#chances are I’m tuning out people’s voices but not those higher pitched sounds

[fluffydice]

Kuboyasu once whistled and/or clicked at Saiki to get his attention. He never does it again because Saiki nearly killed him once he realized that it actually worked

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[beauregardlionett]

this poem is my confessional (loving you isn’t a sin)

AO3 Link

A/N: big shout out to my man @sadwizardvibes for the inspiration AND for writing me a fucking song to go with this piece thanks for fueling my beauyasha brainrot man <3

If she was honest with herself, giving Beau that poem had been entirely an impulse decision. Yasha had told Jester she would work on it—which she did—and that she would find a special moment for it. But most of the moments she shared with Beau were special to her, so that didn’t exactly narrow things down. She cherished every conversation and tried her hardest to keep Beau safe. Especially after the events at the chantry, Yasha appreciated every moment she got with Beau.

So, she had handed the paper over and prayed she didn’t embarrass herself.

Beau had seemed flustered, touched, and Yasha had wanted nothing more than to kiss her then and there. But she had held back, because she wanted Beau to at least read the poem before anything else happened.

And then all of that insanity with Vess and Molly—no, Lucien—had happened, and Yasha found herself grateful nothing else had transpired between her and Beau. She hated to think the memory of their potential first kiss might have been marred by the events following.

Regardless, they were underway toward Aeor; the snowy landscapes were taxing, endless, and a little boring. Supposedly it was a good thing they had encountered none of the foretold beasts, but Yasha harbored a lot of pent up frustration and nerves. It would be nice to have something to take that out on.

At the end of their second day, Caleb set up his tower. He ushered them all inside to a haven of warmth and stained glass they were becoming steadily more familiar with. Dagon seemed understandably impressed with the magical structure and grateful for the guest room he was directed to.

Usually they would gather up for dinner together, but there seemed to be a silent, unanimous decision that exhaustion took precedence. They retired to their various rooms with yawns and quiet ‘good nights’, safe for the time being. Yasha lay on her back on the cot in the room with the floral mural. She traced an absent gaze over the patterns, identifying flowers in her head and hoping it would lull her anxious mind to sleep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Molly—Lucien—and what they would do when they caught up to him. Yasha couldn’t stop thinking about Beau, about the poem she carefully tucked away to read later. Yasha couldn’t help but remember of Zualla as she stared at the flowers on her wall.

There was a knock at her door.

Pushing to her feet after a moment, Yasha walked to her door to poke her head out. She was confused about who might be at her door at this hour until her eyes found Beau fidgeting on the other side of the threshold.

“Hi,” Beau mumbled, hands behind her back.

“Hi,” Yasha breathed back, opening the door a little wider. “Are you okay? It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Beau said, voice pitching up a little at the end in a tell Yasha quickly realized meant she was nervous. “Yeah, I just uh…”

Yasha raised an eyebrow at Beau’s nerves, unused to a Beau who floundered. She realized in the second before Beau pulled the piece of parchment out from behind her back what this was about. The Aasimar flushed pink and her eyes flicked to the ground, embarrassed.

“This was…really beautiful, Yasha,” Beau mumbled, fingers fiddling with the edges of the paper. “But I uh…I noticed this.”

Yasha chanced a look up, Beau extending the paper and pointing to a tiny note scrawled in the bottom corner. She had forgotten about that.

In her messy, cramped handwriting, Yasha had scrawled the word harp? She had been considering turning her poem into a song, because it was always easier for her to express things through music. Plus, she knew that Beau enjoyed her music, so why wouldn’t she put it to chords? But Yasha ended up pushing the idea aside. It was one thing for Beau to like Yasha’s wordless performances, and a whole other for Yasha to direct poetry with music toward the woman of her affection.

“It was…just an idea,” Yasha said with a half-hearted dismissive gesture.

“Would you play it for me?”

Yasha felt her cheeks grow warmer, more red than pink now. But before she could give it too much thought, the Aasimar felt herself nodding. She stood aside and let Beau into her room, leading the monk back into the chamber painted with flowers.

Beau sat cross-legged on the floor across from Yasha as the Aasimar tuned her harp. She took a little longer with the task than strictly necessary, just so she could freak out in silence.

Of course, she had prepared chords for this, because she had run with the idea. But Yasha shied away from it, losing her courage. Music was something that had helped Yasha heal, a meditation in her own way. It brought her peace and offered her an outlet for emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. So, to have Beau sitting before her, eyes trained solely on Yasha, was intense and nerve-wracking.

If Yasha had learned anything, though, it was that she could trust Beau. The monk had been looking out for her, and for the entire group, since day one. Before Beau had trusted any of them, she had still been looking out for them. It was something Yasha admired about Beau—her capacity to care and to love despite everything she had been through. Beau inspired Yasha to keep fighting.

The least she could do was play this for her.

She didn’t need the parchment back. Yasha had spent hours pouring over the words and the chords to make sure it sounded perfect.

Oh, oh Beau, I’m grateful for you.

You waited while I wandered,

While everyone was wondering

If I’d ever come back, you stayed true.

Her voice faltered slightly at the start, uncertain and underused, but she persisted. Beau’s eyes on her simultaneously made her nervous and strengthened her resolve.

Oh, oh Beau, you mean so much to me,

I’ve lost so many people,

I cannot fathom losing

The woman who has loved so fearlessly.

Yasha rarely sang. She used to sing for Zualla in those quiet stolen moments years ago. When they were out in the fields alone, walking or hunting or just existing to stare at the stars. She sang once for Molly, both of them a little past tipsy after a good night for the circus. He had told her she possessed a voice fit for performances, but Yasha had waved him off.

Her voice was sweet, higher than her speaking voice because she sang from her nose and her head. It threw most people for a loop, but Beau merely sat there and stared. Her blue eyes were wide with awe, lips slightly parted. If Yasha didn’t know Beau couldn’t be charmed, she would almost think the monk under a spell.

And I’ve ambled and trekked over miles and miles,

Every step lead me straight back to you.

You gave me the space to learn where I belong

And I’ll tell you right now, it’s the truth.

It was almost like nothing else existed. Yasha’s fingertips buzzed against the taut strings of the harp, her voice vibrated in her chest, and Beau’s eyes stayed fixated on Yasha’s face. This was all that mattered right now, and Yasha couldn’t think of what existed before this, or what might exist after.

Oh, oh Beau, the one I’m thinking of,

I want to hold your hand and

Stand quietly beside you.

I want to confess, you’re my love.

The last strum of her harp faded into silence, and Yasha reveled in the peace vibrating through her veins. She had rarely known stillness like this before discovering music.

Beau sniffed, and Yasha twitched as she startled, eyes snapping up to Beau’s face. The monk still stared at her, eyes wide and watering.

No one’s ever written me a poem before. Yasha remembered the soft-spoken admission as a tear tumbled down Beau’s cheek. She guessed without asking that no one ever sung for Beau before, either.

“Yasha…” Beau breathed. “That was incredible. Your voice…”

The Aasimar ducked her head, not even trying to suppress the smile pulling at her lips. Beau’s awe was so genuine, Yasha barely knew how to face it head on.

“I didn’t know if you would…y’know want to hear it like that. Or if you would just rather read it,” Yasha rambled, running her fingers with absent focus up and down one string on her harp. “So…yeah, I mean, it’s a song, too. But it was originally a poem. For you.”

“Yeah,” Beau’s voice cracked. “I don’t—Yasha, that was…incredible. You’re incredible. You wrote that? For me?”

“Of course,” Yasha said, looking up again with a small frown. The note of disbelief in Beau’s voice upset her. Why wouldn’t she write a poem for Beau?

“Thank you,” Beau said, her voice overflowing with an emotion Yasha could empathize with, but couldn’t name.

“I am glad you liked it,” Yasha said as she set her harp aside. She didn’t know where to go from here. Jester had said Beau was waiting for Yasha to make the first move, and this…was this enough? It felt weird to question that kind of thing because Yasha had been married before. Theoretically, she should know how to do this. But then again, everything she and Zualla had done had been in secret. Yasha never learned how to express affection for someone openly.

And knowing what she did about Beau, Yasha figured that the monk had no better clue in any of this than she did.

“Maybe uhm…” Yasha started, but stopped. She didn’t want to mess this up. “Maybe after we finish this job…we could, y’know…get dinner? Just us?”

Watching a slow smile spread and pull at Beau’s lips was like watching a sunrise. It began slowly, a little hesitantly, colors bleeding into and washing away the darkness of Beau’s uncertainty. It was a gentle harbinger that lasted a lifetime in no time at all. Then, between one blink and the next, the sun. Beau grinned with wild abandon, lips pulled wide to reveal her teeth, and eyes scrunching at the corners with the force of it. Yasha’s heart went giddy in her chest at the mere sight of Beau’s joy.

“I’d like that,” Beau whispered. There was the same quiet, awed excitement in her voice from when she first received Yasha’s poem.

Yasha’s cheeks hurt from how hard she was smiling. “It’s a date.”

[cyberaxolotl]

Tricks Over Treats

two versions woo hee

and then the writing piece to go along with it

“An Alternate Desire”

For an all popular DJ, he had a lot more to know about him than what was known to the public, some of which stayed shrouded in mystery to even his boyfriend and closest friends. One of the things he did make very clear to anyone who saw him around that time of year was that he was a HUGE fan of Halloween. Spooky jack-o-lanterns, sweets, costumes, he still thoroughly enjoyed it, even as an adult. He loved remixing classic Halloween tunes to add a more techno vibe to them, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. And finally, he loved the scares; he was willing to be a bit sick around that time of year with his jokes, as anything scary was widely accepted and usually expected.

Especially not now, when there’s a Halloween party for all the musicians in Rhythm Heaven to attend, as well as any plus 1’s they might wish to have with them. Hosted by the rap men (obviously) and having as many different types of music as you could think of playing one after the other in the main hall, it was going to be a great party to have a good laugh. And for everyone to see any friends they had made since the Battle Of The Bands.

DJ Yellow, of course, had Blue with him. While his boyfriend wasn’t the biggest fan of that scary time of year, he still enjoyed talking to some of the others and seeing them all happy.

“I need to put my costume on in the car, but I’ll be inside in just a moment!” DJ Yellow said, nudging his partner while they were in the entrance hall.

“…Why didn’t you just put it on while we were at the apartment?” Blue asked, turning around. His costume itself was rather plain, he was just dressed as a vampire with a little bit of fake blood on his chin, but he was perfectly happy with that. It was one of the few times of year when he’d go out with his dreadlocks down, too.

“Cause! I wanted it to be a surprise for you too!” Deej gave a quick finger gun, before slipping out the door. His boyfriend sighed, feeling only mildly inconvenienced that he’d need to be alone at a party for a few minutes, and moreover very anxious. He never was one for direct social interaction.

As he walked into the main hall, he was immediately addressed. “Heeey, Blue!” A happy sounding, higher pitched voice called out to him, and he immediately knew who it was. “Where’s Yellow?” B.B. Rocker asked him, standing shorter than him and only around his chest height.

“Yellow’s in the car putting his costume on. Chances are, he just forgot to put it on at home.” He replied, looking down at his friend. They wore a costume that was… on the stranger side, but not out of character for them. It was an orange-white tabby cat suit with a denim dress put on over it, a pair of matching cat ears sitting in their ginger hair. They looked rather cute, if Blue’s bisexual ass could say so himself.

“Ah, so did J.J. He’s getting changed in the bathroom.” They turned away, looking down another hallway in the back of that room.

Blue sighed. “Oh boy…”

“What?”

“J.J.’s here, Yellow’s gonna be here soon. Chances are sometime in the night that is not going to end well.” He folded his arms, glancing away. There were certainly a lot of people there, like MC Adore and her love posse all in matching costumes, the Pop Singer Yui in a cutesy zombie outfit, and apparently even the rap women had managed to slip in, as Rosebud and Sapphie were happily talking to a trio of ghosts. What stood out to him, though, was the fact that the rap men were nowhere to be seen. If they were hosting that gig, they should’ve either been in the entrance hall greeting people, or in the main hall talking.

“Oh, you’re right. Guess we’ll just have to hope they don’t directly cross paths and say something shitty to each other, huh?” B.B. sighed as well, holding the back of their neck.

“You know it’s more likely for J.J. to say something shitty than for Yellow to. Yellow’s not an asshole, he’s just a…” Blue went quiet as he lost his words.

“…A snarky asshole?”

“That.” He motioned in confirmation to them. He looked back over at the rap women, noticing that the Big Rock Finish ghosts were leaving. “I’m gonna go ask the rap women where their brothers are, if Yellow comes in, tell him I’ll be right back.”

“Alrighty!” With that, he walked away, leaving B.B. by the entrance.

As he got closer to the snack table, he was able to tell what Rosebud and Sapphie were wearing as costumes. They were matching, as expected from the two of them, and had gone for a western theme. Rosebud was dressed as a saloon dancer, a crimson skirt falling to the back of her ankles and a corset tied around her waist. It also seemed that she had taken the opportunity to wear something only a bit more revealing than her usual outfits. Sapphie was dressed as a cowgirl, hiding her eyes in the shadow of a ten gallon hat, and wearing open bottom pants. The two certainly matched, but had their own ways of doing it, the mutual color palette between their costumes tying it together.

“Excuse me, girls?” He asked, and the two turned over to face him.

“Oh, hi Blue.” Sapphie humbly waved at him, smiling. “Do you need something?”

“I don’t, but I want to ask- where are your brothers?” The two ladies' expressions tensed.

“Jasper and Goldie? Uh…” Rosebud’s eyebrows furrowed. “…I don’t know, actually. Sapphire?” She looked up at her girlfriend.

The taller woman shrugged. “I haven’t seen either of them since they left the recording studio, but they’re probably somewhere around here. Sorry, Blue.”

“Hm.” Blue looked skeptical, glancing behind him. “Alright then. I need to go back to B.B., you two have fun.” He turned around, his dreadlocks nearly whipping him in the face.

“Bye-bye!” Rosebud said as he walked away.

When he got back over to his rock student friend, they looked confused. “Is something wrong, B.B?” He asked, and they turned to him.

“No, no, nothing. Just… JJ is taking an awful long while to put his costume on. He went in just before you arrived.” They put a hand behind their head, “We’re supposed to be a cat and a dog, so he might be struggling with the suit or something.”

“Now that you mention it, if Yellow is taking this long to put it on, then he really should’ve put it on at the apartment-“

As if on cue, the door opened, and DJ Yellow slid in overdramatically. Since nobody noticed him except BB and Blue, he got up in one quick motion, turning over to them. “Hey guys!” He said happily, walking over. His costume was made of… really dark colors, something completely out of character for him. It was all black with a dark red cape that made his neck completely covered, looking completely out of place while paired with his unaltered hair and headphones. For reasons neither of them could decipher, he also carried a lit jack-o-lantern.

“Hey Yellow..?” BB raised an eyebrow, giving a short wave.

“…” Blue spent several seconds trying to decipher what his lover was wearing, before sighing. “Yellow, what are you supposed to be?”

The DJ walked over and leaned against his taller counterpart’s arm as though he was trying to lean against his shoulder but was just too short to do so. “A surprise.”

“That’s what you said when you were putting ON the costume.” The sarcastic remark made Yellow chuckle.

“Yes, but what I’m gonna do in this costume is also a surprise.”

“Just tell us what the costume is, Deej!” The rockstar leaned in, and mysterious refusal after cryptic refusal soon descended into laughter and casual conversation. It was rare for Yellow to oblige to interact with BB, but Blue was glad that they could get along on a night like that.

But… he still couldn’t downplay it.

Something was wrong.

Or off.

Yellow didn’t sound like himself, nor did his mouth follow his words. His mouth had a delay compared to his words, as though his head and his voice box were working as two separate parts rather than as the same body. His voice sounded less like his smug and casual self was talking and more like some kind of modulation, as though a robot with his voice was reading from a script and trying to sound like a person.

Blue chalked it up to one of two things. One idea was that the tragedy striking Heaven World had hailed itself down to Earth World and struck the man right before him- they were called Alternates, and they took the places of people, making themselves look completely like them- except they had the ability to do things that were biologically impossible, like rip their head off and live, or be engulfed in flames and come out without a scar. Both of those things were examples that Heaven World had given out across the entire land, as they were things they had tried to do to kill Alternates. So far, though, the only way discovered to kill an Alternate was to stab it in the third eye, which appeared somewhere on the body and was usually a spot like the arm, neck, or leg.

What Alternates did with people was unknown, but all that was figured out was the disappearances of many, many real people, and the replacement and spreading of fake versions.

DJ Yellow was either an alternate… or pulling a sick joke and pretending to be one. It wasn’t far fetched to expect him to pull a downright awful joke like that at a Halloween party, so Blue shrugged it off like nothing, knowing that he was probably the only one at that party who paid attention to news from Heaven World. Considering that the DJ hadn’t started acting weird like that until they HAD reached the party, it seemed more logical than just immediately assuming the person before him was fake.

A few hours passed. Music played, fatty and sweet food was eaten, and musicians and their plus 1’s spoke to one another. Only a few minutes after their conversation had happened, the rap men entered the main hall from the back, dressed in matching costumes that looked like zombies. It depended on the person whether or not watching them question how the fuck their sisters had gotten in was entertaining or not, but the girls weren’t kicked out either way.

Everything seemed to be pulling together finely, until…

JJ and Yellow hadn’t seen each other at all that night, until at one point, the DJ was asked to get an alcoholic drink from the kitchen. The alcohol wasn’t out freely at the snack tables, just to make sure nobody accidentally drank liquor or beer over dyed punch, so people would usually ask their partner to get a drink for them from the back.

JJ was returning from the back hall just as Yellow was descending down it, and it seemed the rockstar couldn’t resist a small remark. “And what are you supposed to be?” He said as the two were about to cross paths.

DJ Yellow stopped in his place, a cocky smirk on his face. “The headless horseman, obviously.” He held up the jack-o-lantern, holding it in front of his head.

“You have a head, DJ.” The other musician glared, raising an eyebrow.

There was a sudden tension in the air as the two realized they were alone in that hallway, and the door to the main hall was completely shut. “You think so?” Yellow turned his head and raised an eyebrow. Before JJ could even say anything-

He thrust the jack-o-lantern backwards.

It slammed into his head and he fell backwards, the lit candle squishing against his face and setting his hair on fire, hot wax falling onto his skin. JJ was stunned silent as he watched DJ Yellow’s body stand up without his head, leaving the smoldering wax and flesh on the floor. “Isn’t this a funny costume, JJ?” All of the remnants of his original voice were replaced by the whispering, fake voice of an alternate person.

“Wh- wha- what the fuck-?!” The rockstar couldn’t scream, he could only let out hushed curses. What he saw didn’t feel real in the slightest. As the other man stood up, he could see that the place where his head and his neck had separated held no arteries or bones, but only one bloodshot yellow eye. Blood leaked down his neck as his head smoldered in flames, melting as though it in itself was made of wax.

DJ Yellow stood back up. He turned around and picked up the pile of wax, human flesh, and pumpkin flesh, shaping it back together with his hands. “The look on your face- I don’t think I’ve ever been more entertained!” He laughed, “You’d never believe how long I’ve been waiting to pull that trick. I love being in the body of someone who finds jokes funny!” With that, he put his head back on his neck, tying his cape carefully so that the blood of his neck was veiled.

He walked right up to the rockstar’s face, leaning close.

“Be lucky this isn’t Heaven World.”

so yeah there’s your “yellow becomes a fucking cryptid” writing piece lmao

[vore-scientist]

Hey Little SongBird

[Sfw safe soft M/m GT vore]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Premise: A bard is in desperate need of a story. Can he sing his way out of being eaten by the evil giant wizard known as Yonah HaEsh? Well. No. But perhaps he can sing his way out of the wizard’s stomach? A fun little adventure for sure. 

Story is First Person (The Bard’s) POV. He’s a expressive narrator. 

Warnings: big Fear.play during the vore scene! This is a thief style story. Yonah,  if you don’t know, is very convincing when he says he kills people. And because he has no quick and easy safety spell, his treats sometimes end up a little bit well, not di.ges/-ted but slight skin irritation happens from time to time. Yes some pain, but no permanent harm! Yonah’s very practiced at making sure they are A-OK!

Ok onto the story!

---

I hate the stereotype of bards being horny tricksters who use their voices to seduce people into infidelity. Any such stories are complete poppycock and base slander. Bards are more than pretty faces and lovely voices. We are first and foremost story tellers, entertainers! Actors and chroniclers! Often risking life and limb to get you the stories you love so much. Those fancy sword moves and fight dances you see on stage aren’t just for show.  

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo-ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet, I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild, you might ask? Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The Apprentices, the Journeyers. Not Masters such as I. 

At least, not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me. 

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways. 

Regardless, to earn back my place in the guild I needed a new story, an impressive story. So I gathered my supplies and took the first teleport to the City of Luster, closest city in the Kingdom of Orr to the Mystic Woods. Sure, other cities exist at its borders, but Luster is the only one with a direct path into the Woods. A path that is safe, to a point. 

It’s also a great place to get a few last minute supplies. For example, a small ukulele. My previous instrument, my precious goldenrod Oud, was repossessed by the guild. I needed something cheap and lightweight. And also I was banned from purchasing from most craftsfolk because, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, I'm Blacklisted. 

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there. 

Right! I was ready to go.  

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road. 

And Into the Woods. 

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story. 

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero—maybe I—would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck—it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!! 

Not that I’m on a time limit. 

The gnomes were so nice, and they made the most delightful floral scented cakes. They enjoyed my songs and tales about heroic gnomes and I left their camp with a flower crown and a sack of cakes. 

I felt like today I would find a story! 

Nope. 

In this forest of wonder and magic and monsters and secrets, I ran into nothing. I even played music to attract trouble but Nooooooooo, guess even the beasts of the woods knew I was blacklisted! 

It was late afternoon when I found some interesting deer tracks and decided to follow. 

Bards aren’t known for our stealth but I’m going to tell you a secret. What’s the guild gonna do! Blacklist me? 

Anyways the secret is: certain Bards learn to play notes and pitches that cancel out our footsteps and create silence. 

I followed the prints to find a small herd of very interesting deer! 

They had really interesting patterns, each one slightly different but only if you looked closely. That meant I needed a closer look. 

So focused on the deer I didn’t watch my feet and I tripped. The deer ran off. 

“HEY!” a shrill voice called from somewhere in the trees, “What did you do that for?”

No idea who was yelling at me but I was taking no chances, and like the deer I bolted. But not fast enough, not nimble enough. 

An arrow shot by my leg and stuck in the ground. I stopped. And stood perfectly still. 

“Idiot.” the voice was now right behind me! 

I turned. And looked down. It was an elf! With plum purple skin and dark green hair. 

And they were laughing. 

Then another elf fell from the trees to land silently next to the first. This one had dark green skin and straw yellow hair. Their long ears were standing straight up reaching higher than my eyes. 

They were laughing too.

“What’s so funny?”

“You responded to ‘idiot’!” Said the purple one. 

Ugh. Elves!!

Then they got suddenly more serious. 

“Can’t believe it! We’ve been hunting those deer before the sun even rose and you happened to trip when we got them in our sights!”

“I’m... sorry?” 

The second elf elbowed the first, “He couldn’t have known we were there, Damian! Not his fault!” She spoke in elvish but I’m fluent. 

The first elf, Damian, looked up and half groaned half sighed, “and I suppose, Bridget, that I should apologize to the human for almost shooting him?”

I don’t know why I spoke up but I did. 

“It was an impressive warning shot!”

Damian’s ears stood up again then folded back and a little red flush appeared on the purple cheeks. As did on Bridget’s but for a different reason. 

“Yes. Warning shot,” they said. 

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut. Not a smart idea to quip about an elf’s hunting prowess. I still wasn’t happy to learn they were trying to shoot me! 

“You’re an adventurer?” Asked Bridget. “What’s your name?

“A bard!” I said. “I’m, um, Ophir!” 

“Need a place to stay tonight, Ophir?”

The shadows were lengthening, I hadn’t noticed. And then my stomach growled. 

“I sure do. But are you sure? I mean I did scare the deer-“

Damian shouldered their bow and nodded, “It wouldn’t be very elven to leave a stranger in the woods.”

Even not hunting they moved so silently I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I followed them to their village. We stopped by the temple, as it is the respectful thing to do when entering the village. It was set up for fall, done up in browns and oranges and paper chains. On the altar was a single brown leaf. The first one seen by a member of the village. 

I’m not elvish but I still prayed to Autumn for my hometown to have a bountiful harvest. 

I sat on the floor in the common dining hall as my new… friends, sat on stools made of tree stumps. They may not have caught any deer but there was some sort of roasted meat concoction wrapped in sugary leaves, crystallized to give it crunch, making a sweet and savory combination I’d never experienced before. The same sugar crispy leaves were used to scoop a sort of nut and vegetable curry. Delightful! I could write a song just about the food. 

I of course told them why I was in the woods, since they were curious. 

And they told everyone how I tripped and fell, exaggerating it greatly. All the elves laughed but knowing elves I was better off. They enjoyed slapstick comedy. The fact that I was able to laugh at myself seemed to gain me favor. 

One elf, with lighter green skin and dark brown hair laughed like the rest and yet, their eyes were deep in thought. They were a strange one, I think. Even by elf standards they had a strange name. 

Jacuzzi? Who names themselves Jacuzzi?

Then they spoke. 

“So, Ophir, you need a story?” They asked. I nodded.

“I think I can help you,” they said, “at the very least point you in the right direction.” 

At their words a lot of the company got quiet. 

“If you’re that desperate, there’s,” they paused, as if they were still considering whether or not to tell me. “A wizard. If you encounter him, you’re sure to get a proper story.”

I couldn’t think why this made the elf act so strange, plenty of mages made it their job to participate in tales. Though, with wizards they were usually evil, if not a member of an adventuring party. Nonetheless! A story about a wizard sounded fantastic. 

“Where does-“ I stopped myself from finishing that stupid sentence. Nowhere in the Mystic Woods stayed put so asking for directions was complete folly. 

“What’s the best way to, uh, find him?” 

Jacuzzi shrugged “The birds have the most up to date information. But you’ll know it’s his place when you find the tower in the garden.”

Lots of wizards had towers, few had gardens. That was more of a witch thing. 

“He’ll be there? Tonight?”

“Probably, he can't- well he’ll be there. If not tonight then by the morning. Don’t mess with his things.” 

Sound advice. 

“Hold on tonight?” Damian re-entered the conversation. “Are you mad? Traveling the forest at night is dangerous! Especially alone.”

“So? I’m trying to get into trouble. Doesn’t make a difference if I find it at the tower or on my way.” 

My confidence wasn’t entirely fake. I had a good meal, I wasn’t tired. I could knock this out by morning! 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

I swear I heard giggling as I departed. If these elves were pulling one over on me well! I don’t know what I would do but I’ll think of something. I had a wizard to find. 

It wasn’t long before I realized why I should have waited for morning. 

No! Birds! 

From whom could I ask directions? A rodent? They were never as helpful. The sun was about to set. It was only early autumn, the days were still a decent length, but it would be dark real soon. No birds, no people. 

Wait. I spoke too soon. There were footsteps. It was a slim chance but maybe they could help me. 

“Young man, what are you doing? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night alone?”

The voice had a deep and soft quality that wasn’t human. But they were speaking Orrian. Really folks, dont meet strangers in the forest that you can’t see. They’re usually evil witches or sorcerers or cyclops ogres. Yeah, one-eyed ogres are skilled talkers, luring people to them. It was only after I answered I realized this could be an ogre. 

“Aren’t you out alone too?”

“Why yes-” the voice was closer and then I saw them. 

Thankfully it wasn’t and ogre. But it was a witch, and a dwarf one. Uncommon. Probably not evil. It did explain why they were confidently out at night. Dwarves had pretty amazing night vision. They had the traditional black robe and hat, and a cat sat down beside them. It was a really large cat, which was amusing next to the short witch. Their long braided beard was decorated with trinkets, which was a quaint look I must admit. 

“But I live here.”

I stood up straight, which I guess was a bit rude. 

“How do you know I don’t?” I stammered, “I could!”

The dwarf stroked their beard, “I guess it’s possible, do you?”

I sighed and slouched, “No…”

“But I am looking for trouble.” I explained my story and the dwarf listened, smiling kindly. 

“So the elves told me I would be guaranteed a story if I found this wizard who has a tower and a garden-”

The witch’s eyebrows raised. 

“- you know this wizard?”

The cat mrowed loudly, his tail swishing on the forest floor a bit faster. 

“I do indeed,” there was an extreme fondness in their voice. 

“And you know where he is?”

The witch laughed, “I’d say this was coincidence, but in these parts there are too many of those to be truly coincidental. I do in fact know the current location, and it’s close by.”

“Really!” I almost danced with excitement. 

Unlike the elves the dwarf had no hesitations. They pointed me in the right direction, and informed me of a few roadblocks and landmarks. 

“If you hurry you should be just in time for dessert,”  they said, waving as I wasted no more time in heading off. 

“Thanks so much!” I turned on my lantern and my back on the witch. 

Oh if I had only thought about the implications of their last words to me. 

Hilarious. In hindsight. 

Nevermind that now, I’m sure you’re already laughing. Hahaha. 

Finding the tower was easy with the witch’s directions. They’d even told me the thorns were fake and the vines safe to climb up. That should have raised red flags, or some color, but I was so focused on achieving my goal. 

Now, we bards aren’t really known for our… physical abilities beyond dance. We can fight sure, but a fifty-foot climb is gonna leave most bards gasping for breath. I'm proud to say I was merely on the cusp of wheezing, though I was having difficulty standing. 

I needed to rest. So I lay on the windowsill. 

Which I failed to notice stretched so that I could more than easily lie down.  The cool night air and stone felt so nice. I looked into the tower. 

And my heart stopped. 

I’d gotten a brief glimpse before nearly passing out, but it was different now. 

Exactly the same. 

But. 

Bigger. 

You might know, my readers, that wizards are all human. All of them. Non-humans aren’t allowed to attend the academy. I’m sure those like I, being a quarter fairy, might be let in, but... This- this giant sized workshop didn’t make any sense. A giant could not be a wizard no way. Why would the elves say this was a wizard’s tower? Did they not understand the difference between wizard, witch, and sorcerer?

But the dwarf witch, they had to know! They had not corrected me. Plus, the workshop did have a very wizard feel to it.

What was going on here? 

I needed a moment to process so I rolled over to look outside. Looking inside made my head hurt. 

But a Giant Wizard. If that were real, what a story! If it were fake, then well, a giant mage is still exciting. I looked once more into the room. Three desks, one for material prepping and alchemy, one that looked like the main workbench, and one… like a spare workbench? It was not very organized compared to the other. And shelves full of things I could not identify. 

And on the floor, an open trap door with stairs leading down. Down to where the wizard must be. 

I was thankful I had noticed the shift in scale, or I surely would have fallen 15 feet onto the floor. Instead I got out my grappling hook and rope and rappelled down. With a flick, the hook dislodged. This place was large, I would need it again. 

I could have spent hours in this room, just taking in the immense magical collection, but that wasn’t why I was there. And I heard noises from down the stairs. Water? Clinking metal? I took each stair one at a time, slowly making my way deeper into the tower. 

Either the kitchen just happened to be one floor down or this stairwell was enchanted to take you to the floor you were thinking about. For just as I reached the landing I saw the massive doorframe that led into what was clearly a kitchen and small dining room. Small for the giant, who was at the sink washing pots, pans, and other things. 

He certainly looked like a wizard! A tall wide brimmed hat with a curling point, and robes that matched the garish colors and patterns. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and mutton chops, and long curly black hair tied behind his back. On his handsomely large nose rested thick square spectacles. Not only was he tall, he was just plain large. 

I know I talked about the false stereotypes of bards, but we weren't the only profession with them. People tended to think of Wizards as more delicate, as they spent all their time studying, never going out, forgetting meals. But this, man, for he looked more human than giant except for being over 20ft tall, well the only word for it was burly. 

I’d never imagined a wizard who, if you removed his wizard robes, put him in a flannel shirt and handed him an axe would be a picture perfect lumberjack. Now such a wizard was right before my very eyes. 

Suddenly I was not so confident. I should have lost my nerve back at the window, when I saw the scale of the workshop. But it just didn’t hit me until I saw the giant. I’ve seen giants before, they are actually larger than this person, that made him seem more dangerous. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

This wasn’t just any wizard, or any giant. 

This one was evil. 

Maybe I could just leave! Yeah. I would just get the fuck out of here. I was not prepared to handle an evil giant wizard. 

I made my decision a bit too late. The giant stopped cleaning a plate to look up and sniff the air. 

Shit. 

It was futile to run, but it was my only option. I didn’t even make it up two stairs before the giant roared with delight. 

“FEE FI FO FUM!”

No no no! Not that! 

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND!” 

Well technically I was quarter fairy but-

“IT MATTERS NOT THE THINGS YOU STOLE, I’LL CAPTURE YOU AND SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.”

Yeah… I should not have come here. Evil giants tend to eat people. I’d had a small hope that this smaller giant, who was very likely a proper wizard, wouldn’t.

He made it to the stairwell in a few seconds and scooped me up in one hand, holding me up to his face. 

“How convenient,” he smiled, revealing very giant-like fangs. His breath was horrible. “I was just thinking I needed some dessert.”

I cursed the witch from earlier. They knew! They knew he would want to eat me! But the witch wasn’t here, wasn’t my problem right now. 

“Please! Mister Wizard, I did not steal anything, I am no thief! I’m a bard!”

The giant raised his eyebrows, but did not set me down, instead he turned and walked down the stairs. 

“A bard?” he asked, “what’s your name?”

“Ophir Shel Peh!” I said.

The giant tapped his chin. “Hm. Yes I would say you probably are a bard! I don’t get many of those.” 

The room he entered was some sort of living room. But I didn’t really have the capacity to take in any details other than the chair that he sat down in. 

“I wonder if bards taste any different from thieves!” he said with excitement that made my heart drop to my feet. 

“Please, please don’t eat me!” I begged. “I just wanted a story!”

“Hm,”he placed me on the coffee table but did not let me go. Instead he started removing my gear, everything except my clothing. Things were going from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t have much hope of surviving but he wasn’t eating me just yet, and he was clearly open to conversing. 

“Well! Either I would tell the tale of my adventure here, or, you could give me a tale, perhaps in exchange for something?”

The giant laughed, “you came here on your own to challenge me? So you could tell your tale?”

I nodded. 

“Very foolish,” he growled, “But I could tell you a story.”

“Really?!” 

“Not that you would ever get to tell it.” he continued, “since I’m going to eat you.”

He sounded like he’d really made up his mind about that. But the longer he talked the more time I had to think of a way out of this. I didn’t want to point out that him eating me defeated the purpose of him telling me a story in the first place. 

“It’s a good one too. Surely you were surprised to find me a half-giant and wizard.”

I nodded again, a bit more dumbfounded. Half giant explained a lot already. 

“But if I tell you how I ended up here, you must promise not to tell it until his mystical majesty is dead. Or I am.”

What?

“Are you dying?”

The giant looked wistful. “No. But I’m a villain. I could die any day. The next person who comes into my tower could be the one who kills me.”

“And you’ll finally get what's coming to you I guess,” I said. “Like I’ll even be able to tell it since I’ll be one of your victims.” 

The giant laughed, “oh yes, of course. Cause I’m going to eat you! Like I have many others before.”

Great. I shouldn’t have said anything. 

He scooped me up again and placed me on the armrest. Then he let me go. But i didn’t dare try to run. 

“I guess I could start at the beginning, when I decided to become a wizard.” he mused, “The life story of Yonah HaEsh.”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, and then down at me. 

“How foolish I was. I mean obviously I succeeded but it was still foolish.” 

You know how I said I would spend the time while he rambled to think of a way out of this? Well his story was certainly long enough. Gods, wizards don’t leave out details! They have no concept of narrative flow! 

And yet. It was riveting. His human father was a fire witch and that got him interested in magic. So he disguised himself as human to attend school. He was found out eventually, expelled and arrested for infiltrating the kingdom as a dangerous magical monster. He was almost executed before he was offered a job here in the tower! And amazingly, the Grand Master of the school had taken pity on him and allowed him to continue his studies here and graduate, earning the right to call himself a wizard. 

The point is I forgot about escaping. Until he started to wrap up his story. 

“Never intended to become evil. But it suits me!” He said brightly. 

That brought me back to reality. Evil. Giant! 

I was in his hand again, not so tightly this time but still secure. Face to face. He was smiling again and chuckling.

“Especially since it means I get to eat people!”

“You're so surprised you’re evil but I’m not!”

I think he knew I was stalling more but didn’t care. 

“How so?”

“You spent years among smallfolk! You have smallfolk friends! And you’re perfectly fine eating us?”

He snorted “it was smallfolk that expelled me from school, that nearly executed me for trying to learn magic! And for trapping me here, in my tower. Make no mistake, this gilded cage is still a cage.” 

There really was no going back. 

“Now your time's up, and I’m hungry.”

I still screamed! Who wouldn’t! I was sure he was going to have to bite me in half to eat me even if his earlier proclamation was to swallow me whole. 

I barely fit in his mouth, ribs pressed into his lower teeth and it hurt! His saliva soaked me through so quickly I could only imagine how good I tasted. I tried to brace myself on his teeth but my hands slipped between the jaws. Even more distressing he was definitely enjoying my struggles and flavor. 

Then I was upside down! And even in the tight space I slipped towards his throat. I put my hands forward to try and stop but it was so slick they slid down into his throat, along with my shoulders, as he swallowed. 

The air was crushed out of my lungs and I dared not scream. It was hard, as I knew where I was headed, and I was surrounded by hot rubbery flesh that shoved at me, eager to get me to my destination. 

A massive throbbing against my face told me I was passing by his heart. It was at this point he took another swallow and my feet slipped into his throat, my hands… they touched air. Thick. Hot air. 

And then so did my face and I made the mistake of gasping for breath. As the air smelled of vomit, and I remembered the wizard was cleaning up from dinner when I arrived. I was smelling the remains of that meal. Oh gods if he had eaten me right away I would have been sitting in food! It was a small bit of reprise, I guess. That the giant decided to talk for a couple of hours. 

My feet were still in the esophagus when my face pressed against the opposite wall of the stomach. It was slimy like I couldn’t believe! I pulled my feet free and oriented myself so that I was sitting upright. 

This must be what it feels like to be kidnapped in a sack. A sack that was going to be dunked in acid. 

“You awake in there?” said a deep rumbling voice from above, and I felt a sharp nudge. Great. He wasn’t done with me, and I failed a bit in protest. “Ha! That’s better, I go through all the trouble of swallowing you down, the least you can do is struggle and scream a bit.”

“If I do that, I’ll run out of air quicker!” I squawked. Though I suspected I would start crying soon enough. Either just out of despair or because of the pain. 

I wasn’t feeling anything yet except for slime and heat, so it wasn’t likely to be a quick death. Depending on how long it took for digestion to work on a whole human, I might run out of air and pass out first. That would be nice, less painful. Unconscious I would feel nothing. I would much prefer that- oh. 

“Mr Wizard,” In that moment I’d forgotten his name, thought I wouldn’t need it if I was going to die.

Another jab at my side. “Yes, my tasty little bard?”

“Can I make a final request?” 

The entire chamber squished and bounced a bit, and I imagined the giant heaving a sigh and sitting back in his chair. 

“That depends on the request.”

“I- I want to sing one last song. But I need my ukulele, can you-” I kind of shuddered, but it wasn’t like an heirloom or something, “swallow it for me?”

There was a long pause, or it felt long because my timeline was now so short. 

“I'm not a fan of eating objects,” he said, then heaved another sigh, “but I suppose I can do that.”

I felt him lean over and then heard a sickening gulp. If I was going to die I was going to die singing with an instrument in my arms!

I plucked a few cords and shook out as much of the drool as I could. 

“Your voice isn’t magical is it?” Asked the giant as I tuned the ukulele.

I smiled “No, it is. I’ve got some Fey ancestry. Never really tested its power. Mostly I’ve played monsters to sleep. Or made a crowd cry with an opening line. People tell me that when I weave a tale it’s as if they were there first hand. Not so useful when you’re already eaten.” 

Unless he’s so moved by my song that he takes pity. But I didn’t say that out loud. 

“Well, just make it a nice song. I’ve got sensitive ears.”

Ok… I had a momentary thought of singing so loudly and so sharply that his ears bled. But then I realized he was making a threat. He could make my death much much worse. My original song was fine. 

I strummed the ukulele, it sounded so odd in the stomach. And maybe it couldn’t penetrate out so well. I used a little magic to boost it. I don’t always use magic, except for my naturally magical voice, but I figured… 

This would be my last performance. And it would be for my murderer. Still, I was compelled to make it a good one. 

I’d already made it through the first instrumental bars, and I took a breath of the rancid air. 

-

In the quiet mystic morning  When the sun’s just graced the land O’er the horizon, lies a story And it begs to take my hand

Now that summer’s ceased its gleaming And the harvest’s past its prime In adventure i've found meaning But I’ll be homeward bound in time 

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

As the first instrumental break started I turned my attention to the giant’s response. It was hard to evaluate from inside of him. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t hitting my mark. 

-

If you find it’s me you're missing And you’re hoping I’ll return To your thoughts I’ll soon be listing  On the road I’ll stop and turn

-

It was starting to hurt a bit now, I hadn't noticed it at first since when I perform I tend to feel all floaty and numb, but now pain penetrated my fog. I directed it into my voice and I cried out. 

-

For the wind has set me racing As my journey now begins To leave the path I’ll be retracing When I’m homeward bound again

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

The second, and last, instrumental break. Did I feel shaking around me? Was this working? Breathing was becoming harder, my skin stung. My shoulders, elbows, and knees ached too, this was a horrible position. The fluid level was rising. But I didn’t stop. I would finish this song. 

I was practically sobbing at this point but my song rang out. 

-

In the quiet  Mystic morning When the moon has gone to bed When adventure’s lost its meaning…

I’ll be homeward bound

Again

-

With the last few notes from my mouth, I gripped the ukulele so hard it almost cracked. 

Then the chamber jerked. I heard heavy breaths. Again. Was that a sniff?

Was he crying? Please. Gods of music. 

“Dammit,” he hissed and sniffed again, “Fine. I’m letting you go. Stupid bard.”

My brain was so frozen with elation I couldn’t actually believe it until it was happening. Not until I was physically forced back up the way I’d come. I slid out of the giant’s mouth and into shallow warm water. I took deep breaths of the clean air. And Yonah continued to retch as I got my bearings.

We were back in the kitchen, I was in the sink! Wait where was- The giant let out a horrible sound like a cat with a hairball and with a plop, my ukulele joined me in the bath. 

Now Yonah looked at me, eyes red and puffy, some tear streaks down his face. Though he had just violently thrown up. 

“Congratulations, Ophir the bard,” he spat, but he was grinning, “You have your story.”

I- I blinked in astonishment. He was right. I’d trekked through the woods, hung out with gnomes, got led to my near doom by elves and a witch, and sang so sorrowfully I made the evil man-eating giant cry and let me go. 

“Th-thank you-” I said, and I let him help me out of the sink and onto a towel to dry. 

“I should be thanking you!” he said. “Dessert and entertainment all in one!”

The fact that he still thought of me as food wasn’t reassuring but I didn’t think he was going to eat me again. In fact, Yonah’s entire demeanor had changed, he wasn’t so harsh looking, his voice was softer. 

“Would you like some tea? That helps after a near-death experience.”

He didn’t wait for my response but went to get the tea leaves and pot.   

“Hold on!” I said, but he didn’t stop making tea. “Did you even intend on killing me?”

He smiled as he put the pot on the stove and lit it with a snap of his fingers and a flash in his eyes. 

“No, not really, you’re not a thief.” Yonah laughed at some joke that only he got. 

“So why-” I mean he could have gotten me to sing before swallowing me whole. 

“Your fairy blood.” I looked confused, “I could smell it on you, sweet and magical. I wasn't going to pass up such a special treat.”

If there was a god who could erase horrifying knowledge from the mind I would have prayed to them. 

“Then- did my song do anything?” I choked like I was back in his stomach, unable to breathe. 

It was clear he saw the distress in my face, that I was not as good a bard as I thought I was. 

“My tears were real, little bard. I didn’t expect to be moved so much. Even if I had meant to kill you... you might have convinced me otherwise.”

The teapot whistled and he went to take care of it. I sat down. I was so lucky. Had the elves known he would spare me? Was that why they were laughing? This was some convoluted prank? And the witch, how were they in on it? Not that it mattered, their reasons and motivations weren’t important for my story. 

Then I remembered, “Your story!” I said, rather loudly. 

He stopped what he was doing, which was carefully using magic to pour a cup for me. “Yes?”

“I'm not dead! I can tell your story!” I stood back up, one hand on my hip the other pointing,  “That’s why you let me go isn’t it.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “That definitely factored into it.”

Motherfucker! This also meant I wasn’t done with him. He was getting out a smaller place setting for me to sit at but I didn’t sit down, or drink the tea. 

“I need- I need to write it all down!” I said, “I have a good memory, but I was under duress before. I need to hear it again. And write it down."

The wizard smiled again, showing his teeth, but this time it did not scare me. 

“Then let’s take this upstairs, shall we?”

He held out his hand and without hesitation I sat on it. I was placed on his shoulder and he took me, and the tea, to the workshop. 

Amazingly he had a few blank notebooks that were human sized, and human sized pens. Nice ones too. And a human sized desk? The set up was perfect. 

“Since I have until either you or the king dies, I can do proper research. I’ll need names and places and dates! And your parents, if you know how they met, that would make a great prologue!” 

We worked well into the night.  My cup of tea got cold. 

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

FOR REFERENCE, HERE’S HOW THE SONG SOUNDS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VooU55wzSEc

[terapsina]

the ones that seek and find (six years in the relationship of harry and luna)

My first actual Harry/Luna fic for @lunaaaalovegreat who wanted me to write something for them. Here goes nothing.

summary: 

“You can go when we say you can go, Loony,” the biggest of the bullies says and pulls up her wand higher, now pointing it directly in the girl’s face. Harry doesn’t know the bully’s name but thinks she might be a third year.

A third year who looks about ready to cast a spell at an unarmed first year in a fight that’s three to one. He thinks he’s seen quite enough.

“Hey,” Harry yells to startle them and pulls out his own wand, “leave her alone!”

/or/

By chance of fate Harry Potter meets Luna Lovegood in his second year instead of his fifth. It doesn’t really change anything for the magical world at large but it changes quite a lot for the young witch and wizard themselves. Here are six glimpses into their relationship from the moment they meet until the end of the war.

--- ao3 ---

--- i. - Year 2, January ---

The wizarding world is vast and magical and filled with wonder. And at the end of the day, most of its fate comes down to chance. In this way, it is not at all unlike the muggle world.

Four little boys share a compartment on a train and spend the next seven years becoming the terrors of Hogwarts. Two decades later a mountain troll wanders into a girls’ bathroom instead of some abandoned classroom and so forges a lifetime long friendship between three first years.

And a year after that a twelve-year-old Harry Potter doesn’t feel like going back to the Gryffindor common room to be gawked at by the few people in even his own House who think he opened the Chamber of Secrets. Instead, he goes wandering around the castle, the soles of his feet skidding against the stone floor of the hallway and mind filled to the brim with flashes of resentment.

There’s tittering laughter of more than one person coming from around the corner from Harry and he stops in his tracks as soon as he hears it. There’s something a bit cruel about that sound, something colder than amusement. Something familiar.

Slowly he leans forward to get a glimpse of whatever is waiting for him, what meets him is the sight of a blonde first year with a blue tie, she’s being cornered against the wall of the hallway by what looks to be three of her own housemates. There are wands in their hands and mean looks on their faces.

Harry’s jaw clenches in reaction but for a moment he doesn’t yet know how to proceed.

And then the girl speaks in a voice so serene he almost thinks he’s misread the situation. “We’re gonna be late for Charms.”

He wavers in place, considering if he should just turn around and leave before they notice his presence. But no, he knows what those jeers mean and he knows what bullies look like.

“You can go when we say you can go, Loony.” The biggest of the bullies says and pulls up her wand higher, now pointing it directly in the girl’s face. Harry doesn’t know the bully’s name but thinks she might be a third-year.

A third-year who looks about ready to cast a spell at an unarmed first year in a fight that’s three to one. He thinks he’s seen quite enough.

“Hey,” Harry yells to startle them and pulls out his own wand, “leave her alone!”

“Mind your own-” The girl who had been about to cast starts saying and then almost jumps out of her skin alongside the other two bullies when they turn to see him, looks like the Ravenclaws believe he’s the Heir of Slytherin too. Great.

“I said,” he glares at them “leave her alone.”

For a moment they blink in mute shock, then they scatter like frightened rabbits with a fox on their tails, and despite how that was exactly what he wanted them to do something twists in his stomach. He hates that they’re afraid of him now like he’s actually responsible for releasing the monster that is petrifying other students.

He avoids looking at the girl left behind, almost afraid that the young witch he just tried to help will look just as frightened. But when he looks at her she’s just staring at him with a calm look, head tilted a bit sideways and blinking slowly.

“Hi. I’m Harry.” Harry says, suddenly a bit uncomfortable under that wide-eyed stare, so without knowing what else to say he stares back.

She has messy pale blonde hair falling across her shoulders and down her back, it doesn’t seem to have been combed today, - or possibly the day before that as well. There’s a necklace of tiny pine cones in a strange rainbow of colors hanging around her neck. And she’s staring at him through wide-open eyes, it would almost make her look surprised but the look in them is as serene and measured as it had been when she’d been facing the bullies a minute before. Finally, he notices her holding a stack of books to her chest, each of them seems to have some kind of flower stuck between the pages and hanging over the bindings. 

Harry’s not entirely sure what kind of an impression the picture she makes leaves on him but there’s something very loud and strange and interesting about it.

“I know.” She finally says after that extended pause and what were they... oh right, he’d introduced himself. “Everyone has been talking about you, they think you’re the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

“Oh.” He mutters, his mood souring again.

“But of course I know that you’re not.” She tells him absently like she hasn’t noticed his reaction at all, or like she has but knows not to focus on it. Harry can’t quite pin her down.

“You do?”

“Yes, it’s quite obvious, Salazar Slytherin was an elf and you’re not an elf, so you can’t possibly be his heir.” The girl says. “And I’m Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood.”

Harry stares at her, eyebrows furrowing. She might be the oddest person he’s met yet - well she would be if he didn’t know the headmaster, - but he’s still inexplicably relieved by her words. It’s nice to know someone outside of Gryffindor believes him too.

Even if that someone is making his head spin a little in confusion.

“What did they want with you anyway? The other girls.” 

“Oh, they’re just infested with Wrackspurts,” Luna tells him.

“Wrackspurts?”

“They’re magical creatures that float through the air and get into your head through your ears. They make one quite confused.” 

Harry’s not sure if he believes that, he thinks he’s right and they’re just bullies. But then again he doesn’t really know all that much about the magical creatures that are or are not real, so he doesn't think it would be right to dismiss them as fantasy either. After all, he hadn’t known about House Elves before he met Dobby either.

“You said you were late for class?” He says once he realizes he doesn’t know how else to respond.

“Yes but there’s a shortcut through there,” she says and points to a spot that looks like any other spot on the far left wall “I have a few minutes to spare.”

She is however starting to look a bit antsy, arms squeezing the books closer to her chest, so he guesses she really is going to be late and is just being polite now.

“I could come with you, make sure you don’t run into any more girls with... confused heads.” He offers.

“That’s very nice of you, Harry,” Luna says, smiles at him, and starts walking toward that wall, he belatedly notices that she’s also only wearing one shoe on her feet.

“What happened with your shoe?” he asks, a suspicion already very present in his head.

“Oh, the Wrackspurts hid it. It’s okay though, I’ll find it eventually, I always do.”

The Wrackspurts need a lesson in manners and Harry wonders if he can get Fred and George to help him give it.

Luna stops by the wall and before he has time to wonder if there really is a shortcut there Luna has leaned forward, hummed a quick tune he can’t quite identify and the wall is quickly transforming into a doorway.

He follows Luna all the way to Flitwick’s classroom as they chat about things Harry only halfway believes exist. But later after they’ve parted ways and he’s back in the Gryffindor tower being slaughtered in chess by Ron, he realizes it was the first time since he found Mrs. Norris hanging by her tail on that wall that he forgot about being Hogwarts’ pariah.

It was kinda nice, making a new friend. He wonders if tomorrow during breakfast he might find her for a quick chat in the Great Hall.

--- ii. - Year 3, November ---

It’s the evening after Harry finally fully managed to escape the Hospital Wing, and it’s been almost a week since the Quidditch game that ended up introducing his broom to the Whomping Willow but Harry still can’t stop mournfully staring at the broken remains of his Nimbus 2000.

It seems so stupid to feel like crying because of a broom but it was the first brand new thing that really belonged to him that he loved. It was his in a way that nothing else has ever been before. And now because of some Dementors, it’s nothing but kindling for the fire.

Not that he could ever bring himself to burn it - not that he’s allowed to anyway, the broom is interwoven with so many charms that setting it on fire would probably make it explode or something. He wishes he was just allowed to keep it at the bottom of his school trunk but apparently it counts as a safety hazard and the school needs to dispose of it safely.

So here he sits on the seating around the Quidditch pitch, the splinters on top of the blanket in front of him, with Ron and Hermione on his right and Luna on his left, waiting until he can bring himself to turn them in to Madam Hooch so she can do whatever it is they do with old and broken brooms.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione tells him and reaches past Ron to pat him on his shoulder. 

He nods at her in thanks but can’t quite hide the pained grimace that follows it.

“Yeah Buddy, I’m really sorry.” Ron echoes her and gently bumps his side with his elbow.

“It’s okay,” Harry says past the Bezoar stuck in his throat and squares his shoulders to begin getting up, it’s just a broom, he should stop acting like it’s the end of the world.

“Hey, Harry?” Luna finally interrupts him for the first time since they sat down almost fifteen minutes ago, she’d been sitting quietly beside him the entire time, her elbows occasionally touching his own as one of them moved. He was just leaning forward to start wrapping the splinters back into the folds of the blanket but at her voice, he stops to look at her.

She’s got a thoughtful twist to her head like she’s considering an idea she’s been musing over.

“Yeah?”

“Can I take that piece of the handle?” She asks pointing at one of the larger remaining pieces of his Quidditch broom.

“Why?” He asks and is echoed by the voices of his two best friends asking the same question, each of them with a slightly different inflection. Ron sounds gobsmacked. Hermione, exasperated. And Harry just curious.

Luna doesn’t answer any of them, just keeps staring at him in that assuring and very calming way she has.

“Sure?” He finally tells her and passes her the splinter she had pointed to.

Luna takes it from his hand with a smile and jumps forward for a quick hug before skipping away. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stay in place, watching her leave back towards the castle.

“That girl is so strange,” Ron tells him, a flabbergasted look on his face.

“I know,” Harry says with a grin. That’s why he likes her.

“Ready, Harry?” Hermione asks after letting out a long sigh, Harry knows she doesn’t really know how to react to Luna, they’ve been friends with her for a year now and he knows that Hermione doesn’t dislike Luna, that for the most part, they get along okay, but that sometimes she kinda drives Hermione a little crazy.

And Harry’s never going to say it, he’s not stupid, but he sometimes thinks it’s good for Hermione to be left wrong-footed as her logic crashes against Luna’s irregularity. It pulls her out of her head when she gets so stuck in obsessing over her schoolwork that even Ron and Harry can’t quite manage to make her come up for air.

“As I’ll ever be.” He says, putting away his musings and finding himself suddenly better prepared for what he needs to do as the three of them finally head off towards the broom shed. 

---

It’s about two weeks later that Luna finds Harry in the library and drops in front of him a little red parcel decorated with doodles of lions and snitches he’s pretty sure Luna did herself.

“What’s that?” He asks, picking up his head from the books on the Patronus Charm he’s been going through on Professor Lupin’s suggestion.

“A holiday gift.”

“It’s not really Christmas yet?” He says but takes the package into his hands anyway.

“I know. But I finished making it and Daddy and I are going to be in the Norwegian Forests looking for Heliopaths this Christmas, and it seems rather cruel to make an owl fly that far with a package. So, happy early Christmas, Harry.” Luna says and sits down on the other side of the table from him.

He slowly unwraps the package, not wanting to tear up her little drawings, and feels something in his chest tightening and warming up unexpectedly as soon as he finds himself looking at a miniature carving of his Nimbus 2000. It’s even painted the same colors as his broken broom.

“Wait.” Harry flings up his head to look at Luna, realization dawning. “Is this why you wanted that piece of my broom?”

Luna nods seriously at him and looks directly back, face filled with honesty and voice as genuine as he’s ever heard it. “It’s really sad to need to throw away something you love. I thought you’d like to keep a part of it, even if it’s only a piece of woodcarving.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry tells her, eyes filling up with the sort of tears he’s almost not too embarrassed to shed.

--- iii. - Year 4, December ---

He leaves Cho in the Owlery, his face flushed with mortification and feeling like he’d like nothing better than for the earth to swallow him whole.

The pretty Quidditch player turning him down stings a bit, - alright, a lot - but that’s not really why he’s running away, he doesn't think. It’s just, well, he’d been trying to pick up enough courage to ask Cho to the Yule Ball for ages and now he doesn’t think he’ll be able to summon up any kind of will to ask anyone else. And as one of the Champions, he’s not allowed to go by himself, which honestly sounds like a lot more attractive option.

So once he’s back in the castle he titters in place, unable to decide where to go now. He could go find Ron so they can simmer in misery together but that won’t really save him from whatever Professor McGonagall will do to him if he doesn’t find a date for the first dance.

Which leaves him with a very narrow list of other options. Really it leaves him with only two.

And Hermione will definitely roll her eyes at him for waiting until the last minute instead of dealing with it months ago when the ball was first announced, so he decides his best bet is to head toward the Ravenclaw common room instead. He just hopes he’s fast enough not to accidentally run into Cho again.

“What can’t talk but will reply when spoken to?” The knocker asks once he’s walked all the way up the spiral staircase.

“Don’t know.” He says and ignoring the indignant squawk of the bronze eagle uses it to knock on the door.

After about half a minute the head of some upper-year Ravenclaw comes into Harry’s line of sight past the edge of the door, the boy rolls his eyes and vanishes just as quickly. Harry just sighs, used to it by now.

A minute or two later Luna comes out to meet him.

“Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

“I need your help, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, I was gonna go down to the lake to paint something in a bit anyway, we can go together if you want.” She offers.

The lake is all the way on the other side of the castle from the Owlery so he nods and waits as she goes back into the common room to grab her art supplies and a set of warmer robes. Once she’s back, her warm Ravenclaw scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and her fluffy Pygmy Puff earmuffs - a gift from Ginny for her last birthday - on her head, he follows her down the stairs. 

Harry breathes a sigh of relief once they’re outside and haven’t run into either Cho or Cedric, - who he at the moment doesn’t quite feel like seeing either, even though he does like Cedric.

They cast a pair of warming charms and he drops to sit beside her on the ground, there are a few minutes of comfortable silence while he watches her setting up her workstation. Not that it can really be called that, Luna likes to put all her paints around her in what looks like the randomest of orders while the canvas rests on top of her crossed legs.

He’s never quite been able to understand how she doesn’t get uncomfortable within five minutes. But he’s seen her rest like that for hours at a time as she paints whatever comes to her mind so he’s stopped thinking all that much on it by now.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Harry?” Luna finally asks as she uses a spell from her wand to start mixing up three kinds of blues together with some pink.

He opens his mouth but no sound seems to want to come out so he decides to change the subject instead. “What did you want to paint, anyway?”

“A Crumple-Horned Snorkack.” She says and looks at him, waiting and clearly not at all fooled.

Harry’s fingers start twitching in his lap.

“I tried to ask Cho to the ball but she’s going with Cedric,” Harry says in what seems almost one breath. “And McGonagall will kill me if I don’t get a date because the Champions are supposed to open the dance.”

“Alright,” Luna answers but doesn’t turn back to her work, clearly aware that he hasn’t gotten to his point yet.

“Will you go with me to the Yule Ball, please?” He rushes out and then blinks, surprised, he was just going to ask her if she knew anyone who didn’t have a date yet but now that the words are out he realizes this is the perfect solution. Luna is his friend. Going with Luna will be fun and he won’t spend the whole evening with someone he barely knows. The only other girl he could say that about would be Hermione, and he’s not stupid, Ron might be an oblivious idiot about it right now but Harry knows that if he asked Hermione his best friend would kill him. “We can go as friends.”

“I don’t really have a dress robe.”

“Oh.” He says, disappointed.

“But I guess Daddy can send me one of Mom’s old ones, I think I have enough time to alter it to fit me if we hurry,” Luna says and looks at him, a measuring sort of look on her face like she’s considering how serious he’s being. Then she seems to nod to herself and smiles at him. “Alright Harry, I’ll go to the Yule Ball with you. As friends.”

And Harry smiles back at her, for the first time kind of excited about going.

--- iv. - Year 5 - April ---

Since the latest number of Educational Degrees, the number of detentions Umbridge has been assigning to students has grown. But until now he’s only noticed some of the upper years with bindings around one of their hands as evidence to the same kind of lessons she’s been failing to teach Harry all year.

But that remains the case only until Harry turns a corner on his way to the Room of Requirement one day to set up for the latest DA lesson and runs into Luna and a crying first-year Hufflepuff. The boy is clutching his hand to his chest while Luna’s kneeling on the ground in front of him and trying to calm him down.

“It hurts,” Harry hears the boy sniffle.

“Luna?” He says and then to make sure he understands the situation adds - “Did Umbridge-?”

“Yes,” Luna says in a voice that he’s not sure he’s ever heard from her, it’s sharp and cold and furious. 

Harry gets the feeling.

He wavers in place for a moment uncertain of what to say or do to help the upset little Firstie calm down, or even if he should just go find someone better equipped for it, - like Hermione or a Professor, - but then decides to follow Luna’s lead and joins her on the floor in front of him.

“What’s your name?” Harry asks as gently as he can manage.

“Billy Wardyworth.” The boy whispers wetly.

“Can you show me your hand, Billy?” Harry asks, starting to rifle through his pockets for something that could help - he hasn’t left the Common Room without it since his own detentions started getting bad, - and grimaces once the boy does. The skin is swollen red, there’s no blood or visible words yet but he can tell just by looking that Billy hadn’t gotten away with just a few lines.

He pulls out the little bottle of Murtlap Essence that Hermione made for him and quickly unscrews the top. “Here, this should help.”

Luna seems to understand what he’s doing because she takes out her wand to cut away the edge of her sleeve with a spell and as soon as Harry’s done applying the soothing solution on Billy’s skin takes over to wrap it securely around the boy's hand.

“Better?” Luna asks once she’s done too.

Billy nods, still sniffling but starting to wipe the tears from his face with his unhurt hand.

“What happened? I haven’t seen Umbridge forcing that sick quill on anyone younger than a fifth year.” He asks Luna now that Billy is starting to look a bit better. Not that he thinks their High Inquisitor is doing it out of any kind of moral standpoint, his guess would be more along the lines of her being aware that it might be the thing that pushed the rest of the teachers over the edge into just killing her.

The feeling McGonagall has been projecting is certainly that the only reason she hasn’t already is because getting sent to Azkaban would leave her students entirely unprotected.

“You know she’s been reading all incoming and outgoing mail right?”

“Yeah?” he says, it’s why he hasn’t written Sirius anything in ages.

“Billy’s dads didn’t.” 

“What did she read?” He asks, his stomach sinking with a bad feeling but Luna doesn’t say, just shakes her head angrily.

“Papa got bitten last year,” Billy says, eyes on the floor and pulling his knees closer to his chest. “Dad was just letting me know everything went okay during the full moon so I wouldn't worry. He’s been doing it every month.”

And Umbridge is the one who drafted that anti-werewolf legislation that Sirius told him about. Of course, she’s also the kind of person who would take out her hatred for the boy’s father’s very existence on an eleven-year-old.

Harry starts cursing but when Billy flinches Harry’s insides twist in guilt at realizing how the Firstie might have taken it. 

“I’m glad your dad is okay,” Harry says, trying to fix it and once Billy looks back at him hopefully he for good measure adds -”Umbridge had no right to do that.”

“Thanks.” The boy says.

Harry and Luna share a look and slowly get to their feet.“Come on, Billy.” Luna says, extending her hand to help the boy get up too. “I’ll walk you to Professor Sprout, I’m sure she’ll figure out how to make certain Umbridge can’t give you any more detentions with her.”

Harry catches her hand when she starts to turn. “Want me to come along?”

“No, we’ll be alright,” Luna says, squeezing his hand and smiling a bit weakly at him. “You’ve got stuff to set up.”

“Okay. Stay after?” He says vaguely, not that he thinks Billy would tell someone about Dumbledore’s Army but they did all sign the scroll. And he’s not at all enthusiastic about finding out exactly what kind of spell-work Hermione did on that parchment.

“Alright,” Luna says and then leaves, the little boy tucked against her side.

--- v. - Year 6 - July ---

The funeral happens on a cloudy Monday morning. Harry’s head feels like it’s moving through sludge or maybe through something more sticky, like toffee made by Hagrid.

He barely notices the world around him, though somewhere at the back of his mind he’s aware that to his right Hermione is crying in Ron’s arms. That Luna’s head is tucked into the hollow of Harry’s neck and her hair is tickling his face with the breeze from the wind. That somewhere behind him Ginny is squeezed between Fred and George who showed up this morning in the company of the rest of the Order. That Neville is standing there too, pale-faced and strong-jawed with hands around himself and tears running over his cheeks.

Harry himself isn’t crying. 

Harry’s mind is too full of what he needs to do now to cry. And whenever a flash of green lights up in his mind, whenever he sees Dumbledore pleading and then falling, whenever he sees Snape killing him, the grief in his chest gets burned up by rage.

But he knows he doesn’t have time for that either.

He needs to find the Horcruxes and destroy them and he doesn’t even know where to start. They’re at war now. He knows that technically they’ve been at war since the end of last year, or even since Cedric died in that cemetery in what now feels like lifetimes ago. But now that Dumbledore is dead it’s really, truly here in a way it hadn’t been before.

And the idea that it all now rests in his hands is crushing.

But he has no choice, he’s going to need to find a way to do it, to kill Voldemort. To save his friends. To save everyone.

He barely hears the service. Barely notices as it finally ends and everyone gets up and starts walking back for the castle or out towards Hogsmeade.

He does notice it as Luna pulls on his elbow to change the direction of their steps and head for the lake. Harry lets her guide him, exchanging a last tired look with Hermione and Ron when they stay on their path.

Minutes later they’re alone, watching the play of wind against the surface of the water when Luna speaks.

“You’re not coming back to Hogwarts next year.”

“No.” He says, not at all surprised that Luna knows that, she doesn’t know about the pieces of Voldemort’s soul that he has to destroy but she’s the most observant person he’s ever met, she’s probably read his plans in his face.

“Okay.” She says.

He looks at her and feels his heart starting to hurt as soon as he does. Through the past year he’s started to notice his feelings for Luna changing, Merlin they might have been changing even longer, maybe since before he asked her to the Yule Ball in his fourth year. He just knows he’s almost said something a hundred times by now only to chicken out at the last moment. Because he cares about Luna so much and he doesn’t quite know how to risk their friendship on what feels like the most terrifying gamble ever.

And now that he can’t because it wouldn't be fair, he wishes he’d taken at least one of the opportunities that had come before.

He wishes he knew what she would have said.

“But Harry?” Luna says, staring up into his eyes. Her own eyes, wide and full to the brim with a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

“Yeah?” He asks, a little breathless. Her eyes are so beautiful.

“After you’ve done what you have to. When it’s possible. Come back then,” she says and he knows she’s not talking about Hogwarts. He’s not sure exactly what lays behind her words, and it would hurt either way right now so he chooses not to linger there and just nods.

Then Luna smiles sadly at him, and leans in to place a quick kiss on his cheek that leaves a line of burn from the spot on his skin straight into his heart and then hugs him so tightly it’s almost hard to breathe. His own arms clutch around her like he’s afraid to let go.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Luna whispers into his ear.

“Goodbye, Luna.”

--- vi. - Year 7 - May ---

“We did it,” Ron exclaims in dazed shock. Like it hasn’t really hit yet. Harry looks at him and then has to look away because there are tears in his eyes and behind the shock, there’s the avalanche of grief just waiting for Ron to slow down enough to be buried in.

Fred is dead.

So are Remus and Tonks.

They did it. They won, Voldemort is finally dead, his Death Eaters have been defeated and they’ve won the war. But the Great Hall is filled with dead kids and dead members of the Order and somehow the price feels too high. He knows the price was always going to be too high and yet now that he has space enough to let that truth crash into him he doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he doesn’t, instead, he wraps one arm around Ron, the other around Hermione and then they hold each other up long enough so that they’ll be able to stand on their own. Even if only just for a few more hours.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, - tears of grief mixing with tears of relief, Hermione’s hair in his face, and Ron’s hand squeezing his arm, - before he notices that they’re not alone. That there are three more survivors by the window behind them.

But finally, he notices them, Neville, Ginny, and Luna, the trio who held up Hogwarts while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were hunting for a way to save their world. The people who years ago went with him into the belly of the beast trying to save Sirius.

He can’t believe they all survived. He’s so glad that all six of them survived.

He smiles at them and laughs. Suddenly so giddy he doesn’t even know what’s coming over him.

“Hey,” he chokes out and then suddenly their hug grows by three and all of them are giggling like they’ve been hit by overpowered cheering charms. They’re all bloody, injured, and dirty with sweat. And they’re alive, and it’s over, and it hurts but it’s also the best feeling ever and Harry hasn’t felt this free in- maybe ever.

There’s tears running over his cheeks and a smile on his face and he doesn’t know what tomorrow looks like.

---

Turns out tomorrow is cold and windy and the sunrise by the lake is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a year. The sky is red and golden and blue and purple all mixed together.

They’d all spent the night at Hogwarts. Not all of them having anywhere else to go, many of their homes having been compromised and destroyed and burned down months ago. It was so strange, sleeping in the Gryffindor dormitory after so long as if nothing had changed, except that there were adults, - even parents, - down in the common room.

Harry had woken up first and restless he’d left before anyone else was even stirring.

Now he’s by the very edge of the lake, his back to the destruction of much of the castle and eyes on the sky. Admiring something he hasn't had time or heart to look at in what feels like years.

When she comes to join him he doesn’t feel surprised. It almost feels like he was waiting.

“Hey, Luna,” he says as soon as she drops beside him and slides her hand around his elbow, leaning her head against his shoulder. He slips the fingers of his hand through hers and smiles when she squeezes their palms together.

“Hi, Harry,” Luna says, toeing off her shoes and socks, - each a different color, he notices, his heart clenching at this reminder of Dobby - and sticking them into the water.

Her head is warm against his cheek and his mind snags on the memory of the last time she was in his arms. Not yesterday when he had arms full of friends and Luna was just one of them but before that when he was regretting never having said anything, never taking any of the opportunities handed to him.

This feels like another of those moments.

And this time he decides to be brave.

“Luna?” he says and turns his head to look at her, their faces only inches apart when Luna turns her own head too. “I-”

Words fail him but slowly he picks up his free hand and tucks her hair behind her ear, carefully so that it doesn’t snag against her radish earring and lingers there.

Luna’s mouth twists into a little knowing smile that’s hard to misinterpret and then she leans forward and all Harry has to do is finish breaching the distance before his lips touch hers and his mind comes to a slow gentle stop.

Luna’s lips are warmer than the sunrise he’d just been admiring. They move slowly against his like she’s exploring this feeling alongside him, or like she’s searching for proof of one of her strange creatures and the answer is somewhere inside him.

His heart beats slow and steady but also impossibly loudly in his ears. And his entire world narrows down to Luna’s lips against his, Luna’s hand in his, the side of Luna’s face against the palm of his hand, and the softness of her hair between his fingers.

A lifetime later when they pull away from each other and the world slots back into place he doesn’t feel any different. He’s still exhausted, and a bit lost and mourning for far too many friends but he’s also just a little bit less alone.

“Thank you for coming back, Harry,” Luna says and moves back into his side, chin resting against his shoulder.

He smiles.

They stay like that for a minute and then Harry finds himself wondering out loud what he hasn’t let himself consider in his head. “What are we going to do now?”

“What do you want to do?” Luna asks, voice measured and thoughtful.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think I do either,” Luna says. “But won’t it be wonderful to find out?”

He thinks about that. About how until now he’d only known that he either had to kill Voldemort or die trying when he didn’t know what he’d do after the war because there was no ‘after the war’. Now his future is wide open and he has no idea what he wants to do with it but he does have choices, - chances, - in front of him that he didn’t before.

He could join the Aurors like he planned even though it no longer feels like as attractive an option now that he’s spent so long fighting. But he could. Or he could think more about Hermione mentioning once during DA how he’d make a good teacher. Or he could join Luna if she still wants to go off exploring the world and finding new magical creatures. It might be nice to take a vacation away from Britain.

He could play professional Quidditch. Or help the Weasleys fix their home. Or get to know his godson. Or help Hermione find her parents. 

The future is just a hand’s reach away now and it all looks so amazing.

“Yeah,” he muses aloud and pulls Luna closer, “it really will be.”

[gt-adventures]

Hey Little SongBird

(SFW GT fantasy adventure short story.)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods 

Staring: Yonah HaEsh the half-giant wizard. and guest-starring Ophir, the mostly human bard. 

Summary: Ophir the bard needs a story to get back in the good graces of the Bards Guild and ventures into the Mystic Woods to find one. And what a story he ends up in! In the clutches of the Great and Terrible Yonah HaEsh. Can Ophir, through story, song, and dance, touch the evil “man-eating” giant’s wicked heart and avoid a terrible fate? (yes of course he can!) 

Warnings: Yonah’s job is to be a villainous fairy tale giant (and wizard). That means the whole “fee fi fo fum” and threatening to eat people routine, and he’s really convincing. At no point in this story does he ever intend to follow through on the threat. ALSO Ophir tells a fairytale that ends slightly gruesomely (I actually changed it to be less so… still) 

---

I hate the stereotype of bards being horny tricksters who use their voices to seduce people into infidelity. Any such stories are complete poppycock and base slander. Bards are more than pretty faces and lovely voices. We are first and foremost story tellers, entertainers! Actors and chroniclers! Often risking life and limb to get you the stories you love so much. Those fancy sword moves and fight dances you see on stage aren’t just for show.  

But still. Going into the Mystic Woods in search of my next story was not a great idea. Solo’ing an adventure into such a dangerous realm was asking for death, with no one around who could tell of it. And yet. I had run out of new material and was desperate. Why didn’t I just purchase rights from another bard through the guild? You might ask. Clever, very clever, but that’s what low rankers do. The apprentices, the journeyors. Not Masters such as I. At least. Not ones who are blacklisted from the guild for not properly crediting a story. How was I to know it wasn’t public domain! It seemed pretty generic to me. 

Another problem with being blacklisted? No one wants to adventure with you. Not anyone high ranking enough to help me anyways. 

Regardless, to earn back my place in the guild I needed a new story, an impressive story. So I gathered my supplies and took the first teleport to the City of Luster, closest city in the Kingdom of Orr to the Mystic Woods. Sure, other cities exist at its borders, but Luster is the only one with a direct path into the Woods. A path that is safe, to a point. 

It’s also a great place to get a few last minute supplies. For example, a small ukulele. My previous instrument, my precious goldenrod Oud, was repossessed by the guild. I needed something cheap and lightweight. And also I was banned from purchasing from most craftsfolk because, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, im Blacklisted. 

Luster is so large that I was able to find the ukulele in a pawn shop. I wasn’t after a ukulele, that’s just what was there. 

Right! I was ready to go.  

Whistling the first ever song I wrote, and tuning my new old ukulele, I set off down the road. 

And Into the Woods. 

---

Maybe I should lower my standards? Surely the guild won't be too hard on me?

Or perhaps it would just take more than a day and night in the woods to find a story. 

The first day I found some gnomes preparing for a small feast of the half-moon glory. I was confident that something would happen at the party. Something had to go wrong, and maybe a hero, maybe I, would save the day! Or night, as it would be night. No such luck, it was a very nice celebration, absolutely no issues. Wasted a day!! 

Not that i'm on a time limit. 

The gnomes were so nice, and they made the most delightful floral scented cakes. They enjoyed my songs and tales about heroic gnomes and I left their camp with a flower crown and a sack of cakes. 

I felt like today I would find a story! 

Nope. 

In this forest of wonder and magic and monsters and secrets, I ran into nothing. I even played music to attract trouble but Nooooooooo, guess even the beasts of the woods knew I was blacklisted! 

It was late afternoon when I found some interesting deer tracks and decided to follow. 

Bards aren’t known for our stealth but I’m going to tell you a secret. What’s the guild gonna do! Blacklist me? 

Anyways the secret is: certain Bards learn to play notes and pitches that cancel out our footsteps and create silence. 

I followed the prints to find a small herd of very interesting deer! 

They had really interesting patterns, each one slightly different but only if you looked closely. That meant I needed a closer look. 

So focused on the deer I didn’t watch my feet and I tripped. The deer ran off. 

“HEY!” a shrill voice called from somewhere in the trees, “What did you do that for?”

No idea who was yelling at me but I was taking no chances, and like the deer I bolted. But not fast enough, not nimble enough. 

An arrow shot by my leg and stuck in the ground. I stopped. And stood perfectly still. 

“idiot.” the voice was now right behind me! 

I turned. And looked down. It was an elf! With plum purple skin and dark green hair. 

And they were laughing. 

Then another elf fell from the trees to land silently next to the first. This one had dark green skin and straw yellow hair. Their long ears were standing straight up reaching higher than my eyes. 

They were laughing too.

“What’s so funny?”

“You responded to ‘idiot’!” Said the purple one. 

Ugh. Elves!!

Then they got suddenly more serious. 

“Can’t believe it! We’ve been hunting those deer for days and you happen to trip when we got them in our sights!”

“I’m, sorry?” 

The second elf elbowed the first, “he couldn’t have known we were there, Damian! Not his fault!” She spoke in elvish but I’m fluent. 

The first elf, Damian, looked up and half groaned half sighed, “and I suppose, Bridget, that I should apologize to the human for almost shooting him?”

I don’t know why I spoke up but I did. 

“It was an impressive warning shot!”

Damian’s ears stood up again then folded back and a little red flush appeared on the purple cheeks. As did on Bridget’s but for a different reason. 

“Yes. Warning shot,” they said. 

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut. Not a smart idea to quip about an elve’s bunting prowess. I still wasn’t happy to learn they were trying to shoot me! 

“You’re an adventurer?” Asked Bridget.

“A bard!” I said.

“Need a place to stay tonight?”

The shadows were lengthening, I hadn’t noticed. And then my stomach growled. 

“I sure do. But are you sure? I mean I did scare the deer-“

Damian shouldered their bow and nodded, “It wouldn’t be very elven to leave a stranger in the woods.”

Even not hunting they moved so silently I couldn’t take my eyes off them as I followed them to their village. We stopped by the temple, as it is the respectful thing to do when entering the village. It was set up for fall, done up in browns and oranges and paper chains. On the altar was a single brown leaf. The first one seen by a member of the village. 

I’m not elvish but I still prayed to Autumn for my hometown to have a bountiful harvest. 

I sat on the floor in the common dining hall as my new… friends, sat on stools made of tree stumps. They may not have caught any deer but there was some sort of roasted meat concoction wrapped in sugary leaves, crystallized to give it crunch, making a sweet and savory combination I’d never experienced before. The same sugar crispy leaves were used to scoop a sort of nut and vegetable curry. Delightful! I could write a song just about the food. 

I of course told them why I was in the woods, since they were curious. 

And they told everyone how I tripped and fell, exaggerating it greatly. All the elves laughed but knowing elves I was better off. They enjoyed slapstick comedy. The fact that I was able to laugh at myself seemed to gain me favor. 

One elf, with lighter green skin and dark brown hair laughed like the rest and yet, their eyes were deep in thought. They were a strange one, I think. Even by elf standards they had a strange name. 

Jacuzzi? Who names themselves jacuzzi?

Then they spoke. 

“So, you need a story?” They asked. I nodded.

“I think I can help you,” they said, “at the very least point you in the right direction.” 

At their words a lot of the company got quiet. 

“If you’re that desperate, there’s,” they paused, as if they were still considering whether or not to tell me, “A wizard. If you encounter him, you’re sure to get a proper story.”

I couldn’t think why this made the elf act so strange, plenty of mages made it their job to participate in tales. Though. With wizards they were usually evil, if not a member of an adventuring party. Nonetheless! A story about a wizard sounded fantastic. 

“Where does-“ I stopped myself from finishing that stupid sentence. Nowhere in the Mystic Woods stayed put so asking for directions was complete folly. 

“What’s the best way to, uh, find him?” 

Jacuzzi shrugged “The birds have the most up to date information. But you’ll know it’s his place when you find the tower in the garden.”

Lots of wizards had towers, few had gardens. That was more of a witch thing. 

“He’ll be there? Tonight”

“Probably, he can't- well he’ll be there. If not tonight then by the morning. Don’t mess with his things.”

“Why-”

“He considers it extremely rude-  You don't want to be rude”

Sound advice. 

“Hold on tonight?” Damian re-entered the conversation. “Are you mad? Traveling the forest at night is dangerous! Especially alone.”

“So? I’m trying to get into trouble. Doesn’t make a difference if I find it at the tower or on my way.” 

My confidence wasn’t entirely fake. I had a good meal, I wasn’t tired. I could knock this out by morning! 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

I swear I heard giggling as I departed. If these elves were pulling one over on me well! I don’t know what I would do but I’ll think of something. I had a wizard to find. 

It wasn’t long before I realized why I should have waited for morning. 

No! Birds! 

From Who could I ask directions? The sun was about to set. It was only early autumn, the days were still a decent length, but it would be dark real soon. No birds, no people. 

Wait. I spoke too soon. There were footsteps. It was a slim chance but maybe they could help me. 

“Young man, what are you doing? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night alone?”

The voice had a deep and soft quality that wasn’t human. But they were speaking Orriandish. Really folks, dont meet strangers in the forest that you can’t see. They’re usually evil witches or sorcerers or cyclops ogres. Yeah, one-eyed ogres are skilled talkers, luring people to them. It was only after I answered I realized this could be an ogre. 

“Aren’t you out alone too?”

“Why yes-” the voice was closer and then I saw them. 

Thankfully it wasn’t and ogre. But it was a witch, and a dwarf one. Uncommon. Probably not evil. It did explain why they were confidently out at night. Dwarves had pretty amazing night vision. They had the traditional black robe and hat, and a cat sat down beside them. It was a really large cat, which was amusing next to the short witch. Their long braided beard was decorated with trinkets, which was a quaint look I must admit. 

“But I live here.”

I stood up straight, which I guess was a bit rude. 

“How do you know I don’t?” I stammered, “I could!”

The dwarf stroked their beard, “I guess it’s possible, do you?”

I sighed and slouched, “No…”

“But I am looking for trouble.” I explained my story and the dwarf listened, smiling kindly. 

“So the elves told me I would be guaranteed a story if I found this wizard who has a tower and a garden-”

The witch’s eyebrows raised. 

“- you know this wizard?”

The cat mrowed loudly, his tail swishing on the forest floor a bit faster. 

“I do indeed,” there was an extreme fondness in their voice. 

“And you know where he is?”

The witch laughed, “I’d say this was coincidence, but in these parts there are too many of those to be truly coincidental. I do in fact know the currently location, and it’s close by.”

“Really!” I almost danced with excitement. 

Unlike the elves the dwarf had no hesitations. They pointed me in the right direction, and informed me of a few roadblocks and landmarks. 

“Thanks so much!” I waved back at them and didn’t look where I was going and almost tripped. 

Almost. 

“And light your lantern!” 

Oh right, duh! 

Finding the tower was easy with the witch’s directions. They’d even told me the thorns were fake and the vines safe to climb up. That should have raised red flags, or some color, but I was so focused on achieving my goal. 

Now, we bards aren’t really known for our… physical abilities beyond dance. We can fight sure, but a fifty-foot climb is gonna leave most bards gasping for breath. I'm proud to say I was merely on the cusp of wheezing, though I was having difficulty standing. 

I needed to rest. So I lay on the windowsill. 

Which I failed to notice stretched so that I could more than easily lie down.  The cool night air and stone felt so nice. I looked into the tower. 

And my heart stopped. 

I’d gotten a brief glimpse before nearly passing out, but it was different now. 

Exactly the same. 

But. 

Bigger. 

You might know, my readers, that wizards are all human. All of them. Non-humans aren’t allowed to attend the academy. I’m sure those like I, being a quarter fairy, might be let in, but... This- this giant sized workshop didn’t make any sense. A giant could not be a wizard no way. Why would the elves say this was a wizard’s tower? Did they not understand the difference between wizard, witch, and sorcerer?

But the dwarf witch, they had to know! They had not corrected me. Plus, the workshop did have a very wizard feel to it.

What was going on here? 

I needed a moment to process so I rolled over to look outside. Looking inside made my head hurt. 

But a Giant Wizard. If that were real, what a story! If it were fake, then well, a giant mage is still exciting. I looked once more into the room. Three desks, one for material prepping and alchemy, one that looked like the main workbench, and one… like a spare workbench? It was not very organized compared to the other. And shelves full of things I could not identify. 

And on the floor, an open trap door with stairs leading down. Down to where the wizard must be. 

I was thankful I had noticed the shift in scale, or I surely would have fallen 15 feet onto the floor. Instead I got out my grappling hook and rope and rappelled down. With a flick, the hook dislodged. This place was large, I would need it again. 

I could have spent hours in this room, just taking in the immense magical collection, but that wasn’t why I was there. And I heard noises from down the stairs. Water? Clinking metal? I took each stair one at a time, slowly making my way deeper into the tower. 

Either the kitchen just happened to be one floor down or this stairwell was enchanted to take you to the floor you were thinking about. For just as I reached the landing I saw the massive doorframe that led into what was clearly a kitchen and small dining room. Small for the giant, who was at the sink washing pots, pans, and other things. 

He certainly looked like a wizard! A tall wide brimmed hat with a curling point, and robes that matched the garish colors and patterns. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and mutton chops, and long curly black hair tied behind his back. On his handsomely large nose rested thick square spectacles. Not only was he tall, he was just plain large. 

I know I talked about the false stereotypes of bards, but we weren't the only profession with them. People tended to think of Wizards as more delicate, as they spent all their time studying, never going out, forgetting meals. But this, man, for he looked more human than giant except for being over 20ft tall, well the only word for it was burly. 

I’d never imagined a wizard who, if you removed his wizard robes, put him in a flannel shirt and handed him an axe would be a picture perfect lumberjack. Now such a wizard was right before my very eyes. 

Suddenly I was not so confident. I should have lost my nerve back at the window, when I saw the scale of the workshop. But it just didn’t hit me until I saw the giant. I’ve seen giants before, they are actually larger than this person, that made him seem more dangerous. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

This wasn’t just any wizard, or any giant. 

This one was evil. 

Maybe I could just leave! Yeah. I would just get the fuck out of here. I was not prepared to handle an evil giant wizard. 

I made my decision a bit too late. The giant stopped cleaning a plate to look up and sniff the air. 

Shit. 

It was futile to run, but it was my only option. I didn’t even make it up two stairs before the giant roared with delight. 

“FEE FI FO FUM!”

No no no! Not that! 

“I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND!” 

Well technically I was quarter fairy but-

“BE THEY ALIVE OR BE THEY DEAD, I’LL GRIND THEIR BONES TO MAKE MY BREAD.”

Yeah… I should not have come here. Evil giants tend to eat people. I’d had a small hope that this smaller giant, who was very likely a proper wizard, wouldn’t. Also the line about grinding my bones to make bread? I’m no alchemist but I dont think powdered bones make for a good flour, and wouldn’t even be enough to make bread for a giant if it were! As far as I knew giants didn’t bother with such things and just gobbled people up. 

Which didn’t bode well for me as this giant made it stairwell in a few seconds and scooped me up in one hand, holding me up to his face. 

“How convenient, a tasty little thief” he smiled, revealing very giant-like fangs. His breath was horrible. “I was just thinking I needed some dessert.”

“Please! Mister Wizard, I did not steal anything, I am no thief! I’m a bard!”

The giant raised his eyebrows, but did not set me down, instead he turned and walked back into the kitchen. 

“A bard?” he asked, “what’s your name?”

“Ophir Shel Peh!” I said. 

“Not Jack then?” The giant tapped his chin, and his eyes found my ukulele. “Hm. Yes I would say you probably are a bard! I don’t get many of those.” 

He sat at the personal dining table. And set me in front of him, putting his elbows on the table, and his chin over intertwined fingers. It was silent except for his breathing, and my heart in my ears. Every breath he took blew around me, and it was just a little warmer than I expected. He didn’t say anything for a long time and I started shaking, adding my rattling bones to the noise. 

“Why are you here?” he asked before I fainted (I had… somehow forgot about breathing). 

“Adventuring!” I couldn’t say ‘for a story’! THAT’S CHEATING. But perhaps... Ah I can’t lie to you reader. I wish I could say I was perspicacious enough to consider this giant was a professional fairytale villain. But I had no idea. I was damn lucky he was though. And he’s really good. I understand why His Mystical Majesty hired him. 

Let’s get back to me being a complete dumbass shall we?

The giant’s face hardened and I worried I’d fucked up. 

“Adventuring?” he asked rhetorically, but I nodded, then he looked a little morose. 

“Shame, I was thinking of letting you go-”

He was!?

“-But I guess I have to eat you after all.”

He didn't sound at all troubled by it. I mean, he had threatened to do so. I backed up and he smiled, knowing he could snatch me up no matter what. I think he could tell I was going to ask why, even just to stall. 

“It’s nothing personal, I don’t like intruders on my good days. But I can’t have you out there talking about me, spreading the word of a merciful giant. You’ll only get more people killed. ” 

That was a lot to process but I got the gist. 

“I won't talk!”

He stood up and slammed his palms on the table so hard I finally fell down. 

“You’re a bard, it’s your job!” 

Unfortunately he was right. 

Then he looked a bit surprised by something, narrowing his eyes at me. 

“I suppose,” he said, “your job also involves performing?”

I nodded. 

“I don’t get to go out much,” he said, though I wasn’t sure that the entire truth “If you give me a good show, I might consider it payment for what would have been an extra special treat. I can smell the fairy blood on you.”

I tried not to make a face. My fairy blood made me smell better? Great. And there was always a chance he was lying, just to get a show and his dessert. Evil giants might be fairly honorable, but evil wizards were notoriously dishonest. So I had no idea with this evil giant wizard. 

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” I asked. 

He sat back down, perfectly copying his original pose. 

“Tell me a story,” he said. “And perhaps I will not eat you.”

Great. Legally there weren’t many stories I could tell. You might be asking, ‘Ophir! You’re about to die, what do you care?’ Well if I live and I'm found out, I’ll be expelled from the guild for life. I’m already in hot water. 

That… and the only stories I could think of were ones with evil wizards or giants, who ended up dead. Curse my stupid brain. But I couldn’t refuse, he would eat me! Guess I had no other choice. 

[(adapted from a real tale)

The story of Maestro Lattantio and His Apprentice Dionigi. 

It was an old tale, from the long dead kingdom of Italy, so anyone could tell it. A wild tale of a wizard and his apprentice battling it out in ways only two mages would. Wanting to be free of his abusive master, Diogini kept turning into things, animals, creatures, to escape. 

But Lattantio would transform into the exact creature or monster or animated object needed to re-capture Diogini. Eventually Diogini turned into a fish and swam down a river. Lattantio declared that he was through with these games and would kill him. Lattantio turned into a kingfisher hawk, intending to snatch him out of the water, but Diogini jumped into a basket carried by a handmaiden  for the princess. The handmaiden had been doing laundry, so being a fish wouldn’t do. He turned himself into a beautiful ruby ring. The princess found it in her pocket and he became her new favorite piece of jewelry. 

Then one day, the King became ill, and Lattantio was called in to cure him. He did of course, and in payment, asked for the princess’s ruby ring, for he could tell it was Diogini. But he could come back tomorrow for the payment 

That night, when the princess took off the ring, Diogini transformed back into a man. He apologized for his ruse, and explained that the wizard Lattantio was his enemy, and would do anything to get him back into his clutches. The princess, who at first was horrified, saw that Diogini meant her no harm, and he was as handsome a man as he was beautiful a ring. She asked how she could help. 

The next day, when Lattantio returned, the princess stepped forward and held out the ring. Then dropped it to the floor. It turned into a mouse, so of course, Lattantio turned into a cat. The princess whistled to one of the palace dogs, which leapt at the cat, breaking its neck. 

Diogini quickly returned to human form and separated the dog from the cat’s corpse, tossing it into the fire. The only way to be sure the evil was truly destroyed. 

Impressed by Diogini’s skill and at the behest of the princess, the King was happy to make Diogini the court wizard, and his son. 

]

I concluded the story, and looked at the giant, distressed to find he looked unimpressed. 

“That was,” he waved his hand in a dismissal manner, “diverting, but I could just have easily read that story.”

WHAT! I’d done voices! I was dramatic and expressive! How dare he say reading it from a book could be the same! But I couldn’t be angry because I was scared. 

“Though I suppose it was decent,” he continued, “just not enough to keep you alive.”

Crap.

“Dance for me,” he said, “and perhaps I will not eat you.”

It took me a few seconds to notice he wasn’t eating me, but instead was giving me another chance. But… Dance!? On this table? With my leather boots on? And my thick pants? And no music!? This was not good. 

“S-sure” I said, I was still shaking badly. 

Since there was no music I thought perhaps, something that conveyed real meaning through motion. I could hear the song in my head at least, so I wouldn’t falter or look like I was making shit up. 

I leapt and gestured, and waggled my body in the most embarrassing ways.  

“What is this crap?” said the giant after I had danced for only a minute. 

“Interpretive dance, mister giant,” I said, freezing in a most uncomfortable pose. 

“You’d better pick something else,” he said. “And give it some more personality”

All I knew was he had given me a second chance. Ok. So I didn’t have music, but maybe something rhythmic would be better. I didn’t have the right shoes but my footsteps were still very audible. 

So I went into a new dance. Hopping and stomping and tapping my feet. Then I started singing. I had been so stupid that I forgot I could do both at the same time. I basically re-invented a few ritual dances from my hometown, used to bless the beginning of each month. If I lived through this I would go home and teach everyone. 

The giant Watched me carefully from behind those huge glasses. Judge, jury and executioner. 

Finally I was sore and out of breath, jumped up to land with a mighty THUNK, ending the performance. 

The giant looked a bit sorry now. Why would he look sorry!?

“That was very impressive, and your singing was a nice touch, but I think such things would best be done with a group. Alone it was underwhelming.” 

What did he know! I’d danced my freaking ass off! I sat down and tried not to cry as I regained my strength. Why weren’t my best efforts good enough!? I was a Master bard. But I was at the mercy of the most subjective critic. I had to change tactics. Impressing him wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Well, since it’s getting late,” he reached out a hand.  

“Wait!” I shouted, nearly breaking my voice which would have been a death sentence. 

The giant’s hand paused, “That was so bold I’m inclined to do so, but not for long.”

“You, liked my singing?” I asked. 

The hand retreated. “You could say that.” Then he caught on. “Fine. One last chance.” 

He leaned back, crossed his arms, and cleared his throat. 

“Sing for me, little bard, and perhaps, I will consider not eating you.”

I scrambled to my ukulele. It was so old it was already out of tune, so I hurriedly tuned it, under the piercing gaze of the giant.  

“Your voice isn’t magical is it?” Asked the giant as I tuned the ukulele.

I smiled “No, it is. My fey ancestry. Never really tested its power. Mostly I’ve transfixed crowds or made them cry with the opening notes. I’ve also played monsters to sleep.”

He leaned forward as I realized my mistake and quickly added “but that doesn’t work if you know about it! Which you now do!” 

Thankfully he believed me. I was telling the truth, but there was no reason for him to trust me. 

“Well, just make it a nice song. I’ve got sensitive ears.”

Oh fantastic. That meant he could probably tell if I went out of key. I had a moment’s thought to play something screeching and horrible, to make him bleed from his ears, giving me a chance to get away, or at least cause him pain before he ended my life. No. My first choice of song was probably the best one. 

I sat down criss cross apple sauce, but back very straight. And I strummed the opening cords. 

[

In the quiet mystic morning  When the sun’s just graced the land O’er the horizon, lies a story And it begs to take my hand

Now that summer’s ceased its gleaming And the harvest’s past its prime In adventure I’ve found meaning But I’ll be homeward bound in time 

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

As the first instrumental break started I turned my attention to the giant. His face was as stoney as ever.  I wasn’t hitting my mark. So I continued. 

-

If you find it’s me you’re missing And you’re hoping I’ll return To your thoughts I’ll soon be listing  On the road I’ll stop and turn

-

The old strings were threatening to cut into my fingers but I just used the pain to fuel my voice, powering it with agony and sorrow. I saw the giant’s brows raise as my human sized voice grew to fill the giant room. 

-

For the wind has set me racing As my journey now begins To leave the path I’ll be retracing When I’m homeward bound again

Bind me not, to the pasture Chain me not to the town Set me free to find my calling And I’ll return to you somehow

-

The second, and last, instrumental break. I had started crying at the chorus and couldn’t see the giant through my tears. My last performance, and it was for my murderer. 

And still my song rang out. 

-

In the quiet  Mystic morning When the moon has gone to bed When adventure’s lost its meaning…

I’ll be homeward bound

Again

-

My ears were ringing from the sheer volume, I was clutching the Ukulele so hard it threatened to crack. I was numb from all my efforts. Now would be a great time for him to eat me, maybe I would feel no pain. 

Then, as my ears and eyes cleared up, I saw. 

The giant's eyes, red. Shiny trails of tears down his cheeks. His arms were still crossed but he looked like he was almost strangling himself. Still, I did not let myself feel any hope. 

“Dammit,” he hissed and sniffed, “I should eat you for making me cry.” 

No. No no no no no. 

“But I won’t” he sniffed again and got out a handkerchief, “You’ve more than earned your life.”

I collapsed and started crying harder. I had done it. By the gods. I had fucking done it. I let myself melt into the table, half passing out. I didn’t want to feel or think for an entire week. I guess because he wasn’t going to kill me, the giant let me lay there. 

When I finally sat up he was making tea! I very much wanted to get the fuck out of there but the tea smelled amazing, almost magical. 

He noticed me moving. 

“I find tea helps after a harrowing adventure,” he said cheerfully. 

His demeanor was entirely different. His face was softer, his voice was higher, his dark brown eyes colder, but considering they had been blazing before, it was a friendly warmth now. 

That really had been an adventure hadn’t it. One that really made use of my skill set. One that was perfect to turn into a story. It had great pacing too, with just a bit of tweaking. I’d already started writing out the flowery prose and accompanying staging in my head. My interpretive dance was going to be way better in the retelling, but don’t say anything to the guild alright? Everyone embellished. 

I had to scramble away as he set the table, which meant setting down a smaller table and chair for me, and then bringing over his own cup and the teapot. He touched the sides of the pot that must be hot enough to scald skin from bone like it was nothing, pouring out near boiling tea. I watched mesmerized as he used a bit of magic to pour the tea into my teacup. 

“Let it cool,” he said, as he took a drink of his own tea, “I’m not normally a fan of sweetened tea, but I thought a little extra honey would do your throat some good.”

I gingerly stood up and got into the chair. It was normal sized of course, since he was giant. But here I felt like a doll that some demonic girl had set up for a tea party. 

“Thanks,” I said, and indeed my throat felt raw. I couldn’t wait to drink the tea, but it was still too hot. 

“I should be thanking you,” said the giant, smiling and showing off his fangs, but it no longer felt so threatening, “That was quite a show! You must be a really high ranking bard.”

My face turned very red, “I- well I’m on probation,” I admitted, “blacklisted. So really, thanks for-”

I saw his eyes glitter, literally. 

“You- you never meant to eat me did you?”

He grinned even wider, “No, but I trust you won't include that in your tale.”

I shook my head. 

“I very much enjoy playing the big bad giant,” he mused, “But I have other work; I can’t have adventurers showing up all the time.”

Now I was curious, “If I may ask, what else do you do then?”

There was a short pause as he considered whether or not to tell me. I wondered if it was a grand secret. 

“I’m a royal wizard,” he finally said, and there was a massive amount of pride underneath his tone. And resentment. That was concerning. 

My jaw dropped, “You- A Royal Wizard?”

This might be the most interesting person I’d ever met. How did a giant, or giant-esq thing become a royal wizard!? How did a royal wizard end up running an evil tower? 

“You already got one tale, but if you’re not inclined to leave so soon, I can give you another.”

I definitely knew where this was going and I definitely wanted this tale. 

“But on one condition,” he said. “You cannot tell it until either I or the Mystic King is dead.”

“Are- you dying?” I asked. 

He laughed, “No, but I am still a villain. I try to keep a fairly low profile, but any day a slayer could show up and succeed in killing me.” 

That made sense, but now that I was not mortally terrified of him, I saw that this man was much younger than I’d previously thought. He looked barely 24, a young man, and he had to worry about slayers! It also meant it couldn’t have been in this job for that long, being evil must really suit him. 

“Hopefully it won’t be for years, which will give you time to make this tale as grand as possible,” he continued. 

He drank more of his tea.

“I’m not great story teller,” he started off, “but I suppose the tale of how a foolish half-giant with dreams of becoming a wizard, and ending up a prisoner in the woods, might be a good one.”

Prisoner? Even more layers. Yes. This should be a good one indeed. 

Though he was right. Gods, wizards! They have no concept of narrative flow! They don’t leave out details! 

And yet. It was riveting. Yonah HaEsh, for that was his name which I finally learned, was half giant, half FireWitch. His father, the FireWitch, got interested in magic, but he wanted more structured study, beyond what witches can do. So he disguised himself as human to attend school. He was found out eventually, expelled and arrested for infiltrating the kingdom as a dangerous magical monster. He was almost executed before he was offered a job here in the tower! And amazingly, the Grand Master of the school had taken pity on him and allowed him to continue his studies here and graduate, earning the right to call himself a wizard. 

I had forgotten about my tea by the end and it had gone cold. That was an easy fix apparently: he pinched the cup between his thumb and pointer finger. A few seconds later it was steaming again. 

I finally took a sip, it was incredible. I made a mental note to write a poem or a song about it. But I had other things to think about, to talk about. 

“It’s a great story,” I said, with a cockiness I should have tried to keep in check, “but it needs a lot of work. It’s a good thing I’ve got a lot of time. I’ll need to go out and interview people.”

I stood up, “Which means, I need to hear it again.”

Yonah raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I should have been taking notes,” I said, “I need more specific dates and times and names! Oh and if you can tell me how your parents met, that would make for a great prologue.” 

He stood up too, clearing away his and my tea settings. But he didn’t clean them, just put them aside. 

“In that case,” he said, returning and offering his hand palm up, “We should take this upstairs.”

I still hesitated a bit, but I sat on his hand and was transferred to his shoulder. I’d never been on a giant’s shoulder before. I was tempted to touch his curly hair, since mountain giants don’t have hair, I thought it amazing that this half-giant had such thick silky locks. I settled to lean a bit towards his head for steadiness. Yonah didn’t say anything as he regathered the teapot and cups, and even got a few pieces of berry-nut bread and goat cheese. Then headed up to the workshop. 

Once again, he had a human sized desk that he set on his much larger one, and human sized pens (really nice ones), and a few human sized notebooks. Though I guess, since he can reduce to human size whenever he wanted (that was part of his “disguise”), and had many human friends, it made sense. 

“We can go in order,” I said, “But I think I want to start on what you got up to in school. We want people to really get attached to you and your friends so that they are on your side by the trial.”

Yonah liked that idea. I think he wanted this story to show him in a positive light, even if he was officially evil. 

We worked through the night. And my second cup of tea got cold. 

[FIN]

[PLEASE REBLOG and/or tell me what you think in an ask/message!]

FOR REFERENCE, HERE’S HOW THE SONG SOUNDS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VooU55wzSEc

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[I have to mention, that I have many more Mystic Woods stories, however those contain safe/soft non-sexual v/o/r/e... But lucky for you! i have filed them them separately! and (when needed) Every story comes with detailed content warnings!]

For ALL mystic woods stories:

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[one or two of my GT-ONLY stories are on my not so secret vo/re blog but from now on I’m posting the GT-ONLY ones here! hurray!]

[transguykeith]

State Fair

@zoloft-and-daydreams remember how I told you I’d write you something for your birthday? Here is that thing! I’m only two years and one day late!

Word Count: 2417

Pairing: Lance/ Hunk

Lance was most comfortable in the midst of chaos. He had grown up with four older siblings, at least fifteen cousins, and a screaming array of baby nieces and nephews. His entire worldview had been shaped in a home that was constantly jumping from point A to point Q and back again. He could sleep through a marching band down the hallways of his house if need be.

So the flashing colors and booming noises of the state fair did little to phase him. It was no more intense than a night of babysitting for his family. The constant buzz of people in every direction was soothing and the atmosphere of excitement was invigorating.

His friend, however, was less than impressed. "Are you sure this is safe?" Hunk tugged at Lance's hand, eyeing the ride in front of them nervously.

"Relax." Lance swung an arm around Hunk's shoulders with practiced ease, flashing him a winning smile in the process. "I've already been on it four times and I'm still standing."

"It looks...rickety," Hunk gulped. "And you know I'm prone to motion sickness. Maybe it's best I sit it out."

They stepped forward with the line, they were next up now. "I'm not making you do anything you don't want to," Lance was quick to assure him. "We'll hit up the food stands after this."

"Next," the bored attendant gestured them forward. For the fifth time Lance gleefully handed over a ticket, and for the fifth time Hunk stepped out of line.

Lance grinned at Hunk as he buckled himself into the ride once again and soon enough it was spinning and rattling about. It was fast and loud and—Hunk's observation had been correct—rickety; there was no other way he would have wanted it.

A measly two minutes later Lance stepped off the ride with an even wider grin than he had got on with and he made his way over to Hunk. "It's a real thrill y'know." He took his friend's hand and gently tugged in the direction of food.

"I prefer my thrills with both feet on the ground," Hunk smiled. "The carousel isn't too bad, I rather like it."

"And I rather like me some greasy carnival pizza," Lance pointed at the food stand he intended to go to. "What say you?"

"I say that's an excellent idea," Hunk happily allowed himself to be pulled forward. "Who can resist the allure of bad carnival food?"

"Apparently all of our friends," Lance said, stepping into line. "They all cancelled on me within fifteen minutes of each other, I was expecting you to cancel as well."

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck and looked back over his shoulder toward the rides. "Don't know why they couldn't come." His voice was pitched higher than usual and he was careful to avoid eye contact—Lance could read him like a book, he knew something was up.

"They were so excited about it yesterday," Lance said. "I'm not upset they didn't come, but I do think it's weird that they all cancelled on me at almost the exact same time."

"Yeah that is weird?" Hunk phrased it as a question. The relief evident on his face when they stepped forward to order their food.

Lance briefly forgot about the information he was trying to pull from his friend. The pizza slices were as big as his face and just as greasy as he had expected. In any other context, it would be a disappointing meal, but it was exactly what he expected from the fair and he loved it.

"This is..." Hunk gave his plate a quizzical look.

"Amazing?" Lance offered.

"Terrible," Hunk laughed. "Absolutely terrible."

"I know!" Lance grinned. "Isn't it great though?"

"Yeah," Hunk looked at him with an expression Lance couldn't put his finger on. "It is."

Lance folded his pizza slice in half and began eating it before it could fall apart on him. It was the perfect combination of too greasy, too soggy, and too salty. It was objectively terrible and he loved it.

"Where to next?" Hunk asked after they finished eating.

"You've gone through line with me for all my rides," Lance said. "How about you pick this one."

"The carousel?" Hunk suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Lance looped his arm around Hunk's shoulder once again and skipped off in that direction, happily humming a light hearted tune. The crisp air felt good and his face and the flash of lights all around him made him want to dance.

The line to the carousel was remarkably short and filled mostly with small children and their parents. Lance waved cheerily at a little girl with cotton candy on her face. "We're taking the boat," Hunk said, gesturing toward the very stationary seating area on the ride.

"Aw," Lance stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "I wanted to go on the dolphin."

"Nope," Hunk popped the p. "No moving parts."

Lance sighed dramatically. "Only because it's you," he said, handing over their tickets and getting on the ride. "You're lucky I love you."

"You say that to everyone," Hunk pointed out.

"I have a lot of love to go around," Lance spread his arms wide. "What else can I say?"

Hunk smiled at him fondly and took a seat on the bench of the cartoonish boat, taking up more than half of the available space. "I know you do. It's because you're a sweetheart."

Lance smiled back at him as he settled into the space next to him, their legs pressing together due to the narrowness of the bench. "Ha," he barked out a single syllable of a laugh. "Says the walking embodiment of sunshine. You're the sweetest person I know. Everyone who meets you falls in love with you immediately."

"Not everyone," Hunk shook his head. Lance couldn't help but notice the way Hunk deflated at that statement.

He leaned toward him with a grin. "Of course everyone," he moved his hand so it was resting on top of Hunk's. "You, my friend, are wrong."

Hunk spluttered wordlessly for a moment. "Wh-...no, that's not true," he asserted once his words came back.

Neither of them noticed the tone that signaled the beginning of the ride; the unexpected acceleration of the carousel sent Lance sliding even farther into Hunk's side. Their shoulders collided painfully and Lance's hand slipped off of Hunk's and onto his leg instead.

Lance yelped, more from surprise than from pain. "This bench is too small," he complained.

Hunk shifted and rested his arm on the top of the pirate ship bench, the tips of his fingers barely skimming Lance's shoulder. "I'd say it's just the right size," he smiled, a soft flush tinting his cheeks red.

Lance's heart fluttered at that statement and he ducked his head to hide the matching blush quickly spreading its way to the tips of his ears. "Okay, I guess it has its merits," he mumbled.

He was used to being close to his friends. Casual hand holding and cuddling was his jam, but there was something about that moment that made it special. The cacophony of sound faded into the background. The ride's music, the joyful and fearful shouts coming from other rides, the general buzz of excitement in the air. All of it fell away to make room for the hammering of his heart in his ears.

As the carousel spun, his thoughts settled into place. He'd been so distracted by enjoying his time with Hunk that he hadn't kept up his usual flirtatious ruse. There had been no flirtatious winks or comments as he handed over his tickets, no poor attempts at getting someone's phone number. Nothing. Absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was completely in love with his best friend and had been for years.

"You good there buddy?" Hunk's voice pulled him from his thoughts. The ride had ended and he had somehow managed to miss both the tone signaling this and Hunk standing from the bench and offering a hand up.

Lance took that hand gladly and didn't let go even once they had walked out of the area. "Sorry, I was busy daydreaming."

"Course you were," Hunk laughed and squeezed his hand lightly. "You've always got your head in the clouds, space cadet."

Lance rolled his eyes but he couldn't disagree, his thoughts wandered more often than not. "Well we have two tickets left, that's one more ride," he held up the last two tickets in his free hand.

Hunk looked at the tickets then turned to stare at the rides. He narrowed his eyes and glared at each of them as if he could, by sheer force of will, make them sturdier. "I am definitely going to regret this, but the Ferris wheel."

"Yes!" Lance jumped in excitement, pulling Hunk's arm up with him. "You are the best. Let's go."

Except, well, he hadn't really thought that through. The Ferris wheel was by far the most romantic ride at the fair, the so-called tunnel of love not withstanding. He was about to back out of it and suggest the swinging boat ride—Hunk's nightmare—instead, but before he had a chance to say anything, they were at the front of the line and Hunk was handing the tickets over. He hadn't even noticed him taking them.

"You two have fun," Lance immediately recognized the ride attendant as Romelle, a friend from school, and he could have sworn he saw her wink at Hunk before securing the safety bar on their seat.

"Thanks?" Lance was a little confused at this point, it only further solidified the inkling idea that there was some plan at play. A plan he wasn't privy to.

"Relax. This is fun," Hunk smiled at him. "That was why you wanted to come, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I wanted a chance to hang out with my friends and ignore school work for a few hours," Lance answered. They'd been planning the outing for weeks which was why it had been so strange that the others had cancelled last minute. "I'm still a little bummed they couldn't come. It would have been fun."

Their bench slowly crept to the top of the wheel as they talked. There were only a few other benches with people on them and those were all on the descending side so the wheel only stopped when letting them off or letting new riders on.

"Sorry," Hunk smiled sheepishly.

"Why are you apologizing, it's not your fault?" Lance tipped his head to the side.

"Except...well, it is my fault," Hunk admitted. "They did want to come, but I asked them not to and they all agreed once I told them why."

"Do I get to know why?" Lance drew the question out, looking at Hunk expectantly.

Hunk turned dark red immediately though this was less noticeable since the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. "I could tell you...but it would be easier to show you," he shifted the hand that was still holding Lance's.

"Then show me."

Hunk gulped nervously and shifted closer to Lance on the narrow bench—even narrower than the carousel bench had been. He was quiet as he raised his free hand to rest one, two, three, four, five warm fingers on Lance's cheek, his pinky and ring finger quickly tipping Lance's chin up.

And then he was leaning closer. And closing his eyes. And angling his head to the side.

And then Hunk's lips met Lance's in the softest of kisses.

Lance's heart stopped in his chest and his lungs ceased to draw air. He was stuck in that moment. Hunk was kissing him. Hunk was kissing him. Shit, Hunk was kissing him and he wasn't kissing back, he wasn't even moving.

Just as Hunk began to pull back, Lance shot forward in the seat, painfully knocking their teeth together as he rushed to wrap his free arm around his best friend. They both laughed and pull back far enough to grin at each other.

"You scared me there, I thought you were going to shove me away," Hunk told Lance, the last hint of worry fading from his eyes.

"Shove you away?" Lance echoed incredulously. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that for? Way too long, probably forever."

"What?!" Hunk's jaw dropped. "You mean I could have done this sooner? I feel cheated now. You flirt with every person alive except me."

"I can't flirt with you, you're my best friend!" Lance argued. "I could have destroyed a perfectly beautiful thing. I can't afford lose your friendship."

The Ferris wheel that had been stopped at the top for several minutes began to move back toward the ground once again.

"You could never lose it," Hunk promised. "But please, please tell me it can now include hand holding and kissing. Oh! Cuddling! Please tell me we can cuddle."

Lance smiled widely at the idea and to make his answer clear, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the corner of Hunk's mouth. "Absolutely!"

The wheel made it to the ground and Romelle flashed them a double thumbs up as they got off. "I already texted the group chat," she told them. "Stand next to each other, they want pictures."

Sure enough, Lance could feel his phone repeatedly buzzing in his pocket. He could only imagine what he'd see when he checked the chat later. "Alright fine," he turned toward Romelle with his best dazzling smile and posed through a few photos until she put her phone away. 

"I'll see you two at school on Monday," Romelle waved as they walked away. "I'm glad the date went well."

"Wait?" Lance turned to Hunk. "Was this a date? Did I go on a whole ass date with you and not notice?" He groaned as he tried to recall the events of the night. "I made you wait for me to go on rides so many times. I'm the worst."

"Oh shush," Hunk laughed softly. "One, I'm glad to wait for you when you're enjoying yourself. And two, yeah, this was a date. Did, uh, did you like it?"

Lance grinned widely enough that his cheeks ached. "It was perfect, you're perfect. Seriously, I had so much fun."

"We should do it again sometime," Hunk suggested hopefully.

"Yes, definitely! But this time I get to know it's a date from the start."

"Deal!"

[yopalonso]

Arle Nadja for Smash Bros. 3: Now it’s about content!

General reminder that I did two parts of this already.

Hey! It’s been a minute or two! That last Direct and Smash showcase was wild, wasn’t it! Banjo releasing that same day? Terry Bogard joining the roster? Nintendo confirming that there are more DLC characters on their way? A Sans Mii costume from Undertale AND Megalovania in Smash Bros.? WELL. I know I’m one month late to the celebration, but, hear me out: just before that Direct, I was legitimately giving up hope on the Arle dream. In my mind, I was “well, we only have two more slots, this ride was fun while it lasted, but this is as far as I go with this”, only to have Sakurai himself stretch out his hand of hope to me while I was deep into my desperation hole. It was insane.

Which got my idea noggin working back again! I wasn’t ready to talk about what I thought in terms of content for Arle’s bundle, but here we are! This will be all about what content she brings into Smash Bros.!

This last post is a two-part, since talking about the Spirits alone would require even more work, so that’ll be in part 4.

Número 1: Stage!

Over at the Arle for Smash Discord server, we’ve discussed which stage should fit Arle’s inclusion the best, and I’ve railed it down to three options: Primp Town, Pwurp Island, and the Dark Prince Castle.

And it was a no-brainer for me: it had to be this one.

The Dark Prince Castle! Out of all the locations in the Puyo world, I cannot say there’s a place that’s just as iconic as this one. Appearing ever since Puyo Puyo 2, and making appearances in different forms throughout the series, the Dark Prince Castle makes for a perfect stage!

Its main shape would be that of a centered tower, much like Kalos Pokémon League’s center platform. The main gimmick of this stage would be “rising floors”: the center of the stage would take you higher into the tower’s different floors for plenty of possible cameos! Lower floors could contain minor characters, middle levels could make some more recognizable faces pop up, and finally, the last floor, could be a reference to Puyo SUN’s last stage, with the Dark Prince himself waiting for you at the highest floor. Sometimes, even, with tropical clothing! The possibilities are endless!

Each floor would also have different platform layouts, to make them differentiate from the lower levels. The central platform itself could also gradually become smaller the higher the stage rises. But the risk of this stage itself is the characters in the background! Y’see, there’s this thing called Puyo Battles, that end up releasing Garbage Puyo that falls on the opponent’s field. Or in this case, the stage itself! From the top, Garbage Puyo could drop at any minute, so you’d have to be on your toes!

While playing this stage in Hazardless, you’d only fight on the lowest floor, and no Garbage Puyo would drop during a match. Character cameos could still pop up here and there, though. As for which would those be, well, you’ll have to wait for that.

Número 2: The music!

Can you quote yourself? ‘Cause I’m about to quote myself. Back in June, the #ArleForSmash Twitter account asked about which music tracks we would include in the game, had we the chance to do so. My answer shall now be complemented to coincide with the amount of music tracks the other Fighters Pass characters have received with their inclusions.

Originally, I only went with five (since that’s what the challenge was about), but now, I’ll go as far as listing 10 tracks, and that’s me doing some good ol’ wishful thinking! All listed tracks can be heard through the provided YouTube links over each of its names.

NORMAL MODE (Puyo Puyo Sun) [see description]

I like to think this is Arle’s character theme, and not so, well, that other song with the giant name. Puyo Hell, even Chronicle included a pretty darn good remix of this song that also used Pocket SUN’s higher pitch in one section. It’s that good. For this version, though? We could maybe ask for some sick instrumentalization by the mad lad Jun Senoue, maybe the rock masters of ACE+, or have someone new deliver a fresh tune into this song, like Tee Lopes, Toby Fox, or maybe even Grant Kirkhope! The sky is green, there are no rules anymore!

This is also the song I thought of first when I wondered which theme would play in her reveal trailer. And I’ll stick to that until the end.

Theme of Puyo Puyo (Puyo Puyo series) [see description]

What, you really thought I’d forget about Arle’s titular theme from her first game on purpose? Why, the nerve! ”A Long-awaited Spacetime Journey!”, aka.: “Theme of Puyo Puyo”! Of course it should be included in the game! Now, as for which version, well, I referenced the one that’s been in the game since Puyo Puyo! 15th Anniversary since it sounds fantastic, but here I was thinking that it could maybe be remixed into something more! Who knows?

Request from Puyo Puyo (Puyo Puyo) [ver. Fever☆Two]

Keeping on with themes from the original Puyo Puyo, we have this one, also known as Sticker of Puyo Puyo. This version, specifically, hails from Puyo Puyo Fever☆Two, and it’s so good of a remix, it’s pretty darn iconic! Included ever since, even! So, why not, let’s just include it as well!

Final of Puyo Puyo (Puyo Puyo) [ver. 15th Anniversary]

Whoever tells me there’s a better, more epic version of this song can head into my Twitter DMs for a healthy discussion, because I think otherwise: “Advent of Primp! Dark Prince”, or more commonly known as “Final of Puyo Puyo”. For me, this version is the ultimate one, one that deserves to be completely untouched in Smash Bros. for sure.

Area A (Puyo Puyo 2) [Original]

BUT IF WE WANT TO SPEAK ABOUT ICONIC, THEN AREA A, OF COURSE! This song would go terribly with Smash Bros., and that’s in itself what makes it so hecking great! Imagine connecting one sick KO to this track, this is how true fighting games should sound like.

Puyo Puyo FUNderworld! (Puyo Puyo Fever) [Original]

Hoo-wee, I love Puyo Puyo Fever’s aesthetic and music. But its first battle theme is quite mellow, and the Area A remix is so loud. But, this one? This one is fantastic, it’s frantic, it’s perfect for Smash Bros.! Puyo Chronicle also had fun with this song and remixed it to make it the standard boss battle theme, too!

Ready for Fever Mode! (Puyo Puyo Fever series) [see description]

I’m that kind of person who prefers the Fever Mode songs from all games. Since I can’t pick a favorite, why not compile them all into one track for one seizure-inducing mashup!

Dark Arle’s Insanity (Puyo Puyo 7) [Original]

I don’t think I could’ve included another theme that had “Arle” in the title that wasn’t this one, honestly. It’s one of the best, most iconic tracks in Puyo Puyo 7, and it uses cues from Last Decisive Battle from Puyo Puyo~n, too, so it’s a double win for me!

The Puyo Puyo Song - In-Game Version (Puyo Puyo!!) [Original]

Of course, I couldn’t just forget about Ringo! The Puyo Puyo Song is such a catchy tune from Puyo Puyo 7, and her theme in 20th Anniversary, a rendition to this track, is honestly fantastic. Hectic, frantic, but also epic and memorable! Uki uki, waku waku! Doki doki, hara hara~!

Double Trouble Finale! (Puyo Puyo!!) [Original]

I had to narrow down the epic final boss-like themes of Puyo Puyo as a series down to this one because I think something like this, playing in Smash Bros., fits the setting completely. Even more than Puyo 7′s final boss theme.

Songs that I would consider but are maybe too obscure only include Zako Battle from Madou Monogatari Saturn, because it’s just that good, but unfortunately way too short.

Lastly, since I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t explain the following: why I didn’t go for songs like Last from Puyo Puyo 2, Ultimate Legend of the Untrained Demon King, Crimson Wave!, Dimension Stage ~ Decisive Battle, or Domination, to name a few. While I do know that most Puyo Puyo fans know these songs by heart, that’s exactly the deal. I wanted to go for the most iconic tracks of the series, while also choosing the most recognizable, ones that people could quickly associate with Puyo Puyo, even if they only played a couple minutes of it. Filling the list up with only final boss themes would be sick, but alas, I decided against it.

Número 3: Spirit Battles... for next part!

... Yeah, this is where our little oddysey ends for today. I’ll come back to it with the finale when I have the chance.

Major thanks once again to the #ArleForSmash Twitter account, and to the people of the #ArleForSmash Discord server.

And, completely unexpected thanks to Apple, of all things, for having the names of the songs translated into proper phrases. Seriously, “It’s been a long time since we passed through space time!”, who approved this. “A Long-awaited Spacetime Journey!”, now that’s one hecking title.

Did you know? Of course I know his original name is Satan. But Dark Prince is so iconic, I just can’t call him any other way. It’s as simple as that. Did you also know that the Dark Prince was voiced in English by Smash Ultimate’s announcer, Xander Mobus, who also voices Joker from Persona 5? You can no longer unhear Dark Prince saying “Ravage them!” now. You’re welcome.

©SEGA. 2019.

[trashboatprince]

Time for another one-shot of Beast Bendy’s time in the studio as a little toon.

Dober, if you want me to change anything, let me know, I’m just going with my own headcanon on Bendy’s creation from the Ink Machine for this.

On with the fic!

--

Thomas Conner never expected that when he was hired by Joey Drew to work on installing things, that he’d eventually find himself involved in creating life through machinery and animation and not in the way it was done upstairs.

Months and thousands of dollars went into rebuilding the inside of the studio. Parts were left the same, but many others were completely rebuilt from scratch. Upstairs, in an area once used for offices, had been converted into a whole new room for a big project, the Ink Machine, designed by Wally Franks. However, the one that stood before Thomas now was the prototype, the one that he had designed with Joey and Wally, to show GENT what it was that they were investing in and having sponsorship with.

The machine was meant to produce more and more ink, enough for the animators to use for years to come without ever spending a dime to any ink-producing companies. It was obviously a huge expense to save a couple hundred bucks, that’s what Tom thought, until Joey began explaining more and more of what else it was going to do.

‘Bring life to the cartoons’, he had happily announced when the mechanic asked about any other purposes for the Ink Machine.

Don’t animators do that already? With all those drawings and music and stuff?

Nope, no, no, no! Joey had shook his head, getting too close to Thomas, as he loudly informed him that he was literally going to bring life to the cartoons.

Thomas left and came back a week later because the higher ups forced him to come back to the crazy man and his little studio.

If it wasn’t for the pretty girl who worked in the sound department, Thomas wouldn’t bother dealing with listening to Joey’s plans and ideas for using magic and shit to make cartoon characters into living beings. That lovely angel kept him from also strangling Drew.

Oh Allison, you are a saving grace...

The man stared at the machine in front of him. This wasn’t going to work, this was completely stupid and pointless. He looked over at Wally, who looked nervous as he fumbled with the controls of the machine. The studio’s man projectionist, Norman Polk, stood nearby, holding a tin with a cartoon reel inside of it.

“Where’s Drew?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms.

“He said he couldn’t come for the tests, remember? He has that week-long trip he’s on, so we’re just gonna have to do it all ourselves. Says he trusts us completely.” Wally grunted as he tried to turn a loose bolt on the machine, gotta make sure it doesn’t explode on them.

“I doubt it’s gonna work,” Norman sighed, drumming his fingers on the tin, “but if Mr. Drew thinks it’ll make any sort of progress... can’t help but to try it, ya know?”

Thomas scoffed, looking around the room. There had been ink-painted circles and symbols all over, including on the floor, under the nozzle of the machine. The air was freezing inside the room, and the lights were terribly dim, poor Wally had to hold a flashlight in his mouth as he worked.

The information that Joey had given them over the month since the machine’s completion was basically summed up as ‘put the reel into the machine, speak the incantation, and let the ink flow’.

Sounded simple enough, but this was nonsense. Whatever, as Wally puts it, Joey signs the checks, might as well do this to humor him. He glanced at the doorway, knowing that upstairs was the offering room, set up with what Joey claimed as ‘gifts to the gods’ for this project. Thomas was surprised that they weren’t using the big Ink Machine that Wally had designed, but then again, gotta try the prototype first. Plus, the new machine was still in construction, can’t use it if it wasn’t fully up to speed. 

The switch in the offering room, once the break room, had been flipped already, the pipes were flowing with ink and they were gonna back up and explode if Franks didn’t finish!

“Done!” Wally grinned, stepping back. “Now for da reel, Mista Polk!” He held out a hand and Norman rolled his eyes, giving it to Wally, telling the janitor to be careful.

From what Tom knew, the cartoon was the very first one that was distributed to the public, The Dancing Demon. He had only seen it once, when he got stuck watching it in the theater room with some of the other employees. It was simple, just that Bendy character, dancing to a song, before the tune changes and he just goes nuts with his dancing, only to get pulled off the stage by a cane.

Well, almost gets pulled off. His head is taken away, but his body remains and happily continues to dance.

It was dumb and silly, but people like it, and it’s the movie that Joey insisted be used. Though, there was a bitter tone to his voice when he said that it had to be that one, it had some guy name Henry involved with it. A bit of asking around and Tom found out that Henry was the original animator for the studio and co-founder, lucky bastard escaped this place when he had the chance.

He watched as Wally inserted the reel into the machine, looking at the giant ink tank with a nervous glance. “Here goes nothin’...” He threw the switch and the machine came to life.

It loudly banged around, nearly pulling the bolts that kept it down out of the floor. Ink splattered everywhere and the three men has to hold up their arms to keep the ink from getting on them.

“Time to recite that bullshit!” Thomas shouted over the loud noises.

The words Joey made them memorize was complete nonsense to the mechanic, but he figured it was probably Latin or Aramaic, at least from what Norman figured. It made no sense to him and he didn’t want to know what he was saying loudly over the sounds of the Ink Machine.

The markings around them started to glow faintly yellow, the color spreading out onto the walls and floor as they continued to speak. The machine stopped spraying ink as something seemed to be wedged in the faucet, trying to come out.

Whatever it was, it was trying to force itself out.

Running over, Thomas grabbed onto the wet, solid lump of ink without thinking. He pulled hard on it, hearing it come out with a cartoony-pop sound, ink spraying out once more as he landed on his back, a weight dropped on him hard and knocked the air outta of him.

He coughed and shoved whatever was on him off, hearing it splat next to him as the machine was shut off by Wally. “Conner! Are you alright?” Norman asked as he approached.

“Fine, uhg.” Thomas coughed, sitting up to rub at the ink on his face. He stopped when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, nearly jumping when the lump he had pulled out started to rise up.

The three men watched in horror as the object rose, it was rather tall, and ink was shifting about on it. A lump formed, almost like a head, where strange horn-like appendages grew from it. A blob of ink dropped from the ‘head’ and the three stared at the white, toothy smile that showed.

Tom was suddenly yanked back, pulled away from the smiling mass and the circle he had fallen in.

The mass wiggled and tried to move towards them, two bumps come from what could be its shoulders. They flailed, spraying bits of ink about, as it tried to follow them. Then it dropped forward, face-first into the floor.

“... Is it dead?” Wally whispered, gripping Thomas’ shoulders tightly.

A strange, high pitched squeal came from the thing, making them all shout in alarm. They watched as it curled in on itself as the circle started to glow brighter than before and Thomas was blinded for a moment.

The light faded, and the room was plunged in sudden darkness as the power went out throughout the studio. They were left alone in pitch blackness with a creature they created.

There was a clicking sound, and a light turned on, Norman had found the flashlight Wally had used. He pointed it at the blob, only for them to see that it was gone.

“Oh shit, oh shit...” Wally wheezed out.

“Where did dat thing go?” Norman moved the light about, trying to find it.

Thomas watched as the light’s beam moved about, before he spotted something. He stood up quickly, taking the flashlight from Norman, and pointed it at the Ink Machine. “Found it.”

There was a bit of solid black, and solid white, peeking out from behind the machine. What looked like fingers in white gloves gripped the side of the machine, and a black and white face that was way too familiar to the mechanic was looking at them in fear.

“Sweet mother o’ Mary, we made Bendy a livin’ toon.” Norman said from behind Thomas. “Dat crazy ol’ Mr. Drew was right.” “You gotta be kiddin’ me!” Wally exclaimed loudly, making Bendy hide from the shout. Thomas turned, glaring at the shorter man, before approaching the Ink Machine.

He knelt down, seeing that Bendy, if that was really him, had pressed himself against the wall, unsure of where to go or what to do.

It was amazing, he looked exactly like the cartoon character, just completely solid and alive. He looked so small and scared as he looked at Thomas with large, soulless, black eyes.

Soulless... that’s one way of putting this. There was something so strange about him, he looked just like the character, seemed to register fear and curiosity as he looked at the flashlight and at Thomas, but... he gave off an air that didn’t sit right with the man.

Then again, he was made through demonic magic, a cartoon, and ink, so there was obviously gonna be something so otherworldly of this guy.

With a heavy sigh, he held out a hand. “Come on, kid, let’s get ya outta here.”

Bendy looked at the offered hand before carefully touching it, just as the lights started to come back on. “Do we tell Joey about this?” Thomas heard Wally say as he picked up Bendy.

“Let’s see if the kid lives, who knows how stable he is with that prototype we designed. It was only meant for making ink, not creating life like this.”

“Joey’s still gonna wanna know.” Norman frowned.

“I’ll tell him when he gets back, I’ll even write down everything that happened, I’ve got this.” Thomas replied as he walked past, heading to get back upstairs and out of that room. He had taken noticed that when the lights turned on, the walls were stained a sepia tone of yellow, he hoped that it didn’t cause any problems, nor did he want to hear any complaints from Sammy if those stains got down to the music department on the floor below.

He’d deal with all of the clean up late, right now, he needed to deal with the little cartoon he had helped in creating.

He hoped this didn’t come back to haunt him.

--

The room this took place in is the room where Henry collapsed at the end of chapter one)

[rkwendy]

It’s The Endgame.

Coaching Solo for the Final Episode of MGA Season 5

Featuring: @rkmiya, @rksxngyeol, @rkkenta, @rkxbin, @yewonxrk, @jacksxnrk Special appearance: @rkchaeyoung @hyunark

Wendy’s lips couldn’t help but set into a firm line as she watched the results of the MGAs on TV. This wasn’t any good. The kids were going to have to redeem themselves if they wanted to prove that they truly belonged on that stage. The other companies’ performances may have outshined their teams. Part of her feels responsible for not doing enough as a coach. She shakes her head as she reads the notes the producers have handed her. The kids were going to have to think bigger and be a little more creative and daring as a one-last ditch attempt. It was go big or go home at this point of the competition. 

She doesn’t have much time to spend with them this week because of her own commitments as a member of AND*ROMA and all the preparation that comes with it. However, she’s still trying her best to be a good coach and wants to be there for them as much as she can. 

She’s also aware of the comments they had gotten in contrast to the other coaches. Perhaps some image reversal was in order? Especially now that the kids have shown improvement with last week’s military training.

Despite Sunmi unni’s best intentions and advice, Team Polaris seemed to have a mindset similar to hers in a more extreme fashion. Wendy had suggested to go bigger, bolder, and to think out of the box, but she wasn’t expecting them to go completely crazy. She had tried her best to retain some semblance of control, but her creative and ambitious side had been piqued as the rest of the team threw in more suggestions. As she imagines how everything will sound in her head, Wendy nods as she takes notes. She doesn’t want to dampen these contestants’ fire, now that it’s sparking back to life after a last-place finish. Sungyeol oppa is completely onboard as he even fuels their passion by suggesting special effects. Wendy only shudders as she thinks to herself as she starts sending Sunmi unni messages via Kakaotalk. Sunmi unni definitely wasn’t going to be pleased. She almost chuckles as she thinks of how she’ll have to finish mixing everything as soon as she finishes her own training for the day. 

The concepts they had come up with were going to be impressive to watch if executed properly. Then again, that is what they’re there for: to make sure the contestants can pull this off. This is a high-risk, high-reward kind of thing, in Wendy’s opinion. She’s more realistic about things, but she also believes in what their team is capable of. Wendy then spends the rest of the night at the studio that she has come to call hers as cuts the songs according to the contestants’ requests. She also throws in the special effects that they asked for as she searches for royalty-free sounds on the Internet. The sooner she finishes this, the sooner the team can practice. In the meantime, she hopes they still do the exercises she taught them the week before. 

With one singer less, Wendy then takes it upon herself to hit two birds with one stone: improve everyone’s singing and hopefully change the public’s perception of them as coaches. 

“I trust that you’re still doing the planks and running in laps, yes?” She asks as greeting after presenting them with the final audio they’ll use for their performance. “Some of you have an issue with voice projection. I’ll give you some tips on that,” Wendy says to them as she settles on the chair assigned to her. 

“You have to know how to open and close your vocal chords. The thing is, a lot of people want to look good while singing, so they don’t open their mouths properly. You need to lower your jaw and really open your mouth.” Wendy demonstrates it by opening her mouth wide enough to lower her jaw. “If you open your mouth like that, your vocal chords open up naturally. Let’s give it a shot, everyone.” 

Once she’s satisfied, she continues talking. “I have another tip and this time, it’s for doing high notes. As scary and risky as they are, there’s only two things to keep in mind,” she says. “There are sounds that go inward and sounds that go outward. It has something to do with how you breathe when making those sounds. For example, I’ll be singing ‘그녀를 지켜라 날 잊지 못하게.’” She almost chuckles at how the song to come to the top of her head is a MYNAME song. She thinks of how the tune goes before taking in a breath and keeping that breath in as she sings the line and leans backward, pointing to herself. Her voice sounds like it’s being held back, and she hopes the kids notice it. “That’s an example of a sound that goes in. Meanwhile… 그녀를 지켜라 날 잊지 못하게~ It sounds way better, doesn’t it? ” She opens her arms like she’s doing the Baby Shark dance as she sings the line properly. She hopes Insoo sunbaenim doesn’t think she butchered his line if he ever hears this. 

“When practicing high notes, remember to use sounds that go outward. Ah!” She demonstrates as she gestures for them to repeat after her. She keeps repeating the same syllable as she breathes outward, raising the pitch and volume as she goes. When they pull it off, she gently claps. “Great job! In fact, the sound you make when you’re angry is the best one to make for high notes. DAD, WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” She yells as a demonstration before laughing. After calming down, she adds, “You may laugh, but that’s actually a good sound to make.” She smiles at each of them. “You can practice by being angry with me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” She senses some hesitation from some of them. “Think of this as your chance to get even for all you’ve been through last week.”

Wendy decides to pay extra attention to Kenta, who suddenly has more singing responsibilities now. She can trust Jackson to sing even in his sleep, so she’s not too worried about him. Kenta on the other hand has been promoted from sub-vocal to lead vocal. She is going to make sure Kenta can at least pull off what he has to by show time.

“Ah~” Wendy sings as she opens her mouth. She watches Kenta as he repeats after her. She nods. 

“Just move your jaw downward, Kenta,” she instructs and points at her own jaw. She sings the note again. As he repeats after her, Wendy notices an improvement in his voice. “Just a little more, Kenta. Repeat after me.” This time she sings a higher note than the previous one. She gives him a thumbs up. Wendy decides to push Kenta to his limits by singing a really high note. She has to applaud his effort for trying, and that’s what she does. It may not have been perfect, but it’s a step up. 

Meanwhile, Changbin comes to consult her for feedback on rap lyrics. She had liked what he had come up with, but she feels like rap is completely out of her depth. She tries not to show her internal panic as she turns to the nearest PD. “Am I allowed to phone a friend? Or two? I need backup!” At the PD’s nod, she then turns to Changbin. “I know a thing or two about lyrics, but I want to get you the best help I can, as rap isn’t my field of expertise. Let’s just hope they both take the call,” she admits with a laugh as she goes through her contact lists to look for two specific numbers. 

She had actually wanted to ask Hugo oppa, who Changbin seriously reminded her of, but he’s busy with preparations for PER_SE’s debut. However, it will benefit Changbin to get help from two very different, but incredibly talented female rappers — assuming both people she calls pick up their phones.

“Chaeyoungie~ Are you busy?” Wendy asks as soon as the first of two people picks up. As she explains why she called, she puts her phone on speaker mode for Changbin to hear. “Hang on, I’ll send you the lyrics so you can read them as Changbin performs them.” 

Wendy listens and takes notes as she listens to Chaeyoung give her feedback on the rappers. Her feedback is a mix of things Wendy had thought of, but there were some things Wendy sure how to do or correct as well. Phoning a friend had definitely been one of her better ideas. It was less risky than kidnapping Chaeyoung in the practice room and dragging her here. 

When Chaeyoung’s done (or was forced to go back to practice, Wendy’s not sure), Wendy gently sings “Thanks, Chaeyoungie~ I owe you food later! See you when I get back~” 

That’s not the only person she thinks of calling. She’s more sure of Chaeyoung’s schedule, as they literally live together. However, the second person she’s calling is probably not as free to take calls. Wendy decides to risk it all the same. She blinks at the cameras for comedic effect as the phone rings for the second time today. 

“Hyuna unni~ Are you busy?” Wendy asks as soon as a familiar voice that’s not voicemail (thank God) answers. She doesn’t bother holding back a snort as she realizes that she may have called Hyuna unni while the older girl was resting from training. Her suspicions are confirmed when Hyuna unni says “You want my help? Okay cool uhm — let me get a coffee.” 

Having Hyuna unni onboard is always a great help to Wendy. After all, when it comes to making music, the two of them are almost always on a similar wavelength. It’s one of the secrets to their teamwork. She knows this isn’t any exception. She’s desperate and is glad her friends pulled through. 

When Hyuna unni is done (or wanted to go back to bed — again, Wendy’s not sure), Wendy sings “Thanks, Hyuna unni~ I owe you cookies! Love you!” before ending the call. 

Turning to Changbin, she says, “I hope they were able to help. I definitely wouldn’t have thought of some of the things they said.” She hides her face in her hands as she laughs. 

At some point, one of them brings up the question of the coaches’ own MGA experiences. Wendy’s genuinely surprised at this turn of events. This is the first time any of them had asked her about it. She chuckles as she thinks back to three years ago. She tells them about the things Team Nova did, as well as Ricky oppa’s high standards. “What I did to you guys is chill compared to the dance boot camp we went through with Ricky oppa!” she says with a laugh. “He was very hands-on and helpful with my team back then…” 

On the night before the live performance, Wendy makes it a point to drop by the practice room. After all, she won’t be allowed to watch them live due to her own schedules. Once Sunmi unni is done with her pep talk, Wendy decides to give it a go. “I know Sunmi unni covered most of it, but I thought I should try this pep talk thing too. My figure skating coach used to tell me ‘You are the one thing in life you can control.’ Sure, you can’t control what the CEOs and the audiences will think of you, but you can control what you do up there tomorrow. What matters is that you have fun and give everything you have on that stage. No one can take that away from you. And if people see you love what you do, then it will be easier to win them over. After all, isn’t that what performing is? Despite what happens, I want you all to know I’m proud of you. Win or lose, you’re the best to me.” 

Wendy takes turns holding onto their individually as she looks at each of them in the eye. “My coach used to do this right before I took the ice,” she says with a gentle smile as she shakes their hands as her coach used to do to her. “I believe in you. You’ll kill it up there,” she says before hugging each of them. “It’s been an honor coaching you guys.” 

[cha0ticmimzy]

The Shadow of Fereldan

Autor’s Notes: Before she even faces Corypheus, before she became the Herald of Andraste, she was the Shadow of Fereldan. And she had a job that was left unfinished. Characters: Sylthana Lavellan, Zevran Arainai, Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, Leliana Warnings: Brief scene of torture, blood Word Count: 2617

Cullen’s men didn’t stop her as she left through Haven’s gate, despite the fact that she walked alone. She had told Leliana what she had planned- what she needed to do. A job that she had taken on before this shit show had begun, before she’d become the Herald of Andraste. She’d left behind the clothing that she had been given, that had been forged for her by the smithy. Instead, she wore what she always did when taking on a job: black. A pair of black boots whose soles had been worn down so where they matched the very arches of her feet. Black trousers that clung to her legs, laden with pockets and weighed down by the daggers that were hidden within. A black top that was fitted to her figure, with a black cloak atop it all. A mask covered the lower part of her face, her eyes and valaslin the other things to tell who she was.

On her back she kept a broadsword, it’s pommel inlaid with emeralds. It had been her father’s, and her father’s father’s, and so on and so forth, handed down through the years to the first born. No one has asked any questions when she strapped it onto her back; they simply gave her a wider berth. She’d lost count with how many daggers she had; a few on one hip, some within the pockets of her trousers, a hidden blade released via firing mechanism upon her left forearm. Pins hidden within her hair, which she had painstakingly coiled back from her face. She was armed to the teeth, quite literally.

She left Haven upon horseback, a wraith streaking across the snowy landscape. Her trusted steed, Malek, strong beneath her. She knew that Cassandra would lecture her, that Cullen would frown upon this- but she had a job, and she would see it through. That much she could do- for him. For the life that had been stolen from her clan, months prior to the Inquisition forming. She could still see it, if she closed her eyes. His body artfully arranged, the ribs splayed out, the bed beneath him nearly black with how much blood had been spilt. It was not for a ritual; she’d seen blood magic rituals. No, the body of Uthriel had been posed. She could still hear the way his lover screamed in horror upon finding him.

Sylthana could still remember the way her nails felt scraping through the guard’s flesh as she slapped him.

The ride to Denerim was long; she was unsure of whether Cullen would have his men come after her. Yet, when she looked to the sky, she could see one of Leliana’s beloved birds tracking her. Always watching from the shadows, she was.

Denerim was familiar; she’d traversed through the city many a time, collecting pay from those who sought out her services. This was where she would find him: Pitch. No one knew his actual name, since he’d abandoned it years prior. No, now he was just a cutthroat for hire, a brutal assassin known for his barbaric ways of killing. Each body he left behind was posed, making a mockery of the body’s owner, and causing quite a bit of trouble when it came to cleaning up afterwards.

She’d fought him, once, years ago, when she was naive and cocky; he’d bested her easily, and she barely left with her skin still intact.

Drakon’s Peak loomed high above the city, visible for miles away before the fortress turned city came to view. It was when she stood a mere hundred feet from the walls of the city that she pulled her mask on and tugged her cowl over her head. She left Malek tied to a tree, where he could eat plenty of grass and not be bothered. Her job would take time; the entire day to track him down, and then to wait until nightfall to make herself known.

Stepping into the city, she fell into the ebb and flow easily. Keeping her head down, her coin purse hidden within the depths of her cloak. The dirt streets were familiar, the old whore houses and taverns singing an old tune. Sapphire hues never strayed from her course, even as she slipped into the alleyways. No one approached her; her reputation within the city itself still very much alive. No one here knew who she was now. All they knew was that the Shadow had returned after taking a sudden hiatus.

She’d been halfway into a Tavern frequented by those who shared her title when a familiar voice caught her ear. Eyes widening, she quickly stepped back, head turning this way and that to catch sight of blond hair and tanned skin. Instead, she found herself pushed to the wall, a blade at her throat and a silky Antivan accent purred in her ear.

“Brave of you to traverse these streets alone.”

A smirk curled her lips as she turned, facing the handsome face of the assassin- and the Hero of Fereldan’s lover. “Bold of you to assume I’m alone.” She replied, watching as Zevran’s face split into a grin. The blade was pulled away, replaced instead with his arms as he pulled her close.

“I’d heard whispers that you were back, but I did not expect to find truth within them.” He murmured, pulling back to study the girl- or, what he could see of her given the mask she wore. How long had it been since he’d last seen her? A year? More? He couldn’t be sure. “I’ve also heard curious whispers about your involvement in a certain heretical movement.”

“Heretical?” Sylthana echoed, disbelief dancing across her features. “I’d hardly say it was heretical. But let’s not talk here.” She lowered her voice, eyes darting about. A smirk pulled at his lips as he nodded in agreement, leading her from the establishment. The market was safer, as odd as it sounded. Voices blended within, and it was hard to tail someone when so many people were mingling.

“Tell me, is it true?” Zevran asked, arm linked with her arm as they wandered through the dirt streets. “If so, I want to help. I owe you that much.” After she’d saved his ass from an ambush four years prior, he’d been in her debt. A debt he hadn’t the chance to pay- or, that she allowed him to pay.

“It is,” Sylthana replied, pulling her mask down to allow it to hand around her throat. “I wouldn’t mind having eyes and ears outside of the Inquisition. I’m working with an old friend of yours. A certain Nightingale.”

Surprise danced across Zevran’s features as he paused in his steps, before a laugh escaped him. “Of course you are. That does not surprise me in the least. Is she well?”

“She’s cold and sarcastic. I like her.”

“That is a rarity, for you to like a human so easily.”

“What can I say?” Sylthana shrugged, pausing to study a jewelers booth. “They aren’t all bad. Most are. But some aren’t.” Moving along without purchasing anything, she let her gaze sweep the market.

The assassin hummed in response, watching as she searched the crowd. “You are here for blood.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.” She didn’t bother hiding it, not when she was obviously armed. “I’m here for revenge. You see, a friend of mine was murdered wrongfully so,” she began as she tugged him closer, nails pressing into the skin of his arm; a subtle warning. She carefully pressed to fingers into his skin: two were following them. A tap, then another- twenty feet behind. “And I plan on fixing what was broken.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, and carefully steered her towards the richer parts of the city. The dirt turned to stone beneath their feet, and the men who had been tailing them drew back quickly. “So I was right.” He sighed, shaking his head as she stopped them, studying a stunning ball gown of rich sapphire and molten gold through the window of a shop. “You came alone?”

“No. I was followed. Nightingale sent some of her agents after me- no doubt to make sure I returned in one piece. Can’t have the Herald being butchered, can we?”

“Herald?” Zevran’s eyes widened as he stared her down. Without speaking, she removed her glove and raised her hand, the anchor flaring the life. “So you are the one…”

Sylthana gave a bitter smile as she let her hand fall, sliding her hand back into the smooth, worn leather. “Afraid so. Seems we’ve both been chosen for a higher calling, old friend.” Her voice was tired, showing the exhaustion she felt. His heart ached for her. “… Do you happen to know where the Warden is?”

"No," he shook his head, a small smile curling his lips as they began to walk once more. "She is trying to find a cure, you see. The Calling has returned-" 

 "I know. We have a Warden among us. Blackwall. He explained a little of it." She interjected as they began to near Drakon River. "... I need to go, Zevran. I've much work to do, and little time left to accomplish it." 

A hum left him as they stopped, his gaze sweeping over her face. Young, but so very strong. She reminded him of her, of his Warden. The one who held his heart. He reached up, cupping her cheek oh so tenderly. "Do be careful, mi amigo. The man you go after is dangerous." 

 A laugh escaped her as she tossed her arms around him, pulling him close. "You say that as if I'm not. Please, stay out of trouble. And finish off those bastards of an organization soon." She pulled back, smiling as he winked. 

 "If you need me, you know how to find me." With that, he backed away before turning, whistling an old sailor's tune. She sighed, watching him retreat before turning, heading back down to the poor part of the city. 

Mask pulled back into place, hiding all but her eyes. The labyrinth was difficult to traverse if one was not familiar. Thankfully, after spending far too long within the city, she understood the way it worked. Slipping down an alleyway and making quick work of the stairs that lead further down, she quickly found herself among those who could not be trusted with a blade or coin. Perfect. Sauntering into the tavern, she let her gaze drift across its patrons. 

The building itself was set up with a purpose; a large chandelier hung in the center, casting plenty of light there. The walls were cloaked in shadow, perfect for those who did not wish to be seen. Lip curling, she made her way to the bar, settling down within a chair. The bar keep paused, good eye studying her before both widened in surprise. "You're a sight for sore eyes." He commented, though she noted the way sweat began to bead up upon his forehead. "It's on the house," he added, sliding her a flagon of ale. 

She caught it, but did not raise it to her lips. "I'm looking for a man. Goes by the moniker of Pitch." She stated simply, sapphire hues narrowing at the way his eyes darted about. So he was here. 

 "I'm afraid I don't know-" she cut him off, placing the coin purse- purposefully open- upon the top of the bar. Jewels and gold coin alike sat within, glinting in the piss yellow light of the tavern. 

 "Allow me to repeat myself. I'm looking for a man. He goes by Pitch. And I know he is here." The sound of a chair scraping and falling let her know that the man she sought out had heard. And was running. "This is for your silence. Thank you." The back entrance slammed shut. She pushed away from the bar and made her way through the tavern, listening to way silence spread throughout with each table she passed. 

 A Shadow fallen upon the establishment. 

He ran. He knew she was following him, even as the sun descended beyond the horizon and the moon rose. He knew she was there, watching. He'd make a spectacle out of her, bring her into the market, flay her alive. That would teach anyone. He took alleyway after alleyway, twisting and turning through the labyrinth of Denerim's poor. A dead end. No matter. He turned, watching the opening of the alleyway in anticipation. He could hear the drunken voices of sailors singing, the pleasured screams of a whore as she worked for her coin. But she didn't appear. 

The sound of a body hitting stone behind him made him jump. She crouched, her head low, her body relaxed. She looked like a living shadow, a manifestation of the dark itself. He clenched his jaw, and a grin forced its way onto his face. "Big mistake, little elf." He hissed as she raised her head, baring coral hued valaslin and sapphire eyes. There was no light within them- no, that was wrong. There was one, a dark light. A dark delight. Blood lust. Anger. Hatred. For the first time in his life, he felt afraid. But that didn't stop him from rushing her the moment she rose.

She side stepped him easily. He turned, daggers poised for her neck, and was gifted with a harsh, swift kick to the gut. A surprised cough escaped him as he staggered a step back, only to find the slimy dampness of the wall pressing against him.

A moment later and she lunged.

He hadn’t had the time to even prepare, not as she crushed his hand against the wall. He didn’t realize what had happened until he felt warm liquid trickle down his arm, and then the pain echoed through him. She’d driven a dagger through his wrist, into the wall behind him. He went to reach, but she grabbed his other wrist and with quick hands, broke it. The broadsword she carried upon her back was out, and the pommel was driven into his hand, crushing the delicate bones of his fingers.

A scream escaped his lips, echoing through the alley, blending into the sounds of the night.

“You cunt.” He gasped out, beady brown eyes wide as she crouched before him. He could kick her, but his body was in shock; too much pain coursing through his system at once.

She didn’t respond as he continue to throw curses at her, words that could curdle milk with how sour they were. Instead, she brought out another dagger, and placed this one above his thigh. Silence swept over him. “You killed Uthriel Lavellan. I’m here to pay his respects.” Her voice made a chill dance across his skin. Saccharine sweet, dripping in honey and acid.

“You flaunted his death, and the money you received for it. The girl’s father paid you handsomely. And you went on a spending spree. You killed her lover, and then bought yourself pretty new knives and clothes and all the ale you could want.” As she spoke, she began pressing down, the tip of the blade easily piercing through the rough material of his trousers, into the fleshy, meaty part of his thigh. A whine trembled from his lips as she kept the pressure steady. “A big mistake, you know. It makes you easy to track. Any good cutthroat knows not to spend it all at once.”

“Just kill me!” He exclaimed, voice raw and quaking as she suddenly drove the dagger down hard enough that he could feel the reverberation of it striking the hard earth beneath him. A new scream tore through, and he found himself soiling his trousers due to the pain. Tears spilled free, streaking down his thin face. “Just do it!”

“No.” The word made the blood freeze in his veins. She pulled her mask down, revealing her face, and recognition danced through him. He knew that face. He’d fought her, long ago. “You should have killed me when you have the chance.”

“You-” he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the Shadow of Fereldan. The little runt of a bitch I nearly beat to death.”

A pleased grin stretched across her face, and he realized he had never seen something so terrifying in his life. “I’m going to make you wish for death.” She cooed, leaning close- only to drive a new dagger into his shoulder, pressing through, cracking bone, tearing muscle apart. A hoarse cry left him. “When the city guard finds you, they will be picking the pieces off the ground.” Sitting back on her knees, she reached down, pulling the dagger she’d driven through his thigh free. Blood gushed from the wound, turning the ground beneath him black. Pressing the blade against his thumb, she hummed. “Which finger?”

“Please, have mercy!”

“Ah, thumb then. Alright.”

“Have mercy!”

The ride back to Haven was a pleasant one. The weather was nice, and she ran into no trouble on the road. Malek was in a pleasant mood as well, dancing at times as he trotted along the path. She’d sent a raven home, carrying a parchment with a lock of hair, the words reading nothing more than a simple “It is done.”

As she traveled, the air grew colder, cleaner, clearer. She drew in a deep breath of the mountain air as she breached the top, the Breach in the sky coming into view. Sapphire hues lingered upon it for a moment, taking in its sickly green shade, before she clicked her tongue one, directing her mount down the strep incline.

No one greeted her as she approached, or as she passed Malek into the hands of a stable boy. The Iron Bull watched her from his tent, an understanding air about him. Krem gave her a tense nod, his lips drawn thin. Cullen was not with his men, nor could she see Cassandra training, cutting the life out of a training dummy.

Varric sat by the fire and watched her with a wary but understanding gaze as she walked past. She cared not for these looks. Leliana was within her tent, a relief she hadn’t realized she’d been wanting. Idly, she began to set the weapons she’d borrowed down, keeping her own on her person.

“I heard word from Denerim that the cutthroat Pitch was found dead.” Leliana commented, not looking up from her reports. Sylthana made a noise of disinterest. “The city guard found him with his legs pulled out of their sockets and flayed, his jaw broken, and all of his fingers cut off. He was also missing his eyes.”

“How curious.” Sylthana replied, though she didn’t bother keeping the pleased tone from her voice.

“Curious, indeed.” Leliana replied, turning to study the elven woman. “I will not ask why you decided to do this, only that I wish you now be at peace.”

“Peace doesn’t exist for people like us, Leliana.” She sighed, stepping away from the table. “We’ve too much blood on our hands to ever truly find it.” Leliana nodded once, understanding. “Zevran said hello. I assume Cullen and Cassandra are waiting within to lecture me?” She asked, rolling her shoulders once, twice.

“I was unaware that you knew him.” Sister Nightingale murmured, eyes widening in surprise. She quickly composed herself and nodded, amusement dancing upon her words. “I believe Cullen has been rehearsing what he wishes to say to you.”

“Lovely. Care to join me as I receive my verbal lashing?” Sylthana mused, smiling as Leliana set aside her reports to walk with her into the Chantry. Almost immediately, Cullen and Cassandre descended upon her.

“Have you any idea how worried we’ve been? You’re the Herald of Andraste! You can’t just up and leave when you wish!” Cullen scolded, lip curling up.

“You should not have gone alone. What if something had happened? This was reckless and foolish.” Cassandra shook her head, frowning deeply.

Sylthana smiled, moving past her advisors. “Hello, Josephine. Have we received word from my clan?” She asked, watching as surprise danced across the ambassador’s features.

“Yes, your worship. We just did.”

“Good. Have it delivered to my quarters. Tell me, what news have we of the Templars? Are they willing the meet?” She asked, enjoying the stunned silence from Cullen and Cassandra. Leliana let out a soft laugh as Sylthana turned to study the quarter with a raised brow. “Well, don’t just stand there! We’ve a job to do, do we not?”

“Ri-right, of course.” Cullen coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly walked past the Inquisitor, leading the way to the War Room. Cassandra remained standing in the hall, Leliana beside her.

“What just happened?” The Seeker asked as she watched the Inquisitor and Ambassador follow the Commander. Leliana laughed, a soft, rare noise.

“That, dear Seeker, is the Inquisitor in her prime.”

[mrsunderhill678]

Yo, yo, yo, I be writin’

"Life is a workout, pace yourself, be free, and find joy in what you love. In all our difference we're only human, looking for something to keep us going, looking for a purpose, but we don't have to look for purpose. Often, it finds us.” - Debby Shaw

“I have found purpose in everything that I love.” - Debby Shaw

“The world around us has suffered, we, have suffered, but look at us, still beautiful, still happy, still free. I refuse to believe that this is the end, this isn't war, this is love, and we needn't fight. The grass and flowers may rise again if we just keep going. The sun will rise, the rain will come, the flowers will bloom. All we have to do is love. The trees give us oxygen, the sun gives us warmth, generosity is the structural core of life, is it not? Love everyone, strangers, family and foes alike, because everyone can find the sun.” Debby Shaw

“I've seen what this world has to offer, not cruelty, not darkness, love. That is all it offers, the world doesn't offer pain, people, do. All the world's ever done is been fair to us, who are we to blame it for warlord's actions?” - Hope Saxton

“The sea is merciful as it is cruel, it is the same with men.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“I cannot trust a soul, the waves have ears and the fish whisper of demise and the shark ridin' the tide.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“The sea has no quarrels, only the death of those who raid her, many a watery grave has she claimed, fishermen, pirates and divers alike have succumbed to her wrath. To the sea's wrathful tide we are equal, in death we are fair.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“I have seen blood spill in the ocean only to disappear in the waves, at sea, all men are forgotten. It was a lawless wasteland out in the seas, no government could condemn us, but we certainly condemned each other. I suppose the whole Earth is a lawless sea, now, we condemn each other whilst condemning ourselves.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“No man lived after life, except for in the tales that were told.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“All history one day becomes myth, I've learned.” - Salvatore O’Malley

“A wolf is only as strong as his master, so shalt you fear the wolf that leads his own pack?” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Odin gives us life, the seers give us death, they give us fate, and isn't fate all death is?” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“We are blades and shields, wolves and sheep, shepherds of flocks that will bleed.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“I have watched many a man fall in crimson, and never have I seen black blood fall. Do you think it a coincidence that no man of black blood has ever fallen? Why is it, on the battlefield, every puddle is red?” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Valhalla has yet to welcome me, for I am far from done. I am too cold for Hellheim's snow, too cruel for the heathen's hell.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

"You're turning sheep into dogs thinking they won't bite back at the hand that scolds them." - Valskirith Deskgrottir

"We are all victims to the seers and the gods, Faim. We are dead before we ever hit the ground, hung from the seers threads of fate." - Valskirith Deskgrottir

“Goodbye, Stanley Wellberry, father of Ethan, king of a dead bloodline.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Even in death I shall be a lingering nightmare for all who witnessed my wrath.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“In the essence of memory I am immortal.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Ethan's biggest fear is losing you, but one day he will learn that there is more to fear than the losing of one's father, after all. He could become me. I, could be his fate.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“I do not fight the inevitable, Stanley, I only seek to survive as long as fate allows.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Death came to me as Valkyries in the burning sky.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“I don't seek to conquer mercy, but in all my days I shall never give it.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Many a dynasty have fallen for a crime so simple as mercy, and I will not be the dynasty that falls for a single life.” - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

“Fear and bravery is the defining factor between a soldier and coward, one would think, but in life I've learned it takes both fear and bravery to have courage.” - Isiah McGregor

“Death while living isn't the end, for we can rise again, we can go from heroes, to villains, to a redeemed man all in the span of a few years. It's funny, how we're always evolving but it never seems like we are. Strange how time works, it never feels different, but when you look back, everything's changed.” - Isiah McGregor

“For some, I have regretfully been the day of reckoning, and in a single second I changed the pitch of my tune.” - Isiah McGregor

“To me, every whispered lie sounds like a half truth, those in power like to lie, it's all that keeps them powerful, after all. Fear is their weapon, they pump it in our lungs, but the fear churns, and it burns in the lungs, and as it goes through the veins and enters the heart, the fear becomes courage, my friend. You cannot weaponize fear, for it shall one day be used as a shield and turned against you, made anew as a soldier's bravery.” - Isiah McGregor

“I can't be sure if I'm the curse or the cure, all I know is that I am crooked in my own little way.” - Isiah McGregor

“I am a poison to myself, drivin' on a road that don't got room for two, only me, myself and I, what a lonely, broken life it is.” - Jarvis McGregor

“I thought solitary confinement was hell, but then I had to live with myself. I can never escape who I am, and with this blood on my hands? That's all I want to fucking do. All I am has faded to black and I've become the very thing I sought to destroy. Powerful.” - Jarvis McGregor

“They say to roll with life's punches, but why would I do that when the fists only ever hit others?” - Jarvis McGregor

“The fires of war rise in this new land, the smoke was only the beginning, and I fear extinction of honor is the end. Humanity has survived many events that threatened to end it, but what if we're our own undoing? We don't all have to die for humanity to perish, all that has to die is our humanity, and these days, I see more and more men throwing it away.” - Mariellus Shackles

“We're fighting a war of ourselves, with guns aimed to kill the soul, not the man.” - Mariellus Shackles

 “In the blood of man we stand, covered in the remnants of human decency, why do we strive to end ourselves? We only have one life, why waste it warring with people who are no different than you?” - Mariellus Shackles

“I look in the mirror, and try to find a metaphor for my pain, I speak to myself in riddles so I can avoid the reality of my life.” - Mariellus Shackles

“I refuse to stand idly by as the last sparks of humanity blink out, so long as I'm still here, I will fight. Because so long as a spark can start a wildfire, the glowing kindling of humanity still has a fighting chance.” - Mariellus Shackles

“I have constricted myself in the darkest of arts, if flowers were to bloom from my grave they'd only ever be black roses. I am no white rose, this red splattered on my petals is no shade of love. The only way to break this curse is to end myself, but I fear there will be no end. I will watch the sun devour the universe in it's heat and still I'll be suffering.” - Marisha Diablos 

“God is not with us, he never was, all he ever was is an answer we gave ourselves for the uncertainty of death. I've learned he's as much comfort as holding my own hand.” - Kendell Soro

“In my time of need there were no angels with trumpets, there was no heavenly voice speaking to me from above, all I ever heard was the screeching of tires on asphalt and my mother's cries for help. When a boy watches his mother die, it's only natural for him to turn to higher powers for help. I prayed and I prayed over her, I pleaded and begged, but she faded, right in front of me. How is it that my memories of her hold only pain? I can remember my mother's smile, but I can't remember her laugh. I can remember her singing me to sleep, but all that my mind clings to is the nightmares that followed.” - Kendell Soro

“If God loved all, life would be fair, and yet, look at the world now. Godless.” - Kendell Soro

“I am a ghost, haunting my own grave, I stand at my gravestone and loom, reminiscing on days past, lingering on all the memories that harmed me. It's strange, how I continue to run my fingers against the blood on the wall, knowing it's my own, yet I find no solace in that.” - Aaron Cloud

“I look into my father's eyes and see a soldier, I look into my sister's eyes and see that small glimmer of hope. But I look in the mirror and can't see myself, I'm transparent, look through me and see my intentions are pure but my heart is rotten.” - Aaron Cloud

“Blood has poured onto the streets of my home, the streetlights setting it aglow, it scares me, how this world makes violence look like a painting. The way the moonlight spattered across it and the way the light from the street lamps made it glimmer. The world made a haunting memory beautiful, and I ask the world why? Why make these memories of mine so beautiful yet so haunting?” - Aaron Cloud

“I suppose, all I can ever do is linger at my grave, running my fingers across the blood on the name and stone. All it shall ever read is Aaron Cloud, Lost Boy of Neverland, a loving son, a broken man. May he rest in peace for all his days, may he find peace in the fact that he is a lost boy, never was he Hook's, never was he Death's, he was always a boy amongst the stars, but all the grave does is lie to me, alas, it does not know, I haunt my own grave, I am not lost, I'm found, and that's what frightens me.” - Aaron Cloud

“Blood for blood spilled is no justice at all, yet it is all I ever do. I call myself a man of justice, a man of the world, but I have learned I am simply angel to some, demon to others. For those who deserve it I am death, and for those who deserve the kindness I am shelter from the cold.” - Hargrove Solomons

“Nature sings, the birds fly overhead, and light spatters the leaves, creating sun lit scales of green and Autumn. I have been acquainted with nature all my life, at the age of ten I learned to take life with a bow, at first my footsteps were clumsy and left all the wildlife fleeing, but now to the Earth and the creatures that live within it, I am shade. I follow the wind and become one with nature, the skills of the hunt are dangerous in my blood-stained hands, for the death of man is simply one step over a deer.” - Hargrove Solomons

“I walk with a crumbled step and broken shoulder, trying to lift the weight of burdened justice. And yet, all I can do is continue to follow the wind, and trust that in nature, I shall find home. For years she has guided me, hidden me in the leaves and shades of her skirt. I am a part of nature, a flower still waiting to bloom, but within my heart is a dark poison, tearing me away from within. And I fear before I know it, I shall topple as the tree that falls in the forest, but makes not a sound.” - Hargrove Solomons

“I've spent my life digging up secrets, I suppose the truth haunts everyone who digs it up. I have snapped photos that brought secrets to life, written history and truths on a single blog post, that no one would ever read. It always felt as if I meant nothing to the world, all my hard work, and no one was ever brought to justice. All I've ever wanted was to do right by the world, even when it never did right by me.” - Marjenko Bradwick

“My single weapon is the truth, I don't need a blade, or a gun, just a camera, a pen and a little bit of bravery!” - Marjenko Bradwick

“I know so much yet feel that I know so little.” - Marjenko Bradwick

“The wind to me sounds like howling, and I always wonder if it's Miss Brianna Jackson. I can't find peace in nature, I can't find peace, because I can't find answers. So I suppose, all I can ever do is dig.” - Marjenko Bradwick

“I am alone, sitting on my own throne of dirt, I am the suspect to my darkest secrets, and the subject to my own rule.” - Rogeno Damascus

“I can look back and see snapshots of my life, but nothing more. At the age of five, hiding from my mother and father's drunken rage. Eight years old and riding my bike, praying for some reason, that the cars would catch me.” - Rogeno Damascus

“I see blood dripping from my fingertips, alas it is my own, but still I call it murder.” - Rogeno Damascus  

“Monsters are real, but they wear our skin, they have pearly white teeth, badges and suits.” - Rogeno Damascus

“Bullets fly and good men die, but despite that, we push on, don't we? Whoever said you can break the human spirit forgot we don't break, we learn. You can't really break the human spirit, you can rough it up some, leave it scarred, but it never really shatters.” - Clayton Red

“While everyone's out here waging pointless wars, I'm fighting the war that matters. The man who fights against the dark, is the man who will one day know the light. I could say I miss the days I was safe, but I don't. If I wasn't fighting the good fight, where would I be?” - Clayton Red

“Everyone's gots to pay eventually, 'spose I paid in my own blood. I can see the charred pieces 'a my heart flutterin' in the wind like a burnin' map ta lost hope, and all I can do is watch, and stare blankly as every piece 'a ash and cinder fades away inta the desolate night.” - Marrows Pennington

“Behind me are souls I din'it save, people I failed, so when you lie my body in the ground, just remember, I'm nuthin' but one 'a the hearts I broke.” - Marrows Pennington

“My map ta hope's lost, deep in the woods, buried 'neath the shallow graves I dug.” - Marrows Pennington

“If these scars could speak they'd damn me, remindin' me I made em myself.” - Marrows Pennington

 “All I request on my dyin' day is a beautiful sunset, painted every color 'a the soul.” - Marrows Pennington

“I've been drowning for a long fifteen years, it's no surprise I finally succumbed to the tide.” - Grimm Flowers

“I have wrongly slain many, not in the sense that they lie below the dirt, but in the sense that I have damaged them so deeply, so horribly, that they can't honestly say they're the same person anymore. In these soldiers I created I don't see a man, or a women, I see a reflection of me, a soul lost amongst the dead. They look back at me with eyes so blank, and yet, it's always as if I'm looking into a mirror. I've blown smoke into my mirror and it's no longer clear, I've lost myself, and I fear the man I am. What am I to do, when the world is against me and I'm against myself?” - Grimm Flowers

“I have drowned in his delusions and still, miles away from the tide, I sputter up water.” - Grimm Flowers

“They say salvation is for the sinners, so tell me why it is that in the end, all I can see is the mistakes I made and the people I wronged? Why do I deserve forgiveness? It wouldn't save those I've slain. Tell me what it would do for them. Look at them, an army of unwell minds and battered souls, kneeling to their king and calling him saint. But no saint walks into a field of lambs and leaves with a trail of blood-stained bootprints in his wake. No saint ever called his sins the greater good.” - Grimm Flowers

“ I'm just a reflection of all I've broken.” - Grimm Flowers

 “I live under a code of honor, he who lives by the blade dies by the blade, but if you live in honor, you die in honor.” - Admiral Jeffroy

“I've learned it's not who we are that matters, but how hard we're willing to fight for the things that do.” - Admiral Jeffroy

“If I die by the sword, so be it. So long as I die defending those I love with it.” - Admiral Jeffroy

“They say innocence is gone, that we're cruel beasts of black hearts and blood. But innocence still seeps in the land's veins. The rivers still run, the trees still grow, the birds still sing, and so still there is innocence. There is purity. The world was not built for hate, it was not built for greed, it was built for all those who will fight for it.” - Admiral Jeffroy

“If I am to go down, I shalt go down fighting, baring my teeth and defending those I love, for if I am to die, all those I love, shalt not.” - Admiral Jeffroy

“I'm lost in love, not because I have it, but because I no longer do. I wander this somber maze of dying optimisms and dreams, hoping to find the one I love yet knowing, she's nothing but a cold case. She's fallen from my arms and faded to cinders around me, I can stumble through the dark all I want... But I'll never reach out and grasp her hand. This love I feel no longer lifts me, it no longer makes me feel like I'm dancing, floating as if I was light as air. I suppose gravity finally caught up to me as I danced among the stars.” - Amy Callahan

“Though they stand right beside me, I feel as if I am miles away.” - Amy Callahan

“I can't think of her smile without breaking mine.” - Amy Callahan

“The weight of death lies on my shoulders like a crow, keeping me downtrodden, bloody and begging for death.” - Devon Blake

“My regrets keeps me alive, somehow, I'm running from myself and my demons, and the moment someone asks what's wrong? They'll catch up to me” - Devon Blake

“Years of my life have gone by and I ain't even lived em, I've just stared at the fire wondering what it'd be like to burn.” - Devon Blake

“I could tell you I'm swinging from a noose, or I'm facing the demons of my mind, but my pain wasn't ever poetry was it? All the miserable men in history wrote about it, described their pain with golden coated words and prose. But I suppose my pain's just that, pain.” - Devon Blake

“Don't tell me I'm strong for facing my pain, tell me I shouldn't have to fucking face it.” - Devon Blake

“Angels and devils are myths, spun from tales of saints and sinners, and often I wonder, what myth would they spin of me? For I am death, a red angel, a crimson wolf, a man of bloodied blade and corpses at his feet.” - Mario Wopinski

“I have found beauty in all the chaos, the way the smoke rises into the night sky, the way the blood splatters on the snow, always was I a wolf, bound to become an artist of death. I met violence at the age of eight, death splattered before me in every color of my paint box. The orange of the flame dripping into the shades of the night, the screams and the howls were nothing short of music. A melody for my heart.” - Mario Wopinski

“The moon will always rise crimson in the presence of a man covered in the blood of wolves and sheep alike.” - Mario Wopinski

“I am so covered in the blood of wolves that I became one, every memory was soon dripping with crimson saturation and everything that once haunted me now sang a melody of screams.” - Mario Wopinski

“We were always meant to burn, the sun is destined to show us the fire's of hell. Tell me, friend, where do you believe the myths of hell came from? Do you not think it was a warning from future generations of scorched souls? Every myth has it's roots buried in truths.” - Mario Wopinski

“We were all good men, once, but violence does not discriminate, I am proof of that rule.” - Mario Wopinski

“He who fears death never lived. I have stared death in the eye on many occasion, but all it's ever done is passed me by and taken those I love. I've learned death is cruel, but nothing more than a part of nature. I can't damn it for simply existing, it is simply a predator, hunting it's prey.” - Azariah Oatman

“Life has taught me as many lessons as death, I have learned to cherish what I have, and not to fear what I may lose.” - Azariah Oatman

“In the end, we one day lose everyone, whether it is us or they that leaves this life. I try not to fear the inevitable, only embrace it.” - Azariah Oatman

“Only those with huntin' howls and cries will live ta see the day.” - Descarlo Frakwitz

“Ain't no holy man livin' to see the end 'a this blood age, hunters and wolves prowl and the sheep just ain't safe no more. Even the shadows hunt you, friend. Every speck of life and light has been drained from the veins of Mother Nature, and all that's left is the blood she bleeds. I'd watch my back if I was you, cuz when even the shadows huntcha, the night is fatal, now ain't it?” - Descarlo Frakwitz

“The light's slippin' through your fingers, and in a touch that once healed, has come the Midas touch, but you ain't makin' no gold. The Midas touch is 'a death and blood, my friend, death and blood.” - Descarlo Frakwitz

“The sun will rise again, as it always do, but that don't matter when men like me still prowl. The wolves ain't afraid 'a the day no more, we're snarlin' with blood on our teeth and sins lyin' ragged on our fur. We are the beasts that left Eden.” - Descarlo Frakwitz

“I believe men like me were born to suffer, men whom are untethered to reality often are. A man once said I think, and therefore I am, but it is my belief that I bleed, I suffer, and therefore I am.” - Melias Skinwalker

 “I am the boy and the monster under the bed, the father scaring away the monster, and the mother holding the child. Isn't it strange, how we can be that which terrifies us to our very core, and the very thing that keeps us still tethered?” - Melias Skinwalker

“Kings and Queens are long dead, and yet still we believe we can achieve a dynasty. The human race's head rolls across the engraved royal tile, and yet still, we believe a decapitated race can find a messiah. We're scrambling for scraps and thrones, crowns and rust.” - Melias Skinwalker

“I do not fear death, for I have already lived it. I know what I've done in the dark, I know what I've done in the light, I am so damned that I fear God won't give me hell, he won't give me heaven, he'll give me darkness. No tomorrow, no today, just a blanket of shade and blood.” - Ben Stilts

“Life is the longest thing we'll experience other than damnation.” - Ben Stilts

“God told us thou shalt not kill, and so we hunted creatures we believed were below us. God said thou shalt not steal, so we stole land and claimed it ours. It's only human nature to find our own way. We are dogs and wolves, ripping through the seams of our own flesh, and I imagine God brought about the rapture only to change his mind.” - Ben Stilts

“Earth is nothing short of hell, these days. And you ask where men go when they die? You start over. Same pain, same life, over and over, that is hell, my friend.” - Ben Stilts

“This blood on my hands does not scare me, I kill, and therefore I am. I butcher, and therefore I am. In this world it's always been kill or be killed, bleed or be bled, and so I suppose, the only commandment we shalt follow, is kill, or the day shalt come when you will not be.” - Ben Stilts

“I stand in the ashes of my blood right, I hold a broken crown, it's long since rusted, but still, my dynasty stands. They say I am greedy, cruel, blood-stained, and it's true, that is why they have died for such treacherous words tumbling off their tongue.” - Idallius Vanratten

“They shall bow to me in all my power, in all my glory, no man who ever stood in the face of evil remained the same. And I suppose I change every man I come across. My memory is fatal.” - Idallius Vanratten

“No man shall knock this crown from my head, this treachery is my blood right, and through blood I earned it. He who wishes to wear my broken crown would have to cut my head from my neck and watch it roll. Only to realize the same shalt be done to him. A relentless cycle, tyranny is. One tyrant falls, the man who killed him becoming the very man he swore to destroy. Tyranny is me, I suppose, and for he who wishes to kill me, become me.” - Idallius Vanratten

“What is a ghost but a capturing of pain in a single moment, a tragedy doomed to repeat? All we ever were is photographs, snapped in the moments that forever changed us.” - Holmes Perwitz

“I'm a specter of every lie I ever told, of every person I ever hurt.” - Holmes Perwitz

 “If I could trade every tomorrow for just one ray of sunlight, I would. But the sun goes right through me and burns the shadow behind me.” - Holmes Perwitz

“I have lied time and time again to keep myself afloat, but in the end, I'm just another soul in Ran's net, vying for the surface, clawing at the waves, doomed to remain nothing else but a drowned specter of lies and deceit.” - Holmes Perwitz

“I'm a broken boy, with no memories to warm me, and I've long since learned, it's cold standing under my father's shadow. The sun don't shine on him, so the sun don't shine on me.” - Holmes Perwitz

“I want to strip the weight of mortality from my veins, I fear death in all it's glory. I wish to carve my name into the oak of history, but no stars will be named after me, no constellations shall twinkle in my image, I am not eternal.” - Agrezzor

“I am so damned, so ugly and hateful, this world has told me who I am, and through all this death, I must accept it.” - Agrezzor

“This world was not made for creatures like me, my mortality is like the burning wick of a candle, waxy regret and sin dripping down me, this flame burning me down until I am nothing but a puddle of wax and then, nothing at all.” - Agrezzor

“What a somber tale, the story of the demon king. Oh Aggrezor, oh Aggrezor, hallowed be your name, they chant, yet all I can hear are the cries of every man I've wronged echoed in the chants of a name that oh so sadly belongs to me.” - Agrezzor

“Death is no journey, trust me, I have been through it in all my festered treachery, though it is no journey, trust me when I say, it is one you will embark on, and it is no choice of your own.” - Edward Shawcross

“It's the human condition to fight for your life, limb for limb, heart for heart, scars are earned simply through living. We were born and bred to suffer.” - Edward Shawcross

“Do you think the wolf apologizes to the sheep? Do you think the lion weeps for the gazelle? No animal ever felt regret for that which it had to do to live, so why do we?” - Edward Shawcross

“Monsters exist, my friend, they are all around you, selling your car, bidding you good day in the morning, and sleeping next to you, tangled in your sheets. Monsters are just like you, my friend, just like me, for to be a monster, to be a beast, is simply the human condition.” - Edward Shawcross

“All of me is lost in all of her, she's my end and my beginning, and she's the only reason that I can stare up at the stars and realize, they light up the darkness of every cold night I've ever lived.” Teresa Vandeblossom

“The Earth never cared who we were, the stars never shone for us, I used to think it was all coincidence, the way moonlight shined on a the chipped glass, the way the sunlight reflected the water's edge. But I've found that nothing is a coincidence, there's always a reason, and sometimes all it takes to find the light is a little bit of darkness.” - Teresa Vandeblossom

“Riell has me star struck, I gaze into her eyes and I see the future, I see a million stars burning in the nights of her eyes, and when she places her hand on my heart, and tells me its hers, I know what it is to be complete. How is it she gave me my life back? She picked up the broken pieces of my life and taped them together one by one, somehow making a stained glass mosaic of the ugly pieces of my past. The sun now shines on me, and maybe the stars don't shine for us, maybe there are no constellations in the sky of our names, but in our love we're eternal. In each other's arms we're free and that's all we ever needed to be.” - Teresa Vandeblossom

“My whole life I've been stumbling, wondering if I had a purpose, and just before I fell she caught me. She held the weight of me on her shoulders and to her, it weighed nothing. She would carry me on her back and lift me to the heavens if it would ease my suffering.” - Teresa Vandeblossom

“Oh Riell, my beautiful darling, won't you take this dance? Under the starlight, under the glimmer of the moon and the dust of the stars from which we were made, we shall twirl, we shall dance, with smiles on our lips, and stars in our eyes.” - Teresa Vandeblossom

“I would follow her anywhere, into the depths of her heart and the shade hiding between the stars. She is my constellation, my guiding light. When you love someone so much, where else can you hold it but your soul?” - Riell Starstruck

 “The sun can be as damning as the moon if she wishes to be. But I don't care for the danger, so long as Teresa lies on my arm, whispering to me sweet nothings that mean the world to me.” - Riell Starstruck

“If it's not worth damning yourself for, than what's it really worth?” - Riell Starstruck

“I've caught her tears for so long, they've built up in my heart and created a crystal lake.” - Riell Starstruck

“No love is damning, all that ever was is a lie from the devil to twist our perception of God, I suppose. For if he has given me her, with those stars in her eyes and those galaxies in her smile, than how could he be cruel? So Teresa, my darling love, won't you take my hand? Won't you steal my heart, and dance with it, with a smile on your lips, and those stars in your eyes?” - Riell Starstruck

“I think it's time I finally saw eye to eye with myself.” - Merrick Stinson

“I used to look in the mirror every damn day and say, "Ain't no one gonna stop me," but now I look into these bloodshot eyes of mine and realize, I'm the one stopping me. I can't look at myself without the crushing weight of my sins wringing the dark out of my heart.” - Merrick Stinson

“I've been looking for monsters so long I never thought to look in the fucking mirror. I can get on my knees and I can pray, I can fucking pray, "I'm sorry for all I've done," and the lord would strike me down.” - Merrick Stinson

"In my stride there is thunder, and you best know where to place your bet." - Merrick Stinson

"I stand here with no thunder left in my stride, every man who bet on me is losin' their money. So take a swing, you know I can't take no more hits." - Merrick Stinson

"So go on, try to stop me, you'll die trying." - Merrick Stinson

“Look at me, I guess, despite every time I promised you couldn't, you can stop me now." - Merrick Stinson

“I could shed a tear for all I've lost, but it wouldn't bring them back. I've walked a thousand miles without those I love, without those who built me up and carried me through the storm, and so I ask, where are they? For they once stood beside me, and though death has not claimed him, he no longer stands by my side shoulder to shoulder, ready to fight the world.” - Lex Roberts

“Oh broken brother of wicked bones and crimson hands, where art thou? Hell could not contain you, heaven would not welcome you, so I ask, oh brother, why do you never look for salvation where it was always supposed to be? You lost heaven and took hell, why would you ever wish to rip heaven from your own damn hands?” - Lex Roberts

“At least, on this bitter path I have Cecilia, her smile brings light to the darkness for a time. Though I know, my hands have been touched by death, and that is a wound that will never heal. No love can bring the men I've killed back. But so long as I hold Cecilia in my arms, so long as I can carry her on my back and watch her look upon the world in awe, I can smile. If I don't smile, and if I don't fight, then what the hell am I doing?” - Lex Roberts

“I will load my gun and face the world with the bravery I've always had, because if I can face the world, I can face the future.” - Lex Roberts

“ I don't imagine life will get easier, in the long run, but it'll get better.” - Lex Roberts

“I'm outrunnin' karma, and the outlook ain't so good.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“The moment my heart starts to feel I rip it out.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“I'm a broken boy who's broken men.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“I'm a dead man in the sense that I've killed men, and any man who ever killed is a grave. The moonlight illuminates a name on a grave I recognize, cause God damn, it's mine, and ain't no roses blooming at a damned man's grave.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“I could fall to my knees and pray, I could beg for forgiveness, or for some damn semblance of it. But in my heart, I'd know I don't deserve it. Would forgiveness really save me? Would it save those I've wronged?” - Ezekiel Mathers

“I'm sick of myself I suppose, and I'd rather cough myself up than live with the disease. I've spilled blood, coughed it up from my lungs, and it's scary, how easy it is. It gets easier, and easier, until you don't feel nuthin' at all, and that's what kills ya. That lack of feeling, that lack of acknowledgment that the man you just killed had a wife, a family, or that he was someone to someone out there.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“I spose regret kills ya slow, bits and pieces of your humanity fade before just like that, it's gone. And all you can do is stand and fight, cause karma ain't never gonna let you hide. There ain't no shade in regret lane, just blindin' light and souls like me, who spent too long in the dark.” - Ezekiel Mathers

“God hath no love for the man who ripped heaven from his still trembling hands.” - Alexander Deadwood

“I am the single spark in the forest that starts a wildfire, my friend. In my presence, all the deer shall flee, the birds shall stop their song and take cowardly to the sky, and yet, all the trees can do is stay put and burn. Tall and mighty they were, standing sturdy and strong, but now they stand as dead goliaths, reminders that he who stands tall and mighty will one day be nothing but history. To become history you have to die, old friend. No one will remember you for your life, they shall remember you for the bloody end of it.” - Alexander Deadwood

“I am a bad man, filling my chamber with dusk lit regrets of other men. It's their regret that kills them, because I wield it against them.” - Alexander Deadwood

“Lies are so easy to tell, and the best part, is so long as you smile, everyone will believe you! We're foolish creatures, really, trusting a gun because it's not pointed our way. Trusting the flame because it hasn't yet burned us. But trust can be broken, and often, once a man realizes it has been, it's far too late.” - Alexander Deadwood

“I am the color of the wildfire and the smoke in the sky. I am the howls of the deer, and the frantic cries of the birds. I am everything that ever burned, here I stand, tall and might, sturdy and strong, standing as a dead goliath, and a warning to all.” - Alexander Deadwood

“How can you expect me to love and be loved when all the world's done is shown me hate?” - Antointette Ikelfur

“I'm my own worst enemy, spitting insults at myself and clawing at the mirror as if it would kill my reflection. But the only way to kill this pain is to kill me. As it's a part of me, now, these roots of hate have dug deep into my heart, and if I moved them an inch, they'd take my heart along with them. They'd hold it at the top of the tree, taunting me with the bleeding remnants of my heart.” - Antoinette Ikelfur

“Death is a small price to pay, these days. I've killed a hundred men, I'll kill a hundred more, blood spills and no one bats an eye so long as the name of the man slain lies heavy on the bounty boards.” - Adam Everbleed

“You could pray ta the gods if ya want, but I'll send ya to em for a single gold coin.” - Adam Everbleed

“I am such a cold form 'a justice, for centuries I've kilt men and women for a crime so damnin' as bein' accused 'a somethin' they dit not do.” - Adam Everbleed

“The gods have tried to strike me down, but I'm a slippery bastard, twirlin' through the fingers 'a Death as if it was child's play. My heart's got value cause after all these years it still beats.” - Adam Everbleed

“As years go by other years leave, all I remember is the name I found on the grave, and the blood I were meant ta spill.” - Adam Everbleed

“I've defied death, I've twirled and danced my way outta his fingers, but all I can really say is, you won't.” - Adam Everbleed

“Sometimes the only payoff for havin' any faith is when it's tested again and again only for you ta come out on top. But sometimes, ya end up below it.” - Dirken Stake

“I could be immortal for all I done, but I reckon that'd make me immoral.” - Dirken Stake

“I stand here, below my faith, vyin' for it's throne, but I ain't got a got damn clue how I'm 'sposed ta reach it. Cause my past tells me, "Boy, you ain't got no future," Long since have I learned my mind speaks in the language 'a my abuser, my thoughts come from his actions, and even in the silence, I can't escape him. Silence is the punishment you give a sinful man.” - Dirken Stake

“I got faith, I got love, I got strength, but it's in the silence that I hear my damnation.” - Dirken Stake

“Can't heal these scars, only stare at em. Can't put thread through the cuts 'a my heart, cause every time it beats I'd pull the seams and watch the stitches unravel.” - Dirken Stake

“I can look inta Albert's eyes and wonder why 'e loves me, why 'e cares bout me, and sometimes, I do. I really do wonder why. But then he places that hand 'a his on my cheek, kisses my forehead and tells me we'll be okay. And I believe him, in my heart, but my mind is harder ta convince.” - Dirken Stake

“Faith has carried me a long way, 'spose I got ta carry it the rest 'a these miles. Spose I'll carry this cross on my back 'til I collapse, cause if I wanna win, I gotta lead the pack.” - Dirken Stake

“It's bettah to visit a place 'a mournin' then a feast, cause we all die, we all shut our eyes one last time, and as I've learned, death is an important place ta visit, while you're still alive.” - Dirken Stake

“Forgiveness ain't for the weak 'a heart, it's a grueling road most can't take.” - Schiallo Burke

“I's learned that I fear the mornin' more than the night, the night's calm, peaceful, but as I rise I know that the mornin' ain't nuthin' but a reminder 'a all that could go wrong.” - Schiallo Burke

“If I ain't got forgiveness, least I got my drink. It don't bring no joy, don't make me forget, but least it's cold.” - Schiallo Burke

“I can't find myself on the road ta redemption nor forgiveness, the path 'a regret is all I can take without resistance.” - Schiallo Burke

“He says there's a lovin' God out there, but would a lovin' God make me? Would a lovin' God mold me from clay and say, "Good nuff?" Perhaps there is a lovin' God, he just don't love me.” - Schiallo Burke

“I'm just an angel that's fallen from grace, but sometimes, I wonder if I ever had it. My wings are shattered, my halo in pieces 'round me, this ground ain't holy despite the angel that sits 'pon the grass.” - Adraina Belwick

“I've got a heavy heart in my chest, burdened with a love I can't possibly 'ave. She's beautiful and kind, her smile is a light in the darkness, yet she is, the darkness. She's the shadow ta others and the light ta me, and often I wonder, is it wrong ta love her? Is it wrong ta look inta her eyes and see sumthin' other than malice? They say God don't damn love, but would he damn this? Would he damn us?” - Adraina Belwick

“I'm dancin' with the devil and God, is she beautiful. I can't help but wonder, was the devil always this beautiful?” - Adraina Belwick

“She makes me feel like I ain't a fallen angel, like maybe, my halo ain't in shattered pieces around me. I'd bleed out for her, I'd die on the battlefield and leave this world with nuthin' but a lonely grave. But what would I be dyin' for? All my death would ever do is turn her inta a monster. I know some days I'm the only thing holdin' her beast inside back. Am I fallen angel... or am I in love with one? Maybe I fell by her side, maybe I clung ta her as she fell, burnin' in the atmosphere. Per'aps we fell together, we shared our wings and our halo, and now that they's gone, what else can we do, really, other than fall further?” - Adraina Belwick

“The pitch black cascades down my heart and leaves me wondering, am I really human, or am I just a beast, wearin' the skin of the man I was like a ragged shawl of every sin I ever committed?” - Ace Swinton

“How are we supposed ta know peace if we have ta fight for it, huh? It don't make no sense that peace is attained through the fuckin' opposite 'a it. All war ever did was kill men, ain't no survivors, just broken men.” - Ace Swinton

“I can't stand myself, I'm a broken mosaic 'a sin and broken bones, just lookin' for a better reason ta bleed.” - Ace Swinton

“I wonder, if a dementor were ta stand before me, would he look just like me? Or would he be covered in blood? Would he wear a shawl 'a my skin and sin holdin' all the horrors I hide within?” - Ace Swinton

“I'm playin' Russian roulette as if it were a safe game ta play. I tell myself "Just one more bullet Ace, just once more bullet." Then I pull the trigger.” - Ace Swinton

“The world asked me to be myself, but it gave me all Jokers and no Aces. How am I ta play the game with none 'a the right cards?” - Ace Swinton

“I's found myself in chaos, lookin' at my own worst fear in the mirror. And I got'sa wonder, why is it, that whenever I look inta my future, I see myself, covered in blood, raisin' my gun yet again? Is blood my future, or is blood just the end, 'a my future? These days, I can't God damn tell, but so long as I still live I know, all I's gonna smell is blood.” - Ace Swinton

“I was raised on the devil’s back bone, looking for hay in stacks of needles and pins. I stand here with a dozen scars on my palm, all because I searched for purpose when there is none.” - James Swinton

“We're beasts, devils, ghouls and monsters, hiding our teeth, for when we smile, and bare our teeth, it's a warning.” - James Swinton

“I have seen the worst the world has to offer, I stare at my own bloodied hands, after all.” - James Swinton

“My brother once asked how are we supposed to know peace if we have to fight for it. And the answer is quite simple. We'll never earn it. Do you really think, that after all the human race has bloody done, we deserve peace?” - James Swinton

“My brother, you shan't find a better reason to bleed, you'll just bleed. You think that if a dementor stood before you, he would be nothing but a mirror of you? No, no my dear broken, he would be me, covered in the blood of those you love. I am his worst fear. After all, I represent what he could've become, I am the path he didn't quite walk, the miles he didn't quite tread. I am a monument to the sins he didn't have the courage to commit.” - James Swinton

“I am not playing God, though I choose who lives and dies. All it takes is a swing of the hammer, a pull of the trigger. Any man can play God so long as he holds a gun.” - James Swinton

“I am a wicked beast, prowling in the fields, stalking the shepherd that protects the sheep. But oh my brother, shalt thou fear the wolf? The wolf got to the sheep while you were asleep, their howls fill the night and their blood stains the fields you swore to protect. My friend, I am nothing but a looking glass of the devil that made me, but a devil that you know, is worse, then one you don't, after all.” - James Swinton

“Time is the opposer of all, it can whittle mountains and turn rivers into oceans, time is the end and beginning of us all. But we shouldn't spend our lives worrying about time, or how much we have left. For if you worry about time and the end of it, life passes you by. The clock ticks on and you do not.” - Natruin

“This world is a beautiful spectrum of sunlight streaking through the trees and dappled rays of light creating scales on the water's back. Us gods have made something so beautiful, so full of free will and wisdom, things to explore, places to be. The roots of knowledge have dug themselves throughout Heilgravold, asking only to be sought for. Questions and answers hide in your every day life, in the market place or the folds of your curtain's fabric. Answers are everywhere if you only look.” - Natruin

“I have seen humanity at it's worst, but there's always that one man whom's at his best, striving to do something better.” - Natruin

“Mankind has always been something worth fighting for, I do not care if they are below me, I do not care if I live lifespans more than they, in my eyes they are more holy than us. More holy than me. For they were created simply to live. It is from their own choice they decide to do good by the world. Their own choice to make this world a better place. They do not have to be kind, they do not have to love, and yet, they choose to. Isn't it beautiful? With all this wisdom, with all these truths, they chose love.” - Natruin

“Most men will find themselves killed by desire before they ever attain the very dreams that killed them. Dreams, such fickle things, molded by that which is around us. All I have to do to change your dream, is hurt you.” - Borbasli Orgazi

“The circus is a wonderland of broken smiles hidden behind paint, tears woven within the mime's act, and men jumping through flames as if they were the lion. I have seen good men become bad men all because I pushed them a little too far. Can't you see! Can't you see! Life is a grand story and I'm simply the man with the quill! Look at the violence splattered in between the ornate lettering, look at the stains on the corner of the page. Blood is often hidden, my friend, no man is killed in broad daylight.” - Borbasli Orgazi

“Tonight, clowns and jesters shall open fire, the outcasts and the vagabonds shall laugh as the city folk howl and cower!” - Borbasli Orgazi

“We are killers, hidden under thick coats of paint and smiles. Isn't it whimsical, isn't it grand? The violence is only part of the act!” - Borbasli Orgazi

“This is my story, friend, this whimsical, violent little tale. And you know what they say, these violent means have violent ends. These brutal delights have brutal consequences. So sing, my friend, dance and smile! You are a grand masterpiece of broken bones and painted smiles, so act like it!” - Borbasli Orgazi

“In the most miserable of souls I have created life, I have created whimsy and miracles, death and desire. So dream, my friend! Dream! But know, that in the end, it was only ever a nightmare.” - Borbasli Orgazi

“I am an unholy beast, scratching and clawing at the throne of man kind wondering, why were they made dominant, when they can be so easily conquered?” - Sar’Gekath

“I am no god, and yet, I stand here, unholy in such beautiful ways.” - Sar’Gekath

“Tell me, do you walk in the shadows of mad kings and dynasties? Do you stand within the cold shade of men doomed to die? Many a man have died, watched their life flutter by, only to learn, we are all same in the dark. It is the absence of light, after all, and it is my belief that there is no such thing as light, there is simply an absence of the dark.” - Sar’Gekath

“I am flesh, and I am bone, but I cannot bleed. I am of bones that are unbreakable and flesh that is unscarrable. You cannot keep me down, for again I shalt rise, basked in the flames of the hell that made me.” Sar’Gekath

“I am every bad thing that ever happened, every cruel man that ever lived. I am not an evil man, no, I am the very concept of evil, wrapped up in a vessel of bones that shalt not break, flesh that shalt not be cut, and blood that shall never spill. My heart beats black, for it was born of evil, and salvation was never an option.” - Sar’Gekath

“Have you ever wanted to be happy, but refrained from it because you knew, your joy would cost others? I used to feel that way, because only in violence did I find joy, only in the spilling of blood. There was always something wrong with me, my mind always had been a lion, blood dripping down his chin, joy found in his eyes during only the hunting hours of the night.” - Jack Karelwood

“Among the freaks and the vagabonds I know my place, I am the mad jester king, the fool with a crown attained through no trickery.” - Jack Karelwood

“He came to me in my darkest of nights, blood on my brow, anger in my veins, and he told me I could be everything I ever wished to be. He told me among the wild ones I would finally know home, that in the circus, we're all damned, following a siren's song that leads to death.” - Jack Karelwood

“Fire can be calming as it can be damning, it is the same with man. We have the power to calm, the power to heal, but in those same hands, is the power to kill.” - Jack Karelwood

“Life is all a bad joke, those in power can make one, and no one will bat an eye, but the moment one of the oppressed speaks up, we're labeled monsters. But monsters only ever existed in the minds of the hungry and damned.” - Jack Karelwood

“I suppose I shall look at this life of mine and laugh, smile at all the violence. So oh death, are you here? I've been smiling for far too long, and I've ought to wonder, why don't you smile back?” - Jack Karelwood

“Anger is perhaps better than tears, better than pain, and grief, but it can never outweigh guilt.” - Estarla Vagabond

“I fear that one day, when the sun sinks into the night, the moon shall never rise, and I'll be left in an endless night of the dark.” - Estarla Vagabond

“Isparlia would look at me and say I'm not my pain, I'm not my grief, but she has to realize, I'm the blood on my hands, the death in my heart.” - Estarla Vagabond

“On that dark night in the woods, I was hunted down, flayed of every good intention, and left out to hang on the fucking hook. That monster battered me down and gave me reasons to bleed, but he, is my reason to bleed. So oh wolf, when I stand before you with my revolver and revenge, my rage and passion, will you fear me? Will you tremble? Because to you, I was just another sheep, more fur to be worn, but I'm the rope around your damn neck. You will swing from my gallows and know my pain, every liquid drop of fear I felt will trickle down your neck and spine, leaving you gutless and full of fear that will never leave you.” - Estarla Vagabond

“I'm a wolf, I suppose, or perhaps I'm a sheep wearing a wolf's fur. Even then, I'm still dangerous.” - Estarla Vagabond

“They looked at me and called me monster, they called me beast, and all I could ever do was look up at the stars and cry, "I am a child, what do you want of me?” - Amalda Wilders

“I'm a curse wrapping around my throat like barbed wire, puncturing my skin and leaving me to bleed.” - Amalda Wilders

“I look into the river's reflection and see a ragged beast, desperately ripping off her fur to see some semblance of what it was to be human. To be loved, to be her.” - Amalda Wilders

“I'm so far from home, from my mother, my father, my brother. If they could hold me again, maybe then I'd feel free.... Until then I'm a lost girl, looking for Peter Pan so she can bloody him for all he's done. What a twisted version of the beloved tale, where Peter brandishes knives and blood on his lip, a tale where he created Hook of blood and pain, but oh Peter Pan, would you have put me through hell if you knew I was the ticking to your clock? Long ago you said you weren't the Shepperd, you were the tapping on the second story window, but can't you see? You're not the wolf, nor the prey, you're just a man, and Pan? You'll bleed like one. I'm here, with rage in my eyes and pain in my soul, so let's gaze upon the stars, shall we? You can wish upon them and cry, "I am a damned soul, what do you want of me?" And all they'll ever do is smile, and say, "Bleed, old friend, bleed." - Amalda Wilders

“Scorched, battered, bruised, I was always black eyes and shattered knuckles, I wanted them to fear hurting me, but I suppose I only hurt myself.” - Arnaldus Jakobson

“I grew up rough, I'd felt the word tough before I'd ever heard it spoken, I suppose that's what happens when you play a game where no man wins. It always ends in blood, so why fight? Why play? But this was never a game, it was lives we were fucking toying with, throwing them from out the chest without a care for the mess we'd leave behind. But in the end, with my battered and bloodied knuckles, it's my own blood I'm covered in. I'm a beast of broken tooth and nail, desperately rippin' off my fur, prayin' it's a sheep's coat I find underneath.” - Arnaldus Jakobson

“Some would say my love for her makes me weaker, but don't you see that it makes me stronger? If a man has a reason to fight, then you should damn well fear him, cause he's got something to lose. They say the most dangerous man of all is a man with nothing to lose, but I disagree. If you got nuthin' to fight for, you'll be the one on the floor. Cause a man with sumthin' to lose will fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.” - Arnaldus Jakobson

“I've seen the hell this world has to offer, because I've been the hell this world has to offer. My reflection may be that of a broken, bloodied man, but the mirror don't tell me who I am. All it does is show me my eyes, my scars, my skin. In the end, I'm more than the scars on the outside, the black eyes and broken teeth. I'm my mind, my heart, my soul, and that? You just can't unravel.” - Arnaldus Jakobson

"You take your eyes off the road for just one second and people die, man." - Bartholomew Stiller

"You're looking at a whisper, Lynda. Softly spoken enough to kill you." - Tazabani Muley

"I would give all my tomorrows for one yesteryear with you." - Albus Kirk 

  "You dwell too much on the past, the future is where your hope lies. I would give all my tomorrows if it meant I could leave you behind." - Ilda Locks 

 "Time was not built for the mortal man." - Albus Kirk 

"No man ever healed himself by walking into hell, why did I think I was any different?" - Bryan Jensen

"I'm not the one dragging you through the dark, girl. All I did was tie the rope to your ankle and watched the horse stride to the sunset." - Reamus Perwitz

"I crumpled at life's feet and hate it for what I did." - Reamus Perwitz

"People say the sunset's beautiful, but all it's ever been is a warnin." - Albert Spurs

"Nothing lasts, nothing is set in stone. If we want things to change, we have to pick up a chisel, and sculpt." - Gavin Abermadam

"Oh father art thou still in heaven? Or do you walk among us, experiencing our suffering? Going through our pain? Do you bleed for us as we bleed for you?" - Roy Creepenmire

"Look, I could fear the future, or I could prepare for it." - Lillah Wraith

"The screams 'a the unholy rise up from the air like smoke, but once the chorus 'a howls starts, it don't matter which side you’re on, all that matters is that ya don't join the chorus." - Rockwell M. Grellman

"You know, I always wondered why the devil was scared ta take my father. Only for me ta realize, the devil already got damn had him." - Eddy Lambs

"You'll be weepin' before you can ever say amen." - Rolf Lambs

"You plucked my heart from Summer and tossed it into a roaring river of rage." - Felicia Madamia

"I hate you, I can't describe it, this burning, boiling hatred. You're like a shadow, clinging to my skin, suffocating me from the inside out. Why won't the light chase you out?" Valice Madamia

"The Sun God is the one true God to rule these damned lands! And I do mean damned lands, because if I didn't step in, every soul in these wild lands would burn." - Oogala Sunlord

"What makes secrets dark, is the fact that they are hidden away." - Debemyer Blake

"We're all ghosts of our own actions, just so 'appens, you're a ghost 'a mine." - Olrok Bloodstorm

"Trust me, boy, I was the storm, but now I shall make you, the storm, and we shall strike the ground like lightning." - Olrok Bloodstorm

"Trust is finnicky, most men forge it from iron and call it a blade." - Mortley Dekruiful

"I shall greet death like an old friend, or a cold breeze in the summer sky. I shall welcome it." - Mortley Dekruiful

"Monsters don't hide these days, they've too much courage for our own good." - Terissa Dyste

"History is dead and gone, but these days, so are we." - Diaballo Klergy

"I sold my soul and was given nothing in return." - Caro Klergy

"Many a beast have I slain, but how regretful it is, I can't hunt myself." - Bank Cutthroat

"I suppose death wouldn't mean much to you, friend." - Abadellon Hourglass

"I was born with a hollow heart of no value, I suppose all a heartless man can do is steal other's." - Maxim Dragonwith

"The darkness tells me I'll be fine, and as I stare into the empty abyss of this heart in my chest, I realize, death hath become me." - Talina Tick

"I dreamt of angels stripped from halos and wings, 'spose holiness is a thing 'a the past, eh?" - Barley Teatherhall

"I stood there, with blood on my teeth, and that's when I knew that was it, I was dead." - Decazzle DeLillium

"I could pay for all I've done, but where'd the fun be in that?" - Baradus Cannonfire

"When the world burns you down, become ash and rise." - Baradus Cannonfire

"I am a moon drunk monster, Amalda, breathing in the stars as a blackhole would light." - Valentin Ogarzia

"Hell has collided with heaven, my brother, and look at us, on the verge of extinction." - Valenburk Harveyes

"You see one good man die and it all goes downhill from there." - Valenburk Harveyes

"We are beasts, since when have wolves bowed to kings?" - Grettleburg Vila

"Can't you see? We're all in hell, paying the price of the sins we committed to stay alive. And look where it got us." - Amallio Firesdirk

"War has always been the death of decency, but I refuse to let it be the death of them." - Sandusky O'Kain

“Despite the death, despite the pain and the sacrifice, we push on, don't we? Isn't that all we can do when faced with impossible?" - Myrtle O'Kain

"The world ain't never needed evil, just people willin' ta sacrifice, people willin' ta fight." - Riot Heavens

"The world isn't perfect, far from it, but if you look on the bright side you'll see, it gives us life, and isn't that enough?" - Mirtha Netz

"Ask me where the fuck my mind's gone and all you'll receive is a cold chill in the dusk lit air." - Zack Killkerick

"I am a tale of a cautionary kind, get in my way, you'll find that you too, are a cautionary tale." - Zack Killkerick

"It is dangerous, to live your whole life out of spite." - Zack Killkerick

"Kill or be killed, slaughter or be slaughtered, it always has been. Why else do you think wolves hunt?" - Isica Shadot

"I'm spinnin' this chamber 'gainst me skull wonderin' why it don't go off." - Barlo Brick

"Tell the preacher not ta pray, cause I ain't comin' home, ain't no altar that would have me fall at it's step." - Barlo Brick

"You think it'd be easy, pulling the trigger after goin' out in them woods day after day, comin' back with a deer draped 'cross my back. But when shit goes down, and bullets start ta fly, I find I freeze." - Malo Buck

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 06/02/2021 (Fredo’s Money Can’t Buy Happiness)

This is an odd, scattered week - a slow one thankfully for the day after my birthday - but we do have a bigger album bomb than I expected from Fredo, even if “drivers license” is still at #1 for a fourth week, blocking EDM remixes of sea shanties because of course, it’s the UK after all. Let’s just get back into REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

Now, I predicted last week that Fredo would have two songs debut high up on the chart from his most recent album, Money Can’t Buy Happiness, and the pre-release single “Back to Basics” would rise to the top 10. That didn’t exactly happen, as “Back to Basics” actually dropped out of the chart off of the debut for being one of the lowest-performing Fredo tracks, or at least less successful than the three songs that debuted, as that’s all the UK Singles Chart allows. Speaking of drop-outs from the UK Top 75, they’re all mostly inconsequential, made up of recent debuts like “Wellerman” by the Longest Johns and “Bad Boy” by the late Juice WRLD and Young Thug. In terms of notable drop-offs, we do have some arguably premature falls for minor hits, like “champagne problems” by Taylor Swift, “Body” by Megan Thee Stallion, “Lonely” by Justin Bieber and benny blanco, and, finally, “Diamonds” by Sam Smith. This is a slow week outside of the top 40, so we just have some spare oddities to cover outside of the drop-outs. For our fallers, we have “34+35” by Ariana Grande fading its remix boost at #14, “Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish at #30, “SO DONE” by The Kid Yaoi at #52, “All I Want” by Olivia Rodrigo at #54, “Lo Vas A Olvidar” by Billie Eilish and ROSALÍA at #64 off of the debut and a couple real crashes at the tail-end of the top 75, those being “Holy” by Justin Bieber featuring Chance the Rapper at #71, “WAP” by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion at #72, “Notorious” by Bugzy Malone featuring Chip at #73 and “Dynamite” by BTS at #75. This may explain the otherwise inexplicable returns for songs that are always clinging onto the back half of the chart, like “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac at #74, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran at #70 and, incredibly, “Mr Brightside” by the Killers at #68, the highest it’s been in a while (and that’s a feat considering how long it stays on the damn chart). For gains, we’re really not picking up much traction here. Sure, “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong is back at #73 for some reason, but otherwise we just have middling songs with middling gains, like “Martin & Gina” by Polo G at #61, “Take You Dancing” by Jason Derulo at #59, “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles rebounding to #44, “Your Love (9PM)” by ATB, Topic and A7S making a surprising and scary gain to #42 (and I’ll admit, I’ve warmed up to it quickly), “i miss u” by Jax Jones and Au/Ra clawing back in the top 40 at #39, “Friday” by Riton, Nightcrawlers and Musafa & Hypeman dopamine re-editing itself up to #24 (Please don’t make this a hit) and finally, “Streets” by Doja Cat continuing its rise up to #12. Oh, yeah, and “Skin” by Sabrina Carpenter is down to #41 off of the debut but everyone’s forgotten about that song considering how big “drivers license” still is, so yeah, let’s just get to our new arrivals, because we do have some interesting things to touch on this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#66 – “Higher” – Clean Bandit featuring iann dior

Produced by Mark Ralph, Grace Chatto and Jack Patterson

Well, they made a song with 24kGoldn, and that was awful, so... I guess it’s Puerto Rican emo-rapper iann dior’s turn. They might as well remix “Mood” while they’re at it. Instead of Mabel filling in for the singing where 24kGoldn couldn’t on “Tick Tock”, however, we have honestly a less charismatic singer in iann dior playing all the parts, without a rap verse to speak of. Okay, so this could work if he just fills in the spot of generic anonymous singer, and it fits exactly within that mold if he wants to, even though that’ll take away any of the character he had – not that any of that character was likeable or interesting, but hey, baby, he is not your dad, so maybe he’ll blend in well with Clean Bandit’s decreasingly unique production. This is a tropical EDM track where iann dior’s non-existent range and raspy, uncaring tone zaps the energy out of the touches of steel drums and orchestral stabs. This drop is nothing more than a vocaloid loop, and a pathetic one at that, with iann dior’s really gross falsetto proving that Auto-Tune can’t really fix bad singing, not that it needed to be proven. The lyrics here are nothing to write home about, wrapping a love song with ocean metaphors probably just so he can say “I’mma get her wet, oh, baby, then slide”... Gross. There’s like zero build-up to this drop at all as well, so there’s no stakes, no climax, and hence not a good EDM track. Come on, Dan Smith of Bastille wrote this, can’t he get the lead vocal? At least it would sound competent.

#63 – “Grown Flex” – Chip featuring Bugzy Malone

Produced by the Fanatix

Ah, my favourite duo. Apparently this is from a Chip album that I didn’t even know existed, thankfully because it’s 21 tracks, over an hour, with two consecutive Young Adz features. “Grown Flex” is another collaboration with Bugzy Malone, probably here because of the video and the sample of iconic UK bass tune “Heartbroken” by T2, one of the most popular songs in that wave of EDM and a pretty damn great song. It has been sampled before by people like DJ Khaled and Drake but no-one’s made a better song, so maybe these formerly feuding Londoners can make a good song with this sample as the base? That isn’t a question actually, but if it was, the answer would be no. They pitch up the (honestly ahead of its time) vocaloid loop, and put an obnoxious UK garage-adjacent drum loop over it that’s barely on beat with all of the chiptune sound effects distracting from Chip’s also off-beat flow. The chorus is really awkward, with him being off-beat and uncredited female vocal backing vocals with entirely different vocal processing coming in and sounding equally janky. This beat isn’t broken inherently, it could work but it’s too shrouded in these two rappers void of personality. Bugzy Malone is here but his rough tone does not work on this beat, regardless of how much he wants to pretend there’s any melody to his drawl with the Auto-Tune and multi-tracking. He’s still somehow the best part though because, yeah, this is just... incredibly awful. The production is onto something by the end with the horns coming in but they immediately fade out and eventually it just abruptly cuts to some pointless chiptune beeping sounds that have been there the whole time but play alone right at the end for no reason. This is aggravating, I know I’m pretty much nit-picking but there’s nothing of substance to pick apart here anyway. This is pure incompetence and a butchering of a good sample... that they should be allowed to use freely, though, by the way. Abolish copyright law.

#62 – “Ride for Me” – B Young

Produced by Mike Spencer and Pacific

Since everyone seems to have forgotten how to actually make music this week, at least we can always count on B Young... okay, no, but at least he’s given up on trying to be a rapper or R&B singer at this point, as a lane of generic guitar-pop probably would work best for the guy’s voice. I mean, we have an acoustic loop here that sounds like it’s jacked straight from a Shawn Mendes demo. At least the incompetence here is charming, with his rougher vocals being a pretty nice contrast from the otherwise kind of ugly mixing, especially on the flat percussion. I do like the lyrics here, as he’s simply love-struck and enjoys the company of this woman, for more than just sex and appearances. He just hopes that things don’t change and the relationship lasts forever. Sure, it’s shallow but it seems genuine. Sure, there’s some drug references and him being pushy to ask her for no make-up, though it does come off as just enjoying her presence instead of any stuck-up preference, especially since he offers his tracksuit and they end up watching some crap Netflix original film. Yeah, this is just a sweet track if nothing else. Since I did do a full song review for his song “Jumanji” years back, I feel a weird sense of almost parenthood for this guy, like I’ve seen him grow and finally he’s made a good song, even if it’s a bit out of his wheel-house. He’s never not been genuine, just only now that’s given him some more likeability, even if it’s just to make a cute love song. He sounds like a good boyfriend, and that’s really the appeal of the song, so, yeah, good job. I’m honestly kind of surprised.

#60 – “Gravity” – Brent Faiyaz and DJ Dahi featuring Tyler, the Creator

Produced by DJ Dahi

This is the most frustrating song I’ve heard this year so far, I’m almost fascinated by it. Before we get into that, I’d like to say that it’s good to see Brent Faiyaz finally debuting a song relatively high, and this is DJ Dahi’s first ever credited UK Singles Chart entry, although he’s produced top 40 hits before for Kendrick Lamar. Faiyaz has been a bubbling artist in R&B for the past few years, and honestly he might have had the most successful career off of the three artists that propelled themselves off of the back of “Crew” with GoldLink and Shy Glizzy. It was a minor hit that ended up producing no rising stars until around five years later, where we have a genuine hit potentially coming from the guy who sung the chorus, of course with some help from Tyler, the Creator. I do think this song is good but owes a lot to that to the production and charisma of our artists, as I can pick this apart way too easily for my taste. This beat is good, with some incredible guitar work from Steve Lacy as he would always deliver, but feels very aimless, especially with the pointless air horns in the background that if anything distract from Brent Faiyaz, who needs room to breathe. I mean, he’s an R&B singer, of course he does. The beat takes certain left turns during the verses that seem like meanders and if it’s not deflating any of its groove for the sake of guitar loops, it’s got this really tense percussion that does not work for the content or performances here, which are both pretty checked-out, especially Tyler, who’s as stiff as always but without any really interesting lyrical moments or a shift of flow. It’s one of his worst verses in my opinion, and he really goes in one ear and out the other with how short it is, which surprises me because of how Tyler usually either steals the show or meshes really well with his collaborators. So, our two performers are mostly checked-out with little to no chemistry, and the beat is awkward and unfitting for the content, which is about them being brought back down to Earth by their loved ones, hence the name, despite their travel habits due to touring – which isn’t a thing that’s happening right now at all, so maybe this’ll be a slow burn hit before it can really resonate. If we listen to these lyrics more closely, we also don’t get the sense that Brent Faiyaz is even likeable here, as we have no reason given for this woman to not feel uncomfortable that he’s paying little attention to her. Instead, Faiyaz just comes off a dismissive ass to this undeserving woman who is reasonably upset at the lack of time spent with him. It’s never made clear that she’s pestering him, so I honestly don’t get how Faiyaz wants to frame this. It doesn’t help that Tyler has the opposite reaction, longing for his partner when he’s on tour instead of feeling annoyed by her, but ultimately with no interplay so this means nothing. Oh, and if the songwriting weren’t janky enough, the chorus is barely catchy and covered in pitch-shifted multi-tracking that takes any of the focus off of Brent Faiyaz, who’s constantly crushed by backing vocals, being pitched down for no reason with unnecessary censor bleeps when they both swear freely at other points in the song. This type of maximalist production works but only when there’s any grandiosity to make it feel warranted, and if there isn’t that, the gunshot percussion is out of place and there ends up being a lot of empty space. There’s nothing smooth about this, and that’s frustrating as you’d expect these three to bring a really relaxed tune with some great 70s soul vibes and... I mean, that’s obviously what they’re going for here, but it is painfully over-produced and ultimately immensely disappointing. I can see people enjoying this a lot but no, this doesn’t work for me at all. Sorry.

#45 – “Dancing on Ice” – Yxng Bane featuring Nafe Smallz and M Huncho

Produced by Don Alfonso and Quincy Tellem

Oh, Jesus Christ, these guys again... and Yxng Bane, I guess. So, you know what the deal is with this UK ‘trap-wave’ type stuff, right? There’s a vaguely interesting synth loop drowned out by cheap percussion and crap bass mastering, as well as awfully processed vocals from everyone involved. They can trade verses, but more often than not don’t say anything that doesn’t embarrass themselves. You get a sense of really toxic masculinity, misogyny and materialism without any charm in their delivery, inflections or wordplay – which is usually non-existent. Here, it’s not any different. Yxng Bane has some good melodic flows – and I really like his line about his Rolex Presidential Watch being discontinued but since he’s “going Donald”, he wears it anyway – but he also threatens... presumably the listener with gay conversion therapy in the first line of the verse, so all good will’s lost. Nafe Smallz sounds better than usual but his nasal flow is still whiny and insufferable, and M Huncho is here to waste time and sound bad doing it, although he’s probably the least worst sounding vocally out of these three clowns. I misread his line about his rucksack being heavy as “nutsack”, and that’s all the positive engagement I could claw out of this. I ask this every time but honestly, who listens to this?

#21 – “Ready” – Fredo featuring Summer Walker

Produced by Mojam

Much like the end of a Morrisons sweet aisle, past this point, it’s all Fredo. Admittedly, I didn’t end up listening to the record but I have heard a select few songs, this being one of them, and I’m not really a fan. I do like the eerie loop but it seems a bit unfitting for a triumphant flex song emphasising a rags-from-riches narrative, especially since the mix really crushes both Fredo and Summer Walker in this blend of boring skittering trap percussion and the ambiance, making her hook impact a lot less. Fredo’s verses are pretty damn heartfelt, I’ll admit, and I really like his lines about pleading with God that he should be let into Heaven. In fact, Fredo’s bars are pretty consistently great, focusing on how his criminal past in the streets of London refuses to escape him despite his efforts to make it out using rap, and by the end, he sounds pretty defeated when he says, “Yeah, I’m lonely, but that’s just a player’s life”. Honestly, for a song that initially builds itself up to be a triumphant flex song, it ends up just being kind of sad, and that’s fine, more fitting for the instrumental but it really makes the hook feel even more out of place. Ah, well, the song’s fine, really, just a blend of ideas that never really stick the landing together.

#18 – “Burner on Deck” – Fredo featuring Pop Smoke and Young Adz

Produced by RicoRunDat and Yoz Beats

Now this is what I want from Fredo. Now, this is posthumous in Pop Smoke’s case but it’s far from an unexpected feature, as whilst this is one of his first UK drill collaborations, Pop Smoke was known for his pioneering of the New York style of London’s grittier, more menacing drill music, and even named Fredo and Young Adz as some of his favourite rappers. Okay, so he had questionable taste – I mean, Young Adz? - but Pop Smoke felt more of a connection between New York and London beyond just instrumentals, with a shared slang, street culture and arguably most importantly, inequality. This is all cited from a Complex interview, by the way, but you can tell even from his music what a great respect he had for British hip-hop, especially considering his main producer, 808 Melo, is from London. The song itself is pretty great too, relying on these spacey synth loops that build up with more eerie keys before finally crashing into an intense drill beat, with all artists sharing the Auto-Tuned hook, but Young Adz probably shining the most in how he plays off of Pop Smoke’s deeper, rich voice with his nasal whine. The lyrics may be generic gunplay and flexing, but the delivery saves it for me, with Fredo enthusiastically shouting out Gorillaz of all people, and the chorus being way smoother than it would usually be for a drill track, as well as being really catchy. Pop Smoke absolutely kills it here, going with his typical stiff, fast-paced flow for a verse that is really short but just as powerful as he usually delivers. You can tell this was made for this track as well from the interplay on the hook and him shouting out Young Adz in his verse. Fredo pretty much completes the second verse by chiming in and showing more of the charm I enjoy from him as he mentions coughing the bar before he coughs for basically an entire bar. It caught me off-guard at full listen and it still leads in perfectly to the oddly-mixed sombre piano that comes in for the final hook. With a better mix – and even then, it kind of works without it – and maybe some extended verses from both London and New York drill artists, this could bang even harder. Maybe for a remix, this beat could bring the best out of Swarmz, DigDat, AJ Tracey, Hardy Caprio, Tion Wayne, Fivio Foreign even... I could go on, this could be a great posse cut. As it is, it’s still pretty damn good, and again, rest in peace to the late Pop Smoke.

#3 – “Money Talks” – Fredo featuring Dave

Produced by Dave

At first, I was surprised this debuted at #3, which seems high for a British rap track, but then I remembered that the last time these guys collaborated on a single it debuted at #1 without an album attached, and it helped that “Funky Friday” is also a great song, admittedly something I didn’t think at the time. It does make perfect sense that this debuts so high, especially since this album was actually executively-produced by Dave, so given these guys’ track records together and alone, I did expect something great, and, well... okay, so instead of a drill beat as this pretty vocal sample would be fit for, as would the flows, we get a lightweight trap beat with odd vocal and bass mixing. Admittedly, the 808 slides here are pretty excellent, but that’s the only shred of intricacy I see here, which is usually commonplace in Dave’s production. There’s also simply not enough consistency or variety here to make it worth the four and a half minutes, with the chorus being awkward if anything. There’s less depth to the rags-to-riches stories here, with Fredo probably giving more commentary than Dave does, which seems odd but fitting for how checked-out Dave is here. There’s just a resounding lack of anything to this song other than a boring beat and performances that could be a lot sharper and interesting. Sure, Dave flexes his technical piano skill by the end but the beat had already run dry by about two extra minutes before that – this could have run through your second verse, Dave, or you could have added a bridge instead of repeating the chorus. I do like some of the lines here that are obviously more personal and introspective, like Fredo’s conflict with the justice system and Dave explaining how he got robbed when he was a child and to cope with the trauma of this, he started toting weapons. I guess the EastEnders reference is funny but it just reminds me of DigDat making a similar cocaine joke with arguably funnier source material on “Guten Tag”. Yeah, this could be a lot better but it’s not offensive and hey, it’s competent at least. I mean, it’s Dave, it won’t be anything less, just a tad disappointing. I mean, come on, “coochie freshly shaven, man’s got expectations”?

Conclusion

This week is so disproportionately male, huh? Ironically as I say that, none of the women represented here – in the form of soulless EDM production and boring guest feature – get Best of the Week, as that’s going to Fredo’s “Burner on Deck” featuring the late Pop Smoke and, yes, Young Adz, with an Honourable Mention to B Young of all people for “Ride for Me”. Worst of the Week will obviously go to Chip and Bugzy Malone for the pathetic “Grown Flex”, with a tied Dishonourable Mention this week going to both “Dancing on Ice” by Yxng Bane featuring Nafe Smallz (for being gross and offensive) and “Higher” by Clean Bandit featuring iann dior (for being remarkably inoffensive). Yeah, Brent Faiyaz and Tyler are safe there but that’s still a fascinatingly bad song, though I don’t think I’ll make any friends with that opinion. Anyway, here’s the top 10 for this week:

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed and want more of my cacti-branded rambling, follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank. I can’t make any predictions for next week that aren’t depressing, but we may have to discuss death and politics next episode if a certain song gets renewed traction. Happy times. See you next week!

[n3rdlif343va]

Hey chicka... I got a prompt... *Clears throat* It's the first day of class, Yuuri a junior is terribly late and on top of it all it's raining like a bitch outside. He's standing under an awning waiting for the rain to hopefully let up... He fills a body sidle up next to him... Viktor a senior stands there with an umbrella... They've never talked but maybe Viktor is finally getting the chance to talk to yuuri and possibly walk him to class... I love you're writing amigo...

You are adorable and I LOVE you! This drabble got away from me.. to the tune of 1,800 words. I hope you like it!

VICTOR’S LUCK

The French call it “unecoup de foudre”; a clap of thunder or lightning strike. We call it “Loveat first sight”. The Spirit calls it  ”the meeting of soul mates”. When youare ready to find your one true love will you know him? Will there be somethingabout him that you feel like you have known forever? Or will you disregard thefeeling of “love at first sight” as a joke? The Spirit says there is oneperfect companion for each person. This soul mate has known you beforeand waits for you now. It may have been many lives ago but your souls havestrived to find each other through the years. Finding each other will make youboth complete. –SirCheo

The air was still and stifling as the atmosphere heldits breath, ready to unleash the full power of the dark rain clouds at anymoment. Once tumultuous, the leaves paused in stoic silence, suspended withimpending doom from their equally stagnant branches. The world stood waiting,on the edge of being broken by the predicted downfall, as Victor stepped fromthe front of his rented townhouse. Glancing toward the sky, he hooked hisumbrella in the crook of his elbow, locking his door and skipping down thefront steps.

Rain in the early spring wasn’t a surprise, althoughthe storm that was building over the college campus had all the promises ofbeing far more severe than anything they normally experienced. But Victor had afinal to attend, the second to last in his college career, and he was eager toput literary journalism behind him. 

Humming to himself, Victor moved without thinking overthe familiar paths, letting small memories of the past four years slip throughhis conscious mind. Inadequate attempts at touch football had taken place inthe field to his left. To his right were the trees where he had pretended tostudy for most of his freshman year. In front of him were the academicbuildings, filled with rooms that handed out torture masked as college credits.And a little to the left of those buildings was the place that he had firstlaid eyes on the love of his life.

Brown eyes, scared and darting over the campus like achipmunk waiting to be pounced by a fox, had captivated Victor and led him to avery painful bruise to the temple from a flying hacky sack. The mop of blackhair had stuck out in every direction imaginable, while the blue-rimmed glassessat cockeyed on the boy’s nose. Victor had abandoned his friends in the middleof the football game, accidentally throwing the football directly into Sara’sstomach in his lust-blind haze. He had been a mere ten feet away from hisfuture spouse when another boy had swooped in, all smiles and dark hair anddragged the future love of his life away from Victor’s field of vision.

For three years, Victor had spied the same boy throughoutcampus in the worst game of Where’s Waldo that he had ever played. Over time hehad learned that his obsession’s name was Yuuri Katsuki. He had scrawled it onhis review notes for calculus and throughout the pages of his well-loved copyof The Twelfth Night. It was a beautiful name; foreign and easy to roll histongue around, much like he imagined the boy to be.

Fate had been a fickle mistress though and Victor hadbeen throttled at every turn. Yuuri had zero existence in the social media world,not even creating a campus profile beyond his name and his adorably awkward IDphoto. Victor had screenshotted that photo, sometimes looking at it andimagining their life together. There would be poodles and kisses and romanticdeclarations every second of every day. Yuuri was poetic and romantic, Victorjust knew it.

Although he didn’t actually know it, because no matterwhat he had tried, it had been three years of failed attempts. Yuuri had been astep ahead of him, a step behind him, or on the other side of a sea of people.Just as happened on the first day, there was always someone there, whiskingYuuri away moments before Victor could reach him. It would go down as Victor’sbiggest collegiate regret, taking the top spot over the night he mixed tequila,expired burritos, and rimming.

Shaking his head at his own misfortune, Victorflinched as the first rain drop hit his cheek. Opening his umbrella, hecontinued across the campus as the storm began to unfold.

Yuuri was late, because he was always late for classeshe hated. And Yuuri hated no class more than he hated philosophy 200. Sittingthrough an hour of pretentious students making pretentious observations aboutsomeone else’s pretentious thoughts was surely the work of the devil himself.Jogging down the steps of his apartment building, he threw himself out of theheavy front door. Concerned immediately furrowed his brow as Yuuri looked atthe ominously full clouds hanging with dark threat over his head. There was noway he had time to go back for an umbrella and he said a silent pray for thestorm to wait the ten minutes needed for him to get to class.

Seven minutes letter, Mother Nature delivered him avengeful FU and threw rain down from the heavens in angry buckets. Yuuri dodgedunder the nearest awning, shivering with his arms wrapped tightly over hischest. The sudden downpour brought with it a drop in temperature and Yuuricould feel the cold settling into the core of his bones. Leaning back againstthe Plexiglas, Yuuri watched as the world began to drown, convinced he would haveto ride out the storm from the safety of the small bus stop.

The world was a blur of rushing water as Victor forcedhis feet forward. His cell phone had beeped in his pocket, but he didn’t dareto stop and check it, as the driving rain would easily be the final death ofhis lifeline. Glancing from under the lip of his umbrella, in a desperateattempt to judge the remaining distance to the salvation of the liberal artsbuilding, he spied a familiar flop of dark hair huddled underneath the campusbus stop. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Victor changed his direction. Hisfinal wasn’t for another hour, and fate waited for no man.

It took him a solid two minutes to reach the openingof the sheltered bus stop, his eyes continually surveying the surrounding area.Outside of someone apparating directly in front of Yuuri to steal him away,there was no one around to interfere this time. Victor swallowed hard, slippingunder the cover and into the personal space of the man he had been trying tomeet for three years.

Yuuri’s eyes were closed, breathing through thebuilding anxiety of missing his class. There was no final, but each classdiscussion accumulated the bulk of their grades and Yuuri couldn’t afford tomiss the points he would gain for his well-rehearsed absolutely bullshittalking points. In the fog of his panic, he vaguely noted the temperaturechange inside of his shelter, startling when the presence of a warm body wasclose enough for him to feel heated breath on his ear. Opening his eyes, Yuurifound himself face-to-face with the blue eyes that haunted all of his dreams.Even frizzy with the static of his umbrella, the silver locks looked soft andextremely touchable. The breath caught in Yuuri’s throat as the man he hadsecretly longed for during his entire time at school stood a breathe away fromhim.

A clap of thunder sounded so loudly, they both jumped.Crashing into each other as they spontaneously wrapped together, falling hard againstthe metal beam in the corner of their three-walled shelter. Peering down,Victor stared into Yuuri’s eyes as they remained pressed together. “Hi, I’mVictor,” he breathed the words, feeling the constriction of his heart in hischest. He had imagined this moment in so many ways, none of comparing to theridiculously beautiful accident that had brought Yuuri directly into his arms.

“You’re crushing me!” Yuuri squeaked, feelingdisappointment in himself as Victor startled, relinquishing his hold on Yuuriand standing straight.

“I’m sorry!” Victor blushed, tucking his umbrella intohis elbow again and awkwardly losing all of his words. The Yuuri in hisimagination would have kissed him immediately, instead, this Yuuri was staringat him wide-eyed making Victor convinced that he had blown his one and onlychance.

“It’s ok, it was…” Yuuri flushed bright red, the wordsgetting stuck on his tongue, “it wasn’t bad! I was cold anyway, so…” WhenVictor continued to stare at him, Yuuri stuck out his hand in an offered handshake. “Um… I’m Yuuri. Nice to meet you!” His voice was pitched higher than apre-pubescent boy with his nuts in a vice. Smooth was never a word that hadbeen associated with him, and it looked like that trend was going to continue.

Victor didn’t look at Yuuri’s hand as he slid his tomeet it. His eyes were trained directly on Yuuri’s leaning closer when anotherloud clap of thunder shook the world around them. Victor jumped and promptlyhead-butted Yuuri in the forehead.

Rubbing his head, Yuuri looked up to the blue eyesagain and let the laughter fall. He had practiced meeting Victor in a millionways, none of them involving potential concussions and full-body tackles. Thiswas better than anything he had dreamt up and Yuuri let his laughter minglewith Victor’s, loving the way they harmonized in the sound.

Around them, the storm began to quiet, rolling thundera persistent sound instead of a clapping force. The rain drizzled from the sky,settling to a light pitter patter. Looking out from under the cover, Victoropened his umbrella. “Can I walk you to wherever you are headed, Yuuri?” Heoffered his hand on instinct, not even bothering to question why he thought itwas a good idea.

“Well, I have probably missed class,” Yuuri lethimself be pulled under Victor’s umbrella, feeling the press of Victor’s handagainst his own. It was so much better than he had imagined.

Remembering his phone, Victor passed the umbrella toYuuri’s free hand and retrieved the device from his pocket. The text from his professorto the class told him that class had been cancelled and the final would takeplace in two days. Smiling, he let the phone fall back into his pocket. “Thelights are out in the liberal arts building so no class for me either. Howabout I treat you to a coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice,” Yuuri smiled softly as Victortugged him closer. Their hips bumped together as they started down the path andaway from their shelter. “Victor?” Yuuri waited until Victor hummed inresponse, “is your umbrella covered in poodles?”

“Yes,” Victor smirked, “in case it rains cats anddogs.” They both laughed at Victor’s terrible joke, moving in step with oneanother as they headed over the concrete path.

All around them, the thunder continued to roll.

[amazingmsme]

3 Times Jeremy's SQUIP Was NOT Helpful

1. Jeremy was still getting used to his SQUIP. It was weird having someone in your head telling you what to do, what not to do, controlling every aspect of your life. At least when he was at home he could be more himself. It was a bit hard ignoring everything the SQUIP was hissing in his ear, but he was used to tuning things out. It was how he survived school. Apparently, however, his SQUIP didn't like this. "Jeremy, how many times do I have to remind you that you need to do those push ups? You thought about sex a total of 55 times today, and if you ignore me, I will just make you do double tomorrow." He rolled his eyes. He knew the SQUIP was trying to help him, but it was sometimes overbearing and annoying. "How many times to I have to tell you I'll do it once I finish my homework?" Suddenly his hand started flying, filling out all the blank spaces on his papers. "There. Finished. Push ups. Now." "Geez you haven't even given me a chance to stand up!" Jeremy complained, earning himself a painful zap. "Ow! You know that hurting me won't help, right? When you do that, it just makes me want to disobey you more out of spite," he said and could practically feel it buzzing with discontent. "Fine, I will lower the intensity of your warning shock to a more mild feeling," it said, and Jeremy could've sworn he heard a sarcastic note to the voice in his head. "Warning shock? I'm not a dog, you can't just- AH! What the hell was that?" "I lowered the intensity of the shock I sent through your body. Does it still hurt? Your pain tolerance must be weak just like every other aspect of yours," the SQUIP snarked. Jeremy went on the defensive, "Hey, my pain tolerance is normal! And the shock didn't hurt it just felt... weird." "Well of course it felt weird Jeremy, it was a shock. They aren't exactly supposed to feel pleasant." "Yeah, well could you not do it?" he asked. "Jeremy, I will do whatever I need to in order for you to be more chill," the SQUIP calmly replied. Jeremy closed his eyes, placing a hand to his temple, "Yeah, well if you keep doing that I won't be able to be more "chill."" "Why?" the computer asked, "It is simply a painless shock, I don't see how- Oh you've got to be kidding me. You just love making my job harder for me, don't you?" Jeremy was blushing profusely, "Shut up! Lots of people are t- oh you know!" he shouted, burying his face into his hands while he curled up in his desk chair which earned him another zap. "GAH! I said stop!" "Jeremy, lots of people are ticklish. You just happen to be extremely so, and you're terrible at hiding it it seems, which is just one more quirk of yours that make it near impossible for you to be cool." "Gee thanks," he said, head still laying on the desk. "But trust me, I will make you the coolest person at your school. You just have to do as I say." Jeremy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, whatever." "No not "whatever" Jeremy. Do as I instruct. Now, if someone were to tickle you-" Jeremy instantly went red, "What? Why would that even happen?" he stammered out. "My data shows that it is a form of bonding between close friends, and as your pool of friends increases, the odds of this happening are higher." Jeremy tried to make himself appear even smaller, "Will you just... stop talking about it?!" he said in what he hoped would be a demanding tone but instead was a shriek. The SQUIP made a sound of disgust, "Jeremy, you must learn to not make such humiliating noises. "Just, ack, gaaaah!" he let out a frustrated cry, running his fingers through his hair. He was, of course, interrupted, "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. It's just a word. A simple action. Nothing to worry about, just be. More. Chill." The SQUIP accented each word with a small shock, and Jeremy was practically having a spasm and fell into a fit of giggles. "You might want to work on that laugh," the SQUIP suggested. "What? What's wrong with my laugh?" Jeremy asked, and of course, the computer gave him an answer. "It sounds too dorky, if you want to be cool, you have to have a cool laugh." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "That's a lie. I heard Rich laughing at some joke Jake had told and he has this high pitched, shrieking laugh, and he's still considered cool," he justified. "Yes well, you're not Rich." 2. Jeremy was over at Brooke's house, and they were sat on the couch, making out. "My parents are out of town, the coast is clear," she had said, dragging him to her car before he could protest. Not that the SQUIP would let him anyways. And it turned out Brooke was a great kisser, so Jeremy couldn't complain too much. That is, until she moved down to his neck. "Don't squirm, she'll wonder what's wrong," the SQUIP informed him. Her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot below his jaw, causing him to let out a gasp. "What's wrong?" she asked, pulling away and placing a hand on his chest to balance herself. "Nothing," he reassured her, offering a smile and pulling her in, doing as his SQUIP instructed. She shrugged, going back to kissing. Jeremy couldn't help but let out a huff of air when she gently bit the stretch of skin below his ear. She leaned back once more, stopping the treatment. "Something's up. Tell me what it is," she said, nuzzling into his neck, and this time a short giggle left his lips. Her head shot up, staring at him, a growing smirk on her face. "Are you ticklish?" "Say no, she'll ignore it and go back to making out," it said. "No." "Are you saure, cause you took a second to answer," Brooke said skeptically. "Repeat after me-" "You're just such a great kisser my mind had gone blank," he said smoothly, hoping it was enough of a cover. She smiled, her lips returning to his skin, and her hand worked its way underneath his shirt, resting gently on his side. He allowed himself to relax a little, only to jump in shock when her hand squeezed his side. He jolted when she did it again. And again, and he couldn't help but to fall in a string of helpless giggles. "Liar!" she cried out, bringing her other hand to skitter over his belly. He brought his hands up to try and protect himself to no avail. Her hands moved quickly and precisely, sending ticklish waves throughout his body. "Wow, you're really ticklish! It's so cute!" she cooed, making him blush and try to hide his face. She pouted, "Aw, don't hide Jer! You're cute when you blush!" Her words only made him blush more, and he let out a whining laugh, drumming his legs onto the couch, but nothing he did lessened the feeling. In fact, her teasing increased the sensation. "Where else are you ticklish?" she asked, fingers crawling up his side. Jeremy was in hysterics and couldn't focus on anything, unable to communicate with the SQUIP. "I-I dohohohohon't knohohow!" he laughed out, squirming beneath her. He hoped she would just give up and let him breathe, go back to kissing, anything to stop the laughter inducing torture. Although if he were being honest with himself, he couldn't complain. He craved physical affection, and he kind of liked the feeling of letting go and laughing. "You don't know? Well that won't do," she teased, scribbling along his ribs, working her hands underneath his arms. He let out a loud shriek, and boy was he glad the house was empty. She laughed along with him and moved her hands down, relentlessly squeezing his thigh. "FAHAHAHAHACK!" Jeremy arched his back, crashing back down on the cushions in a fit of hysterics. He let out a snort, turning a bright shade of red and tried to cover his mouth to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from escaping. "Looks like I found a good spot!" she beamed, gently scratching her nails over his knees. She was sitting on his legs, effectively pinning him. She finally showed him mercy, slowing her fingers. "You have a really cute laugh," she said, laying her head on his chest and curling into his side. "It almost made me not want to stop." "Yeah, Ihihi could tell," he said, residual giggles slipping into his words. "You're absolutely ruthless." She nestled deeper into him, "Thanks." 3. Jeremy didn't bother in covering up his hickies.  It was too hot out to be wearing any sort of neck cover and he didn't want to take the time to use makeup to hide them. Not to mention, his SQUIP wouldn't let him. "Wear them proudly," it said, "Like battle scars." So when Christine had asked what they were, he didn't try to deny it. "Christine! We need to pick out costumes," Chloe said dragging her away. "Oh cool! Swords!" Rich yelled , pulling a toy sword from a box of props. "Engarde!" he cried out, stabbing Jeremy in the side. He let out an indignant shriek, whipping around and slapping the sword from his hands sending it flying across the room. "Woah man, are you okay? I didn't actually mean to hurt you," Rich said with concern. "I'm fine," he squeaked out, his voice even higher than usual. Rich gave him a look, "You sure? Cause you don't sound like you are." Jeremy cleared his throat before speaking, "Yeah, you just scared me." "Honestly I didn't think you'd be that strong," Rich said, slightly impressed. "Yeah, I've been working out more," he said. Rich chuckled, "I thought you looked bigger," he said, playfully reaching over to squeeze his bicep. Jeremy covered his mouth with a snort, trying to stifle his reaction. Rich smirked, "Ticklish?" "Accept your fate now Jeremy, there's no way out of this," the SQUIP informed. "What?!" Jeremy screeched at the computer. "If you say no, he'll tickle you because he knows you're lying. If you say yes, he'll tickle you just because. It's better not to lie. Not to mention if Brooke hears you say no, she might help Rich. Saying yes is the best option." Jeremy had been silent whilst having the conversation, but Rich, knowing what he was doing, waited patiently, a look of false innocence plastered on his face. "A-a bit, but I'd prefer if you diDN'T!" his words turned to squeals of laughter when Rich lunged forward and dug his fingers into his sides. "Nohohoho! Stohohop!" he pleaded, curling in on himself. "A bit ticklish? More like a lot!" Rich exclaimed happily, moving his hands up his ribs. Jeremy couldn't speak, only laugh as the other boy set to work. Rich's teasing only made his blush increase, much to Jeremy's dismay. "Look how red you are! You're lihike a tomato!" he laughed, taking immense joy in his work. "You're laughing so much! You must really enjoy it if you're laughing so hard," he said, working his hands underneath his shirt to get at bare skin. Jeremy's knees buckled underneath him, and he slowly sank down, Rich following and never once stopping the torture. He squirmed and kicked, trying futilely to get away. Jeremy tried to protect his sensitive spots, but Rich kept finding new places to tickle. "What're you doing?" A voice sounded from behind them and Rich turned to see who it was, not slowing in his work. "Tickling Jeremy. I just found out he's insanely ticklish, and just listen to his laugh!" he exclaimed, pinching his side causing the boy beneath him to convulse with a snort. "Jahahahahahahake! Hehehehelp!" he cried out through his laughter, hoping for some mercy. "Help him and you're next," Rich threatened. "C'mon don't be like that," Jake whined, not wanting the same treatment as Jeremy. "At least let him breathe," he said, coming to his rescue. Rich rolled his eyes, letting Jeremy free. "Oh my god you saint," Jeremy said between pants. Jake chuckled, offering a hand to help him up. "Believe me, I know how ruthless he can be," Jake said, shooting his friend a playful glare as he smiled proudly, "'S not my fault you both are so ticklish," he said, tweaking both of their sides as he walked past. "Hey!" They exclaimed in unison, and Jake started off after Rich, chasing him out of the theatre, laughter ringing through the air. "You're welcome." "Welcome for what? You were no help in that situation," Jeremy said. "It's obvious you like it. I mean, why else would you fail to protest? I didn't hear you say "stop" even once," the SQUIP informed. Jeremy's blush intensified, knowing the computer had a point. "Shut up."