploring, and he has a knack for finding his way around places. He rarely gets lost. However, he doesn’t do his cartography much anymore, seeing it as a time sink when he should be doing more important things. He also has a deep-seated interest in the lore behind old dragonborn tales and the stories and legends of Bahamut. He tries to reflect their values and actions, which can be really good at some times, and leaves him at a loss in other situations.

33.  How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things?

He’s not exactly the type to love learning in an environment dedicated to it, but when he’s in a new city or a landmark he’s never been to before, he wants to know everything about it. Like I mentioned before, he likes to see it, be in it, have it all around him. Jasttor learns by experience and observation more than anything–basically any environment that doesn’t feel like “learning”. Also, when he gets into his creative process, it’s not manic or anything like that–he’s slow and deliberate and keeps going until he finishes what he’s doing. The only reason anything is left unfinished is because something else more important took over and gave him no time for what he considers a less important hobby.

41.  What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

Morning sun over the ocean, nimbus clouds, steady, youth, strength hiding weakness

Jasttor’s young and therefore still a little impulsive, but he’s a strong and steady presence for most. He’s reliable and loyal, but his strength does hide some fear and insecurity. He still has a lot of hope for the future and feels like… light, I guess? He’s also a bronze dragonborn, naturally attuned to the sea and always crackling with electricity. Another thing the sun versus storm could represent: He’s definitely a spiritual person, believing that having faith is important–in your deity, in people, in the future. It makes him a bit naive at times, and can lead to a harder emotional fall and bitterness that runs deep when something bad happens.

Helmi

7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these?

Helmi is a very touchy person. They must touch everything. Now, they know that not all people are comfortable with this so they have gotten better at reading people before tackling them with hugs and affection, so it’s not too much anymore. They’re very hands-on with the environment, but they are very particular about cleaning up after they’re done. During the building and experimenting process, their workplace is a mess, but they’re constantly cleaning it and it’s spotless at night. First lesson in building: keep your workplace organized!

12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouth, and hands?

Gosh. Imagine a cartoon. That’s Helmi. They’re just very all over the place, bouncy, and extroverted–even though they’re holed up in the lab all the time. Anytime Helmi gets out of there to interact with people, they are generally the center of attention. If happy, there’s a literal bounce in their step. If they’re angry, pouty lips, brows drawn low, crossed arms. If you’re a friend, you get a big smile and probably a hug.

18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why?

They eventually want to go back home, or live somewhere near their father again, and continue in the tradition of gnomes building amazing things and teaching each other the things they’ve learned. The most likely thing that will happen, barring bad Tiamat stuff, is that they go home or close to it and do just that. The worst is that they ultimately fail in learning anything useful, feel like a useless person, and go off to find somewhere to try and fervently find something that makes them worthy. I would like to see Helmi do the former, but perhaps find some friends and form bonds with people and continue to be a presence in their lives.

35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them?

Helmi absorbs information like a sponge. They’ve always been very observant and clever, deducting and inferring information and having excellent questions. Knowledge they keep around is usually about how something moves or functions, whether it be mechanical or biological. Things in motions fascinate them, and it’s inspired a lot of ideas. Sure, they really like making weapons, but shit that moves autonomously is what they really like.

Integrity

10. What energizes and drains them most?

Not… much truly energizes Integrity in the way she once was anymore. She has bouts of more fire when an emergency happens and she snaps to, taking control of the situation. She also gets a little more energized when people need her. She has to feel needed. Otherwise, activity is draining. Thinking is draining. This is why alcohol helps–less thinking.

20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships?

She mothers people in her own way. She likes to take care of people, even if she can be blunt or a bit intimidating. With the average person she feels nothing for, she doesn’t change all that much. She still tells them what to do and is her usual self, uncaring of others’ opinions for her. She doesn’t really have any intimate relationships right now, so knowing how she acts in them is a bit difficult to discern.

31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why?

Positively, she really likes when people stick up for the “little guys”. Minorities, someone who can’t defend themselves, someone being bullied–she appreciates when others stand against the crowd for them. She really liked Havine for that reason, even if she didn’t get to know her all that well. Disloyalty is a quick way to get Integrity to hate you forever. Betray her or the people you trust, and not only will she hold a grudge, but she’ll make certain to make your life miserable any way she can.In general, Integrity considers it a really good day when nobody gets hurt or when she’s made a positive difference where she can. It’s bad when someone dies under her care, even if it’s not her fault.

Qilana

6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these?

Qilana is most often teaching others. She has a proper, professional demeanor here, with crisp movements and a way of speech that seems sure even if it’s entirely rehearsed and practiced to push past her natural shyness. If she doesn’t have “material” or anything to help her know what to do, she’s a lot more mousy and closed in on herself, but still very cordial and polite. She just isn’t all that sure of herself in general and has a naturally quiet and often-overlooked personality.

22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ?

In general, people assume she’s helpless or shy because of her behavior. When she does magic, people are shocked because she’s actually quite talented–not just because of her natural sorcery, but because she knows it in a way that she can manipulate it to her will. She’s also very intelligent, possibly even more so than Helmi–at least in the booksmart sort of way. She’s always surprising people with the things she can do.

24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference?

Like I mentioned, she’s painfully quiet and shy. She’s easily intimidated by social situations and seems unsure most of the time. When relaxed, she is still fairly quiet, and listens more than she speaks, but she’s obviously much more easygoing and has lengthy discussions about whatever interests her.

Ilweth

9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions?

Energy is manifested through excited words, touching things, and big smiles. Exhaustion is something she tries not to show outwardly, but she’ll get quiet and miss opportunities to try and snap at people. Tension is manifested by her being particularly nasty, her body closes in on itself by folding her arms, and she avoid direct eye contact unless trying to make a point. When she’s truly happy and at ease, she’s quiet, but it’s not tense, and she seems relaxed. If greatly upset… well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen to this poor thing.

19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why?

She’s basically the sarcastic asshole. In the New Dawn, as prisoner, she was just the bitter brat making scathing remarks constantly and trying to impose some power over them in her weakened position. If she was a part of a trusted group of people, she would be the smart mage, scoffing at the idiots in the group and teaching them better so she can be less embarrassed in their presence. In a group of strangers, she’s much more hostile, revealing nothing about herself and hiding her power in case she needs to use it against them.

23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult?

Difficult social moments are ones she can’t conquer or dominate over. Ilweth demands control over every social situation as a display of power and for her own comfort–if she controls the flow of conversation, nothing unexpected will happen and she won’t reveal anything she doesn’t want to. Anything she isn’t controlling makes her uncomfortable, and she eventually shuts down to say nothing at all.

24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference?

Ilweth is stuck-up and sarcastic, prickly with everyone new until they prove themselves to be worthy of her presence. This haughty behavior is picked up from the cult she was a part of, where her superiors were hard and unforgiving, and her peers competed and fought at every turn about every little thing. So she has a front of toughness and anger that drives people away from even trying to be social with her. Her true self hasn’t really appeared yet, but we’ve seen little pieces with Kitrick. She’s actually really funny, and can be thoughtful and sweet if she really tries or has the desire to.