#ii . a cat’s the only cat who knows where it’s at ‚ animated .

[carnivore-voyeur]

A Summary of Per Eriksson's Live on Insta (7/30/24) for those of you who haven't seen it. (It's still up on his instagram as of right now if you want to see it)

Under Read More because there's so much. There's a few heavy topics, so please be aware of that.

He was in Sweden again, and he spoke Swedish a little bit. He said he's very good at Swedish. (I don't understand Swedish very well, but he said where he was from and that he could speak the language) The house he stays in when he's in Sweden is his brother's house. The room he films in was built by him and his brother.

He spoke a bit more about The Black River Kult. Orders will be shipped about two weeks from now. He's planning a giveaway of one of the signed guitar picks.

He's not putting his hair down for everyone again. He doesn't love his hair, and he's not sure why people like it. He says if people keep asking him to put it down, he'll cut it off on screen. He says he's too lazy to take care of it.

He said Zero is about 6 months old. He wants to adopt a cat soon as well, and maybe another dog. If it was up to him, he'd adopt every dog in the world.

He's happy to hear that people were inspired by him to learn guitar. He says inspiring people to do something creative with their lives makes him happy.

He explained again that he's not "psychotic" about Snoopy. (Someone said there's a Snoopy theme park in Minnesota)

He's thinking of covering up his Sodomizer tattoo because he doesn't like it. He knows people are going to disagree with him on it.

PER IS 174-175 CM TALL. YOU CAN STOP ARGUING ABOUT HIS HEIGHT NOW!!! (That's ~5'8") He jokes that he's "Swedish Short" meaning he's short for a guy from Sweden.

He said all his height is in his limbs. He's got long legs and long arms. He says he looks a bit freaky. (Side note: this isn't uncommon in people with joint hypermobility. I'm not saying he has that, but he is flexible!)

He has an idea for a restaurant like Hooters but it's all men in tight pants with boners. It's called "Dongs." His OnlyFans will be called OnlyDongs.

He doesn't run the Zero fanpage. He loves it, though.

He doesn't know the band Avatar, but he says the bassist of the band kept hitting on his girlfriend.

He loves Muse, but he hasn't really listened to their newer stuff. He also loves The Misfits and used to be a drummer in a Misfits cover band.

He thought Gojira's performance at the Olympics was very cool.

He's thinking about doing a Twitch stream. He likes first person realistic shooters and horror games. He really likes Phasmophobia. He says he's not a great gamer, but he's okay with people watching him play. He's a big Silent Hill II fan as well and showed off his Pyramid Head tattoo.

Per's new tattoo is a "Fuck Cancer" tattoo. It's on the inside of his arm near his armpit. He says his father died last year from cancer and that it was a horrible experience. He says his mom had cancer, too, but she survived. He says he might need to go to therapy to deal with all of it. (He seemed reluctant to talk about his new tattoo at first).

He says he's not really a people person and he never really wanted children. He much prefers animals. He used to have an iguana.

He says it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to learn guitar. It can be slow and frustrating, but you've got to keep pushing. He always wanted to be a guitar player. He started with drums but he thought guitar was cooler. His brother and his father helped him. His first guitar was a Fender Strat copycat.

When asked if he was watching the Olympics, he said no. He didn't realize they were going on at first. Per says he lives in his own world, so he's not always sure what's going on around him. It's the only way he can live.

He stays away from Twitter because he says there's a lot of stupid people on there running their mouths.

He got into King Diamond because he thought the album cover for Abigail was cool. He ended up loving the album and the rest is history.

He likes tacos and breakfast foods. He used to like bacon, but stopped eating it because he felt bad for the pigs. He wishes he could go vegan, but he thinks he'd probably starve himself to death because he's not good at feeding himself. He limits eating meat.

He can't grow a beard.

Someone asked him what he thinks about hate crimes. He said he believes everyone in the world should be able to do what they want as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else. He doesn't understand why people would hate someone for being gay.

He explains that just because he doesn't say something about something doesn't mean he supports any of the horrible things happening in the world. He doesn't support any horrible thing happening in the world. He doesn't understand hunting people down for their opinions, though. He's not a political person, so stop asking him political questions or expecting him to make political comments. He says if you want to make a change, then you go out and do it rather than yell at people on Twitter.

He knows people were calling him a Nazi on Twitter. He says it was really weird of them to say that. He says he wouldn't have lasted long among the Nazis given who he's friends with. So to him, it made no sense.

Per addressed a rumor someone made up about him to exemplify how people make up things and they spiral out of control. Someone made up a rumor that Per had children all over the world that he didn't care about or support, which wasn't true. (I remember this rumor. It was awful). He said he got a ridiculous amount of hate for it, even though it wasn't true. So, he asks that people please fact check before sharing anything about him.

When someone said they were starting a "Sodo Cosplay", Per said "I don't really know what that is but maybe you should pick something prettier to dress up as" - clearly acknowledging that SODO is PER and not the ghoul's name.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

[tonkatsubowl]

blind. ii

dan heng x fem!reader

it's a series now! ⛧ part one. ⛧ part three.

➽ inspired by satoru gojo! what if the reader had a special ability with her eyes and often wore a blindfold?

➽ reader is a flirt!

≫ requested tags: @truesimp

after successfully infiltrating the astral express and downloading a bit of data from dan heng's computer, you returned to elios' office to deliver the flash drive where you were praised for your work.

...in truth though, the flash drive you gave to elios was a fraud. should he open it, it would only be a security error with corrupted data. you executed this flawlessly, too, due to the sake of your curiosity and admiration for dan heng.

as a result, you were given a few days off, considering you didn't exactly have any missions to do since kafka, blade and silver wolf were assigned to those missions.

elios really did fall for it, huh? after all, you had a plan for dan heng.

the moment you entered your own room, you pulled your blindfold off, looking into the mirror with those strange, stellaron-infused eyes of yours.

right... you were a test subject to a project of another world. the scientists that practically had your life in their hands had these experiments where they'd force a stellaron into someone's body to see if it was compatible. but alas, you were somehow compatible with a stellaron forced into your eyes, deeming you a successful experiment, and forced you to become a powerful soldier for the worldly military. unfortunately (?) for you... your world was... well, destroyed for whatever reason. you didn't have any memories besides you were being tortured constantly by those scientists. kafka had retrieved you and took you prisoner at first, where elios had given you the opportunity to work for him.

and now here you were, one of the best performing members of the stellaron hunters.

... and really, here you were, seated at a café in belobog. you were a regular here in belobog on your days off.

in public, you wore a pair of sunglasses that kafka specifically made for your eyes. your eyes weren't always visible, but you always had the hearts of the baristas.

you always ordered a sweet, white mocha latte, and the baristas in the café who practically had a crush on you basically memorized your order. they always created cute little foam art on your coffee that represented a cat, or a bunny... sometimes random animals whenever you paid them a visit.

while you were relaxing on your day off, you hear your phone go off, a gentle buzz and your peculiar notification ping that rang through your very ears.

".. hm?"

➽ unknown: hey, it's me.

ooh, oh my. he really did text you...

➽ ???: oh, you really did text me, dan-dan. let me add you.

➽ dan heng: your name isn't even displayed through your contacts...?

➽ ???: oh, not at all. i like to keep my identity a secret.

➽ dan heng: i see.

➽ ???: so, what brought you to text me, cutie pie? did you miss me? ♡︎ i missed you too you know.

➽ dan heng: i'm texting you because i want to know why you downloaded the information of my entire database into that flash drive... and you didn't even bother erasing everything on my computer.

➽ ???: it should be obvious to you that i stole some info from you lol ♡︎ it's for my boss.

➽ dan heng: boss? you're a stellaron hunter then?

➽ ???: was it not obvious enough, babe? why, cmere, let's talk more in person. i prefer talking to you than text.

➽ dan heng: okat.

➽ dan heng: ojay.

➽ dan heng: okay**.

➽ ???: lmao. you're so cute... but i doubt you can come here right now. you're still on xianzhou luofu aren't you?

➽ dan heng: ?? how did you know i was just there... well, i guess it makes sense considering kafka was there too. but i'm on my way to belobog right now to visit a library. we can meet up later.

➽ ???: oh, well lucky day for the both of us. i'm at the café in belobog.

➽ dan heng: alright. well, i'll be there soon.

➽ ???: see u soon cutie

there was a sly smile across your face as you placed your phone upside down on the table. you were quite excited to see dan heng again since that fateful day. it wouldn't be long until dan heng would show himself.

the café had bells attached to the door, and the moment you heard the bells jingle, you took one final sip of the latte before moving the empty mug to the side of the table, recognizing your little boy toy from a bit of a distance.

catching the glimpse of your h/c hair and the lack of visibility of your eyes, he made his way towards your table, seating himself across from you. you could hear the quiet gossiping of the baristas as they wondered if you were truly single.

"hey, baby." you cooed at dan heng, who had a serious expression on your face. "oh, you didn't bring anyone. i was half expecting you to bring your trail blazing team for a moment."

"were you worried?" dan heng raised a brow as he looked down at the menu.

"ufufu. no, not exactly. you didn't seem to bring a friend on... the first date."

you see him flinch a bit, a tint of red painting his cheeks as he coughed awkwardly.

"this is not a date." he stammered.

"yes it is.~" you cooed before tapping the table. "order anything you'd like. it's on me."

"i don't want to order anything. i'm here purely for business purposes." dan heng said, as he looked straight towards your sunglasses.

"... the flash drive. you already submitted it to your boss, no? for what purpose do you have with the information in my database?"

there was a look of amusement. he could read it too, despite being unable to see your sunglasses.

"oh, who knows? my boss was just telling me to do things. i get paid very well whenever i'm tasked with what to do, y'know. that's the work of a stellaron hunter." you tilt your head, staring at him amusingly. "oh, right..."

reaching into your pocket, you pull out the flash drive. the same one you used to infiltrate his computer.

"i still have it. i gave my boss a fake one."

dan heng froze at the sight of the flash drive, almost ready to reach out to steal from your grasp. but you were... well, faster than him, especially when you had knocked him on his ass the other night.

"...what? why do you have that? look— just," dan heng shook his head, "i doubt anything i say will sway your mind to giving me that flash drive."

"ah, ah, ah." you mused, shaking your head at him. "hold up there, dragon boy. you're rushing into conclusions too fast. do the others know about this, actually? did you tell them?"

dan heng shook his head. you read his body language — he wasn't lying.

"...i see. perfect. let's have a deal, then."

dan heng blinked, raising a brow. "a deal?"

"you heard me, cutie." you said, looking back to the menu. you might order another latte or something else in a bit...

"...what's the deal?"

"hehe. curious, are you? well..." you stuffed the flash drive away, adjusting your sunglasses. "be my boyfriend."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..." you were smiling innocently at him.

".. wh— gh-..? huh!?"

"did i stutter, babe?"

dan heng choked for a moment, coughing into his fist as he turned red. "what—? why? are you... a-are you sane right now?"

"guess i'll turn in the info." you mused.

"wait—wait. fine."

your smile widened. "oh, geez, dearie me. does this mean you're my boyfriend?"

dan heng exhaled, looking to the side. "... i don't even know your name. if i'm going to be your boyfriend, i at least need to know your name. you already know mine."

"oh, for sure. as a reward for being so obedient, i'll tell you my name.

...it's y/n. ♡"

[multifandomhaven]

Part II

TW: Mentions of animal neglect/abuse (nothing violent or descriptive - my heart can't take it). Also, I'm trying to get this as close to reality as possible, but I am in no way a doctor/veterinarian. Please, please, please don't use this as a guide for helping any animal.

I proofread this as best as I could (it's cross-posted as a fanfic so I changed MC's name to Y/N) so there might be an inconsistency(ies?) that I missed!

Y/N woke to the trilling song of a blue jay that had nested on the ledge of her window. The smooth chirps and whistles provided her a sense of peace, for when she heard it she knew she was safe in her cozy apartment. Standing on her toes she peeked into the ledge outside her window, as she did every morning, eagerly awaiting the small, blue eggs to hatch.

She yawned and stretched, rising from her bed. She straightened her t-shirt as best she could - there was no hope for the wrinkles. After she brushed her teeth and slipped on her fuzzy slippers she closed the bedroom door behind her. The warm, morning light streamed through the window by her barely-ever-used dining table.

She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down, pulling her laptop out to begin her day. There was an email from Mari, her favorite tech.

I know you're on leave and I'm not supposed to bother you, but we've got a cat and it's not looking good for him. A black and white stray, male. He looks like he's been through the wringer, Y/N. Animal control brought him in, and found him in a dumpster.

Y/N reread the email a few times before she clicked the attached video. The cat, obviously malnourished, bared its teeth and hissed at the person behind the camera, but didn't try to defend himself. He was tired, scared, and very sick.

Y/N frowned around her bite of food, her fingers darting over the keyboard as she typed out her response.

Give me an hour.

"Morning," John crooned from the doorway, his voice still thick with sleep. Y/N glanced up noting that he was already dressed and ready for the day. She gave him a small, forced smile as she read the email Mari sent back - saying that they'd be waiting for her.

Y/N sighed softly, her eyes drifting from her screen to John's eyes.

"What is it?" John asked.

Y/N's frown deepened and she placed her computer on the table. "I got an email saying that we have an abused animal at the office. I need to go make sure he's okay - see if he can be rehabilitated or if he needs to..." she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Of course, she'd had many animals that she'd had to put to sleep, but never did it get any easier, "rest."

"You've not been cleared to go back to the office," John reminded her stiffly. "You're still healing, and we've yet to find who ordered the attack on you."

"I can't let him suffer if he doesn't have a chance of making it," Y/N argued, her brows furrowed. "I won't stay, I swear. I'll assess him, see what needs to be done, and come home."

John sighed deeply and stared at her as if he were weighing her words, and then gave a single nod. "Only him."

A little while later, when they arrived at the office, Y/N was taken back to where the bi-colored cat lay. He was sedated, and connected to a drip to give him a little extra hydration. Tears burned her eyes and she sniffed, trying to contain them as she looked over the animal - he was thin, critically so. His fur was faded-looking and dirty. One of the techs was cleaning and wrapping a wound on his back leg.

"He was found in a dumpster," Mari reiterated from over her shoulder. Y/N noticed how the tech's gaze settled on her own still-healing bruised eye, but she ignored it. Mari didn't comment on it, instead, she continued to fill her in on the cat's condition. "He's a little on the wild side, Doc."

Y/N nodded as she listened, her heart squeezed in her chest. She couldn't help but feel like it was destiny that brought this creature to her at this exact moment. She took a deep breath to settle her emotions. "He needs a high-protein, high-fat diet supplemented with some vitamins for a few weeks." She ran her hand through his fur softly, her fingers roving over every one of his pronounced ribs. "But, all things considered, he seems like he'd be okay to be fostered."

Mari nodded, writing in his chart. "Okay. Have you heard from any of our fosters? Know anyone who's able to take him in?"

"Yeah," Y/N said softly, her eyes flicking from the cat to John, who stood out of the way in the back of the room, but always watching. She gently stroked the cat's side and looked back down at him sadly. "I'm gonna take him home with me. Get him fed and tamed down a bit. We can give this guy a new life, I'm sure of it."

"Y/N." Mari furrowed her brows. "Are you sure? I know you have a lot going on right now..."

Y/N tore her eyes from the cat, pinning Mari with a look. "I'm taking him with me. Find a carrier and a cone while I prepare him for the ride."

"Okay, okay..." Mari sighed, obviously wanting to protest, but she kept it to herself.

Y/N carefully took the IV out of the cat's leg and bandaged it as gently as she could. It was just Y/N and John in the room now. Y/N allowed her shoulders to fall as she looked back down at the battered creature on the table. "Poor little guy."

John sighed and stepped fully into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking at her, concern clear on his face. "You sure about this?"

Y/N nodded and carefully wiped at her healing eye as tears threatened to fall. "I can handle it."

"I don't doubt it," John agreed softly, giving her upper arm a gentle squeeze. "You'll fix him up."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. "He'll be okay."

Later that evening Y/N sat on the sofa with John, both of them watching the crate the cat was in. He had begun to rouse, stretching and mewling as he looked around the new environment. Y/N smiled and moved to crouch in front of the crate. She knelt, smiling softly as the cat bared its teeth at her, hissing.

"You're okay, buddy," Y/N cooed softly. "You're safe."

Curled up in the back of the crate, the cat watched her. His large, green eyes were trained on her, his head followed her as she went to the kitchen and brought back some food for him. She opened the can up and put some of the medicine she'd gotten for him on top. The smell wrinkled Y/N's nose, but she stirred it up anyway.

She opened the door, not even flinching as the cat started hissing and swatting at her hand.

"Y/N," John warned her.

"He's just scared." She told him as she pushed the bowl closer to the cat. The cat sniffed as it caught a whiff of the food. She shut the door to the cage and sat back on her knees, watching him intently.

He kept his eyes on her as he ate quickly, mewling with every bite. Once he was done he went back to the corner of the crate and laid back down.

Y/N's heart broke as she watched him. She couldn't help but wonder if this poor creature had ever known love.

Days passed and little by little Y/N had managed to worm her way into the cat's heart. She had several scratches on her hands and a bite mark or two, but she didn't let it deter her. Instead, it made her want to work harder.

"Clover," she sang softly, opening the door to his crate. She placed his bowl of food outside the cage and sat beside it, watching as he slowly emerged. He looked around the room, spotting the litter box Y/N had put just off to the side. "Come on, buddy," she encouraged him gently.

She pushed the bowl just a bit closer to him, hoping to entice him. Wary, he inched closer, his eyes never leaving her. He bent down and began to lap up the food. Y/N held back the noise of happiness that worked its way up her throat. She bit back her smile and slowly reached out, gently stroking his back.

He startled and ran back into his crate.

"Okay, okay," Y/N cooed and held her hand up in defense. She stood quietly by the door and watched him creep back over to his food. She felt John's presence looming at her back.

"He's cross with you, isn't he?" John asked with a huff. "He hasn't looked away."

"Well, he didn't scratch or bite me this time," she reminds him with a huff of laughter. "That's a step in the right direction."

[plottwiststudios]

Women of Xal II Kickstarter: Delayed?

Hey, have you heard of the overly ambitious visual novel titled "Women of Xal" for Steam and Itch.io? (PC/Mac/Linux) Because that plays into why we might need to shelf the series for a few years. Full breakdown under the cut. (No spoilers)

For those who have gotten the True Ending, you should be fully aware that the story is about to vastly expand outside of Xuna's castle. It's a narrative must where everything that happens, happens well outside the scope of the original game in so many ways. And let's talk about scope! Especially if you have no idea what's so staggering about the original Women of Xal visual novel:

600+ optional choices we painstakingly programmed

Branching paths that people are still asking for guides on

A dozen romance options

Poly and gay options that interact with one another

Voice acting from now VERY popular voice actors

A 15 hour story full of mystery, lore, and tense politics

110 track soundtrack

4 Endings

Animations

Thousands of art assets (Bless Cat)

Years of hard work and long nights

No AI Art

100% positive reviews as of this post

Recouped $6000+, or roughly a fraction of the cost of development. After 2+ years of being released

Note that very last bullet point. Doing things for the art and passion is amazing and all, but I can't be investing literal thousands of hours into creating a game for a subset of a subset of a subset of people. I have bigger projects I want to finally get to work on. Ones I really hoped Women of Xal I would help a bit with funding. But it's not. And because of certain facts about the game, it may never be able to do so. To no fault of any of the players.

When I made Women of Xal I, my time was more readily available and I was quite a bit younger. The cost of running a company and creating a game like WoX as the first product hadn't quite hit me. I was also silly enough to believe "if you make it, they will come" to a degree. That part makes me grin in a not fun way.

But these days I have a job that takes me away from creating, but does pay the bills and debts. Debts I don't want to get into again in order to create the sequel that will undoubtedly come with far higher costs due to the game's scope. I have a better understanding of the costs of hiring returning and appropriate talent necessary to create a game better than the last. (I don't personally believe in being satisfied with an intentional steep downgrade.)

Yes there is the Kickstarter option for Women of Xal II, but there are plenty of costs and time investment that makes it an unviable avenue to explore during this point in time. After all, who but the people who sat down and explored everything the first game had to offer would understand how we came up with a $50,000 Kickstarter price tag for a visual novel's sequel? Especially since too many will look at the first Kickstarter and believe we made the first game with only $14,000.

I have thought about giving Women of Xal I a modernized facelift with a smaller Kickstarter, complete with a ton of new features and fun ways to streamline and highlight the narration's strong points, but there's a LOT of baggage that comes with that, including not wanting to go backwards when I still want to create my "pipe dream" projects.

So I'm thinking we'll give it a bit more thought these next few days, and if we can't think of a solution that we haven't already tried, we'll officially announce the delay (and before you suggest your own ideas, know that there's a 99% chance we've already tried it).

A long, long post just to say I do sincerely apologize for having people wait longer, but I am literally still a few thousand dollars away from paying off all my debt that came from funding the first game. It's a micro-trauma I do not feel inclined to repeating again. When the franchise is in a better place, or I am emotionally/physically, I will return back to Women of Xal to finish the story. If I cannot, I will release a summary of events that transpire after the first game's true ending.

But for now, I'm going to focus on financial and emotional healing, and creating projects that I feel will be more appreciated by both myself and people who are turned off by what "Women of Xal" offers.

Thank you all for supporting our small company these past several years. <3

-John

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part II).

pairing: din djarin x *reverse age-gap* *plus-size* fem!O/C       

word count: 7.4K   

chapter summary: Din returns to Unmanarall to search for Marathel. 

warnings:  angst, medical emergency, animal death, mention of physical illness / blood / violence / murder / suicide / rape / child rape / child sexual abuse / child death / object rape, English and Mando’a cursing      

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist      

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Din had the sudden sensation that a TIE fighter crash-landed on his chest, and he lurched upward towards what he believed was the excessively rude pilot who apparently couldn’t land worth a damn, uttering a gurgling rebuke as he grabbed his blaster. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!” yelled the pilot. 

“I’ll blast you both apart!” shouted Din, leaning on his elbow and alternating his blaster between the two men who hovered over him, his brain misfiring in every direction. 

One of the men, wearing a light blue uniform, looked at the spent hypos in his hand and muttered, “Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.” 

Din’s heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he groaned.  “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?  Are we enemies?  Where’s Marathel?” demanded Din of the man wearing an X-wing uniform. 

The X-wing pilot held up his hands, and said, “Okay … Let me take those one at a time.  You had … a cardiac-type … episode.  We gave you a series of hypos for that.  We didn’t expect you to react so quickly, though.”  The pilot took a breath.  “You’re on your ship.  When you didn’t answer our hails following your distress call, we tractored your ship on board the Luisitz.”  Din stared at the pilot.  The pilot continued, “Yeah, it’s a dumb name for a ship.”   

Din lowered his blaster, not because he felt safer, but because he couldn’t hold his arm up anymore.  He was also too weak to keep himself up on his elbow, so he lay back down on the floor.  The pilot visibly relaxed, and the man in blue — who was apparently a medic — held a scanner over Din’s chest.   

The pilot continued, “That there is Corpsman Ka’nab.”  The medic waved. Din nodded slightly in response.  “I’m Captain Carson Teva.” 

Din grunted.  “My name is …” 

“Din Djarin.  Guild Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian.  Yeah, we scanned you.  Got your chip.”  Teva pulled out his holopad.  “Going back to your original questions, I can safely say I sure as hell don’t want to be your enemy.  And as far as where is Marathel … I can’t say, because I don’t know who Marathel is.  Is Marathel your cat?” 

“My what?” 

“Your cat, or whatever pet you have on board.  Look, you said you were the only one on board, but we scanned your ship as we tractored it in…” — Din groaned inwardly — “… and there’s obviously a second, small, life-form aboard, but it’s in a shielded portion of the ship.”  Din remained silent.  “Hey, if I could have a pet in my X-wing, I would.   So what is it?” 

“A … pet, yes.” Sorry, kid.  “Not Marathel.  She’s …” 

“That her?” Teva pointed at the console, and Din looked up to see that his holopad was now projecting the image Cobb had sent.  Din nodded, and grunted in the affirmative.  “Pretty.  Heading out to see her, Djarin?” 

“Something like that.  Am I done, now?  May I go?” 

The medic said, “If you can sit up on your own, now, I’m done with you.” Din slowly pushed himself up and shifted so he could lean against the console.  He looked down at himself and saw that the medic had pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass, and had sliced his flight jacket and his underthermal open to get at his bare chest, which had several adhesive sensors stuck to it.  Din looked at the medic.  “Hey, I only know not to remove a Mandalorian’s helmet. That, I did not do.  You can take off those stickers yourself, and chuck them out.  Captain, I’ll send you my report.” 

“Was it a heart attack?” asked Din. 

The medic frowned.  “No … not as such.” 

“Not as such?” 

“Well, your blood pressure went to zero and your heart rate was spiking at 200.  But the scans showed no heart damage whatsoever.  Then you had some sort of seizure, like maybe you shot a clot through your heart into your brain, but nothing showed on neurological scans.  So the only idea I had was to hypo you with what I would use on someone who was having a heart attack and a neurological seizure.”  Din turned his head to look at Teva, who shrugged and continued tapping on his holopad.  Din returned his gaze to the medic.  “Hey, it worked.  And I removed that bacta bandage you were wearing, you obviously didn’t need it.” 

Din looked down at his chest again, looking for the bite mark … which was gone.  Not just healed, but gone, as if he’d never been bitten at all.  “What the …” Din looked up at the medic.  “What did you do?” 

The medic and Teva exchanged glances.  “I … removed a bandage.  If you had a wound under there, it’s obviously healed now.”  The medic tossed his equipment into his bag.  “I think I’m done here.  Safe travels, sir.  May the Force be with you.”  The medic left. 

“This is the way,” muttered Din as he looked again where the bite wound had been, looking for a pale scar, anything that would prove that Marathel had bitten him.  “It’s like … it never happened.” 

“Are you sure you were wounded, Djarin?” asked Teva, leaning in to look closer at Din’s chest. 

Din looked up at Teva, then hurriedly closed his thermal shirt and flight jacket over his bare skin.  The helmet was the most important part, but bare skin in general was still … difficult.  Even in a medical emergency.  “Would you believe that I had a human bite there?” 

Teva went back to his holopad and chuckled.  “This Marathel of yours gave you a what-for, did she?  Or was it … your pet?” 

“My … pet … is not human.” 

“Djarin …” 

“Mando is fine,” snapped Din. 

“… Mando, look, I don’t care.  I only care about weirdness on my patrol, and you brought me weirdness.  For the second time, I’m pretty sure.  You’re one long way from Nevarro.  And from Maldo Kreis.” 

“So are you, Captain.” 

Teva chuckled again.  “I said it first.” 

Din looked up at the holo of Marathel.  It occurred to him that he’d only seen her looking like this for seven days. Seven days.  He’d known her almost three times as long in her injured state.  It felt almost unfair. Which Marathel did I fall in love with?  Was it the Marathel with the clear skin and the bright eyes, who called him Bounty Hunter and baked him bread?  Or was it the Marathel who almost died in his arms and had nearly lost all her blood twice?   

Whichever Marathel it was, she had given him his first kiss with a woman.  And had broken his heart over and over and over.  And had gotten him the closest to not only removing his helmet, but to leaving his Creed altogether. 

Teva noticed Din staring at the holo.  “Tell me about her.” 

“It’s complicated.” 

Teva nodded.  “It always is.  Believe me, I  understand.” 

Din considered the Dahls and a lifetime of torture starting with being sired by a murderous pervert. He sighed and said, “No, Captain, I don’t think you do.”  He looked back at Teva, who was still tapping on his holopad.  “Aren’t you done, yet?” 

“Not even close.  I would have fewer reports to process if you’d died.  But then, I would have never known that lovely woman’s name,” he said, pointing at the holo.  “And I’d also have to be responsible for your … ‘cat’. 

Din went back to looking at Marathel’s holo.  “Captain, let me ask you something. Say … say someone found a planet where women and girls … little girls … have been generationally tortured in the most reprehensible ways.  Just how many need to suffer, or die, before the New Republic does something?” 

“Is it a Republic or Empire-era planet?” 

“Dank ferrik,” grunted Din.  “Are you taking the piss?” 

“I wish I were, Mando.  So which is it?” 

“It’s neither.  The settlement is the only site of civilization on the entire planet.  Everywhere else is … inhabited only by animals. But there might be artifacts from other planets within this settlement.  And let’s say that one of those artifacts was … Old Republic.” 

Teva frowned at Din.  “Where is this planet?” 

“I’m only speaking hypothetically, Captain.” 

“How many hypothetical generations are we talking about?” 

“Possibly two thousand Basic years.” 

“Kriff.”  Teva pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Little girls.  How young?” 

Din swallowed.  “Her first memories.” 

Teva’s eyes flicked up to Marathel’s holo, then he harrumphed.  “Have you ever heard that there’s always three ways to do things in the military?  There’s the official way, the right way, and then there’s the way that us grunts take care of things.”  He did some final taps on his holopad, then stood up.  “It sounds like you know about the official answer to your query.” 

“Primitive culture … blah blah blah.” 

“Blah blah blah, indeed.  Now, the way that a grunt — like myself — would take care of this … l would search for any artifacts on this hypothetical planet that give a clue where these hypothetical people might have come from, originally.  That might be enough for some … hearsay … to get in the right ear, for the right thing to happen.”  Teva sighed, and shook his head before he held out his hand to help Din up from the floor.  “My report is good enough for government work.  Let me see what I can do to speed up your release.” 

Din nodded. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome, Mando.  May the Force be with you.” Teva stepped on the ladder out of the cockpit.  “Don’t forget to get your pet out of the hold.  And, uh … keep me updated on this hypothetical planet of yours.” 

Shortly after that, the Razor Crest launched and exited the landing tunnel of the Luisitz, Din thinking to himself that it was indeed a ridiculous name for a ship.  He set the coordinates back to Unmanarall, and throttled into hyperspace. 

Once they were set on their way, Din dropped out of the cockpit and pulled the access panel open.  “Kid?  You can come out now.”  He heard Grogu chattering, and then the boy jumped out of the access panel and into Din’s arms, bawling.  Din was still unsteady after experiencing whatever it was that had happened to him, and he sat down hard on the floor, hugging Grogu.  “It’s okay, kid.  I’m okay.  Everything’s okay.  We’re going to get Mama back.  We’re on our way to Mama.” 

“Mamaaaaaaa…” wailed the tearful Grogu, and Din would have rather cut off his arm than to see Grogu cry.  “Bah daws! Bah daws!” 

“Bad Dahls, you got that right, buddy.  We’re gonna show those bad Dahls a thing or two.” 

Grogu stared at Din with his tearful eyes, runny nose, and trembling lip.  After a couple of hitches, the child quietly asked, “Patu … Mama?” 

Din sighed, and found a cloth to wipe Grogu’s nose.  “Blow,” said Din, and Grogu complied. “Ad’ika … I wish I knew what to tell you about Patu Mama.  The first thing to do is to go back and find Mama. We’re on our way back now.  We don’t know what we’re going to find when we go back, so we need to be ready for anything.  It’s time to be Mandalorians. This is the way.”  Grogu made a bleat in the affirmative, but still looked incredibly sad. 

With the time skips his mind had taken, Din figured they had a day or so to get back to Unmanarall.  He stripped off his sliced jacket and thermal shirt and inspected the damage.  He had some needle skills, but he didn’t think even Marathel could fix this. Din noticed that this jacket was one that Marathel had embroidered the Mudhorn signet, so he ripped off the embroidered pocket and deposited it into the bin with his other keepsakes.  Getting full in there, he thought.  He rolled up the cut shirt and jacket and shoved them down the back of his clothing bin, still loath to toss out something Marathel had held in her hands, despite his confusion regarding his feelings for her.  He grabbed a clean thermal shirt and gathered it in his hands to pull over his head when his eye caught the yarn bracelet he’d bought. He’d originally intended to give it to Marathel.  Now, he decided he’d wear it until it fell off, or until he and Marathel figured out just what the shab there was between them … if anything. 

One thing at a time.  For now. 

Din redressed and collected all his armor.  He cleaned and polished every surface and every crevasse of every piece of armor, saying each Mando’a incantation out loud. He did this not only for his own benefit, but also for Grogu’s, for it was high time the boy started learning these things.  Din used one of the new felted wool cloths Marathel had made, and perhaps he was biased, but he thought the handmade cloth was far superior to anything he could have purchased for the task. 

That chore completed, Din then moved on to his weapons.  He’d been far too distracted recently, and he hadn’t been maintaining his weapons cache as he should have.  Ni ceta, Manda’lor.  He dismantled each weapon in his armory, cleaning, polishing, and calibrating each part to working perfection.  He even tinkered a bit with his antique bolt blaster and vibro-blade, both inherited from his buir.  Both weapons had been handed down in buir’s family for several generations.   

When Din was a boy and still relatively new under buir’s care, buir had taken him out to the canyon the covert used as a shooting range, and let him fire the old bolt blaster.  It was the first time Din had handled a weapon, and the recoil landed him right on his ass. Once buir stopped laughing, he began weapons training with Din.  Buir had been the most patient of teachers, and it was his calm and positive reinforcement that Din always tried to emulate as he passed on the Mandalorian traditions to Grogu.   

By the time the chores were completed, there were only a few hours to go until the Crest reached Unmanarall.  Din made bone broth for both himself and Grogu, and they split a ration bar.  Din decided that they both could use a nap, to be fresh for whatever awaited them when they returned to Marathel’s planet. Din put his feet up on the console, and Grogu curled up against him, murmuring Mama before he dozed off.   

Din projected Marathel’s image again —the one that Cobb sent — and he stared at it for a while.  Din worked out what she had been doing at the time this image was captured.  Marathel was making bread at the palace while all the others watched and did their best to convince her to not return to Unmanarall.  He was the only one not there.  She had revealed to him her sad life, and he had rejected her because of it.  But he’d always known, deep in his heart, the depth of her lifelong suffering, who her father was, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself.  He’d been such an unmitigated asshole to her.  All she’d wanted was kindness.  He’d granted her some kindness, but not enough.  Only enough to suit him.  Only enough so that he could remain comfortably within his Creed. 

Din absently put his hand over the bite mark — scratch that — where the bite mark used to be.  Okay, why did the bite mark burn like I’d been dipped in lava, sending me into a ‘cardiac episode’ … and then disappear? 

The bite mark burned on the second night of the Dahl’s mating, and then in the Hold, when Marathel told him to be still.  Actually, any time she told him to be still. Din had believed that she controlled him through the bite mark, which … might be only partially true.  She had told him to be still in order to make him remove his weapons, so that she could sacrifice herself.  To make him take her back, and to leave her behind, in essence, to sacrifice herself again.  And she made him be still to prove to him she was nothing more than a … body to be used for his pleasure. 

The other times the bite had burned, he’d attacked her, brutalized her, frightened her, both awake and in his dreams.  But in all those times, she never told him to be still … instead, she begged him to let her go. 

But if she controlled me, why would she beg me to let her go? She could have just told me to do that!  And once I’d taken her back, then why would the bite still burn?  Why did I forget her?  And why don’t I … love her anymore, for kriff’s sake! 

Did I have a not-a-heart-attack and lose a scar because … Marathel is now …? 

Din flat-out refused to complete that thought.  He refused to believe it even if he did.  So, instead, he decided to follow his buir’s advice:  take a nap; things will be clearer when you wake up.  It wasn’t until he was an adult that he realized what buir was actually saying: kid, shut the fuck up for a while; I need to rest my eyes.  Din gently patted Grogu’s back and watched the little green boy sleep until Din dozed off himself. 

Din woke up to the hyperspace alarm going off.  We’re here.  We’re back, Marathel.  You told me to leave you here and not come back, but I’m not one for following orders. And I’m thinking about ignoring your request to not take revenge on that Hold.  Especially if you broke the promise you made to me and leapt off that cliff after all.   

Din dropped the Crest out of hyperspace above the planet, and his thoughts about the best way to reduce the Hold to rubble were suddenly stopped.  He had entered orbit just above the Hold coordinates, and the atmosphere above that point was a cloud of grey smoke.  The shab?  Din looked down at Grogu, who looked back up at him, asking, “Mama?” 

“Looks like Mama’s been busy, kid. Hold on.” 

Din circled the Crest into the atmosphere and landed where he had the first time he’d been here. It was pointless to prevent Grogu from going with him; the boy was in his floating pram and waiting by the ramp door before Din could get out of his chair.  As they made their way to the Hold gate, Din could smell something distinctly chemical in the air.  He associated it with hot springs and geysers, which confused him as he did not recall this odor here before.  They came out of the woods to see the large wooden gate leaning against the stone pilaster, and part of the stone wall collapsed.  But these sights didn’t confuse Din as much as what he didn’t see, and that was the Round Building. 

As Din stepped through the gateway, he could now see the where the Round Building had been was now a smoldering ring of rubble, blown from the center out.  Dank ferrik; Marathel didn’t mess around.  As he came forward, he heard a couple of shrieks and noticed some women scattering at the sight of him.  One came forward, braver than the others.  The blonde woman wore a light green gown that was torn and dirty … a Duke, thought Din.  “You ... You came back.”  She held what looked like a fireplace poker in front of her.  “Stay back, metal man.  You brought her back; are you here to finish us off?” 

“I wish you no harm, madam, I am only looking for Marathel.” 

To Din’s surprise, another nearby woman, this one with the curly black hair of a Captain, spat on the ground.  “The Belwhyn bitch wrought this destruction.  She and her demon creatures have killed us all.”  This woman wandered off, wringing her hands and muttering. 

Din returned his attention to the woman in green, asking, “Did she mean the Dahls?” 

The blonde woman nodded, and lowered her poker.  “They came in after her … we knew she’d gone into the Round Building, looking to kill the Elders.  The building began to burn.  The men were running out.  But she’d left the gate open, and all the Dahls ran in, running straight to the men trying to escape the fire, and killed them all.  Men were going back inside, preferring to burn than to face the wrath of the Dahls.  The Dahls ripped them limb from limb.  Then ... they went after the children ...”  The young woman sobbed.  “The children.  The babies.  Gone.  The children ran to us for protection.  The Dahls snatched them from us, and killed them too.”  The woman continued to cry. 

“All the children?” 

“Just the boys.” 

Din looked at the destruction around him.  Bodies — parts of bodies — were still everywhere.  Women wept, holding the corpses of infants.  One, he saw, no longer had a head; but the woman cooed to it as if it were still living.  Two other women were gathering remains of men to put into another pyre.  A little girl, hardly larger than Grogu, helped the two women, carrying smaller human parts: a hand, something that looked like a child’s leg.  Other females merely sat on the ground, rocking, their faces blank slates of horror.  Grogu whimpered in his pram.   

“So it’s true.” 

Din startled; he had been focusing on the destruction around him.  “I beg your pardon?” 

The blonde woman pointed at Grogu.  “Olba said you had a child with you.  She only saw it from a distance.  She said it was sweet.  And green.  And Marathel loved it.”  She sniffled.  “My boys are dead.” 

Din reached out to the woman in green and she recoiled from his hand, brandishing the poker again. “Please, good lady, can you tell me what happened to the Round Building?” 

The woman spread her arms wide.  “Big boom.” 

“Why did that happen?” 

“Marathel.”  The woman looked at his visor again.  “You’re the one that brought her to the Hold.  You took her away, and the marchwyl.  I was whipped, because I wouldn’t tell them it was Hylma who stole the marchwyl, even though I was glad it was gone.  But the others ...” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “Others told.  Then the Elders killed Olba and Hylma and Tymfy and Lorica.   They’d brought her out, they’d taken the marchwyl, and she still had the Dilimgau.  The Elders do not suffer thievery,  but… I’m glad the Dilimgau is also gone.” 

Din wasn’t sure whether this woman was going to remain relatively calm or not.  So far, she’d been very helpful, but she was also using the same flat, unemotional tone of voice that Marathel used when she catalogued the terrible things the men did to her.  This woman seemed to be unafraid of him as well as Grogu, and she didn’t seem to want to use that poker on him, and he wanted to keep it that way.  “Marathel is not here now?” 

The woman scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand.  “She left and took the Dahls with her.”  Din was relieved to hear that at least Marathel left here under her own steam.  Then Grogu quietly whimpered Mama, which startled the woman.  “That thing can speak?  It can say mama?”   She dropped the poker and sat down on the ground, weeping.  “I’m not a mama anymore.” 

Din knelt in front of her, not wanting to get closer.  “I am so sorry.”  He let her cry for a few moments before he asked, “Madam, may I look through the debris?” 

The woman looked at him in confusion, as if she’d never been spoken to with deference before, which was most likely the case.  “Why?” 

“I want to help you.  I can tell people to come and help you.” 

The woman frowned at him.  “Come from where?” 

Din pointed skyward.  “From up there.  You saw my flying metal box?  There are others out there, many others, and I think your people came from somewhere else, long ago.  I need to find some evidence of where your people might have come from.”   

The blonde woman looked around her in despair.  “We are beyond help.  We are all dead.  No more men means no more babies.  Some women have killed themselves already.”  She began weeping once more, and dropped her poker on the ground. 

Din muttered apologies again, but moved away from the blonde woman as quickly as he could towards the wreckage of the Round Building.  Grogu stuck close and remained quiet, seemingly affected by everything around him.  Din leaned over and touched his head to Grogu’s.  “I know, kid.  Some very bad things happened here.  But no one will hurt you.  I promise.”  Grogu looked dubious.   

Din peered down into the hole left by the apparent explosion.  The chemical smell here was much stronger, and burned Din’s nose.  Grogu began coughing, so Din closed the pram lid, and sealed his helmet.  The smell was familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite place it.  He carefully stepped down into the crater, sliding down what must have been a large door.  There seemed to be a lot more metallic debris in the crater than he anticipated.  He’d figured this building had been constructed of stone and wood, which it was, but it appeared that there was a large metal component. 

The blast had obviously disintegrated the stone, and the wood had burned away, but the interior layer of the Round Building had been sheet metal that broke apart in panels, curling against the intense heat that had occurred from the fire. He moved towards the center of the crater, balancing carefully on the rubble.  He turned in a circle, finally realizing that this building was not engineered in a circle, but was built around a metal cylinder. Din pulled out his holopad and began taking stills.   

There is no way these people made a metal cylinder this large.  They don’t have the means to make sheet metal like this. 

Din moved towards a section that was still fairly intact and attached to other pieces.  Riveted together.  

It’s a ship.  This was a ship. 

Din nearly pumped his fist in the air.  He had been right, after all.  He got closer to what was undoubtedly part of a fuselage when some markings caught his eye.  Bending down, he wiped some soot off the wall and saw what was unmistakably Aurebesh lettering.  He could only make out a couple of letters, however. 

Din then looked down to his feet, and he could see a sublevel below him.  He picked his way to an area he could access, and dropped down.  The flat surface he landed on shifted under his feet, and the section began to fall further into the hole, so he fired his jetpack so he would not fall with it.  As he lifted into the air, he noticed some of the women shrieking and running again at the sight of him flying.  Din sighed, remembering how jumpy Marathel had been when she first saw him and Grogu.  He took a few holo stills from this vantage point, as it showed the fuselage/building well.  A panel had fallen inward, and from here he could now see lettering on it, in both Aurebesh and an old script he did not recognize, but the inscription was obviously the name board of this ship: 

DRESO LLONG’WYR  SYSTEM LEW’EL 

Lew’el.  They came from the Lew’el system!  There was also a string of numbers, and Din was unsure if it was the old style dating system, or the ship’s registration, but in any case, it was old.   

Din then noticed several round objects behind the building, near the uprooted tree, the tree Marathel had nearly fallen out of.  He touched back down to the ground, picking up one of the round objects, recognizing it immediately as a lid for a chemical storage barrel.  There were quite a few of them on this side of the wreckage, making Din think that the blast was more directional than just up.  As he dropped the lid, he noticed that his glove was coated with a blue-grey dust.  What the … Mist?  He looked over the area around him, and realized that this whole side of the building was covered with Mist dust.  Why in Frith were they … 

“Are you a machine?” 

Din had not been expecting to hear a voice, and he whirled around to see a small girl standing behind him.  She was a sweet-looking child, with long brown hair that was seriously in need of a good brushing.  She also had large, dark brown eyes and a face full of dirt.  Her dark green tunic and skirt were stained and torn,  and her bare feet were utterly filthy. If he’d been running around this dirty at her age, his mother would have had a conniption and hosed him off in the front garden.  His buir, meanwhile, would have simply drop-kicked him into the river.  “No, child, I am a person.” 

“Why are you made of metal?” 

Remembering that Marathel didn’t understand the concept of religion, he said, “My people wear armor and a helmet.  Those are the rules my people live by.” 

Seemingly satisfied with this explanation, the little girl said, “Belwhyn Marathel did all this.”  Din nodded.  “The Elders made her a Belwhyn because she fucked you, and she was only supposed to be fucked by the Bishop.”  Din could not reply, as he was stunned by these words coming from this little girl.  She didn’t seem to mind, as she went on without prompting.  “I was there when they made her a Belwhyn.  She screamed as they all fucked her.  The Captain kicked the Dilimgau into her cunt.” 

“… What?” 

“She came back and killed them all.  The Bishop is over there,” the little girl said, pointing.  “I was supposed to be the Hunter’s Whyn,  but he’s dead now.  I was branded and everything.  See?”  The child lifted up her skirt to show Din, and she was naked under her skirt. He turned away as she exposed herself to him. 

“Lower your skirt, child,” Din muttered. 

“But I don’t have an Elder anymore.  Are you going to be my Elder?” 

“No.” 

The girl dropped her skirt and began to cry.  “But … I’m supposed to suck your cock now, aren’t I?” 

Din backed up from her.  “No.  No!  Go back to the women, child.  Just … get away from me.”  The girl ran away, crying at being rejected by him, leaving Din feeling both repulsed and saddened.  Mostly repulsed.  It made him think of Marathel’s brand, made him think of her as a child just like the little Hunter girl.  No wonder Marathel was so damaged in her mind. And hearing that the Captain had … His hands curled into fists, and he wished the Captain was still alive so he could kill him.  Din considered burning down the rest of the Hold and killing the remaining survivors as a mercy to them.  He took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing that he could not do that.  Perhaps these women could be rehabilitated ... Perhaps their minds could be repaired ... 

Perhaps I could just give up my Creed and join a traveling underwater circus! 

Din lined up several barrel lids and took holos.  He believed he had enough.  Now he needed to find Marathel.  He walked around the fallen tree and back out to where the women still milled around.  He didn’t see the little girl, and he was thankful for that.  Din approached Grogu’s pram, still closed, and he gently maneuvered it away from the fallen Round Building.  “Kid?  Are you okay in there?”  He heard some shuffling inside.  “Knock once for yes and twice for no.  Are you doing okay in there?”  There was a light, single tap from within.  “Okay, buddy, just stay in there a little longer, alright?”  Another tap.   

Din looked over the yard again.  Nearby was a dead body that was oddly enough, still intact.  He went over and looked down at the corpse of the Bishop.  His eyes were gone, and his mouth was open and full of blood.  There were multiple stab wounds all over his body, a couple right in his crotch.  Too good for you, you son of a bitch.  Rapist.  Child rapist.  You carved a gash down a beautiful woman’s face.  You destroyed her before she was even born.  You broke her mind so much she dreamed I was you! And I wish you could come back to life so I could kill you myself, you … “MOTHERFUCKER HU’TUUN!” growled Din as he drew both blasters and alternated firing shots into the corpse, over and over.  Din holstered his blasters, reared back, and kicked the corpse in the groin.  He then raised his helmet enough to spit in the corpse’s eye socket before stepping back and setting it on fire with his flame thrower.   

Finished now, Din turned, placed his hand on Grogu’s pram, and walked them both out of the Hold gate, not looking back at the women and girls who stood staring at him.  “C’mon, kid, let’s go find your Mama.” 

Din decided to return to Marathel’s hut on the Crest.  On a normal hunt, he’d leave his ship where it was and walk.  He liked having the time to settle his thoughts, make a plan, and creep up on his mark quietly.  Right now, however, he felt the need to hurry.  Although Marathel walked out of the Hold, he wasn’t sure how long ago she did that, which direction she was going, or what state she was in when she left.  The rest of the women were still shell-shocked by the explosion and the Dahl’s attack, but they didn’t go on a rampage like Marathel had, fighting off and killing however many men. 

Din and Grogu went back to the Crest, lifted off, and touched back down in the grassy field just outside Marathel’s yard.  From here he could not see anything too out of the ordinary, but as he and Grogu approached, he could see that the brown panels Marathel had hung were no longer there.  Then he saw her bag lying on the ground where she’d dropped it.  Hoping she may be still in the hut, Din hurried forward but stopped short at the four rounded piles of flowers.   

Four.  The four women who brought her out.   

“Stay here, Grogu,” muttered Din.  He went up to the steps.  There was a burned-out torch — Marathel must have intended to burn the hut down — a whetstone, and bloodied footprints.  He looked up to the ridge pole to see the four ropes the women had been hanged from.  He did not wish to unwrap the women to see what they had suffered. More of Marathel’s footprints went through the large blood spill under the four shroud-wrapped bodies.  Din could smell the decay of flesh, and flies buzzed everywhere. 

Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, Hylma.  I am so sorry.  Ni ceta.  Thank you for being good women to Marathel.  Thank you, Olba, for mothering Marathel the best you could.   

Din took a step back and chanted the Mando’a prayer for the dead, something he hadn’t spoken since the death of his buir.  He believed these women were fully deserving of this honor, and that Manda’lor would accept their souls for their sacrifice.  This completed, Din stepped up into the hut.  He decided that there were certain items that he needed to collect before he left this place.  He rummaged around until he found what he wanted as well as a bag to carry the items in. 

Din stood in the center of the hut and looked around one last time, feeling as if he were seeing ghosts of lifetimes past: Marathel cooking at the fire, Marathel playing with Grogu, Marathel in his arms.  He took one last look at the post near the corner.  Her leaning post.  He closed his eyes, took a breath, and walked down the steps to the yard.  Once there, he turned, aimed his flame thrower, and set the hut ablaze. 

Din stood for a few minutes, watching the hut burn.  The roof thatching went up like a rocket, and soon it collapsed, leaving just a burning shell of posts.  Now, he was finished here.  As he and Grogu returned to the Crest, Din snagged Marathel’s bag, hoping that she would need it back.   

Din flew the Crest low, searching for life signs on the scanner and wondering where she would go.  How far could she get?  Din assumed she was injured in some way; Marathel was not a trained warrior and had probably been running on adrenaline.  He felt fairly sure that she was heading for the cliff, but he had no idea where this particular cliff was.  It was within running distance from her hut, he knew that.  Grogu stood on the console, peering through the view screen as Din followed the coastline, searching for this cliff of hers.   

The scanner began beeping.  Din looked at the monitor to see a large convergence of life signs coming up ahead of them.  As they got closer, the sensor picked up one single additional weak life sign.  Din steered the Crest in from the high ledge, fifty or so meters above the crashing waves.  The ledge was a mostly a grassy field with the foliage growing right up to the edge of the cliff.  There was a large, flat boulder some ways away from the edge.  Din was thinking he could see a couple of small objects on the boulder, when Grogu suddenly shouted “Mama!” 

Din immediately brought down the Crest, and was out of his chair before the ship had fully settled, and practically leapt through the ramp door.  He ran to the boulder, where he saw a cracked wooden cup, the remains of a spear, and a bloody handprint.  Din immediately panicked, thinking, damn you, Marathel, you promised me you wouldn’t kill yourself! You promised me that you would live out the rest of your days on this fucking rock! I promised I wouldn’t take any revenge, and I promised that I would leave you behind.  Well, I broke both of those promises and you’ve broken yours.  We are just a fucking pair, aren’t we? 

Din flicked the heat sensor on his helmet, and detected a life sign a few meters away.  He ran over as fast as he could, sliding to a stop next to the crumpled form of Marathel.  She lay in a heap, not far from the dead body of Rodanthe.   Marathel’s arms were twisted beneath her as she half-curled into a fetal position.   Under her hips was a pool of thick, half-dried blood.  No, not again, thought Din as he leaned over her, touching her exposed and sunburned cheek with his gloved finger.  Her eyelids flickered, and Din whispered, “Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa.”  He couldn’t tell where she was injured or where the blood pool had come from, but she wasn’t dead, oh, thank you, thank you, she’s not dead. 

Din carefully turned her over, realizing that her collarbone was broken and her shoulder was dislocated. She had a gash on the side of her head, with maggots in the wound. She was terribly sunburned where her skin was exposed. How long had she been out here?  But before he could fully assess any of her injuries, he heard Grogu cry out, “Patu!  Bah Daws!” 

Din straightened up, seeing Grogu standing on the flat boulder, pointing at the tree line at the edge of the grassy field.  He looked at the tree line, and the heat sensor on his helmet showed many signatures, many living creatures, and they were coming straight for him.  Din ran forward, brandishing his blaster as hundreds of Dahls charged.  He skidded to a halt, firing at several Dahls, killing them, causing the creatures to trip over each other, but still they came.  Din holstered his blaster and fired his flame thrower, but he’d been fire-happy recently and he could only swing the flame once along the front line of the Dahls before he ran out of fuel.  It did, however, bring them to a stop, and they stood their ground, chattering their keh-keh noises at him, clawing at the dirt. 

Din screamed at the Dahls, “Get away from her, you fuckers! You leave her alone! You’ve taken her entire life away! Get out of her head, get out of my head, and leave us both alone!”  He grabbed both blasters,  shot several more times at the feet of the closest ones, and the pack began to move backwards.  “That’s right, you back the fuck up and LET HER GO!” 

Unfortunately, this infuriated the Dahls, and they charged forward at Din once more.  He lifted his blasters again, intending to strafe the front line for as long as his blasters held out, when the Dahls simply stopped, as if they were crashing into an invisible barrier.  Yelping in pain, the Dahls clawed at the air, at each other, confused.  Din was just as confused as the Dahls, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Grogu holding out his little hands, holding back the Dahls with the Force.  Din returned his attention to the Dahls, who were backing up once more, now fearful of the metal man and the little green creature. 

“Go away from here!  Get out of her head and leave her alone. You’ve had her for thirty years!  You’re done with her now. She doesn’t want you anymore. You let her SUFFER!  You NEVER loved her!  NOW LET US GO!” 

Snapping, hissing, the Dahls continued their retreat as Grogu released the Force barrier and sat down in exhaustion.  Din kept his stance, brandishing both blasters, firing a warning shot at the feet of any Dahls that attempted a forward move.  Eventually, the Dahls disappeared back into the tree line, but Din held his ground until the creatures were out of range of his visor’s sensors. 

Din slowly backed up himself, scanning the tree line for any sudden movement, until he was back within range of Marathel.  Holstering his blasters, he turned to Grogu, sitting on the boulder.  “You okay, kid?”  Grogu bleated weakly.  “You did good, buddy, I’m proud of you.”  Din went to one knee beside Rodanthe, hoping that at least this one last Dahl had been true to Marathel.  He stroked the animal’s head, wondering if his cardiac episode had occurred at the time of her death.  If so, then what was the reason for him to lose his love for Marathel? 

Not having any answers, Din decided that the best course of action was to care for the still-living woman.  He carefully lifted Marathel from the ground and carried her to the boulder where Grogu sat.  “Hey kid, grab that cup and spear, would you?” asked Din, figuring that if Marathel meant them as a suicide note, they were important to her.  Grogu did as his Patu asked, and looked up wearily at Din.  Din nodded his head at the ship and said, “Going my way, pal?  Hop on.  Mama won’t mind, I don’t think.” 

Grogu leapt into Marathel’s lap, whimpering Mama, curling against her.  Din carried them both into the Razor Crest, closing the ramp behind him.  The Dahls moved forward again to the tree line, and watched as the small ship lifted off the ground, and winked away into the sky, leaving Unmanarall for what Din hoped was the final time. 

Day Twenty-Nine point Five ->

[aenvittorielle]

BALDURS GATE 3: zodiac signs post.

Part II.

LEO / Gale

Passion, expression and unwavering self-confidence are felt by everyone around within a radius of a hundred meters (even through portals). By their nature, Leo are proud and self-confident, sometimes creates the impression of an arrogant personality, used to take the best in life as a real winner. Gale may seem proud and arrogant, but at the same time he’s friendly to those who need it. As we get to know Gale better, it becomes known about his burning attraction to the goddess. Actually, the Leo’s don't need anything less. Just like the classic representative of the zodiac circle, driven by love for the goddess, Gale did the impossible for her. Leo ambitions can replace the whole sun in the event of a disaster, they’re incredibly purposeful individuals who exclusively believe in their success. Gale is very impressed by the power and strength of the Crown of Karsus and intends to get it at any cost, and if Tav tries to find suitable arguments against this idea, the good-natured Gale will start to lose his temper a little. Leo's big and noble heart is capable of going to great lengths to protect what is dear to him. With a certain algorithm of passing the game, Gale doubts the correctness of his decision regarding the fact that he couldn’t nip the Absolute in the bud (in act II), but then he will offer his help at the cost of his own life. Thus, the features of the merry man are closely intertwined with the image of a real hero. Leo tend to combine a love of comfort and at the same time luxury. As Gale said, "I have a cat, a library, some weakness for good wine" (who wouldn't like that..).

VIRGO / Jaheira

Virgo is a firm but very charming sign that easily settles into the spotlight. Virgo strives for perfection in everything, they study all their lives and try to teach others. Representatives of Virgin are distinguished by empathy and often have a musical ear. Jaheira is literally the mother of BG3; in addition to being the leader of the harpers, she has sheltered several children of completely different ages and unknown origins. In addition, like a caring mom, she worries about Minsk and strives to help him, understanding the peculiarities of his psyche. Virgo is the strictest and wisest at the same time. She, in her opinion and those around her, is the only one doing everything correctly and correctly. Virgo sign can calculate everything in advance, can think logically and able to predict in advance what she should do. She’s persistent and inclined to take active action rather than to observe from the outside in anticipation of some kind of heavenly manna. Jaheira has a difficult fate, but thanks to druids who took care of her and her personal ambitions, she become a persistent and persistent woman, convinced that nature can only be protected by active actions. Involuntarily or with their consent, but one way or another, a crazy burden of responsibility often falls on the shoulders of Virgo: for those they love and care about, sometimes even more than they should. Virgo in need for a reboot and a break from the environment, to be nourished with new vitality. Do you remember Jaheira's hideout? A whole trail of traps indicates that she values her personal space and doesn’t please uninvited guests. Her refuge is literally the dream of an introvert in love with the beauty of nature: animals, greenery ... Virgo is very careful in love. She doesn't give her heart to anyone. She rationally approaches feelings and covers them with a kind of protective layer. Jaheira fell in love with Khalid, even got married, but where can we hear about it once again? Jaheira is selective in communication and doesn’t talk much about herself and her personal life. However, the cold and impregnable shell doesn’t exclude the storm trapped inside it.

LIBRA / Volo

He is dressed up to the nines, polite, kind, shines with intelligence, a sense of humor, polished shoes to a squeak, as well as a wonderful diplomat - it's all about Libra. Libra is distinguished by their artistry, and their natural charm often confronts their forehead with art. Volo appears before us as a famous writer, bard and researcher, whose carelessness often leads him to unpleasant situations. Libra is by nature a non-confrontational person and tries to resolve issues peacefully. Did you imagine Volo with a mace or a two-handed sword? Did you laugh? Me too. However, like representatives of Libra, Volo is armed no worse than warrior, only with a word. His great charisma helps him easily make new friends, get any silent person to talk, or get out of the hole into which he got by himself. Libra is pleasant to talk to, friendly and not devoid of a sense of humor and is able to fit into almost any company. Playing along a good route, regardless of which characters will be a priority for you, and which ones will go to the tenth plan, Volo can always be useful and appropriate.

SCORPIO / Mizora

Scorpios are very strong, mysterious, independent persons, sparkling with strength and charisma. In addition to a powerful internal magnet, they know their worth, don’t deprive themselves of love and prefer to emphasize their external advantages. This is exactly the impression that Mizora makes: she’s truly dangerous, devilishly attractive and difficult woman, whose every word and action won’t leave anyone indifferent. Scorpio loves extremes, challenges, danger and darkness. Because of their planetary ruler Pluto, they’re drawn to the anomalies of human experience, extremely perceptive and able to see through a person and his problems. Being a vassal of Zariel, she skillfully turns deals with those who need it; skillfully weaves intrigues and is able to checkmate any ‘counterparty’. Despite all the ambiguity that envelops the image of Scorpio, he is not without honor. Mizora likes to create problems for others, behave cruelly, but objects to being considered that way, since she considers herself a benefactress, taking care of her "pets" in any way, even not the most pleasant. Although she distorts the meaning of the concluded agreements, resorts to small print and other tricks, but never violates them. Moreover, despite the fact that Mizora knows the location of Karlach, nevertheless she does not betray her to the archdevil Zariel. Scorpios are not devoid of sarcasm and barbs of speech, which often does not give them bonuses from those around them. Similarly, Mizora does not miss the opportunity to sting Wyll or Tav with a caustic word, showing them where their place is. Scorpios are dominant in every sense and they like to feel a sense of superiority. Therefore, Mizora prefers to call Wyll her pet, pejoratively reminding him of his position and towering over him. Or threaten to turn into a harmless animal. It is worth noting that Mizora will react to the refusal of intimacy with Tav with embarrassment and awkwardness, although she will try to play it in her favor. It is not easy for Scorpios to experience rejections. In essence, Scorpios are unrecognized and at first glance difficult to contact personalities who are not devoid of worthy qualities. Mizora is a far from ambiguous character; you can love or hate her, but she will leave few people indifferent.

[layalu]

OC Summary

Woo look i'm finally making an oc intro post on here! This is def non exhaustive and a lot of these guys are old/inactive, but i tried to include the ones that are the most likely to come up xdd Might add more in the future, but this is them for now :]

[continues under the cut]

first of, some og kiddos! most of these originated in rpg/growing species groups on dA but are just unaligned ocs now

Dawn

the only exception to the above statement xd She's my avatar/mascot, essentially! There isn't much else to her honestly. Fun fact about her name origin though: My warriors.. sona, i guess? was called Morgenröte, or Dawnlight when i used her in english contexts, so Dawn's name is a callback to that c: I also considered naming her Morgan as a reference to "Morgen"

Kiran

Used to be a very spunky kid before Trauma TM happened and depression beat her ass. She's been getting better though! Used to be best friends with Lacrima but they've since grown apart. Loves animals and started working on Sam's farm partime.

Lacrima

Smart, self-sufficient, maybe a liiittle fucked up by when she god hellbent on vengeance oops. Lost her closeness with a bunch of her childhood friends during that time. Still a bit all over the place but has found she enjoys administrative work.

Noé

Local theatre kid, and a freelance artist. Which art? That changes with the wind. He has trouble committing to things but that's because so many things in this world are interesting!

Sam

Bit softie with abandonment issues. Loves his family and LARPing and his asshole horse named Sir Samuel II. Works on his farm full time but tries making as much time for his friends and family as possible. Childhood friends with Tumble.

Tumbleweed

A gentle giant who practically lives in the water. Life motto: motto: can't be disappointed by life if you don't expect anything! Works as a life guard and swim instructor. Childhood friends with Sam

Quentin

The swetest potato, but has trouble making friends. A casual but enthusiastic collector with a love for tinkering! Has a workshop together with Flora where he does repair work on mostly on non-mechanical things

Flora

Timid, but inquisitive and creative. Original founder of her now shared workshop which started as a mech repair shop and now entails "anything we can fix!"

Desertblaze

One of my oldest ocs! She's been (re)used a bunch and has been through some shit but always managed to keep finding beauty and love in life. She is. Very near and dear to my heart <3

Nightscar

Tbh i have not used him in a hot minute but i wanted to include him cos he's pretty u.u Also a very old oc; his og name was Schattenjäger (shadowhunter) lol. The first version of him drowned though rip.

Stormyrain

Another fave :] Spunky and full of wanderlust. Her cat version has been inactive for a long time but i love reusing iterations of her cos she is fun and i love her.

Kokosamu

Smug little shit who is equipped with an ego that is way too big for his tiny body. Despite this he is not as bad as he seems! Mostly. He does mean well.

Styrnlona

Big arms, big heart, big hopes. Grew up in a family of fishers and hopes to win lots of money at the coliseum for her family. Turns out that is Really Hard though.

Mikh'a

Is here to avoid responsibilities out of boredom and because adventurers get paid well, right? Well wouldn'tcha know, adventuring is dangerous! oops.

Ulhar

(Ex-)entertainer, professional bullshitter, and apparently a hero now? Ugh. Really just wants to get rid of the worm in her brain, please. Would love to say she doesn't care about anything but unfortunately for her she cares A Lot.

Jamie

The Cooler Sister, bestie of Cove, aspiring marine biologist. If you see me call her Stormy, it's because she is an iteration of Stormyrain xd

[babumakeanart]

6 hours of playtime of Hades II -thoughts so far

This post will contain spoilers so those who want to avoid seeing them please don't read anything under the cut. Also, take these are my first 6 hours only, my options might change, develop etc. Don't take anything too deeply as this is my brainrot i need to get out because I am just amazed by this game!

First - Melinoë and the story: 

Melinoë is the most badass sweetheart and she is very pleasant protagonist to follow and learn things in her footsteps, like Zagreus's dynamic to another character she can be respectful but can bite back when her line is past which I really like and it is fun to watch and person is hype for another interaction with NPCs and the environment. 

So far the story is ‘simple’ and I am putting it like that because so far we have a clear goal but you can sense there is something deeper going on and is really interesting to explore. So far I got into the third level, already forgot the name of that but it’s the Mourning Plains or so and boy, that place gave me the creeps the first time I got there and THE BOSS!! oh boy :’DDDDD 

Gathering items:

This is what I kind of find refreshing in one way, that I can gather ingredients much faster than it was in Hades I. Maybe it is just me but gathering the crystals in Hades I is tedious and I still need to buy so much furniture for the house. So far I like the variations you can get and use things for. The gardening is very nice and I think I saw Odysseus checking the garden at one point?? very cute. 

And taking different tools for the run so far doesn't feel like bother to do so and if you unlock forget me not you can actually see what tool you need for recipes. So unlocked stuff is very helpful to you. 

Fighting: 

Of course, the fight style is very different than Zagreus had. Zag feels more like go and smash and be fast, while Mel feels more strategy fight. Not that is slow is still a nice hack and slash, and the difference is very nice to see between siblings! So far I unlock all the weapons and my fav is the axe :DD and the flame weapon is so funny when you are running with them XD 

Nemesis:

I do not really know all the lores about all the characters that are being in the second game as well some in the first game but I love how the game is built on Nemesis' interaction with your runs. How she sometimes (so far I have met her like four times or so in my runs) challenges you who have the most kills, clears the room before you even have a chance to stop and she blocks one doors so you have to choose the other door!! also she buy items in charon shop?? it feels so alive?? and I love it so so much!

Hermes and Artemis:

AAAAAAAAAAA seeing these two actually being there with you is so cool! love it 

Clothes: It's such a tiny detail but when you get different fabrics your clothes change color and is so adorable TTATT ofc my fav is lavender

Cats, dOGS SO MANY ANIMALS:

TTATT do i need to say more??? 

CHAOS: okok when I seen the door to the dimension where Chaos is I sprint there without any thinking but seeing the SPRITE??? hello?? IS THAT MEG?? what does that mean, what is happening why does Chaos look like Meg? What happened to the underground?? This was a point in the game where I really stopped and my brain did this: 

Didn't make a screenshot because I was just stunned but wow

Anyway if anyone want to scream with me please you are very welcome to because I am crying about this game!!! Excuse my bad English I just had to get my thoughts on the paper otherwise I would do no work haha 

Love to hear all the theories!

[hyperesthesias]

Decisions & Desire Part II

Notes: Look, what I want you to take away from this is: 'I love you. Most ardently'. I even got the rain thing going. Song choice for this installment is: Arrival of the Birds by The Cinematic Orchestra.

Context: Anya and Viktor are childhood friends who have reconnected seven months ago. Anya is a mage, and a theoretical physicist; she is also a patron of Viktor and the Academy. They have rekindled their friendship, and are in love with each other. Because Anya is a different species, who lives for hundreds of years, and takes only one mate for her lifespan, Viktor has recused himself from her life, not wanting to cause her further pain. However, Jayce has some choice words for his friend. Anya also learns more about transformation rituals from her temple elder.

word count: 4,411

Tag List: @uniquedeerwitch ; @funcoolchickie (Let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

AO3 link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Anya kept the company of her kinfolk, while Viktor kept himself confined to his laboratory. She had not seen him in nearly a week – neither had she heard from him, despite her occasional visits to the lab with pertinent information and translations of runework. Whenever she made an appearance there, Viktor always seemed absent, and her work was relayed solely through Jayce, who asked her no questions, neither pressed any agendas about the crystal or her relationship with her friend. It only made her feel more alone.

Despite the happy faces and the welcome invitations from her kin at the temple, Anya felt no desire to join them in preparations for the Autumnal Equinox festival – she had no mirth to contribute to the festival at all, and instead planned on recusing herself from the event. Regardless of where she went, or with whom, the abstinence of her friend’s love, and desire for their bonding, followed her – a horrible shadow that clung to her, even when the Sun shone brightest. His life was fragile, its length short, and she saw his grappling as a hindrance to the time that could be shared between them, despite the obstacles presented to them. 

Her elder, Nana, was the only one of the temple who asked nothing of her, nor expected her presence in any capacity, except for that of a cup of tea. Nana was seven hundred years old, and she was the oldest and wisest among their community. She had long, silver hair that ran past her feet, and that matched her age; she had weathered skin and a warm smile that crinkled her eyes. Her home resided on the temple acreage, and she tended the sacred trees and flora and fauna that made the grounds lush and vibrant. Her cottage smelled of herbs, and the couch was well worn from visitors who sought her company. She was quick to listen, and slow to scold, but always had advice when it was asked of her.

“I have more ideas about the transmutation spell you asked me about some while ago,” Nana said, and served Anya a cup of berry tea. “I found a codex in the old catacombs of the temple. Don’t tell anyone.”

Anya smiled lightly, and held the cup in her lap. She had no desire to speak.

“There are many legends of shape shifting, as you know,” she continued with a huff and a grunt as she sat down on the couch. “Many talk of our ancient ancestors who could change into jaguars or hummingbirds during the heat of battle. Even dragons. But birds and cats sounds more believable to me,” she eyed her young guest with a simper. “Though much of what is written in these codices are thought of as fantasy by the majority – superstition and stories meant to inspire awe and terror into the hearts of enemies from long ago.”

“Do you believe it is possible?” Anya asked.

Nana looked at her and shrugged as she took a sip of tea. “I’ve seen too much to disregard anything at all. There are some who are gifted with the abilities of magic – like you and your parents; others who can communicate with animals and spirits. Who’s to say there is not a gene somewhere out there, wandering around, that can cause someone to shape shift? Maybe it got lost,” she chuckled.

“Did the codex suggest wanting anything in return for this power?”

Nana looked at her, suspicious, but she conceded: “No, there was no mention of an exchange – it was a power bestowed by the divinities. A gift. There were times it was granted as a way to smite an opponent in battle. Others, it was given as a way to protect a village or a family.”

Whatever the secret had been of transmutation, it was evident it was long lost, and was now regaled into the nebulous mythos of cultural tales. Anya set her untouched tea on the table in front of them, and nodded. “Thank you, Nana. But I do not feel up to having anything at the moment. I think I will leave.”

“What is wrong, my dear?” Nana asked, and held out her hand that she might stay.

“It is nothing. Childish things.” She shook her head, afraid she would think her a fool for her despondency. Viktor’s stubbornness was a sufficient burden, but Nana’s disapproval would be more than she could bear.

Nana gave her a sad smile as she watched the affliction on her soft face. “There is no such thing as too small a grief.”

Anya looked to her, reticent. She debated on what to say, but knew that if there was any one person in her community who could be relied upon, it would be Nana. “It does not feel small,” she admitted.

“This isn’t about runes.” Nana set her cup of tea down.

“No. It is not.” She looked out of the window at the far end of the room, she watched as the wildflowers blew, delicate and limber, in the afternoon sun – their stems and leaves had begun to turn brittle as Summer ended and as Autumn began. Soon, they would be wilted and returned to the earth from which they first grew. Viktor’s ailing health pressed upon her heart and she resisted the stinging in her eyes. She swallowed the hot, salted water that had gathered at the back of her throat, and she kept her head down. “There is someone with whom I wish to bond,” she said. She could not bring herself to say anything more.

“Have they refused you?” Nana asked.

“The desire is mutual. But he will not bond with me.”

Nana could think of no reason why someone would be so indecisive. Anya was well off – finances would never be a concern; there were no wars in which their kind had been involved, in Piltover or in Zaun, that could have amassed prejudice; there were no quarreling families within their own community that would prevent a peaceful union with Anya – a union with her would have been covetous. “Why?” she asked, bewildered.

“He is human,” she said. The tears she fought gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she struggled to keep them at bay as she looked at her elder. She turned away as a droplet ran down her face. “His health is frail, even by the standard of his kind. His lifespan will be cut short. He will not bond with me, so that I will not be alone when he dies.”

“That is honorable.”

“Too honorable,” Anya sniffled.

Nana smiled. There were few who understood and heeded the ways of their species – especially humans. To find someone with such zealous respect was both a blessing and curse.

“Nana – What is it like? To have a bonded who is no longer here.”

She took a long, slow breath, and memories passed her eyes as she thought on what to say. Her own bonded had been gone for nearly fifty years. It felt like an eternity. “I can still feel him – as I always did. When you bond with someone, you can feel what they feel, you can know where they are, and see the world through their spirit. It is the same, even now. He is still alive, somewhere. But not here. I feel that he misses me, as much as I miss him,” she gave Anya a smile, one full of joy and longing. She caressed her face – bright and full of youth and knowing. “This man loves you. Human men make no sacrifices for things they do not love. What will be, will be. Even if you love him from afar.”

Another tear fell onto Anya’s visage, and Nana gently brushed it away.

Anya returned to her quiet, cavernous home as clouds began to move their way through the sky. She recalled a rainy day in Zaun, where her mother told her to search for a bucket in the scrap heap around the corner from their house. The roof had sprung a leak, and Anya spent the night bailing out buckets of water. She was stricken with the cold, and became bed-ridden and ill, her mother tended to her with poultices and compresses for a week.

Her mansion made of marble had no leaks, and every gutter led to the gardens beneath. There were beds for vegetables and fresh herbs, there were fruit trees and bushes that yielded plentiful stone fruits and berries. She wanted for nothing. Except for the love she could not have.

She sat alone the rest of the afternoon in the salon, with a well lit fire and a hot cup of coffee as the rain began to fall, persistent and dour against the breadth of the windowpanes. She had numerous books on runes and shape shifting spread across the cushions, but she resented each of them. They all reminded her of Viktor.

Viktor arrived at the lab in a foul mood. The previous night left him restless, and what little sleep he gathered was listless and fitful. His mind was tired and overworked, and his heart had grown numb from the final exchange he shared with Anya; it sat on his stomach like a stone, and he felt himself pinned beneath it. Though he gave little credence to the tenements of Fate, he was beginning to believe in something far worse: bad luck. Luck, that he had reconnected with his friend after a decade and a half, and bad luck to have sabotaged his relationship with her. He lost the love of his life. He had no one other than himself to blame.

Viktor said nothing upon entering the lab and he promptly sat at his workbench, hunched over his journal; he analyzed the data he gathered the previous evening, along with several of Anya’s notes taped to the inside of his notebook. He could feel Jayce’s eyes on him from across the room. 

Jayce sat not far away – he had been studying the crystal under a lens, having arrived at the lab nearly two hours before his partner. He leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, his hands ran down his face – every facet of the crystal was beginning to blur into one another, and he could hardly tell the difference between the runes anymore. He looked up towards his friend again, who seemed to share his same, glossy-eyed look. 

“You hungry?” he asked.

Viktor gave no reply.

Jayce tilted his head, trying to see the expression on his friend’s face. It was stern, guarded, and unmoving. Viktor was not often outwardly expressive, but he was not devoid of feeling altogether, and he had come to know Viktor well enough to see when his friend was perturbed – despite the few indications he might give evidently. Jayce rolled the chair closer to his partner. “Hey –” he tapped his shoulder.

Viktor started and took a sharp breath. “What?” he growled as he shot Jayce a glance.

“I think we could both use a break. Why don’t we get something to eat.” A drop in blood sugar would explain Viktor’s harsh disposition.

He waved him off. “I am fine, go on without me.”

Jayce stared at him with scepticism. “You don’t look fine.”

Viktor closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. “There are things in my private life I would like to keep private,” he said. Jayce had become a friend – Viktor’s only friend besides Anya; and while his two friends were each other’s acquaintance, Viktor was careful never to divulge more than the superficial in regard to Anya and her background. He had given Jayce no knowledge as to her species, or her capabilities as a mage; the extent of his appraisal had been their friendship in childhood, and her success at the Academy. Nothing more, and nothing less. 

Concern built itself deeper into Jayce, and worry furrowed itself into his features. Not long ago, Viktor saved his life from the broken ledge of his apartment. The chill of that terrible night’s air gripped him by the throat, and he refocused himself onto his friend, instead. “You don’t have to suffer in silence.”

Viktor stopped, overcome with the memory of watching Jayce nearly step over the ledge and into death. They never spoke of it. They did not have to. It was a hermetic secret between the two of them, one that was never forgotten, and never mentioned. But Viktor could hear between what was not said. He sighed and turned on the stool, throwing the pencil on the notebook. “There is a dilemma, in my personal life, that has no favorable solution,” he said. “My only choice is to accept the consequence, and proceed with my life. My work,” he motioned to the notebook.

Jayce stared at him, more confused than before, his worries no more allayed. “Are you…getting fired?”

Viktor scoffed. “No. Although, I supposed I could be,” he murmured. His position at the Academy forbade any fraternization with a donor. It was yet another obstacle that bid him forget about whatever childish emotions welled themselves inside of his mind. “My affections for Anya have grown beyond that of friends,” he admitted. The feeling of her soft skin imprinted itself on his hands as he spoke, the feel of her breath as he kissed her, the sweet taste of her – she flooded into him all at once, and his chest tightened.

Jayce’s face softened and he began to smile.

“There is nothing to be done about it.” He turned back to his workbench.

“What do you mean?” Jayce asked, taken aback.

Viktor rolled his tongue in his mouth, his jaw stiffened and his eyes pierced through the pages of the book underneath his palms. He debated whether to speak of Anya’s species, but if he knew anything of his friend, he knew Jayce understood the value of a secret. “Anya is not like you and me. Her species is capable of living for a thousand years. In that time, they will have only one mate. It is for their lifetime. It is a bond that will last, even after death. My affection for her now will be meaningless in five hundred years.” He swallowed and closed the notebook. “She would be alone. That is not something I will allow.”

“So you’re not going to say anything?” 

“I already have.”

“And? What did she say?”

“We have not spoken in a week, since.”

“Well what the hell did you say?”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I was honest with her. It is what she deserves. I told her my affection, and also told her it was better we do not bond.”

“She deserves the opportunity to decide for herself, Viktor.”

The lines in Viktor’s face drew deeper, and he felt offense flush his face.

“You made the decision for her. What if she wants to be with you?”

“Then it would be better for me to suffer the next thirty years alone, than her for centuries more.”

Jayce stayed quiet as he watched his friend anguish. 

“My refusal to bond with her is not out of arrogance or self-centeredness.”

“Viktor, she won’t wait for you forever.”

“That is exactly the point,” he denounced him. “Thirty years from now, I will be dead. And in three hundred years, she will find another she loves.”

“What if she doesn’t find anyone? What if it’s only you?”

“Statistics would argue otherwise.” He sighed and looked away from his friend as he leaned back in the chair. “I would never fault her for wanting to love another. But we will have already been bonded.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, not bad – foolish. We are not the same kind. We were not meant to bond.” He ended the conversation and returned to his notes.

Jayce gave him a disgruntled frown, though he knew Viktor was unable to see it. He remained silent, and only watched his friend compartmentalize his pain – despite how well Viktor assumed he was hiding it, Jayce could see his grief plainly. They had not known each other long, but knew him to be a lonely, stoic man, who devoted his life to proving his worthiness through science and advancement. He was a good man, who always thought of others before himself. Who thought of the woman he loved before his own desires. Jayce could not say the same about himself. Though he did not know Anya well, he knew she was the only one who could make Viktor laugh and smile without restraint; when they were together, Jayce saw enjoyment in his life – rather than only discipline and hardship. 

Perhaps he lived vicariously through his friend – that the merit of perseverance could be met with reward and happiness. Perhaps he resented him for refusing to accept such happiness. Or perhaps he was merely frustrated with his friend’s stubbornness. “You’re fighting this really hard,” he said.

Viktor took a grated breath and threw up his palms, knowing he would not get any work done with Jayce’s ever-optimistic meddling. “What would you have me do?”

“Stop sabotaging yourself.”

“And when she is left alone with no one, with nothing? What then? I will not be responsible for her suffering.”

“You already are.”

Viktor gnawed the inside of his mouth and looked away.

“You can’t live your life in the theoretical.”

Life was incalculably more complicated than the theoretical, or the practical – it was an egregious amalgamation of both, that fit neither descriptor. And sometimes, there were no viable solutions. Sometimes, there was only the best that could be done. Viktor’s parents did the best they could, despite their poverty, despite their flaws and faults. There were times, much like this, he wished he could talk to them. Ask for their guidance and advice, their life experience. But even without it, Viktor did the best he could. 

That was all that could be done.

Viktor drove a carriage from the Academy, after Jayce left the lab in the late afternoon. The Sun was setting, and dusk and rain were easily approaching on the horizon – cooler hues of orange and magenta sunk with the dark, impending clouds behind the Piltover skyline, and Viktor recalled a time when he could not see the Sun set, nor when it rose. He drove in silence as he mulled over the arguments of his friend, and the blistered emotions that imprinted themselves within his chest. The ability to intuit the machine beneath his hands allowed his mind to wander freely; he shifted it from each of its gears without fault or hesitation, and his left leg moved with ease to control the clutch and acceleration. The ability to pilot a machine granted him freedom from the physical fetters that plagued him daily – the rare moments in which he felt his body free from restraint, granted his mind clarity and respite.

Anya deserved honesty, he concluded. Honesty – not only in his emotions, but in his actions. There was a distinct line he observed: to deny them both the opportunity of bonding was dishonest, to himself, and also to her. Jayce, for all his meddling, had been correct: Anya deserved to make her own honest decisions, and Viktor was required to trust her instincts, and trust the decisions she made for the course of her future. It was iniquitous, and it was presumptuous to determine her future for her. It was her future. Not his. But together, they could share the present.

The road to her home was winding, along a paved path lined with trees and wildlife. Though her mansion was modern, even by the Kiramann’s standards, the reclusivity and pastoral beauty of its location was something that appealed to him. Her culture revolved around the natural world, around the connection between their species and all life around them. It suited her that her home was deep within the forest. The fresh air of the treeline, and the onset of clean rain was a relief to his lungs, and to the memories of Zaun’s filth that permeated his mind.

The carriage pulled into the circular driveway, and he could see a dim light through the many windows of the house. Rain pummelled his shoulders the moment he stepped out, and he hurried with his cane as well as he could across the cobblestone for cover underneath the porch. But the winds were shifting through the forests and mountains around them, and despite the cover of the overhang, the rain smattered him sideways. He pulled a gilded knocker on the door, and tapped it three times. He waited, eagerly, and mulled over everything he wanted to say while he attempted to keep a chill at bay.

Moments seemingly blurred into hours, and, presently, Anya answered the door.

“Viktor?” She stared at him, shocked – misery clung to his features, and she knew he had not slept; hunger drew the color from his face, and the rain drenched him from his hair to his shoes.

Everything he wanted to say, everything he planned on saying – every point he wanted to make suddenly vanished. He stood there – dumb and silenced.

“Are you alright?”

But everything he wanted to say, could be condensed into one singular phrase: “Anya, I love you.” He met her eyes with pleading, and swallowed; he felt bare having said the words aloud. “I do not know anything with certainty, but that I love you. I do not know the future. And I know nothing of magic. But, I try.” Even in the downpour around them, his throat felt parched. “I want to try. For however long the future will have me in this life. If you will have me.”

Anya’s heart raced within her, and she saw their future written plainly on his face: one of happiness, and one of hope – despite whatever hardships they might face. Her smile trembled at the thoughts and images that played before her mind’s eye. She nodded, breathless.

But he shook his head, afraid she had given her blessing too soon. He reached for her, as if to implore her, and petition her grace. “I cannot give you status. I can give you no children –”

She dismissed his fear, and cupped his face. “I do not bond with you for what you can give me,” she said. “My bond is my love for you, Viktor. Always.”

Viktor weakened at her words, and water flushed his face – though from tears, or from the rain, he could no longer distinguish. Her hands were warm, and any part of him that had been frozen or chilled melted at her touch. He nuzzled his cheek into her palm, and took her hand to kiss it – his cane moved to the crook of his arm. He breathed in her scent and revelled in the benevolence of her softness, with the thought of awakening to her beside him every morning, and falling asleep to the sound of her every night. He looked to her one last time: “Are you certain?”

“More than anything.” She brushed the water from the stern lines of his countenance, and gently pulled him towards her.

Gladly, he met her lips and drank in the sweetness of her taste. He caressed his palms around her face, where he left behind streaks of rain on her skin, and on her clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him taut, pressed against her.

Viktor took a breath and leaned against her face as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder. A pang gathered in his throat: not one of sadness, nor of the grief that had so despairingly plagued him the last week, but a pang of great and overwhelming emotion. Which emotion he could not clearly ascertain: happiness, relief, uncertainty and anxiousness of the future. It was akin to the peace and quiet calm that is only left behind after a storm. He felt a tear escape him, amidst the serenity inside of him. “What must I do,” he asked, his voice overcome with whelm and affection, “to bond with you, with the ritual of your people?”

Anya held him tighter with gratitude for his recognition, and moved to see his eyes: “You must find me a feather, and braid it into my hair.” 

The carnal intimacy of her sacred hair – to caress it, and comb it, to bring her pleasure with it, seldom occurred to him, but the thought was ardent and clear to him now. He stroked the side of her face, where the back of his hand graced against the edge of her mane; she emanated a quiet purr at his touch, and he relinquished his hand, flustered – though she had made no effort to pull away from him. He took her hand, instead, and kissed it once more.

Anya invited him inside, to warm himself by the fire; he sat on the couch where she had staked herself throughout the afternoon – books were still strewn across the salon, he chose one as he put his leg up onto an ottoman. Before he could protest, she poured him a hot cup of coffee of his own, and offered him a helping of sweet bread and fresh cheese.

“Thank you,” he said, and took the cup and plate.

“You forgot to eat again.”

“Bad habit,” he looked at her, diffident.

She raised a brow. “Which means you have also forgotten your medicine.”

Realization struck him, and he searched his pocket for his pill case. In the wave of ecstasy and emotion, he had not felt the pain in his back and hip, but as his mind anchored itself again, he felt it worm itself into the forefront of his attention.

Anya sat next to him, and leaned against him as he ate, and drank, and swallowed his pills. He looked at her, in the firelight – she was the beauty of a brilliant star, illuminated by the cosmos. He wrapped her in a blanket that was thrown behind them on the couch. He wondered, what life would be like thirty years thence, when he was frail, when he had even less to give her – nothing except the love he would always have for her. He saw his own future with her, as the fire danced across her: lenitive, contented, and a life in which he may always be free from fear. With her, Viktor felt safe. He always had. He always would.

[blogger360ncislarules]

The residents of Britain’s Yorkshire Dales are feeling the ramifications of World War II as Season 4 of All Creatures Great and Small picks up in 1940. The enchanting PBS series, based on the popular books by James Herriot, begins its new season with rural veterinarian James and his wife Helen (Nicholas Ralph and Rachel Shenton, above) a year into their marriage, wondering if the time is right to start a family, aware that any day he could be called to duty.

“In some ways, it feels like the exact reason why they should have a child,” says Shenton. “And in some ways, it’s the exact reason why they shouldn’t.”

For the actress, this new season is also the chance to show another side to her usually poised character, who moved away from the family farm after her wedding last season to take up residence at Skeldale House, where her husband lives and works.

“I think we see something different from Helen,” Shenton muses. “She’s good at being there for other people, and I think this is the first time that she’s needed a bit of help and had to say, ‘Actually, I’m not OK.’”

Like the rest of the Skeldale gang, Helen misses Tristan, who was called up to the Royal Army Veterinary Corps the previous Christmas. (His portrayer, Callum Woodhouse, doesn’t appear in this season’s seven episodes.) That leaves Tristan’s irascible brother Siegfried (Samuel West) and James overwhelmed at their practice and having to train book-smart student vet Richard Carmody (James Anthony-Rose), whose barn-side manner leaves something to be desired.

Siegfried also takes on an administrator, Miss Harbottle (Neve McIntosh), to try to get the practice in tip-top shape. She’s everything her name suggests. “What I quite like about that particular character and dynamic is that it breaks the house and unites the house,” Shenton previews.

As for the critters, a ferret with a lump, a lethargic tortoise, and a gas-passing dog all have appointments at Skeldale, where a couple of goats get Siegfried’s goat. Fortunately, for the actors they were pros. “They train the goats with food and sound,” Shenton explains. “There were these really loud horns, and then a shake of a food [container], and the goats would know to go to the next bit of their blocking.”

Another pro was a cute gray tabby named Humbug, who plays Oscar, a cat that shows up in the second half of the season and wins Helen’s heart. “He’s worked on sets since he was a very little kitten, so he’s used to being around people and he’s confident,” Shenton says. “He was super good and affectionate.”

One four-legged cast member missed some days because he needed a real veterinarian. Derek, the fluffy Pekingese furball who plays pampered pooch Tricki, had a health issue and this season split the role with a dog named Dora until he was able to return. (According to the folks at PBS, “Derek continues to be the ultimate professional and settled straight back into the business of filming.”)

In quieter moments, the friendship between Helen and housekeeper Mrs. Hall (Anna Madeley), who wants to divorce her absent husband, deepens. (Helen is still the only one at Skeldale House who addresses her by her first name, Audrey.) “That was probably one of my favorite strands,” Shenton says. “Anna and I are great friends off-camera, so it was really nice to have scenes with her.”

Madeley and Shenton also performed together on another project, a podcast drama called Gladstone Girls that Shenton wrote about pottery makers in the north of England fighting to be able to wear hair curlers to work on Fridays. The multitalented Shenton and her husband, Chris Overton, are already Academy Award winners for best live action short film, for The Silent Child in 2018.

As for the future of All Creatures, producers have yet to confirm whether there will be a fifth season but Shenton is hopeful. On a show where emotions are understated yet still deeply felt, she appreciates how truthful the series is to the time period and that part of the country.

“These are farmers. Nobody had time to be super emotional, you had to get on with it,” she says. “Often what’s nice is the things that aren’t being said. Your heart breaks sometimes because [characters] either can’t find the words or just don’t need to. They know it, you can feel it, and that’s always lovely.”

[worstutfanonthingpoll]

Hey babygirls, poll is on hiatus because I just got back from italy and i am so so so so so so so so so so very very tired.

Instead, have a list of all my Undertale Aus!

Fishdings

TECtale

Underswitch

Doki Doki Monster Club

Underflame

Blankstatale

Fishdings

If you don't know this one by now you have not been here long. Here's the link to the account:

TECtale

So you know the early fanon version of undertale? Evil Chara, OP Sans, UWU Papyrus? Yeah, that's kind of what it is.

Basically, Sans (a genius scientist, ofc) and Frisk (a nineteen year old girl and his gf) decide to banish The Evil Chara (TEC) to another universe. They succeed, but TEC resets the timeline as they do it.

TEC ends up in the canon UT universe, where she (gender up to interpretation) is reduced to an angry narrator. Like that one "what do you want" "souls of the unliving" "a bagel" "nooo" meme. She is still convinced she's making you kill everyone, and even if you only kill a single Froggit she will remain convinced it's bc she's controlling you. At the end of the pacifst run, you get this dialogue:

(Art by worst ut canon)

Meanwhile, Canon Chara was sent to the fanon universe. It is literally Hell. Their mother is hypersexualised, their brother is a tsundere, the child they follow around and narrate about how has boobs, and worst of all said child is convinced they're making her kill everyone!

Once Frisk gets to Snowdin (after killing everyone in the ruins) she warps off to Sans' house with the man himself, leaving Chara to explore the underground on their own. Strangely enough, the world seems to be... glitching out? Monsters will talk about how their heads feel foggy or how they don't even know why they hate Sans so much and then glitch into a loop of "I hate Sans I hate Sans I hate Sans"

Is it something to do with those garbage noises that seem to constantly be playing with the music? Hopefully Chara can find out... before it's too late.

Underswitch

Literally just a common or garden roleswap, nothing special. Swaps are as follows:

Toriel ~ Gaster (a white fire elemental here)

Asgore ~ Grillby

Sans ~ Napstablook

Papyrus ~ Alphys ~ Mad Mew Mew (three way swap)

Undyne ~ Mettaton

Frisk ~ Human from the first image in the prologue

Chara ~ That one alt design

Monster Kid ~ Heats Flamesman

Asriel ~ Fuku Fire

Burgerpants ~ So Sorry

All the Blooks are cat people and cousins.

Papyton real, is the date storyline.

Alphys was Timid Dummy, and then Rar Rar Scratchy Clawy, a violent anime dinosaur sk8er.

Metta is captain of the royal guard and has a ponytail. Maddy wants to join but he fears she will kill everyone accidentally due to her incredible violence.

Undyne has several violent tv shows and movies. You shoot her legs off first and she's like "who needs legs... with arms like these?!" and starts suplexing shit.

Napsta makes sick beats and has anxiety, but is great at pretending they don't. They are incredibly popular. They still live in constant fear.

Sans records stupid jokes and never lets people hear em. He and the other ghosts aren't related.

Speaking of that last point, Alphys and Undyne are exes. Undyne abandoned her and Sans for the Hollywood dream. They probably get back together post pacifist.

Heats Flamesman is a child. He likes Metta because everyone knows his name. He aspires to be like that some day.

Monster Kid wants you to believe in them. If you don't they will be traumatised. If you do, they will be so shocked you did, they will be traumatised anyway.

Doki Doki Monster Club

Co created with my good friends @sans-au-war-ii and @bestfictionaldivorce.

The girls (™) are:

So-Sorryori

Grillbyuri

Natsundyne

Mewnica

It's pretty damn obviously who's who. The only thing of relevance I can think of to mention is that Grillbyuri is obsessed with water (not knives) and instead of stabbing himself he pours water on himself. Instead of watching his corpse decay for three days, you watch him slowly evaporate over three days.

And everyone wears a skirt.

Art by sans au war!

Underflame

Epic Au where Frisk gets blasted by Toriel's fire magic and their soul's like "not today satan" and turns upside-down and Frisk becomes a fire monster.

Sansby real, and they adopt Frisk. They call them Dad and Also Dad. Fuku is their cousin now, and Heats Flamesman is their weird tiny uncle.

Anyway, worst ut canon wrote this oneshot for it read it right now pls

Blankstatale

First off, Blankstablook is an oc of mine of sorts. They're the ghost possessing the ruins dummy and they live there to avoid the sheer chaos that comes from living in the same vicinity of its cousins.

Anyway, resets don't exist and the player is the opposite of an alpha gamer and gets wiped out by the first Froggit they encounter after Toriel skedaddles. Blanksta feels bad for them (and for Toriel, she'll only blame herself) and so decides to possess them.

It ties the soul around their neck with Frisk's bandages, and proceeds. They do an awful job at pretending to be an alive child. It floats two feet off the ground the whole time, while the soul flails around trying to kill.

They also just generally act like an eldrich abomination and freak the shit out of everyone. Except their cousins. Who are just like "man, classic Blanksta"

Oh yeah and being a ghost they can't take damage which makes fights both very interesting and incredibly hilarious.

Heres Blanksta!Frisk:

(Art by me for once lol)

Yeah that's it really. Feel free to ask about any of the Aus in my askbox! Also I will take drawing prompts for them, as long as they're sfw :)

[cannibalistic-cucumber]

Okay so

For various reasons, Sonic Adventure (SA1) is among my dead favorite games. The two relevant to this rant are the characters and the gorgeous soundtrack (in fact, I might go on a tangent about individual songs at the end of this).

My favorite character in the game is E-102 “Gamma” (btw if you derail this post about Omega, you die), a robot built by Eggman, who runs on animal power, as Eggman’s robots usually do. However, Gamma contains a very special animal - it’s a surprise tool the will help us later. Five minutes into being born (and after training, ofc), he is forced to shoot his brother, E-101 “Beta”. Following this, he board’s Eggman’s ship (the Egg Carrier) and is tasked with catching the tailed frog. Upon collecting the frog, he is transported to the past, where he experiences childlike wonder at the chao. Back on the Egg Carrier, the rest of his siblings are cast out because of their failure to get the frog. After that, Gamma is sent to execute a prisoner. On the way, he makes a wrong turn and ends up in the machining room, where he experiences eldritch horror at the sight of his brother being disassembled and reassembled. In the prison, he finds Amy Rose, who has a blue bird flying around with her looking for its parents. She convinces him not to kill her a la Mindy Animaniacs, and protects Sonic out on the deck of the ship, further confusing Gamma. He leaves the crashing ship, now convinced to “rescue” his disowned brothers. After successfully disposing of them, he is ambushed on the Egg Carrier by Beta Mk II, who feigns death in order to shoot Gamma in the back, and they both die as a result. Lo and behold, Gamma and Beta contained the parents of the bird. Reunited, they fly off into the sunset.

TLDR: Gamma is Eggman robot who experiences eldritch horror and compassion and forsakes his master as a result. He “rescues” his siblings before dying himself, and the animal inside him reunites with its family.

Now, a little more background before we get to the main point. SEGA Sound Team popped off for this game. Each character has a theme song that plays during their respective recaps and end credits (each one has an entire storyline with slight variations on who does what (it’s all happening at once)). Side note: I’m like 70% sure SA1 is the origin of Knuckles jazz. It should also be noted that I have a youtube playlist of songs on queue for downloading, and when I run out of ideas I scroll through the recommended additions section.

E-102’s theme is in my top three favorite songs from SA1. You’ll never guess what it’s called! Theme of E-102γ. And that’s my first talking point. I was reading the comments on one of the music videos, and one of them made a connection that his theme doesn’t get a proper name because he’s just another cog in the machine. Even Big the Cat has a greater role in the main story than him. And yet, doomed by the narrative as he is, he gets his own story. As another comment pointed out, each story has its own (literary) theme: Sonic is Adventure, Tails is Independence, Knuckles is Recollection (I’m kinda iffy on that one), Amy is Protection, Big is Friendship, and Gamma? Gamma is heart and soul. Compassion. Morality, something that shouldn’t be possible, and definitely isn’t comprehensible for a robot, especially one of Eggman’s creation.

As a side tangent here, I’ve been putting rescued in quotes when it comes to Gamma and his brothers, but I realized something between the time I started writing this and now. The animals that drop from the E-series robots are birds. They’re all his brothers, inside and out. I had always assumed that Gamma had meant rescue only in the liberation sense. I never realized that he meant it both ways. I just… I’m need a moment.

As a side side tangent, I think this is one of the biggest differences between E-100 ZERO and the rest. To my knowledge, he didn’t have any animals, much less another bird, and that was what led him to the brutish oafishness that we see displayed by him.

Back to the main points, I think that all of this is reflected in the song. It starts out with all of the synth, vague vocals, electro, etc. that would be expected from the theme of a robot, and then you’ve got… PIANO. Oh my god the piano. Piano Man has its harmonica, and this song has its piano. In the midst of the circuits, the wires, the computers, there’s life, a heartbeat, a soul. And with the soul comes that twinge of sadness. Sure he freed the animals, but to do so, he had to kill his brothers with his own two (?)(does the gun count?) hands. Due to this and the cumulation of everything else, hearing the song (or the variation of it) during his final cutscene hits and hits hard.

THE REPRISE OF THE MAIN THEME PIANO AS HE DIES IN OBSCURITY. THE OTHER BIRDS ARE LIKELY THE ONLY ONES THAT END UP KNOWING ABOUT HIS DEATH

It’s okay I’m okay I’m so normal about this

Now that the main rant is over, it’s time for me to hoot about the other songs

Be Cool, Be Wild, Be Groovy …for Ice Cap

I get that it’s a snowboarding section, but still. THEY BOTHERED TO USE GUITAR IN A SNOW LEVEL. NAME ONE OTHER INSTANCE OF THAT THAT ISN’T LITTLE BIG PLANET’S THE WILDERNESS’S SITAR.

Limestone Cave …for Ice Cap

Ambience plain and simple. Good for falling asleep to

Snowy Mountain …for Ice Cap

Another ambience piece, this time with another guitar (no this doesn’t count for the challenge I posed above). Love the mix of electric and acoustic

Welcome To Station Square

“The train headed for the Mystic Ruins will be departing soon.” Came for the guitar, stayed for the trumpet.

Red Barrage Area …for Hot Shelter

SAX (shout outs to the rest of Hot Shelter’s music btw)

Militant Missionary … Boss Egg Walker & Egg Viper

Hopelessness, despair, DRAMA. Things may not have gone to plan, but Eggman is surely still the one in control.

And finally, shoutouts to Bad Taste Aquarium, Pleasure Castle, and Dilapidated Way for going full throttle right out the gate.

@green-mountain-goose @greetings-inferiors @cue-jay @kimu-dem

[voidsentprinces]

Haven't played 6.3 - 6.5 yet but I don't really care about getting spoiled because the Post-Patch always seems to be its own beast and only the last half of X.5 ever points to where were going next. And I gotta say, that I haven't really cared for the Thirteenth Shard shenanigans. Sure it gave us more void lore but like...we got the legion of Doom lead by Armored Lex Luthor. Who, just like Fandaniel, went on and on about the plan and how us defeating the fiends only furthered his plan and now that we defeated him his REAL plan is coming together and like...a villain going on and on about plans and how every move we make just feeds into their future plans is what got me to leave BFA and made me never touch Shadowlands and care more about levels 84 - 90 than 80 - 83. I kind of preferred it when a villain isn't skulking around and talking about their plans, you know?

Gaius was a fun interest cause there was an interest in the Primals and us for slaying them. But up until Ultima Weapon is revealed its just us ruining Old Man Baelsar's plans by unmasking his co-horts and he would of gotten away with it too if it wasn't for us meddling kids.

Heavensward takes us on an adventure to discover the true past of Ishgard with the over arching theme of not believing in vengeance or blind faith to uncover what is historically being hidden by those in power. But with Nidhogg slain half way through its little wonder Thordan is the enemy and we know what he's after, he's going to Azys Lla for some purpose and he wins the key because we lost the blessing of light back in ARR but we get it back and turns out he wants to turn into a Primal. He didn't go on and on about his plans he pretty much just threw a wrench into whatever we were doing or sent us out to distract us.

Zenos pretty much just lounged around like a bored house cat until we became the Warrior of Laser Pointers and then he took interest in us. Fordola and Yotsuyu fighting us out of sunk cost fallacy had more going for them than Zenos did and they didn't go on and on about a plan.

Emet-Selch was an antagonizing force but he only shows up at the beginning of Act II for the most part we're just running around slaying Lightwardens for the good of the First and Vauthry is just there to try and stop us. His end goal is just to stop us and we're trying to save the world. No one goes on and on about a "plan". Or how us defeating Lightwardens just furthers their plan. Emet wants to see if we're capable of handling all the light wardens light and be an unofficial but honorary Ascian in all but name. Vauthry just wants to stop us. Ran'jit wants to get Ryne back. And G'raha with us is trying to save the world and us at the cost of just his life. Fandaniel and Golbez are just standing around monologuing about everything going to cake (cake means keikaku which means plan) and they're like...REALLY boring. Ya know? I am MORE invested in how much of the animation budget goes into each Post Patch making a singular dish look like softcore porn for us. Than I am for whatever the fuck Golbez is doing.

Spoiler me away but you know...tag for people who don't want to be.

Yeeeeeah, thats it bitch...work the shaft.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

The Toon Wars 1930 to 1945 Off the Animation Table

As the Warner Brothers and Disney Studios slowly climbed up the ranks to being major Hollywood Icons, problems started arising

In 1930, the first known Toon victim of this violence would be found a background from Warner. These wars in the modern day are known as the Warner Disney fights,

And they got dirty both companies would even involve the mafia at times, background Toons of both Studios would go missing quite frequently some never being found and some being left permanently scarred, however it wasn't until 1937 that a rogue group from Warner would attempt to kidnap Huey Dewey and Louie Duck of Disney,

This is where Eddie and his brother would step in, the group from Warner was taken down and the boys retrieved before they were ransomed off or even worse,

Warner was definitely the more vicious of the two in 1940, accusing Goofy of being a part of the USSR, again Eddie and his brother would play the hero by following Goofy around and within months was able to tell the public that this was completely and utterly unfounded,

In 1943 though would be the first time Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse got into a brawl at an awards show Bugs was standing near Tex while Mickey was standing near Walt the mouse spotted the rabbit and immediately made a beeline and, both toons got into it, as Walt said

"He leaped snarling before I could grab his collar,"

These fights would randomly occur whenever Mickey spotted the rabbit it only took 2 years after that for it to come to a head when Wil E Coyote and Daffy Duck were found with literal battle plans, Donald and a few other Disney's we're also found planning an actual assault on the Warner Studio Lot

At this point the United States government got fed up because it was right after World War II so they were done absolutely done with the violence between these two Studios

So how did they solve it?

They tossed everybody into a court mandated summer camp where people and Toons could fight bicker and argue if they wanted however murder was now officially taken off the table,

Needless to say, the cat fights between Mickey and Bugs were bad the first few days, but it got old real quick and begrudgingly they became friends,

Nobody knows the exact count of how many Toons actually were killed due to these fights but some numbers have it in the literal thousands, these were the days that Tunes who were not Mainstays were seen as expendable and able to just be reanimated repeatedly,

[oflofticries]

( mint ranchrawee , non-binary , she/they ) — as the demons pour out of the sea MAKARIA makes their way to the shore, a four hundred year old creature who appears twenty-five. here with their feet planted on cynefin’s soil, it is images of the bitter chill of ocean waters and the darkness that envelops their depths; sticking your tongue out to catch fat raindrops that fall from the sky; laughing without abandon, showing all of your (sharp, pointed) teeth; bombarding someone with questions of things you do not know and wish to learn; being unleashed and released - finally that flood the minds they touch. some may even say that they are talkative and curious, but it matters little that they are untied by a sorcerer’s contract — they remain unabashedly chaotic and inexperienced. beware, for demons are never truly kind. ╱ eliza, thirty3, she/her, cst.

i. basics FULL NAME: makaria. NICKNAMES: mak, aria. AGE / D.O.B.: four hundred (25) / unknown. GENDER / PRONOUNS: non-binary / she & they. ORIENTATIONS: unknown. MARITAL STATUS: single. OCCUPATION: nuisance. HOMETOWN: the sea? hell? who knows, really. RESIDENCE: lurking about cynefin, attempting to find a place to land.

ii. physical EYE COLOR: brown. HAIR COLOR: black. HEIGHT: 5 ft even. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: teeth that are pointed and razor sharp. long black hair they like to keep dangling down their back. tiny figure that doesn't resemble the height of their actual form. an innocent face with which they can gain sympathy points despite what they are. FASHION STYLE: she doesn't have a style as of yet - however, when the time comes, they will be more than excited to don new types of clothing to see what they like wearing.

iii. psychological POSITIVE TRAITS: curious, adventurous, sociable, engaging, persuasive, (mostly) fearless. NEGATIVE TRAITS: fickle, childish, relentless, dramatic, erratic, tactless. MBTI TYPE: enfp. TEMPERAMENT: sanguine. EDUCATION: none as far as the human nature would be concerned. she doesn't know how to read nor write. SKILLS: none that would be considered useful for human practices. she's willing to learn, though. MAGIC: demon abilities, of which hers lean toward mental manipulation and making the victim see and hear what is not there. more information down below.

iv. familial MOTHER: unknown. FATHER: unknown. SIBLINGS: unknown. CHILDREN: none. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none.

v. summary a chaos gremlin who is ecstatic to be here. vi. headcanons i. makaria's relatively young for a demon or familiar, all things considered. because of this, they'll likely be seen as inexperienced, and probably have been in the past. it doesn't help that makaria genuinely doesn't know much of anything about the human world and is learning as they go along. ii. she has had two separate contracts before when she was much younger that both lasted... well, not a long time, leading to questions of her capabilities as a familiar. they only claim that it's not their fault humans are so keen to heed the call of the grave. the contracts occurred quite a long time ago, and as such, they have absolutely no interest in being tied to another one and wish to be here in the human world for themselves, not for linking their magic with someone else's. she will avoid a contract at almost any cost. iii. makaria will choose various small animals to appear as - a cat who stretches with full claws out, a squirrel who watches you from high above, a butterfly floating past. however, their current form has become their favorite through trial and error and they are loathe to appear as anything but the way they have chosen, at least in terms of other faces and human-like looks. iv. as talkative as she is, chances are makaria will not speak much about where she comes from, or will choose a convincing lie. the gist of their existence in the sea is quite the opposite of everything they tend to be drawn to - teasing, company, laughter. they hate being alone, and sticking to shadows is not their preferred method of being. v. they are VERY claustrophobic and despite seeing well in the dark, hate the pitch blackness of, well, the depths of the sea or a night where the moon is hidden behind the clouds. vi. being a demon, they aren't exactly forward thinking or caring when it comes to a human's life. there may not always be some trickiness or ulterior motive in the things they say or do, but their very nature is chaos and they are often ruled by extreme boredom and the want to learn. they are a laughing, smiling, chipper creature - or a fickle, feral, hissing entity. it simply depends on you as to which comes out. untrue, actually. it depends on her mood and whether she's restless enough to do something just to cause trouble or wants to get her way. but it also depends on you sometimes. so be wary. vii. magic abilities i. demon physiology - enhanced strength and regenerative abilities. in their demonic form, they have wings that can sprout for flight. they have the capacity for living a very long time, though makaria isn't quite sure how old she is exactly. ii. contracts - the very word makes her want to spit, but this is part of the nature of being a demon. her abilities and magic are her own and she doesn't see the point in latching herself onto someone in this manner ever again, no matter the rewards. iii. shapeshifting - makaria can transform into other creatures and shift their features to appear as another human, though they prefer the former and are quite attached to 'their' face. iv. dream manipulation - the ability to creep into someone's dreams/nightmares and alter them. she has to have a connection to the person to be able to do this and is rarely able to actually produce a dream or nightmare and implant it into someone's mind, only shape the way a current one is going. v. illusions - the ability to create hallucinations, making people see something that is not or should not be there. whether used to drive an individual insane or show creations that come from her own head, there are a variety of ways this can be utilized. vi. telepathy - makaria can push thoughts into another person's head, though this is not the strongest of their powers and usually results in something as short as a sentence. vii. emotion heightening - amplifying the emotions around them, causing sadness or fear or happiness. viii. telekinesis - the ability to move objects without physically interacting with them. perfect for pretending to be a ghost!

viii. wanted connections literally anything. seriously. people to teach her about the world, people she fucks with, people who maybe want a contract.