#radia post

[newvillainontheblock]

⚠️Forgive me for being behind considering recent events, but what the fuck happened and why is Scoundrel in a hospital?

[jazz-kitty]

the

[pmrashford]

Me tomorrow watching the video United is currently working on of all of Rashy’s goals for his birthday

[1m-dirty-dan]

yes i still play the sims

[skillz-vs-viddy-games]

New outfit!!!!! Love her.

[foodsies4me]

March Malec fic rec!

A very big thank you to @just-add-butter for this month's suggestion: Animal transformations! As usual, I'm keeping it to one fic per author, bust several of these authors have multiple fics that apply and even more fics that are wonderful. And, if you want to add you own recs in the replies, tags or reblogs please feel free to do so! (Also if someone has a theme for April please tell me so I can get that list out a bit sooner than at the very end of the month, lol)

I have tagged the authors whose Tumblr account I know, but if you'd prefer I not tag you, please tell me so! I don't want these to be annoying for the authors.

One-shots:

Hop into my arms by @malecfan09: Magnus gets turned into a bunny and it's adorable, what more do you want me to say? This is just fluff, fluff and more fluff.

Summary

Magnus has been magically turned into a bunny by a rogue warlock and Alec looks after him until the spell wears off. *** Flufftober 2023: Day 18 - protecting and Day 20- reading together

Shake Your Fetters Loose by Dreadwyrms: Alec gets turned into a dog and Magnus is NOT a dog person. Post canon with married Malec and again lots of fluff.

Summary:

An investigation into a rogue warlock goes very, very wrong, and Magnus learns he’ll never ever really be a dog person. AKA the one in which Alec accidentally gets turned into a dog.

Everybody (does not) want to be a cat by Falazure: One of the many, many Magnus or Alec get turned into a cat fics on this list.

Summary:

Magnus has suffered worse things in his long life, but being turned into a cat was still up-there on the list of rather annoying inconveniences.

Deepest desires (give in) by @myulalie: Another kitty Magnus fic based on a drawing by @misawkward.

Summary:

Were-cats are good luck by shadowhunters' standards, so when a black, jewelry covered cat appears at the Institute, Alec pays him his respects. He needs it, considering the messes Clary and Jace keep dragging him in. Alec certainly doesn't expect the were-cat to take a liking to him, and even less to start flirting with him...

the catastrophe of success by @alexanderlightweight: A personal favourite Magnus cat fic of mine!

Summary:

Magnus Bane was the most eligible bachelor in the Downworld, sought after by everyone from mundanes to Seelie Princes but a man tired after centuries of heartbreak. In an attempt to gain a respite from his admirers, Magnus proposed a deal. A key to his loft and a path through his wards guarded by his cat, if anyone managed to take the key, Magnus would grant them a date.

Multi-chapter fics or series:

The dragon!Alec series by @to-the-stars-writing, who is perhaps the queen of the dragon Alec fics. I have read and reread every single one of them.

Summary of Building a Clan (aka part one in this series)

Keeping secrets was never easy. Alec should know – he was keeping quite a few. Sometimes it was hard to remember who knew what secrets. The chance of slipping up, the damage that could cause, was unthinkable. There were too many things about himself that he couldn’t let just anyone know. Too many things that marked him as wrong or different, even if he didn’t understand why sometimes. His family were the only ones to know his biggest secret, one that could get him killed if he wasn’t careful. Bad enough that his parents had once been a part of the Circle and extremely close to Valentine himself. If any Shadowhunters – or, Angel forbid, the Clave – ever found out that Maryse had allowed Valentine to inject her with something, mixing what she’d been told was more Angel blood with her unborn child, the ramifications could be catastrophic for their family. More so if they ever found out it wasn’t Angel blood that he’d injected the fetus with. It was dragon blood.

The Warlock's Cat by @dreaming-marchling, which I already put on my end-of-the-year rec list, but it deserves to be here again because So Good. Kitty Alec fic!

Summary

Pain raced up his arm. It was a sharp throb that radiated out. More than a broken bone. When Alec went to flex his hand to see how bad it was he couldn’t. His eyes snapped to his own hand and there was no hand. There was no him. By the Angel… Alec scrambled up on uncoordinated legs – too many legs! – that trembled underneath him. He panted and looked down at himself as best he could. Dark fur. Two paws, one still scorching with pain. The ground not even a foot below him even though he was standing as tall as he could. Reality was screaming at him and Alec couldn’t accept it. His brain couldn’t wrap itself around what was in front of him. That bastard had turned him into a cat.

Shoelaces and Precious Metals by @violet-renegade: Another dragon!Alec fic that is angsty and sweet and just a very nice read.

Summary

Magnus loves Alexander, his proud dragon Shadowhunter, and he knows that Shadowhunters don't display their relationships with collars the way Downworlders do. Magnus always thought he understood what that meant for him and Alec. As it turns out, Magnus didn't understand at all In the early months of their relationship, Alec had let himself wonder about what kind of collar Magnus might offer him. Sometimes, he'd even indulge in the thought that Magnus would coordinate Alec’s collars with his own outfit, marking it clear who Alec belonged to every time they went out. And then Magnus doesn't ask. And doesn't ask. And doesn't ask.

Hearth and Home by @molly_jae: And another Dragon!Alec fic. Yes there are a lot of dragon fics!

Summary of Ichor and Cuddles which is the first part in this two-part series:

“Alexander, I love you,” Magnus sighs, throwing his head back with a thud against the hardwood floor. “But unlike your lovely scales, ichor does not just slide off my limited edition Marc Jacobs jacket, or these pants you love to see my ass in.”

The Warlock's Familiar by @harkasun: Another cat!Alec fic!

Summary:

For over five years, Alec Lightwood has been denied his birth right: that of a familiar to be claimed by a warlock. When he finally finds that warlock, having talked him down from the ledge of Brooklyn Bridge, he despairs to find that the man wants nothing to do with him. With rising pressures from his family, and his warlock’s steadfast determination to shut him out, Alec must talk his way into Magnus’s home and heart. The only question is: how far will he go to claim his fate?

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Tron-spiration: the otherworldly fashion of Erté

So, seeing as people enjoyed my post about the influence of Tron 1982 on Alexander McQueen, I figured I should do some more posts about costume history and Tron.

So...

Erté.

Even if you are unfamiliar with the man, you have almost certainly been exposed to his art in some way or other. The work of graphic artist and designer Romain de Tirtoff, known by the French pronunciation of his initials "R T", left an indelible mark on our perception of the 1920s Art Deco period.

I happen to think it also left a mark on the costuming of the Tron 1982 movie, be it less directly.

Let me illustrate:

(This one may just be my favorite example, actually. Many thanks -or perhaps apologies- to @greetingsprogram1982 for putting this datapusher lady on my dash and sparking this post!)

Now, there are more parallels to be drawn (see below), but I don't think the work of Erté was necessarily a direct influence on Tron.

Rather, I feel like Erté often drew characters and costumes that wouldn't feel out of place decked out in circuits on the ENCOM system, with their graphic lines, sweeping drapery and extravagant headdresses. Mostly designed for the stage, Erté's fashion embodies a sense of being intended for another dimension entirely. His work is a visual fantasy of a different world; graphic, luscious, permissive, and dripping in the technological optimism of Art Deco and the 1920s. And well... isn't that a mindset quite close to the vibe of Tron?

In other words, I can easily see cultural osmosis pulling the 1982 concept artists to similar stylistic ideas...

Now, I realize most of the examples I have shown are fairly muted in color, which was not a deliberate choice! Erté has more to offer than that. Tell me honestly that you can't see some ENCOM system Datapushers rocking these outfits:

And to round it out... the later Tron media leaned away from the 1982 style that so echoed Erté and the fashion of the Art Deco to me, but there is something left of it...

(Somehow, I always end these posts with Radia? But well, fair is fair, she is the only modern Tron character who'd fit in an Erté illustration xD)

Anyway, if you enjoyed this, there's a pretty good collection of a lot of Erté's graphic work online here, and this auction website still shows a number of the costumes that were made to his design (a few of which I featured).

[quorras]

See Her Out (That's Just Life) — Fictober 2023

Or, in which Quorra and Flynn try to survive.

Quorra & Kevin Flynn Mature | Chapter 1/7 (WIP) | 676 words Post-TRON: Evolution (SPOILERS) | Canon Compliant | Father-Daughter Relationship | Angst | Hopeful Ending | Grief/Mourning [ READ ON AO3 ]

Ch. 1: #2 — “Don't worry, I got you.”

It’s over, is all she thinks when she feels her knees give under her. Quorra hits the ground and she’s sure she’s out of power.

After what felt like cycles of aimlessly wandering away from the Recogniser wreck, the Outlands around her have long since turned into a blur of unfamiliar dark rock and storm clouds. It should not be alien to her— if anything, it should be a comfort to know it’s where she, all the ISOs, emerged from. 

It’s not. 

But Quorra wonders if it’s worth spending her last bit of power being existential at all. She can feel it ticking away, her circuits beginning to dim and pulse unevenly.

Still, she thinks, maybe it’s fitting that she gets a chance to derezz on the land she came from. (Something no one else she knew, not even Radia, not even Jalen, had the chance for.)

It’s with that grim thought pounding at her temple, Quorra lets her eyes fall shut. Her energy will run out, eventually. That’s the only certainty she knows.

Quorra can hear the distant rumble of an approaching storm. She can feel the tips of her fingers losing sense, though her palms dig into the grit under her as the ground shakes with the thunder. It’s almost… pleasant, she tries to tell herself, even as her awareness doesn’t like being weak, helpless, and waiting.

Then, her awareness catches on something. On someone.

Quorra can feel the User before he sees him, his energy still thrumming life into the environment around them. She slowly cracks an eye open.

Flynn is crouched on the ground in front of her, with a slight smile hidden by the dark cloak he’s wrapped himself in. He holds a hand out.

“Come with me,” Flynn says, like it’s the simplest thing. “Quorra.”

The User’s hand then barely brushes her shoulder, and it’s flooding back— energy, right from the source. It’s searing, Quorra jolts and coughs at the shock. 

“Ah, shit,” Flynn grips her shoulders more firmly as her circuits flare an unfiltered electric blue. 

Quorra doesn’t even hear it over the rush of the events of the past couple cycles. The Installation Ceremony, and have you seen Jalen?, and oh, Users, the virus… and Clu… Tron… Anon… Hyperawareness of every single one of her voxels makes her want to sob— and she probably already is, with the way Flynn hastily shifts to hold her closer.

She grasps at the User’s robe, and weeps unabashedly.

Flynn hesitates before feeling more sure in holding her back, shushing her gently. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He sounds unconvinced by his own words. 

Time passes, Quorra’s still unsure how much, spent silently crying until her head starts hurting all over again. Flynn holds her even when she feels her sobs subsiding, only moving away to wipe at her cheeks.

Quorra scowls, “I’m going to kill him.”

Flynn raises a brow. “Clu? Would you stoop to his level like that?”

And… Quorra doesn’t know how to respond to that. She must hesitate too long because Flynn’s expression grows gentle. Gentle in the way that hides great melancholy. He gets up slowly, hand braced at his back. Flynn extends his hand to Quorra, “Come on, let’s get out of here before they send someone to survey the wreck.”

Quorra takes his hand and rises. “I’ve got a place in the Outlands Clu doesn’t know I had built,” Flynn says, bracing Quorra with an arm, “We’ll be safe there.”

She throws a look over their shoulders to where Anon’s voxels have already started to get reabsorbed into the grid-bedrock below.

“Don’t worry,” Flynn says, already stepping forward, deeper into the uncharted land, “I’ve got you. We’ll be okay.”

It feels like betrayal, for Quorra to believe they’ll be okay when everyone else who’s ever mattered in her runtime is gone. Gone, and yet she’s still here.

But Flynn keeps walking, and Quorra’s feet step one at a time, forward and forward.

This, Quorra thinks, is survival. Even when it does not feel deserved.

_ _ _

For Fictober Day #2 — “Don't worry, I got you.”

[veggieblt]

7/8-7/14 FIVETAIL RETURNS!

Monday: Time to cry! @partydemoness told me to play a funny game called 'Everybody's Gone To The Rapture' and when I asked if it was sad she laughed very hard. This might hurt. 6:00 PM

Tuesday: P'JORKCHOP WIDEBOD AND C'RANBERRY MINT ADVENTURE THROUGH EORZIA! More FF XIV with Min as we continue post-Peakblood! 3:00 PM

Thursday: ALAN! WAKE UP! Alan is still trapped in a house under a lake and we gotta save private Alan Wake or something I dunno. ALSO @fivetail COMES BACK TO STREAMING THIS DAY SO EVERYONE NEEDS TO WELCOME THEM BACK. 6:00 PM

Friday: Hangin out with Radia! Talks of Halo shenanigans maybe? Possibly? I miss you warthog chan 1:00 PM Followed by more Alan Wake 2! 6:00 PM

Saturday: NEW COMPUTER NOW! You guys funded Five's new tower, which means they're continuing Honkai Star Rail against their will! Something about 'Starting Penacony' 3:00 PM

Sunday: Bad Game Bingo 4:00 PM Straight into more FF XIV with Min!

[faggot-stuck]

[ID: a digital illustration of Aradia Megido. One hand is held up and waving at the camera, while the other is on his hip. She has short black hair and curled horns. They're wearing a black shirt with a rust colored aries symbol on it, a rust belt, and grey jeans with three red buttons. His eyes are closed and her mouth is open in a smile. End Id.]

big radia fan

please use any pronouns for aradia on this post!! it is genderfluid :)

[newvillainontheblock]

Oh....Oh dear..

I don't like looking into people's stuff without their permission, but with Scoundrel's state, I thought it might be a good idea.

This is what I found.

[Insert images of all the screenshots from the offscreen post relating to Scoundrel being messaged/called by her mother who found out about the Pokemart situation and was trying to get her home]

I believe there is more to this...but I don't know what to do...

[commander-spaceboy]

Omg look guys Radia!!! (Im gonna pretend that i posted him like a month ago when i drew him)

He’s an all electric passenger train! N thats like the extent that I’ve thought about what he is jdjfndkskdkkw.

He isnt as big as some of the other engines he know (aka hes short,,, little man), but he still pulls the same weight that any other electric engine would pull cause hes strong!! Also his chest glows!! N I’m sure if he took off more of his work/racing gear more of him would glow.

Hes not like super into racing, hes more there to support the people who are actually racing than anything.

[pmrashford]

My gf says that she looks better than “any man ever in the life of the world”

[dhmisfour]

What’s the inspiration for some of your oc’s? Or did you just make all of them? 🙂

ah i can explain for my main ones ive posted!!

thunder - i kinda made him when i was like. 8. he lookd VERY different but he has no inspiration i just made him up LMAO. his backstory however is heavily inspired by project MKUltra!

boffy - kind of obvious from the name but he was my old design for the mcyt boffy. i kind of just. reused it since he left YT LOL

stadient - believe it or not he used to be a fanchild of unstable_day and radiant_day from the days union roblox myth. his full name (stadient day) is literally unstable + radiant (unSTAble + raDIA(e)NT).. i was so cringe

mizu - i made her up also LOL i rlly dont know how i came up w her

pierre - they are literally just my roblox avatar copy and pasted.. their name (coopierre schulz) comes from the youtuber cscoop (he used to set his among us name to coopierre and his surname is schulz)

korsa - they used to be my among us avatar.......... he used to be a ram but hes a lynx now i dont know what happened <3 but the detective aspect of them was always there :33

[skillz-vs-viddy-games]

Dork Knight Photoshoot with cool new sword I just got

[radia-chronicles]

Radia at Night.

So I wanted to start with a snippet about Radia itself, because I don't think I can portray the love I feel for this story with my first post better than that and I really want anyone who reads this to feel the setting like I feel it when I think of this place.

Thanks for stopping by!

The street is empty and desolate after the bus pulls away behind you, leaving you alone on the empty main road of Radia. A sharp wind cuts through you as it sends the illegible street sign wailing on broken hinges. When you look up to the sky you see the half moon peeking through lacey clouds. It's going to be a cold night and you've got nowhere to go so you set off at a brisk pace down the damp old cobbled road. Walking helps warm your stiff legs as you rub your hands together, hoping to spark a fire between your palms before using your breath to warm the numbing tips of your fingers. 

Although the night is dark the small buildings that line the main road have flickers of life you can see through wavy glass windows. After walking for a few minutes you're stopped by the sudden sound of raucous laughter pouring from the open door of a small building ahead that had the looks of an old tavern. It was tall and slightly crooked, like most of the buildings down the old road, but it was the mostly lively place you had seen so far. There's chipped paint that may have once held color adorning the windows and doors, but the wooden pillars that made the wide patio were as old and tired as the hand laid stones beneath your feet. The entire building and those surrounding it seemed to be the forgotten past of Radia. Beyond the tavern you could see the old road as it turns to asphalt as it leads through more of the lower city until disappearing among the tall buildings in the center of the modern metropolis ahead. It's curious that the bus dropped you so far from the station which should be closer to the center of Radia, but you have little time to think on it as the smell of warm pies and hot cider wafts out of the inviting glow emanating from the charming inn. Looking at it again you wonder why you thought it looked so run down, the paint is old but now that you've moved closer you can see the patterns of vines twisting around themselves to decorate the clear windows which showed a bright, clean, dining area and bar inside. 

A man leaned in the doorway with a warm smile on his face, watching the livery inside. While you're approaching he turns towards you, as his face turns away from the light inside you see a pair of giant beet red horns curving atop his square head with the tips resting on the soft blonde hair curling at his temples. His smile once soft and easy turned wicked and sharp, locking his burning orange eyes to yours. 

You blink in surprise, but when your vision clears again you see he's wearing a wide brimmed hat and not horns atop his head. His eyes were deep amber, not orange and terrible, but his smile wavered a little as he saw the confusion in your expression. 

He cocks his head to the side before the smile finds its place again and waves his arm in a beckoning fashion at you, "Comin' in?" He hollered even though you were only a few feet away, "It's a cold one tonight," he added in a booming voice that echoed down the street. 

You took a moment to look at the well lit city ahead which was still quite far. It would be too late to get a room at a hotel if you could even make it that far walking, but something about this side of the city gave you pause, there was an aching pit forming in your chest as you realized how empty the street really is. 

The man in the doorway poked at the indecision he could see in your posture while pondering the road beyond, "We've got warm home spiced cider on special and I think Bas just finished up a meat pie with her famous flakey crust."

At that moment your stomach gave a loud grumble and the man laughed, a sound like deep bells that rang through you.

"Your stomach agrees with you, young one! You can walk into the city on the morrow, drink with us tonight." He beckoned, his voice sweet as honey on your ears. Washing away the doubt in a thick layer of sweet, he turned and joined the patrons inside for what sounded like an old drinking song. The laughter and sounds of light conversation was as alluring as water in a desert on this cold night. 

Shaking the daunting image from before out of your mind, return his smile and head towards the bustling inn. You don’t think of how the man’s speech was out of date and awkward, you don’t even see the hooved feet he wasn’t able to disguise fully with his glamour as you walk past him into the bustling room. 

The air in the tavern seemed to weigh down your lungs while you walked into a room of strikingly unusual people. Your eyes are drawn all across the room in what seems like frozen time when the entire room stops to face you. With shaking legs and the hulking man behind you, nudging you further into the room from the door you weave through the tables of the dining area. There was a woman sitting at a large wooden table nearby wearing an elegant nightgown of purest black, hugging her down to midcalf before spilling onto the ground in a puddle of lace. Through the sheer curtain you could see strappy heels so sharp you wondered how she could walk in them. She was watching you cross with a curious expression with eyes were blacker than coal as she swept her gaze up and down you while you passed by. A woman with her hair worn in an intricate head covering next to her leaned across the small gap between them to whisper in her ear. They curved together conspiratorially giggling until you had finally passed them. There were people dressed in head to toe coverings, while others wore unusually formal outfits from ancient eras across the world. In the back corner shrouded in darkness was a pair of piercing green eyes following your route to the bar. 

As you pass by a table playing cards the entire group stops their game to sniff the air as you accidentally brush against the jacket of a burley woman with tattoos on her face. She growled low, making your heart thrum against your chest like a trapped bird. Someone at a nearby table smacks the head of one closest to him and whispers something harshly at the group in a language you couldn’t quite pick up. They picked up their cards again as you pick up the pace and finally get to the counter where the bartender seems to have been waiting for you at the center in front of an empty barstool. She shot a look at the large man sitting in the seat next to it and he sighed before gathering his drink to move over one more so you have an empty seat on each side. 

“Sorry about the crowd here,” she said with a kind smile, giving the dining room a significant look, you hear the bustle finally pick back up behind you as they seemingly got the message, “We don’t get many out of towners around here.”

She waved the words away before you could even say them, sending her short hair bouncing around her head. It's such a deep brown it seems to glow red in the lamplight as she tosses her head back with a grin. 

“That backpack looks big enough to carry me and it doesn’t look like the only thing that’s weighing those shoulders down, my friend.” as she spoke she was grabbing a glass and a cocktail shaker with one hand and various colored bottles with the other. “Now toss that thing down and take a seat, here,” she nodded at the seat in front of her while tipping the bottles upside down into the shaker with one hand.

She was right, she probably could fit into the pack you’ve been carrying as she was probably only just over five feet tall and you did put your entire life it before getting on that bus. The bartender kept on bustling along, filling trays for the server who swept past you in a flurry of white fluffy hair as she ran orders around the dining room. Your bag was getting heavier by the second so you finally ease the straps off your shoulders before settling on the worn wooden barstool. 

The bartender popped back up in front of you the moment you sat down, her deep russet skin drank in the flickering candle-light that shone from the wrought iron chandelier above. 

Wait, weren't they light-bulbs earlier? 

You look back at the dark chandelier and see clear bright bulbs shining down among the maze of twisting bars. You begin to feel an ache forming behind your eyes as you think hard trying to remember what you saw.

 “So,” the bartender said, breaking the train of thought. Her slender eyebrow arched when you looked back at her with a start. 

“You alright there? You must be exhausted from your travels, we’ll get you set up with a room alright?” she motioned to the server and mumbled something to her out of ear shot and before you could even blink she’s back in front of you. 

“Sorry about that, I was telling Cat to get a room prepped for you. The bus dropped you down here in the dead of night rather than go all the way to the city didn’t it?” 

You nod, the ache seemingly gone from your head thankfully as you look at the bartender for the first time. Her hair is short, but curled slightly at the ends making them bounce with each step she took. Her eyes are a light hazel like autumn leaves that pull your gaze like a magnet, it’s hard not to lean forward too much as her attention leaves you breathless for the moment. 

She spoke again and you could feel the air break in your lungs, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. 

“Pah! Lazy drivers, I swear people get lost here all the time because of it." She wiped her hands with a rag, looking off into nowhere before she snapped back, "Well I won’t ask you what brings you to Radia. Gods know this place was built on a tomb and forgotten about. All sorts of dark things happen here..” she started to make another drink as she spoke, this one in a tall glass using some sort of green liquor and fizzy water. Your eyes followed her movements as she talked in a low tone. Her words forming a daunting knot in your stomach, “You may not know it, but this is a dangerous city. Do you know how many people have gone missing in this place?" Her smile grew wider and she gave the shaker a final SLAM on the counter, you watch paralyzed by a fear you know was given to you for a reason. 

She continued finally, her voice low, while gently pouring the green fizzing cocktail into a tall clear glass, "But people just keep on coming don't they." You see a little regret in her eyes before it's gone and the playful light returns. 

She plops a cherry in the lime green foam that gathered atop top liquid, nearly spilling the contents over before sliding the drink across the space between you. She shook her head at you as you darted for your wallet, hoping to end the interaction as quickly as possible. 

"Now, now, none of that. We'll settle up later, enjoy the drink." Her wink sends a jolt down your spine and she's off again to help someone on the other end of the bar.

With nothing left to do and the feeling of eyes prickling on the back of your neck you take a tentative sip of the cocktail. Despite it smelling like oven cleaner, it surprisingly doesn't taste alcoholic at all. It's like fresh cut grass and floral mint before ending with a slightly sweet berry taste. After a few more healthy swallows you begin to feel pleasantly light headed, the room shifts and so do the people in it. 

How much time has passed? It's hard to say as you sit in the stool at the now rowdy bar, has the drink been refilling itself? You attempt to pondered that thought as it slid from your mind as quickly as it came. Were you supposed to be leaving? No no no, there's still drink in your glass, you take another swallow and look around. 

There were two men dancing by the music box, their movements slow and hypnotizing against the dissonant chords. 

What kind of music is that? It sounds like wailing pipes and broken violin strings being grinded into dust to you, but after a few more sips you hear the chords from some pop song thats been on the radio a few times. You shrug the thought off and return to the brimming drink in your hand. 

A few people brush by behind you, ghostly fingers trailing fire along the back of your neck as they slide through the crowded taproom. You snap back to look at who it was, but nobody's there. 

As you're looking behind you the dark corner catches your eye again, but instead of smokey blackness you see a woman with a large mane of purple hair watching you with the same piercing emerald eyes. There was a smile playing at the edge of her lips as she lifts her glass up towards you with a small bow to her head. Confused, you raise your drink, with your hand only trembling slightly, back towards her with a nod. An overly wide grin nearly cracked her face in half before she tipped her glass over, dumping the contents across the table in front of her laughing like a deranged clown. Her eyes shifted from deep green to a violent ochre like a fire eating the forest. 

You quickly swivel back to the bar, trying to ignore the roaring laughter growing behind you. Someone passing by joins the laughter while slapping you on the back with such force you're sent spilling into the counter, breaking the glass against the old grained wood as you desperately try to unlock your chest from the force of it. Your eyes were glued to the green fizzing liquid as it seeped into the bar, focusing on breathing in and out. 

"Don't mind her," the bartender's voice seemed to help slow the frantic beating of your heart. The breaths came easier but your head was still swimming from the drink. 

"She's a lot nicer than she looks," her hazel eyes flicked to the back corner, raising her voice enough to be heard, "Even though SHE'S BAT SHIT CRAZY." Almost yelling the last bit, her face drawn in mock surprise at being overheard. Or at least you assume the purple haired woman heard by the change in her laugh from high pitched, to a deep genuine chuckle before trailing off into, "La-de daw daw daaaaaaaaaaa." And finally silence from behind you. 

When you finally look back up at the small red haired woman you can feel a weight to her gaze. 

"Look, friend," She said in a lower voice to you, "You look tired, let's get you to bed huh? Cat's got your room ready." 

As she spoke she was leaning over the counter further and further, her voice almost a whisper now, almost touching her tawny nose to yours. 

"I hope you know what kind of place you're in now." Her breath was hot against your face, but smelled slightly of campfires and fresh water, "Tomorrow, you leave Radia. Never come back." Her eyes were alit with a fire making them burn with yellow intensity, "This place is the playground of Daemon's and God's. The humans here are hardened, but never safe. Leave this place on the morrow," She whispered, your vision was fading at the edges in a black fog. 

"This city is a graveyard for humans like you, but you'd be lucky to stay dead here." 

The last word trailed through your mind as you descend into a black sleep. You feel hands upon your head, a delicate touch on your forehead lowering you down into rest. 

When you awake you're lying in the center of what was once the bustling dining room of the inn, but a layer of dust lay thick upon the furniture. Some pieces are knocked over with webs of time built on them and no footprints on the grimy floor, but your own. The only clean spot was your seat at the counter, you stare at the remains of the glass you broke on the counter. It was gray with age and not a fleck of moisture on it. 

Your eyes trail up the shelves that were not empty of liquor until you see a sign you didn't notice last night. It was old, but cleaner than everything around it, with "Charon's Coin Inn" painted in bold black letters. A chill ran down your spine as you read the name of the ferryman to the Underworld. She told you to run, but something within you kindled at the thought of staying. 

Tentatively you reach into your pocket to pull out a silver coin. With your eyes trained on the sign, and your hand only slightly trembling, you slap the coin on the counter with an open palm. 

The clank of the coin reverberating in the empty room is the last thing you hear, save for the high pitched laughter of the woman in the corner before the floor falls from beneath you.