#fantasia was eventually used ....

[caemidraws]

Would you rest, for a while...

[yourlovermumu]

miguel has this thing...

he likes to watch you shoving your fingers inside your pussy while he just stands there and watches

its torture to just watch you moan and whimper as you desperately try to bring yourself to an orgasm.

he wants to help. he really does.

but would you let him? he just caught you masturbating because he was lucky that you left the door to your bedroom open.

but god-- this turns him on so much...

watching the way you moan and how your face shows your pleasure with your slick running down from your finger to your wrist.

he has to bite his lip to not let an groan when he watches the sight in front of him, his sharp teeth sinking into his soft lips.

so after that incident where he silently watched you masturbate, he could not get that imagine out of his head since.

seeing you like that bloomed multiple fantasias in his head like he was a teenager that just discovered porn.

i mean dont even get him started on your pussy--

its so pretty. he just wishes he could slide his cock up and down your folds and watch you whine for him to put it it.

he wishes you would invite him to help you out instead of using those fingers of yours that he doubts could reach anything.

fuck. sometimes he wishes he could just barge into your room while your sleeping and rip your panties apart and then let his tongue ruin you.

he wishes you would ride his cock, let him be inside you. you would look so pretty bouncing on his dick.

he wants to cum in you so bad

he wants to make you a mommy. god-- the things he would do for you to have his kids.

he would never really admit it but he wants you to bounce on his dick till his seeing stars and calling out your name in desperate.

''huff-- huff-- y-y/n...god- ah- fuck-''

he would grab your hips to try and control the movement of your hips, because no- he does not want to cum yet. he doesnt want this moment to end yet. not yet, not ever.

''f-fucking-- ahah- hell...s-slow down, love.''

but despite him not wanting the moment to end anytime soon, he cant really stop you, because you feel so good. squeezing him so nicely that his cock twitches inside your pussy.

and even after he cums and fills you up all the way, he'll still refuse to pull out. he wants to stay connected to you. he wants to stay inside you.

and that would lead to him overstimulating both of you and leading to him cumming inside you once again, while he growls in your ear.

when he does eventually pull out though, he would pant heavily and have you trapped in his arms in a warm and tight hug.

but once he does recover, he would waste no time in flipping you over so you laid on your stomach.

he would have a firm grip on your hips as he dragged you closer to him by gripping them.

''my turn, cariño''

[dedalvs]

Do you have any thoughts on the translation scene in Goncharov? I haven't seen a lot of people talking about it but it's a pretty pivotal scene and given that what they're doing is not dissimilar to a conlang imo i figured you might have some good insights

*sigh*

I figured someone was going to ask this eventually...

So listen, the whole translation scene in Goncharov is not technically conlang-related. It's actually even more brilliant, but it's hard to explain.

Since the tutor doesn't speak Russian and the nurse only speaks Italian, the aphasiac Soviet spy has to use an impromptu series of hand gestures to indicate that he either does or doesn't understand. I mean, you can glean that from the subtitles, so that's no big revelation.

But this is where it gets weird and...I mean, linguistically controversial, to say the least, but it was the 70s.

As the tutor and the nurse attempt to communicate with him and each other, they begin to winnow down their vocabulary to words that are cognate between Italian and Russian. And through this back and forth, the languages seem like they're blending, but what they're actually doing is reversing the sound changes of Italian and Russian until they both end up, improbably, at Proto-Indo-European. It's like something you'd see in Fantasia, but aural! It's...utterly bizarre.

And, of course the final word that the nurse and the tutor utter simultaneously, the one that brings the spy to tears, is *bʰewdʰ- "awake, aware"—which, I mean, knowing how the rest of the movie goes...yeah. Bombshell. And it's crazy to me that they didn't subtitle it! Like, you pretty much have to be a PIE scholar to get that, and the entire subplot hinges on it! I mean, bold isn't the word for it. Unfathomable. Cannot believe they got away with that...

Rumor has it that Morris Halle consulted on the film, but he's adamantly refused to talk about. (For years, he'd end all his guest lectures with, "Are they any questions about anything other than Goncharov?") He never once confirmed whether or not he was involved (of course, he wasn't credited, but that wouldn't be unusual for the time even if he was involved).

I can see why you'd think it would be a conlang, but the reverse-engineered sound changes were so precise, and the whole thing so by the book, that there really wasn't any actual invention. It was all Indo-European!

[tired-all-the-time22]

ヒアソビ - Camellia ft. Hatsune Miku

“In this one-night-only fantasia,

I’m scorching my fingers in the dissatisfaction”

^ Fic inspiration from this song, idea below v

+7/8/2023 update at the end

mistaken identity fic based on the knowledge that red son is unaware of MK’s monkie form. MK sneaks into a demon gala/formal event to crash any demon shenanigans (aka hang out with red son) any does so by using his monkie form. He finds red son, who, by some miracle, finds Mk completely unrecognizable and assumes that MK is a suitor or a kind of representative wanting to make ties with the demon bull family.

However red son, at this time harboring a crush for MK and possibly pining over him for a while, still recognizes enough features to see a resemblance to MK. Feeling as if he could never actually date MK himself, red son decides to try for second best and ends up flirting with what he believes to be a monkie demon Mk-lookalike. MK, while he does pick up that something is a little odd with the situation, shrugs it off and reciprocates red son’s flirting, ending up in them making mayhem and having cliche formal event-dancing-lights-shipping moments.

The night ends in MK feeling like their relationship has grown (possibly to something more, he hopes), and red son believing he’s fixed his ‘half-sided’ pining issue.

Imo this could be a funny fic like From Three Thirty to Four by Pittedpeaches (will always plug this fic bc it’s awesome and if you haven’t already read it go and do that now bc it’s hilarious) where MK and red son keep coincidentally only meeting like this when MK’s in monkie form and shenanigans ensue,

But alternatively I did originally imagine this as a kind of angst hurt/comfort fic where red son starts to feel dissatisfied with his ‘replacement’ and deals with feeling guilty about dating someone he feels is so similar to Mk while also remaining friends/enemies with him. They would eventually actually get together in the end, but I like hurt/comfort fics so making this art was fun. ^^

July 8th Update - I have decided to write a single chapter for this idea and here is the announcement post for more info - fic isn’t posted yet but if you guys want more when it is make sure to comment/reblog telling me so ^^

[the-breath-in-air]

An "oh no what am I going to watch after Fellow Travelers is done?" List

When I first saw the trailer for Fellow Travelers I was disappointed because it looked predictable. Turns out it wasn't nearly as predictable as I thought, and is actually quite good. But then I got to thinking...why not share a list of series and movies that folks might be interested in watching once Fellow Travelers is done airing.

--

If you want to see more about McCarthyism, Roy Cohn and the Lavender Scare:

Bully. Coward. Victim. (2019) and Where's My Roy Cohn? (2019) - Both of these documentaries focus on the life of Roy Cohn, from his time at the McCarthy hearings, to his time as the Studio 54 lawyer, to his work during the Reagan era and his eventual death from AIDS. Where's My Roy Cohn? also focuses in on Roy Cohn's working relationship with Donald Trump. "Bully. Coward. Victim. was produced by the granddaughter of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg and as such, it also focuses more on the lasting impact of Cohn's role in their executions. There's a lot of overlap between the two documentaries, but I think they're both worth watching if you can.

--

If you want to see more stories of gay men in the 1950s:

Against the Law (2017) - This is a biopic about Peter Wildeblood, a man who was put on trial for homosexuality and who, remarkably, acknowledged that he was gay during the trial. This trial and Wildeblood's later actions, are considered pivotal in the movement toward decriminalizing homosexuality in the UK. The movie takes place mostly in the 1950s and, again, deals with queer men trying to find love in a time in which laws, social norms, etc. made it exceedingly difficult to do so. The drama is interspersed with interviews in 2017 with real queer men who were alive at the time of the trial.

--

If you want to see more stories of ruthless politicians trying to hide that they're gay:

A Very English Scandal (2018) - As the title suggests, this miniseries takes place in the UK. It's based on a true story...even the more outlandish moments. Jeremy Thorpe (Hugh Grant) is a career politician who's been hiding that he's gay for decades. He's developed a ruthlessness and callousness to his own situation and he, predictably, treats everyone around him as disposable. Then along comes Norman Scott (Ben Whishaw), a young man who Thorpe is instantly attracted to. But Scott struggles with self-acceptance and mental health issues, and Thorpe has no compassion nor patience for any of that. The result is a dark comedy about this doomed relationship alongside the change to the law in the UK to decriminalize homosexuality.

--

If you want to see more stories of queer folks in the 1980s:

It's A Sin (2021) - This is a miniseries that follows a group of queer folks during the 1980s in London. It's all about their search for love and finding themselves and whatnot, even as they are forced to deal with HIV and AIDS. It's a good show that is worth a watch, especially if you haven't seen much else about being queer in the '80s.

--

Angels in America (2003) - Of course Angels in America was going to end up on this list. It is one of the definitive pieces of fiction on living in New York during the AIDS crisis. The play was originally performed in 1991...just four years after AZT was approved for use in the US to treat HIV and AIDS. It's big, and complex, and as much about the state of the U.S. at the time as it is about these individual characters and their lives. Also, Roy Cohn shows up, working as a political operative for Reagan. It really is, as it's subtitle says, "A Gay Fantasia on National Themes."

[silky-silks]

“Dance! Dance with me!”

Based on Wh-Cuphead Au by @eve-pie

Nina belongs to @night-light-artz

Note: I used the boss form design for Nina which was created by @eve-pie pie (awesome lad)

Story time!

Silky was always a weird Ostritch, she originally resided with Esther Winchester but left due a bit of a disagreement with how Esther acts and behaves. Alone, Silky sees Sally Starplay one day performing and desperately wants to join in a show. However she is unsure of herself, and despite being naturally gifted with dancing she is still nervous. So one day when she is dancing alone she sees Nina taking account of her dance skills. Still shy and quite embarrassed she is hesitant until Nina encourages her to keep dancing. Inspired, Silky dances and starts to teach Nina what she knows. To Nina’s surprise; Silky is one very talented ostritch. And together the two dance for hours and hours until eventually Silky became tired. (Which takes several hours for that to happen)

Silky: “yes! Like that! Be swift and nimble and watch your footing! Keep it long yet soft! Yes yes!!!

The end.

Lately I did say I was practicing more ostrich art for Silky, and despite her spooky month design being based off an ostrich, I decided to make her Cuphead design one as well!

Mostly inspired from this animation is Disney Fantasia.

I’m starting to love ostriches a lot actually, funny little fellas

[spotofmummery]

Amon's Evolution

(Borrowed from Hali and Inxli)

I rolled Amon sometime in 2016-2017 with all intentions to RP an Amon character (and had one failed attempt at starting a Tumblr for him in 2017), but I didn't make him my official RP alt until 2018.

Since then, he hasn't changed much physically. I think I used a fantasia on him once to change his eye shape very early on. I tried out a different hair style this past summer, but I tend to always go back to his scruffy style in the end.

ARR - Stormblood

Amon started out in the Brand New Gear like most folks. He had an in-character quirk where he had a slight phobia of showing his face, so he always wore a mask or visor of some sort in the early years.

He then evolved to the Allagan archer set that I could afford, even if I didn't love the way it looked.

Of course, he had Amon's set as glamour, but I rarely used it - still rarely do.

Amon's first real glam that he used for a while was this.

Which eventually gave way to this.

Oh, and I can't forget the Red Mage glams he picked up. This was his first.

Ultimately, this was one he wore quite a bit (you may see art of him in it and old emote shots I still use).

Shadowbringers

Shadowbringers brought a bunch of different glams that he rotated through over time.

And for red mage...

I was super happy with these two glams for a good bit of time, too.

In the meantime, I was leveling White Mage on him for a bit, and I still believe this is the glam I use for that job today.

Finally, the last glam for Shadowbringers was ironically this. I had no clue what that foretold.

Endwalker

I haven't changed his glam a whole lot through this expansion. Just two major glams that I can think of.

And finally, what I'm using today - it may or may not be a temporary glam. Just trying it out, but I do like it.

There you go! A history of Amon's glams in a nutshell. There were, of course, other random glams over time, but these are the ones he's used for a decent period of time.

[memecucker]

If you wanna surprise people with the answer to a trivia question, ask them to name the first Disney full length movie to use computer generated images?

Because the answer is 1961’s 101 Dalmatians. “They had CGI in 1961?!” you might ask and yes though it wasn’t anything we might call CGI nowadays but they were images which were “generated” by a computer so to speak. And by “generated” I mean they used a Xerox machine.

By 1961 Walt had started to become jaded when it came to animation following Sleeping Beauty being a flop at the box office in addition to costing twice as much as previous animated films from Disney (especially since Sleeping Beauty was something Walt actually put a lot of passion into, similar to Fantasia which and how that also bombed and I don’t care much for Walt as a man but I can get how this would be pretty demoralizing) and shifted his attention to theme parks and his futurist utopianism. So with 101 Dalmatians, Walt was less directly involved than in the previous animated movies and largely was there to approve ideas people had.

One day art director Ken Anderson came to Walt and proposed a cost that they use a new method for animating the film, Xerox machines. The technique is called “xerography” (Xerox is actually both “named after” the word but also invented it) and allowed for greatly reducing costs and time when it came to animation because rather than having people hand draw sketches onto animation cels they would instead xerox those sketches onto the cels. Now at the time this was only viable with black and white images and so the cels would still need to be hand colored but 101 Dalmatians ended up being the ideal movie to use the technique on because of the Dalmatians and particularly how there are certain scenes where you have dozens and dozens and at some points all 101 Dalmatians present at the same time. Imagine the amount of effort that would be used in hand drawing cels where you have all 101 Dalmatians present considering that each Dalmatian is supposed to have their own unique spots and the ample room for animation errors to come up and you can understand the appeal. And while it doesn’t meet modern understanding of “computer generated images” the fact that a machine was copying and producing these images and taking over what was formerly a human task (I mean human animators still needed to color it in but whatever) and Xerox machines at the time were essentially analog computers and you can get it. There’s an interview with Chuck Jones from the 70s where he talked about 101 Dalmatians and used the word “computer animation” to describe it so that was how it was seen at the time and even ten years later

Now like I said Walt had been disillusioned with animation but was aware it was his companies bread and butter so when Anderson came to him with the proposal he replied with “"Ah, yeah, yeah, you can fool around all you want to". But when Walt finally saw early versions of the movie? He fucking hated it and said Disney is never going to use one of those “goddamned” Xerox machines again. It destroyed the enchantment and wonder in Walt’s view. This was a guy that had already sorta given up for the moment on actually putting passion into animated films from his studio and just let the animation department handle it but upon seeing all the end result of xerogrgraphy, he was disgusted! Where was the humanity in this? All he saw was the work of machines and said Anderson would never be an animation director again (Anderson says Walt would eventually apologize shortly before his death).

And I think that’s interesting. Without knowing any better, would any contemporary person watching 101 Dalmatians claim it’s anything other than “hand drawn animation”? Because that’s not what it was considered to be at least circa early 60s Disney animation department. Hell, the technique isn’t even really noticeable unless you’re watching the blu-ray version of the movie which is in a higher resolution than it was ever intended to be watched in (there’s actually a lot of agreement that the film is much visually worse in blu-ray). But for Walt Disney, the futurist who in 1961 had already been stepping away from animation? He only saw the work of machines and something stripped of its humanity. But nowadays? You can have CGI movies in our sense of “cgi” where you aren’t even working off any hand drawn sketch but instead images wholly created by computers being directed by artists and the humanity and passion can be made readily apparent in something even more removed from the days of hand drawn cels than the Xerox machine technique.

Anyway, whenever there’s new technology in the arts it’s normal for people to initially see just the work of machines and artificiality. But once people get used to it and it becomes normal, they stop seeing the machine and start seeing the people behind it. Same as it ever was

[coltrainbat]

High Off You

A/N: Ok so not a day goes by I dont think of this quote:

I dont think it’s talked about enough that my our little ray of sunshine use to smoke. Makes me love him a little more! So this is for my stoner girlies... I see you!

WARNINGS: Mentions of weed, being high

Disclaimer: All characters and events written, even those based on real people are entirely fictional and are no representation or comment of said characters in real life.

Chris took a drag of the rolled-up joint, placing it back on the ashtray beside him. Blowing the smoke into your mouth like he always did, placing a wet open kiss to your mouth sealing the smoke between you two.

You loved this time of year, when Chris had ceased all commitments for the year, and you took time off work for the holidays. You had a decent week between both of you finishing up for the year and when the chaos of the festive season started so you’d always take time for you two. With no responsibilities and nowhere to be, you’d both go to his LA home and lock yourselves inside, spending the majority of the time reconnecting and occasionally, such as nights like this, getting baked on that sweet Californian green. It made you both feel younger and meant for many funny, giggling nights wrapped up in each other’s arms.

The intimate moment was promptly ruined though when Chris barked with a jolt;

“I got it! I’m the George Clooney!”

“You’re what?” Your eyes squint in confusion as you tilt your head to look at your boyfriend more clearly.

“Like the George Clooney effect that’s me!”

“Explain” you went back to laying on his chest, eyes looking up at the starry night.

“Ok so older guys settle down...”

“You’re not old”

“I’m older than you by 10+ years.”

“You don’t act it.”

“Shhh baby let me finish.” He placed his hand over your mouth lazily.

“So older guys like me who people think are a player…”

“Think? Are.” You mumbled under his hand.

“Shhh I’m talking here!” His Boston accent was thick as he playfully hushed you. He tried to be serious, but the giggle threatened through his voice.

“Eventually… ya know… settle down with an educated, independent, success, BEAUTIFUL woman who just happens to be younger than them.”

“Are you saying you’re like George Clooney?” You snorted

“I’m saying you’re my Amal Clooney baby.” He nuzzled his beard into your neck.

“Ok I like that.”

“It’s true, I got lucky with youuuu.” He pursed his lips, looking at you with bloodshot eyes.

“You’re high baby.”

“So are you.” He giggled

“Yeah I am.” Your giggles soon turned into a fit of laughter.

“You know what we should do?” He cupped his hand around your ear, whispering into it. Even though it was just you two on the porch. Cuddled under a singular blanket on the outdoor couch, lit up by artificial light as you watched the stars.

“Make popcorn and go watch Fantasia.” You bit your lip up at him.

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that but it’s a way better idea than what I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking?”

“We go for a walk around the block.”

“Chris, we did that an hour ago…”

“Was that an hour ago? Did we actually? Well… what if somethings changed?”

“In an hour…?”

“You don’t know Y/N, you just don’t.” He put on a serious tone to the ridiculous suggestion which made you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, no you’re right maybe in the hour since we last walked around, a new owl has appeared.” You got up from his arms and started to make you way inside.

“Ya never know!” He quickly followed up behind you. You got up too fast and suddenly realised the effects of the drug had hit you more than you expected. Wobbling slightly, you almost fell before Chris caught you in his arms, quick on your step.

“Easy girl.”

“Omg why is the floor moving!”

“It’s not your just stoned out of your mind… come on take my arm.” You wrapped both of your hands around his large bicep as he eased you through the back door back into the house, closing it behind you two. You looked like a storybook witch wrapped up in the tartan blanket.

“Ok popcorn.” Chris clapped his hands together as you made your way into the kitchen. You sat on the bench seat and watched as Chris just stared mindlessly into the pantry.

“Bottom shelf.”

“I know I just forgot how much food we have… holy shit… Y/N.. have you seen this?”

“Chris!”

“Yeah sorry sorry but wow what a nice pantry.” He shook his head in disbelief, dopey smile planted on his face as he bent down to grab the popcorn.

You watched as he slowly and methodically read the instructions on the packet, rubbing his face a few times to focus on the task.

“Do you need help?” You looked at him

“No it’s fine, don’t get up, but just quickly, does it matter which way I put it in? Like will the kernels get confused?”

You sniggered at the insinuation that kernels get “confused” and the way his words kind of slurred when he spoke

“Turn it over.”

He turned it over still looking at you for clarification

“What does it say in big red letters?”

Chris moved the packet around a couple times bringing it closer to his face, inspecting the writing “This.. way… up.”

He looked up at you with a smirk “God you’re so smart baby.” Leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. He put in the microwave and grabbed his phone, putting on music as he waited for it to pop.

Chris loved to put on 70s disco when he was high so when he landed on Young Hearts Run Free you couldn’t stop laughing at his ridiculous yet shockingly good dance moves as he mouthed the words and put on a little show for you.

You got up and decided to join him as he took you in his arms, doing exaggerated spins, turns and hip thrusts into your direction. Grabbing you close when you tried to move away, holding you back against his chest as he swayed you in front of the microwave, leaving wet sloppy kisses on your neck.

“Chris… stop! It tickles!” You laughed, reflexes forcing your chin into your neck as you felt the vibrations of his laugh on your shoulder.

Once your little dance party was over and you had settled on the couch, exaggerating your annoyance at the fact that you had to go back to sharing your makeshift witch’s cloak. Chris turned on Fantasia.

“Come closer.” He cooed.

“Chris I’m right here.”

“Yeah, but I want you on top of me.” He groaned like a disgruntled toddler.

“Fine!” You moved your hips onto his lap, leaning back into his chest.

“Besides you get paranoid and hit the ceiling at the scary part.”

You instantly froze in his arms “omg I forgot about that part.”

Chris laughed “How do you forget, last time we did this you hid under the blanket and cried TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” He was full belly laughing now reminiscing at the memory.

“And you just laughed! It is scary! With the fire and the weird bat thing!”

“Y/N… it’s a fucking DISNEY movie!” He was wheezing at this point, his whole body laughing, threatening the stability of your position on his lap but he was quick to keep the strong grip of his arm around your waist.

“Ok ok… hahahaha… god… that’s… ok… fine we’ll watch something else.” The remote still in his hands as he backspaced the search.

“Let’s say it together on 3.” You turned to look at him.

“We are both gonna say the same thing aren’t we?” He quirked an eyebrow up, eyeing you with a smirk.

“You’re definitely thinking what I’m thinking.”  Your eyes widened, flipping yourself over so your hands lay on his chest and you’re face to face.

“3” he said

“2” you said

“1… Rick and Morty” you said in unison

“God this is why I’m gonna marry you, holy shit!” He laughed, his head falling back.

You woke up to the sound of birds chirping. You and Chris still on the couch, popcorn kernels spread amongst you both as he snored peacefully, grip lazily on your back as you noticed the small patch of drool on his shirt from you, and Netflix asking if you are still watching. Realising you had fallen asleep on the couch in a high haze, you shut off the TV and went back to cuddling your boyfriend, who instinctively kissed your forehead and pulled you closer towards him.  

[boss-hoody]

So I continued to play Final Fantasy 14

idk what day I'm on.

Upon rematching against the harder version of Titan, I once again fell off the stage, but this time it was because I backflipped out of an AoE. At least this time I looked cool.

I eventually cleared the main story of A realm reborn, and I used my free fantasia for the sole purpose of making my guy taller. I have no regrets.

I LOVED the 3 part raid that recreates the endgame of FF3. FF3 was technically my first Final Fantasy. I had watched my mom play 7 when I was a kid, and years later picked up the FF3 remake on DS. Needless to say, I look forward to what future raids have in store.

Because of my funky hours, I cross into a point in time where my server is totally dead and its impossible to get into any duties. So I took up a trade and became a Weaver! I quickly reached a point however, where I required materials a weaver could not make, and so, I turned to the Market board to obtain them.

After accidentally spending 300k on material and setting my savings for an apartment back to basically 0, I said "BEGONE, MIDDLEMEN!!" and took up the required trades to obtain the various unweavable items. So now I'm a weaver, a leatherworker, a carpenter, a blacksmith, a botanist, and a miner! All for fashion.

I eventually got back to playing the MSQ and finished the ARR post-game. I was GLUED to the screen, and before I knew it, it was 4am and my distrust for Lalafells had increased significantly

Heavensward is included in the free trial so I have EVEN MORE to play. Very excited. But first I think I'm gonna focus on gathering and crafting, and selling the goods on the market board. ELIMINATE THE MIDDLE MAN! BECOME THE MIDDLE MAN!

[nihilnovisubsole]

how are you finding ffxiv btw? curious to hear what you think of it so far if youre open to sharing!

i wrote up some early impressions here! tl;dr, it's got me good. the people who said i'd like it were absolutely right. i'm enjoying talking about it, so have some more

it's funny to see how many of the game's incidental quests follow the "you look like an adventurer" format. "you look like an adventurer, go save my cat from that tree," "you look like an adventurer, bring me a blue flower with red thorns," etc. it's a format i've been banned from using at my job - our narrative policy is that it feels gamey, and questgivers should always have a deeper reason to solicit the player specifically. that said, even the starting cities have a dizzying amount of sidequests, and you can't afford to be precious when you're writing at that scale. hat tip to the writers for having to come up with it all!

i mean, really, it blows my mind how much there is to do. i worried that i was chewing through the ARR story too quickly, but my friends keep saying this is only the beginning? omg

i find myself chasing a kind of roleplay that i haven't before: one that revolves around the game's time-of-day system. since cutscenes [in general - i guess some are forced] match the current weather and light, i've been scheduling cutscenes around what seems most cinematic or plot-appropriate. i waited until nightfall to do the greenbliss festival and hear the grand company speeches to make them more solemn. by coincidence, i fought foulques during a downpour, and it felt so much more dramatic. so did crossing thanalan at nigh noon. you know that bad thing that happens at the waking sands? i trudged all the way to the church alone in the dead of midnight afterward. now that's kino!!

oh yeah, those veteran friends i mentioned earlier? they're obsessed with which eligible bachelor i'll attach my character to. i'm so flattered. how can you not be. getting ubereats deliveries of "yeah, this one is a miserable bastard, you might like him." i'm told that the game implicitly encourages this sort of thing by stressing how much your player means to the major characters. no wonder you've all been having so much fun over here

i made some rookie mistakes in the character creator, so no screenshots yet ): thank goodness you get a free fantasia eventually

i have more details cooking, though. i see her as a fallen dragoon who thought she'd failed at being a hero and has been given a second chance. starting in gridania was less a "newbie lancer" thing and more a kurosawa "stranger comes to town and solves its problems by the sword" thing. she's also been forged-in-battle friends with raubahn for many years, and i've heard he gets a lot of story, so i'm looking forward to that.

don't worry, i've been forearmed about what happens-

[the vaudeville cane drags me offstage]

[goldenchocobo]

Day 6: A World to Revisit

Sora's taking it easy and telling some fantastical creatures about the Dreameaters he's met in their world.

I would love, love, love to revisit Fantasia in KH. Especially now with how well game engines can recreate physical art styles- such as Water colour. It'd look fantastic

I never played 3D when it came out (I was convinced it was a Re:com remake for some reason?) but when I did eventually play it and saw Symphony of Sorcery, I was just so excited to explore that world! I loved that Riku's level was based on the Nutcracker suit- it's more downlow and melancholic with its autumn-winter theme. And with a Bare Mountain boss fight with my favourite Chernabog!? great! And Sora's being based on the Pastoral Symphony makes so much sense since he's such a carefree guy!

I have only ever had to complaints... 1. Where's the Rite of Spring section? I want my retro 1940's dinosaurs! 2. It needed the residents. Unicorn, pegisi, Fawns... Maybe not the Centaurs, unless you use the ones from act II onwards. and maayyybbbee not Dionysus/Bacchus since we can't have Sora getting drunk off of God-brewed wine, now, can we.

That's why I want to go back; to see some cool retosaurs (although if I'm perfectly honest, everything before the 'dinosaur' section still kind of holds up today, surprisingly). I want Sora befriending some cute baby unicorns and flying alongside some cool pegisi.

[sparrowsong-7]

Character Dump Time!

Figured I'd keep and up to date primer on all my OCs, since some of their details have changed.

(Updated as of 5/23/2024)

Ayami Ami (formerly Ayami Tsukimori)

Age: 22 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Jobs: Black Mage, Red Mage, Summoner

Born as an Au Ra to the Tsukimori Family, Ayami had a rather rough childhood, something that reached a head when she ran away from her home at the tender age of 15. Her lonesome journey took her to Ul'Dah, where she'd live on the streets until calamity struck. As voidsent poured into the city under Dalamud's shadow, Ayami felt a fire burn within her, a fire that would vaporize the demons barreling down on a young Lalafellin women. The Thaumaturges Guild immediately took notice, taking the young child in to hone her skills before she hurt someone... more than likely herself.

Throughout her journey, Ayami has gone from a meek, unassuming adventure to a veritable force of nature. She would also transform from an awkward Au Ra to a confident Lalafell thanks to a rather potent Fantasia. Calm and quiet, rather than seeking glory or fame, Ayami instead seeks peace of mind that she can retire and live a quiet life of her own, something that always seems impossibly out of reach for a Warrior of Light.

Memello Mello

Age: 25 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Jobs: Bard, Machinist

A Sharlayan runaway, Memello (often simply Mel) grew up as a magitek prodigy in a family that had no care for the machines. In a fit of desperation, frustration, and fear Mel stole as many supplies and gadgets as she could from a gleaner store house and caught the quickest boat to Eorzea, hoping to start a new life using her skills. While Mel had nothing to her name her prowess made waves that would soon reach the ears of one Cid Garland, who would quickly offer the young women a job at the Garland Ironworks.

This good fortune would not last, however, as Calamity loomed overhead. Cid would go missing, leaving his employees aimless, and as Dalamud fell Ul'Dah would come under siege by voidsent, hellsbent on devouring anyone in their path... Mel included. Only through the kindness of a powerful Mage did Mel survive, a fact that made Mel feel weak. Thus did she set out on her path to get stronger, braver... thus did she set out to become a Warrior of Light.

Crescent Sparrowsong

Age: 31 (?)

Pronouns: They/them

Jobs: Reaper

There's not much know about Crescent's upbringing, and there's even less that they're willing to divulge. First coming the the public conscious prior to the fall of Dalamud, Crescent would make their name adventuring and helping those in need, soon earning the moniker Warrior of Light alongside several others. But when the lesser moon cracked open, and Master Louisoix's spell was cast, memories of the Calamity would fade, just as the light faded from Crescents eye.

The individual who would be know as Crescent died that day, their body left on the fields of Carteneau. Their story would have ended their had their body not been deemed acceptable for experimentation by a shadowy sect of Garlean researchers. Time would pass, and Crescent would eventually awaken in the snows of Coerthas, with nothing but fragmented memories and a crisis of identity to show. Are they truly the Warrior of Light of old? Or is there something more to who... or what... they really are.

L'vinia Fay

Age: 1500+

Pronouns: It/Its

Jobs: N/A*

*L'vinia doesn't fall under the standard job umbrella, though it's somewhere between Rogue/Viper

Dormant for over 1500 years, L'vinia was discovered by an expedition team in the ruins of a Mhachi fringe town just southwest of Coerthas. Its dormant body transferred hands countless time as a curiosity before winding up in the hands of the Seedseers of Gridania. There it would remain until its body came into direct contact with Ayami, stirring L'vinia to life once more.

Obedient to a fault, L'vinia maintains that it remembers nothing of its past, though it finds itself sickened by Black Magics and Ayami's presence in general. Perhaps there's a connection the neither of them are aware of...

[raiiryuu]

Ship bias !!

⚡︎ "Ship Bias" ⚡︎ - @quiiscnt

A ship that kinda came up from the past and got to almost hyperfixation levels over the past few days has been Laxus and Mystogan.

My insane ramblings under the cut: tl;dr: It Makes Sense, Kinda

At the time Mystogan first showed up/Laxus first met him, Laxus had probably either just gotten S-Class or was close to that level -- Ivan had already been kicked out, and he and Makarov were at odds. His being able to resist the sleep spell Mystogan used, much like his grandfather, meant that he was actually able to meet this stranger, and he was fascinated. This person that went to such great lengths -- and used such strong magics -- just to hide his presence...for what?

It's one of very few relationships in Laxus's life where he took the first step. He reached out first, out of sheer curiosity, wanting to know more about this intentionally mysterious stranger. There were misgivings on Mystogan's side, of course, knowing what he knew -- but he could also see through Laxus's tough-guy act pretty easily. This teenager was hurting, though suggesting as much could easily get you fried, and he would never admit it but he was seeking someone to actually be close to after losing pretty much everyone else he'd had. His mother was dead, his father gone, his grandfather separated by a rift he was slowly realizing would always be there, the Raijinshuu hadn't quite been formed yet. He'd turned his back on his friends to focus on his own training, keeping everyone at arm's length, and now that'd backfired.

The two grew close, cautiously at first, and then over time trust grew as well. Laxus knew there was something off about Mystogan's magics, knew that at least part of it came from the staves on his back -- but he didn't know the whole story. He knew nothing of Edolas or Mystogan's purpose on Earthland for a long time, save Mystogan once telling him very basic info on Anima and that they had to be closed, but not why. Laxus learned that Mystogan had a counterpart on Earthland (phrased simply as "in this world," which was not entirely unusual for his way of speech) named Jellal that was not seen in a positive light around this time, as well. The two would often meet up between jobs and training, sharing long conversations about any number of topics somewhere out of sight of the rest of the guild. Laxus seemed intent on no one knowing he and Mystogan were acquainted at all, and after some time spent around him the answer became clearer -- Laxus didn't want to lose him to Fairy Tail, like he'd lost all else. ( Laxus even went out of his way to track down and buy a staff for him -- one that contained magic, instead of just serving as a focus -- and it ended up being one of the staves Mystogan used during Fantasia, which was carried with him to Edolas when he worked to return Fairy Tail and Magnolia to Earthland. )

There was definitely a period close to the time before the Battle of Fairy Tail where Laxus had been playing around, when he was intentionally trying to piss others off at any opportunity, experimenting with vices and finding most just didn't work, for him. When he was letting himself get angry, and wanting to drag others to that same level. But when they spent time together, Mystogan saw what most would consider his 'true colors' -- the heart behind all that anger. He saw a softer side that had been locked away since his mother's death, to shield himself from further pain. About two months before the Battle of Fairy Tail, the two came to a semi-unspoken agreement -- Laxus stopped his meaningless hookups, more committed to whatever unnamed thing was between the two, and Mystogan had resolved to, at some point, explain in more detail what was going on with him and the eventuality that would come for him. Then Laxus kicked off the 'fighting festival,' words were spoken, identities revealed, and, once again, Laxus felt everything being ripped away from him.

Except one. Despite what had happened, despite the words said, Mystogan showed himself in the alleyways after Laxus had left the Fantasia parade, reaching out himself for the first time. It was a moment he'd intended to come clean, to explain everything -- but, seeing the state the man was in, he tabled the matter. He needed support, not the news someone else was leaving. In some verses this interaction could end in a kiss, but portrayal dependence and all that applies to all of this ofc.

Laxus explained the terms of his removal from the guild, and Mystogan offered comfort and support, but it did not last long -- as the crowds started to disperse, a familiar sense of panic hit, one they hadn't felt in a while. No one could see them together, right?

Both vanished via their magics, and that was potentially the last time they ever saw each other. Laxus did not learn of the events on Edolas until the return from Tenrou, and then once the Grand Magic Games kicked off, he was asked to help Jellal blend in as his old friend for the sake of an investigation. Fun times.

The sad, doomed-from-the-start sort of relationship that simultaneously reminds him he can be soft again while also ensuring he's paranoid of ever letting that wall down again. :')

[vulpes-fennec]

Prythian's Fantasia 🎪 (Ch. 3)

Summary: It’s 1889. Desperate to save her ailing mother’s life, Feyre strikes a bargain with ringmaster-witch doctor Amarantha. As the Archeron sisters join Prythian’s Fantasia and head for the World’s Fair in Paris, they begin to realize the circus’s magic runs far deeper than its enchanting nightly performances.

Previously: The Archeron sisters had a magical experience at Prythian's Fantasia. Will Feyre be able to bargain with Amarantha to save her mother's life? WARNINGS: References to past SA in Gwyn's POV

Read: Masterlist | AO3

Tuesday, March 12th, 1889

***Nesta***

Nesta was scritch-scratching her way through the pile of correspondence in the parlor when the front door snicked shut. Blazing irritation ruined Nesta’s train of thought. Where the hell was her damn sister going? 

Sure enough, Feyre’s cloaked form had just turned the corner down the street. Nesta ground her teeth, frustration fueling her quick steps into a light jog. She’d turned a blind eye to Feyre’s excursions long enough. As the eldest child, it was her responsibility to keep her sisters out of trouble. But Nesta hated running. Especially in such a layered skirt and dainty little shoes. 

“You, there. I’ll pay you five shillings if you follow that girl in the black dress down the street.” Nesta announced to a boy who happened to be driving an empty wagon past her. He could not be any older than fourteen, based on his short stature and pimple-covered face. But he nodded, even cowing slightly as Nesta hopped into the grimy wagon. “Be discreet. If she catches us, you’ll only get two.” 

The janky wagon rumbled and squelched over cobblestone and mud. The boy maintained a careful distance as they moved past soot-darkened gray buildings, ramshackle apartments, squalid beggars, and over the Thames River. They followed Feyre for a good half hour before she disappeared into thin air. 

“Where did she go?” The boy stopped, his confusion mirroring Nesta’s. Nesta, who had been keeping a close eye on Feyre the entire time, was at a loss for words. Feyre’s honey-brown hair was easy to spot, even amongst the throng of Londoners. She was even wearing a knitted cream shawl that made her stand out in the gray. But they had traveled far enough that Nesta was certain where Feyre was headed. 

The Prythian’s Fantasia tent rose tall and proud about a half mile away. The lines and colors were sharper in daylight, but the structure still evoked memories of that magical night. Nesta had not been able to stop thinking about how circus dancers pranced and spun across the ring, seductively contorting their bodies mid-air with silken ribbons. She would make the rest of the way by foot; Nesta plunked down the five shillings into the wagon before hopping out.

The circus gate was shut and the grounds were silent, which had Nesta wondering for a moment if she had guessed incorrectly. It seemed dead as a graveyard. But there it was…that faint jingle of music. Lilting notes and clear tones sweetened the air, beckoning her in. Nesta walked along the massive perimeter, following the music. She eventually reached the performers’ camp just behind the main circus. 

Sure enough, her sister was idling at the camp’s edge, wringing her hands and pacing anxiously as if she was working up the nerve to enter. A gold-painted sign propped next to the small entrance read: Prospective performers, seek Amarantha. 

“Feyre,” Nesta called out firmly. 

Feyre jumped, her blue-gray eyes widening in surprise. “Nesta!” Her expression pinched with sudden nervousness. “What are you doing here? Have you been following me?” 

“I should ask the same thing about yourself. Not thinking of running away to the circus, are you?” Nesta replied dryly. 

“I’m not running away…I simply must speak with the ringmaster.” Nesta groaned in frustration when Feyre strode away. Whatever business Feyre had with Amarantha, Nesta was not going to wait around for her sister to come back out. 

During the day, the circus performers were unrecognizable in regular garb, with women in plain linen dresses and men in standard brown pants and shirts. Nesta clearly stuck out, with her pale blue dress and embroidered silk slippers. Even Feyre looked more proper than usual, with her freshly cleaned lilac dress and carefully braided hair. 

Colored caravans were interspersed between medium-sized tents and practice rings. The performers barely paid Nesta and Feyre any attention as they navigated down the crunchy dry grass and towards the large plum tent with the words “ringmaster’s office” scripted on a hanging placard.

A tall, muscular man stood under the tent’s awning, and Nesta gawked at him openly. He was not like the sniveling, pale, weak-boned aristocrats of London society. Nor was he like one of those bumbling country boys who were all brawn but no brain. His golden eyes were like a hawk’s: sharp, intelligent, and…beautiful. Was he a circus performer, or personal protection? Nesta could not recall having seen him in the show, for she would certainly remember a man like him. 

“What’s your business here?” he asked with a half grin, in a deep voice that sounded like a song. Nesta clenched her jaw, trying to keep herself from getting carried away.

“We request an audience with Amarantha,” Feyre responded. The man’s crossed arms stretched and creased his gray shirt along defined muscles. Nesta’s eyes were fixated on the triangle of ruddy brown skin, like that of sailors who spent their days out in the open seas, peeking through the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

“What is the nature of your audience?” 

“I seek her aid for our ailing mother.” Nesta blinked in surprise. Running to a circus ringmaster for healing? Feyre must have lost her mind. 

The man’s hazel eyes snapped towards Nesta’s face, picking her steely facade apart and assessing every hidden, dark thought. She could have sworn his pupils widened with subtle desire. His chiseled face was rugged, as if a sculptor had failed to smooth down a marble statue before presenting their work to an art exhibit. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” His attitude had changed, and it stung, for some reason. 

“I don’t see why not?” Nesta blurted out. “You are not the ringmaster.” The man scoffed at her now, his lip twitching in condescension. 

“What you seek would not benefit you in the slightest.” Normally, Nesta would have wholeheartedly used the barring of entry as an excuse to drag Feyre away. But his self-righteous and dismissive attitude riled her. 

“Cassian,” a strong, female voice called from the interior of the tent. “Do we have guests outside? Do let them in.”  

So that was his name. Cassian. 

“Seems you do not have the final word around here.” Nesta allowed her lips to twitch in a simpering smirk as she walked past Cassian, who had gone rigid with fury, most likely. She could not banish the memory of his intense hazel eyes, which were surely pinned on her back like a target as she slipped into the ringmaster’s tent.  

***Feyre***

It was surprisingly dim inside the tent, and the air clung to Feyre’s cheeks like a damp fog. Ringmaster Amarantha sat in a large velvet chair, reading a book and sipping from a goblet of wine. She’d exchanged her bodice and breeches for a deep purple gown that made her alabaster skin appear bloodless.  

“Good afternoon,” Amarantha purred with a saccharine smile. “What brings such lovely ladies to my domain today?” It seemed the ringmaster’s charisma was not limited to the stage. Feyre took a step forward, dipping her head in a slight bow. 

“Good afternoon, ringmaster. I heard you possess…magic. And I’ve come to humbly request your assistance. My mother has been gravely ill for months.” The Archeron family’s fate hung upon Amarantha’s answer.

“My assistance does not come without a price. Tell me, dear, what is your name?” Amarantha tossed her thick, crimson hair behind a shoulder. 

“Feyre Archeron.” Confidence—keeping her voice steady—was crucial.

“And yours?” Amarantha’s dark gaze swiveled to Nesta, who did not balk at the sheer weight of the ringmaster’s stare. 

“Nesta. Nesta Archeron,” she replied. “I’m Feyre’s older sister.” Amarantha hummed in approval. She closed her eyes, tapping her fingers together in contemplation. 

“Feyre Archeron, I do not desire money or riches as a form of payment. I will provide a healing potion for your mother, as long as you agree to half a year of service with my circus: Prythian’s Fantasia.” 

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. But Nesta pinched Feyre’s arm hard before she could speak. 

“Please excuse us for a moment,” Nesta said roughly. Amarantha waved her hand flippantly, returning to her book. Nesta dragged Feyre to the side. “Have you lost your mind, Feyre?” she hissed lowly. “Join a circus? For some crackpot potion, when Mother is already on her way out this world?” 

Feyre’s blue eyes flashed angrily. 

“I need to try, Nesta,” she argued back. “I know that you are not fond of Mother. But imagine what Father will endure if she dies. And think about Elain! You may not want to get married, but are you willing to be her chaperone next year? Be my chaperone for another season?” 

“The ringmaster didn’t even inquire about Mother’s condition. How would her ‘potion’ be any useful cure?” Nesta asked, a little more loudly. 

“Magic,” Amarantha called out lazily. “Six months of service seems sufficient in exchange for a potion that acts as a general restorative for any ailment, don’t you think?”

“Magic does not exist. Healing potions do not exist,” Nesta rationalized. “You’re being foolish, Feyre. Save yourself from the embarrassment.”

“Magic does exist. I know it,” Feyre shot back, her voice a harsh whisper. She turned back to Amarantha. “My mother’s condition is too dire to wait six months. What if she passes before my term of service is completed?” 

Amarantha’s mouth curled in a wry grin. “You do drive a hard bargain, my dear. I will award you the potion after two months of service, but you must finish the six months with me before you are free to leave.”  

“This is a traveling circus, is it not? Where do you plan to go?” Feyre asked. 

“We will be making a touring loop around England before heading to Paris in May for the World’s Fair,” Amarantha responded. “Our stops will be in the main cities of Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Cambridge, and Southend-on-Sea.”

Feyre chewed her lip. Her answer was still ‘yes’ but would two months be soon enough? 

“One month of service,” Nesta declared suddenly. Feyre stared at her older sister in confusion. “I will take part in the bargain, as long as you give us the ‘potion’ after one month of service.” 

Amarantha’s dark eyes gleamed with feral delight. “Very well, then. Come closer, ladies. All I need is a few droplets of your blood.” 

“For what?” Nesta blanched.

“The potion, of course.” Nesta and Feyre stepped closer to Amarantha, who produced a sharp needle. Amarantha grasped Feyre’s hand, her slender fingers icy cold and unusually strong. 

“A bargain: one healing potion, to be given after a month of work, in exchange for six months of Feyre Archeron’s work in Prythian’s Fantasia,” Amarantha intoned. 

Feyre watched with fascination as crimson welled from her index finger and dripped into a small glass vial. A prickling sensation raced from her fingertip to her elbow. Amarantha did the same for Nesta, handing them both linen bandages once she was done. The ringmaster pocketed the glass vial and smiled demurely at them.

“Thank you, ladies. Prythian’s Fantasia departs for Bristol on Friday morning. I shall see both of you here no later than eleven o’clock.”

“What will our roles be?” Feyre blurted out. Amarantha assessed them critically. 

“Feyre, our magician is in need of an assistant, especially for the World’s Fair. You shall work closely with him on his acts. Nesta, I see you have a dancer’s grace. You shall participate in our aerial silks act.” 

“Thank you.” Feyre smiled, feeling incandescent. Everything was lining into place: she would save her mother, go on an adventure, and become closer with the handsome magician. The magician! Perhaps by working with him, she could also find answers about her magic. 

She was so caught up in her joy that she barely noticed a glowering Cassian as they exited Amarantha’s tent. She was going to join the circus! Feyre’s finger throbbed with residual pain, proof that this was truly happening. “You didn’t have to strike a bargain with Amarantha,” she pointed out. “So why did you?” 

Nesta seemed lost in a similar wishful daze. “It’s a ticket to Manchester. The beating heart of the suffragist movement. I also couldn’t let you do such a foolish thing alone.” She gave Feyre a dubious glance.

Feyre froze. “Oh, damn us,” she gasped, glancing at Nesta with wide eyes. “What are we going to say to Elain?” 

***Gwyn***

Tears rolled down Gwyneth Berdara’s cheeks at the memory of her twin sister Catrin’s joyful face and pealing laugh. How many more times could she draw upon her recollections before they faded away? Catrin’s silver wedding ring hung on a chain around Gwyn’s neck, was the only physical part of her sister she had left—and served as a reminder of all that was lost. 

Her heart hurt, but at least she wasn’t in physical pain anymore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed, pushing away the memories of the cursed brothel. The rank smells, the raucous laughter of drunkards. The clinking of coins before they began. The leering men who did not bother with “making love” to women. 

From what Catrin told her, intercourse was supposed to be a blissful and exciting experience. But Gwyn only knew pain. Pain from the bruises, the pulling of her coppery-brown hair, the chafing of skin between her legs. 

There was also a specific memory of warm, wet blood and the sounds of screams in the dark. And a fast-cooling body. 

Gwyn wiped her teary face and allowed herself one last sniffle before getting up from her cot. At least the bruises on her arms and waist had faded after a week with Prythian’s Fantasia. She’d sought the help of Thesan, the circus physician, who gave her contraceptive tonics without any judgment.

The caravan she shared with Emerie, Nuala, and Cerridwen was packed to the brim. Small windows ventilated the space, a small copper tub was shoved in the corner, and clothes and books were strewn across all available surfaces.

Gwyn was on kitchen duty today. The center of the camp served as the main area for meals and congregating, with food prepared in the open air. Tarquin and Daphne Vanserra were already there, baking bread in the clay oven and handling the wheels of cheese. 

“The vegetables are already washed,” Tarquin said, pointing to the crates of leafy greens, carrots, and potatoes. Tarquin cut a striking figure, with his turquoise eyes and long white hair contrasting with his dark brown skin. She’d only known him for a week, but his gentle smiles and thoughtful nature had put Gwyn at ease with her new surroundings. 

Gwyn picked up a sharp knife and began dicing the vegetables, placing the smaller pieces into large wooden bowls for stew. She was so engrossed with her cutting that when a man silently stepped up next to her, Gwyn jumped with fright. But it was only the dagger-thrower, here to assist with meal preparation. 

He was the same height as her, with a slightly muscled build. Inky black hair curled around the nape of his neck and fell in front of his angular hazel eyes, which softened slightly at her reaction.

“Apologies,” he muttered, his voice low. 

“It’s alright,” Gwyn responded quickly. “My name is Gwyn. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She smiled broadly at him.

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” Gwyn stiffened, her smile slipping away. 

“Azriel, don’t you know it’s rude to say such things to a lady?” Daphne tutted at the dagger-thrower. 

“Apologies,” Azriel said again. He picked up a knife and began expertly fileting the skin and bone off a slab of meat. Gwyn stared: pale scars streaked across his olive-toned hands. They moved with deadly precision. Smears of blood had begun to coat the tips of his fingers…Azriel met her gaze with a sharp look that had Gwyn glancing away with embarrassment. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Gwyn replied. “I joined the circus right when it arrived in London.” 

“Why?” His words were short, and to the point. 

Catrin’s lifeless face, with sunken-in cheeks and chapped lips flashed before her. That horrible smell…those awful hands grabbing her, hurting her…Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I needed to make some money. When did you join the circus?” Azriel’s brows lifted slightly at her returning question. 

“Almost five years,” he replied. The dagger-thrower did not offer any more words of conversation after that. Daphne and Tarquin chatted in the background, but between Azriel and Gwyn, there was only silence. Gwyn’s eyes began watering again when she started on the onions. Before she could reach for a second onion, Azriel wordlessly took the whole crate away. 

“Thank you. I suppose I’ve cried enough for today,” Gwyn murmured. She snuck a glance at the dagger-thrower, and was disappointed to see his face stone-cold at her attempt to jest.

✨

Tags: @velidewrites @reverie-tales @highladysith @shadowsxgwynriel @foxwithagoldeye @sunshinebingo @jealousveronya @corcracrow @fieldofdaisiies @the-lonelybarricade

[starlightingsss]

mad woman (laxus x reader)

part TWOO ‼️‼️

my man so fine ong 🤭🤭

dialogue is not my strong suit yall.

as night fell, the other 4 started setting up their camp.

well not necessarily the other four , just the 3 that you wreaked havoc onto her guild, while the blonde sat and stared at her, a blank expression on his face.

she was a little lost on what to do or how she could help, until he seemed to snap out og his thoughts and walk over to her.

"shower." he instructed, handing her a towel.

"excuse me?" she snapped, indignantly.

"go take a shower." he repeated, irritated with her already.

"we're in the middle of nowhere!" she hissed, not appreciating his tone.

"theres a waterfall a few hundred feet to the left," he grunted, pointing in the direction as she took the towel and walked away.

after an hour or so, she returned.

"jeez! you took forever! even longer than me!" evergreen remarked, putting down the fish she was eating.

the other 3 just continued in their hushed conversation, as she sat with them by the fire.

they were all eating fish, and she was a little hungry too. but still a little too shy to ask, so instead, she stood up and walked around the clearing - looking for berries on some of the bushes.

"what are you doing?" laxus snapped, watching her walk around.

"looking for something to eat." she replied defensively, as she finally found some berries.

"in a bush?" he sneered, raising his eyebrows.

"berries." she snapped.

he scoffed before portioning some of his fish for her, as she picked from the bush.

they continued in their conversation, not paying much attention to the girl. before freed turned to her, and asked her, "where do you plan on sleeping?"

"in a tent..?" she said, confused.

"in which tent," freed said curtly, elaborating, "either with us or with laxus."

"how about you all stay together and i get a tent to myself?" she piped, not liking either of her options.

"now don't be like that," bickslow laughed, as his puppets mimicked.

laxus narrowed his eyes before deciding for her, "you'll just stay with me."

eventually they finished their meal, and evergreen returned, and they all retreated into their tents.

"do you snore?" she asked, as she watched laxus get ready for bed.

"do you snore?" he snapped in reply, annoyed with her question.

"is that a yes?" she asked, as he shrugged. uncontent with her answer, she grunted and laid down to sleep.

after a few hours, laxus was awoken by screaming.

he mumbled some curses, before lighting the lamp, and seeing her drenched in blood, with her ribs protruding from her chest, her back arching and hands clawing into the ground.

despite all of this, she was still sound asleep, and laxus didn't seem to know what to do except wake her.

once he recovered from his shock, he neared her, shaking her awake, as her eyes snapped open.

she gasped as she realized what had happened to her in her sleep, before 'fixing' it.

"i'm so sorry.. this just happens sometimes when things happen to me, it's totally nothing, im so sorry." she mumbled, to a shocked laxus, who just shook his head and told her it was fine.

after that night, they packed up their camp, and their track back to the guild was pretty short, even thought they ran into a vulcan or two.

as they re-entered the blososmimg town of magnolia, it seemed it was just in time for their annual harvest festival.

she had heard a lot about it, it was a nationally renowned event - people woukd travel from all over to see it, and to watch the fantasia parade.

there was also a kind of pageant taking place, miss fairy tail.

as they all walked, the green haired guy and laxus continued in whispered conversation, they appeared to be arguing in a way.

when they finished, they told "ever" something and she backtracked tappning y/n on her shoulder.

"you're going to join our guild." she proclaimed, not leaving room for argument.

"i'm already in a guild."

"well! you're going to join ours," bickslow cackled, "my babies love you already!"

"don't be so sure yet, makarov still needs to approve her." freed spurred, his voice still stern.

"that old geezer will let her in justttt fine," laxus snapped, "just in time for the miss fairy tail contest too!"

"excuse me?", i asked, insure exactly why he wanted me to be in the pageant.

"with that pretty face, you'll win that 500.000 jewel just fine, can't have you lounging around for free!" laxus thundered, wrapping his arm around the girl.

as they approached the guild hall, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

laxus and the rest of them practically blew the door in, before storming their way into the guild hall, invoking a ton of whispers and stares.

"oh! laxus, you're back in town!" smiled a white haired girl, mirajane strauss - i recognized her from a few magazine covers.

laxus just scoffed in her direction, before making his way over to the guild master, who was sitting and just drinking.

"well?" the master asked, as laxus stood in front of him.

laxus tugged me in fromt of him, "she wants to join the guild."

the master seemed to sober at that moment, staring at the girl, taking in her face and her figure, "shes a mage?"

"of course shes a mage!" laxus snapped, "wouldn't bring in some weakling.."

"laxus, let me speak with her." the man instructed, as laxus scoffed and walked off, climbing the stairs to the second floor.

"so," makarov said, swinging his feet a bit, "what magic do you use, y/n?"

"is it really important?" i growled, coming off harsher than i should have.

"well it is a wizards guild!" he said, still jolly, "i don't sense any particular magic power from you.. but you might just be powerful enough to conceal it."

"bones. i control bones, they speak to me, i instruct them, they obey. every bone in your body, every bone in my body, every bone in the world." i replied briskly.

"no wonder laxus brought you over here.. is there anything else you can do?" the master continued, humming and swinging his legs on the bar.

"some shadow magick, some requip .. a bit of rune magick too."

"shadow magick? could you elaborate on that?" he murmured, seeming to be deeper in thought.

"i can merge with that shadows, sneak around." she munbled, "it's not really anything."

"well! you certainly are a mage.. a quite powerful one at that.. im glad to say, welcome to the guild, y/n!" makarov said, before announcing to the guild, "now you buffoons welcome our new member!"

"YEAHH!!!" yelled out a pink haired guy, before he launched himself at her, slamming her straight into the floor with a fire engulfed punch.

"OI! NATSU YOU MIGHTVE KILLED HER" the master exclaimed, in shock, before the girl got right back up.

"oi natsu! hands off my girl." thundered laxus from upstairs, who was now leaning over the balcony.

"OHOH A FIGHT!" natsu exclaimed, "happy!", as a flying blue cat lifted him, launching him at laxus as his fist was now again engulfed in fire. laxus struck him down mid air with lightning, as natsu laid on the floor knocked out, his cat next to him.

the girl just stumbled out of the rubble, as laxus made his way down stairs to meet her. his arm wrapped around her waist as they both exited the guild as quickly as they came.