Human designs for my DnD pirate crew, the Patron's Portent! I have this uncanny talent (or habit) of drawing men who look like lesbians, sorry everyone (or congrats)
I know a few of my moots are plural so do you guys have any tips or advice on writing a character to be plural? I want Ignatius from my book series to find out he’s plural throughout the books but want to make sure I’m doing it properly and correctly unlike 99% of all other media.
a few days ago i started a fic about nobody and maledict as kids and ive finally finished it <3
i hope u enjoy
(google doc link)
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Thump thump thump CRASH–
Volare watched out of the corner of his eye as the white-haired troll bounded across the leafy forest floor after something, occasionally plowing into trees and then hastily scrambling back to his feet to resume the chase. He only had mild interest in the situation, too busy with his carving knife and bit of bone in his hands to pay his acquaintance too much mind.
“Almost…!”
Volare looked over to see the troll practically launching himself off of the tree he had just collided with.
“You’ll lose another tooth, Mith,” he warned. It would fall on deaf ears, of course. He’s never seen another troll so wild and untamed. Volare would compare him to an animal, but that would be an insult to animals. Animals aren’t depraved like he is.
Thump thump LEAP–
Mithyt suddenly launched himself over Volare’s legs, startling him enough to make him suddenly nick the head off of the charm he was carving.
“Mith!” Volere gasped, scrabbling for the bit of bone that’s almost definitely lost in the leaves now. He looked sharply at the feral troll, who was crouched over something on the ground, tail swishing. “What’s wrong with you?”
Mithyt got a better grip of whatever was in his hands, and stood up, turning to shove it in Volere’s direction. The young clown leaned back just in time to avoid kissing a huge toad.
“Ugh, get that out of my face! You ruined my charm.”
“That?” Mithyt gestured towards the poor, beheaded squirrel charm in his hands. “It looks bad.”
“Yeah, because you made me screw it up.”
“No, not the headlessness, it just sucks. You’re not very good at that, are you?”
“What do you know? You couldn’t even carve a cube if your dumb life depended on it.”
“Well I can still tell when things look a bit shit!”
Volare held a hand out to put a barrier between himself and Mithyt’s mouth. Between him whistling his S’s and spitting his T’s, it wasn’t really something he wanted so close to his face. He’s far from a germaphobe, but that missing tooth gave Mithyt a splash zone, and he’d rather not be in it.
“What do you want with that thing anyways?” Volare asked, gesturing towards the frog with his carving knife. “You’re always out catching things. Bugs, lizards, and other little creatures… It’s weird.”
“What? This? I’m gonna eat it, obviously,” he replied, as though Volare should have known already. Volare grimaced.
“That’s really gross.”
“Well I’m gonna cook it.”
“That’s not the point. Why can’t you be normal and go to a restaurant, or cook real food from the store?”
“You know this is as close to the city as I go. Why would I go out there when the forest’s got everything I need?” he asked, plopping down on the ground so he could retrieve a jar from his bag and open it with one hand. He ended up holding the jar with his filthy gremlin feet while he unscrewed it, and Volare didn’t know whether to be impressed by his ingenuity, or disgusted by his… well, his everything else.
Volare looked at the other purple for a few moments, before he got distracted by his mutilated charm again, looking down and turning it over in his fingers with a frown.
“I guess I don’t blame you. There isn’t much for me out there. It’s like every single person expects something different of you… If I don’t show up for church, they bother me about it the next time I come, as if it’s something I have to do. I mean, I’m almost five sweeps, I think I can decide for myself whether to come or not.”
“Pshh… Why do you even go back to the city?” Mithyt asked, dropping the toad into the jar, and then the jar into his old leather side bag.
“Well, unlike you, I like my creature comforts. I want a real hive, with a nice bed and an AC. Plus, I can only handle so much of you.”
Mithyt shrugged it off, and grinned that big, incomplete grin of his. He looked like such a doofus. It would almost be charming if the guy wasn’t such a shit.
“Oh hey!” Mithyt practically jumped up, pushing his scruffy, unkempt bangs back, allowing Volare a glance of his eyes. “When are you turning five?”
“Next perigee. Why?”
“I don’t really keep track of my own, but I know it’s three perigees after yours, so you gotta remind me!”
“Remember for yourself. How do you know I’ll even come back to remind you of anything?”
“You’ll come back.” Mithyt laid against a tree opposite to Volare, and pointed a finger at him. Or more like pointed a long, disgusting nail at him. “You like me!”
“I hate you less than everyone else. There’s a difference.”
“Nuh uh. You totally like me.”
“I like that you don’t expect anything of me. I like that I can have company that doesn’t care what I do. But you? I could live without you. If anything, you’re the one who likes me.”
Mithyt laughed. Volare could feel his face grow hot with rage, and he was glad his paint concealed the purple running to it.
“Don’t laugh at me! If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t always be trying to get me to stay.”
“What if I’m just trying to trick you?” Mithyt got on all fours and crept up towards Volare, grinning wickedly. “What if I’m trying to lure you to my hut, so I can cook you up in a stew with frogs and bugs?”
“… I wouldn’t put it past you.” Volare eyed him cautiously.
That wasn’t the kind of trick Volare was afraid of, though. It was rather that… he didn’t want to find out that Mith was toying with him. He hated to admit it, but Mith was the only person he really talked to. As frustrating as the other boy is, he would hate to find out one day that it was all just some big joke at his expense. Worst of all, he could genuinely see it happening.
Volare chucked his mutilated charm into the woods, and then stood, brushing the leaf litter off of his pants.
“Whatever. Dad’s expecting me back soon.”
“Boo.”
“Like you care.” Volare tossed his bag over his shoulder, and returned his carving knife to its casing at his hip.
Mithyt didn’t have any further comments, and simply began digging at the dirt with his nails as if the clown wasn’t even there. Volare wanted to reassure himself that Mith cared and was just putting up a front like he was, but… The distance felt tangible today. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he brought it up, he’d get laughed at.
Volare tightened his grip on his bag strap, and left.
Any other people following Dracula Daily are also Pratchett fans and now have an even greater adoration for Lady Margolotta, Maledict, and Otto Chriek? :D
