Written for @brambleberrycottage for @cerusee‘s GoFundMe drive. I uh, let the word count get away from me.
AO3 Link Here Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy Horror
***
There it was again.
Dick Grayson leaned on the railing of the yacht, tumbler of ginger ale cradled against the palm of his hand, and squinted at the dark bay water.
Again.
A sliver of light reflected off something in the distance, and in the murky midnight of the water’s surface, the glittering shine turned to metallic red and green.
Dick straightened, one hand gripping the polished rail. He peered hard into the night, cursing his useless tux and the lack of gear he regretted not hiding on his person. Some collapsible binoculars would be great right now.
Without taking his gaze off the spot— it was still fragments of familiar red and green— he set the tumbler down on the lilting deck. The rolling was too gentle tonight for the glass to slide very far; it was a perfect night for a charity dinner on the bay. It had been clear all evening, and now the moon was full and bright overhead.
In the moonlight he saw a hand raise out of the water and it pulled at him, the sense of emergency forcing every other thought out of his mind. His nimble fingers unknotted his tie and he tore off the jacket, too, kicked off his polished shoes.
Okay, here’s one that’s been bothering me for a while.
The epistolary novel is a mode of storytelling in which the story is communicated in the form of a series of fabricated documents ostensibly authored by the characters who inhabit that story. Letters, diary entries, and newspaper articles are traditional, but contemporary examples of the type may also include emails, chat logs, social media threads, and video transcripts.
If we switch from literature to cinema, one popular equivalent is the found footage film. The framing is usually a little more immediate, and the plots tend to be constrained by the need to restrict the action to situations where one or more of the characters involved would plausibly be recording video, but it’s the same basic idea.
So here’s the question: what would the video game equivalent of the epistolary novel be?
It can’t be a game where you read letters or watch videos authored by characters in the game – that’s just using the gameplay as a framing device for conventional epistolary storytelling. It’d have to be something where the gameplay itself constitutes a found document.
I’ve run into attempts at the form where the game is presented as having been coded by a fictional character, so there’s a metatextual layer where the game you’re playing is part of the fiction, but that’s not quite there, I think.
It’s hard to imagine an exact analogue because people hardly ever code video games about what they’re doing.
Also video games in general don’t have the same… Okay, text is routinely used to record or transmit data, often with no particular purpose or direction. Video too. The concept of the epistolary novel is that it’s in the form of this data transmission or recordings that don’t have to have a plot or a purpose or an anything, but really! it has a plot!
Whereas you can’t really have a video game that’s just sort of not doing anything. It has to be doing something.
Maybe something like… a puzzle game which is designed to look like a piece of educational software of some kind? And there’s a narrative hidden in there somewhere? No, that still doesn’t quite make sense to me…
You could…set up an open-world game that’s designed around the idea that you’re accessing somebody’s saved file?
The game’s already partway played by somebody else. They left notes to themself in various in-game books, which you can also edit, and quests and building projects half-done. There’s all this evidence of the player before you, whose game you’re overwriting even as you explore it.
(You also get to play the ‘actual game,’ with the added fun of having missed a lot of the tutorials and early story exposition; making this not too frustrating would be a pretty cool challenge.)
There’s a mystery. Maybe the Original Player went missing. Maybe they hid the notes to their breakthrough project or the code to the bank vault somewhere in the game, and you’re trying to find it. Or maybe you just found the game like this and ‘you’ only figure out as you play that Something Was Going On beyond the obvious.
Maybe it was a file two people were either playing in together or taking turns in, so you’ll find notes meant for one another.
So the gameplay is like some kind of collision of Minecraft and Skyrim, except there’s a separate layer of story where you-the-player are playing a character who is playing the game trying to discover something about the previous player.
And along the way you get to know them, too, because you’re interacting with this thing they made.
That is an AMAZING idea!
Maybe, after certain points in the game, if you save, quit, and come back, there will be signs some one else was playing while you were gone?
Like, they’re triggered by getting something, but don’t happen unless you quit for a bit. If you take lots of breaks, the changes are mild and infrequent. If you binge it, the game changes drastically – everything piling up and happening at once.
If you play the whole thing in one sitting, you can get the ‘proper’ ending – the one the ‘original’ game was supposed to have. Otherwise, the ending is influenced more or less by the Original Player.
Jason: yup and you’re 18 so you know what that means
Dick: jason no
Jason:i got you a pack of cigarettes for your birthday gift!
Tim: uhh, thanks but… i don’t really plan on taking up that habit
Jason: wow golly gee. That’s a real shame right there. Huh guess i have no choice but to enjoy these myself. Welp it’s the thought that counts right timbo
Tim: yeahh, thanks Jason…
Steph: anyyyway, i got a cake, your favorite!
Dick: no, gifts first!
Damian: indeed. Opening presents should be top priority.
Duke: I’m hungry and there are a lot of presents so I vote cake!
Cass: …cake would be… nice
Alfred: might we let master Tim decide? It is his special day after all
Bruce: Tim, cake or gifts first?
Tim: cake!!!
[Rolls out cake]
Tim: wow Alfred it looks great! But… and I’m not complaining it’s just… it says I’m 17
Alfred: ? Indeed you are master Tim
Tim: uhh, this is my 18th birthday. We already established that
Damian: -tt- what are you on about, Drake? Just blow out the candles
Tim: but… [sees the banner above that now reads happy “17th birthday” instead of “18th” birthday]
Tim: but… but…
Dick: r u feeling okay, Tim?
Tim: jason u know I’m 18 now right? You literally just tried to give me cigarettes for my birthday?
Dick: jason you did what??
Jason: i didn’t I swear! I got him a pair of socks, white and plain like him. Although thanks, Replacement, now i know what you want for next year i guess
Steph: tim… you’re 17…
Tim: no I’m not! Here I’ll get my drivers license… [looks at license]
Tim: but this says I was born in… no i was born a year earlier than this! Guys something is really wrong!
Duke: dude ur really starting to freak us out
Bruce: tim… i assure you that today is your 17th birthday
Tim: … today is my 17th birthday? Is… that can’t be… is today really my 17th?
Dick: yeah and congrats on turning 17, Tim! You’re finally a dancing queen!!
Duke: just think next year you’ll be an adult!
Tim: ha… yeah… next year… it’s just… i feel like I’ve heard that before
Tim: ha, must be tired. Oh well! [Blows out candles] happy 17th birthday for me, I guess
Kon: hey, so how does it feel to be an adult?
Tim: what? Conner, I’m 17
Kon: no… you were 17 last year
Tim: haha, how could I be 17 last year if I’m 17 this year?
Tim [grabs conner by his collar, whispering]: please Kon help me i don’t know what’s happening
Conner: w-what
Tim [smiling with normal voice]: so are we gonna just stand here or are we going for coffee?
Kon: wait- help you with what?? What’s wrong??
Tim: help me? Conner what are you talking about? Nothing’s wrong.
Kon:
Kon: nothing… I… yeah lets just go get some coffee…
Kon: I’m telling you he was acting super weird
Bart: what you mean?
Kon: he kept insisting that he was still 17
Bart: that’s because he is 17?
Kon: ugh not you, too! He can’t stay 17 forever!!
Bart: conner you can’t say things like that. They’ll hear you. just let this go, please
Kon: who’s “they”?????
Bart: pfft, ever consider the possibility that you might be wrong? It’s not a big deal you got your dates mixed up, you’re totally overreacting
Kon:
Kon: I’m gonna get to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do
Tim: hey, has anyone heard from Conner? He won’t pick up his phone.
Damian: -tt- Jonathon Kent is Superboy, Drake. Who is this “conner?”
Tim: oh, well, he’s… he’s..
Tim: huh. Nevermind I guess. Weird.
Tim [staringatSuperman merchandise]: hey ever try to convince Clark to change his suit to red and black?
Bruce: hnn, i doubt the boyscout would ever go for that idea
Tim: i guess not… Bruce do u ever feel like… something’s missing… and there’s this empty hole in your chest. Like someone you loved with all your heart is just… gone
Bruce: whenever i look at this Superman garbage i too feel a sense of emptiness and pity for the world
Tim:
Tim: ha, well, maybe we should sue them for not having enough Batman merchandise! The nerve. the audacity. I don’t know about you but I’m traumatized
Bruce: hmm…
Tim: no dear god Bruce i was kidding do not sue these nice people
Dick: Tim? Tim, what’s wrong?
Tim [crying]: i don’t know.. i feel like everyone I cared about has died before? even though I know they’re alive? Steph… Bart… Conner.
Dick: conner? You keep mentioning him but
Tim: i know you say he doesn’t exist! But if that’s true then why do i feel so bad? Why do i miss him so much?
Dick: i- i don’t know, Tim. But… maybe you should get some help
Tim: this isn’t about me! Something is wrong with the universe! Something is missing! This isn’t how the world is supposed to be. Conner is out there somewhere and I’m going to find him
Dick: tim… i don’t want them to erase you, too
Tim: what? Who’s “them”? Dick, please, tell me what you know
Dick: I’m sorry but I’m calling Bruce. You’re not making any sense, you, well, you sound crazy
Tim: i… maybe i…
Tim: no! I’m not going to let you convince me, to trick me into thinking everything’s okay again!
Another morph doodle! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching to get this one drawn, because damn if I don’t love big draft horse bodies. They just reek of powerful grace, don’t they?
Anywho, this lovely lady’s a good example of what you’ll see in the Russian and Canadian subtype of falsicorn. I’m sure there are some little defining quirks between the two if you squint, but they all have a lot of shared traits, the most obvious and striking if which is really just how freakin’ huge they are. Harsh, nearly year-round winter conditions have developed them into mammoth creatures, with incredibly thick, sturdy bones, extremely dense coats, and a solid layer of insulating fat to keep their organs warm. They could probably make a Clydesdale look scrawny by comparison, and are, at least on average, the undisputed largest of all present day falsicorns.
As you might expect, the majority of fairly type specific genes have to do with hair growth. This particular individual doesn’t have it, but many possess a longer fur type that makes them look more like a giant Great Pyrenees than a horse. Lion-esque mane wrappings and “lynx cheeks” are also common (all of which are present here), which can manifest in varying degrees.
Don’t let the bulk fool you, either. Sure, they’ll never win any racing competitions with, say, a desert morph, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t entirely capable of chasing down humans (easily) on foot and then just bulldozing the poor sod flat. Their physical strength and prowess are damn near legendary, and needless to say, picking a fight with one would probably not end well.
As with all types, they can theoretically come in just about any standard horse color under the sun and then some, though washed out greys and whites (both warm and cool) are the most common. Their horns don’t generally grow very ‘long’ either, and wind up about as stout as the rest of them. Faces are also fairly draft-esque with a roman slope in their profile. Fangs tend to be thicker and longer than other morphs, with canines often visible (and prominent) even when the mouth is small. Potential for saber tooth genes, maybe? Awww yeeeeah.
Oh, and their tails and tail claws are also just stupidly thick and powerful, too. Trust me, you don’t want that thing swung at you; it could probably shatter a human femur easily in one blow.
Han’s world-building is AMAZING, you guys. This blog has stolen hours from my last week. Falsicorns are a fascinating low-key horror subject. Reminds me a lot of Neil Gaiman’s writing – beautiful, creepy, and incredibly immersive.
Check them outǃ
(Noteː I object to the suggestion that Canada has ‘nearly year-round’ winters. Snow is only FIVE months a yearǃ Below freezing temperatures are almost never more than 7 monthsǃ Even in the Northǃ ~winky face~ )
anyafishies said:Can we have Tim being hit by Ivy’s pollen, except reactions are not acute and the onset is slow, and now he is constantly more acutely afraid that people around him will be in danger/disappear (Kon, Bart, Bruce, Dick, Jason… even Damian). So he does all he can to protect them and double check on them more than he did already and eventually his body and mind just give out. Then they figure [it] out. If possible can I ask for a happy ending?
Characters: Tim, Dick, Jason, Damian, Bruce, Alfred. Very minor mentions of Kon, Bart and Cass.
Minor language warning.
I have been working on this for pretty much forever, but writer’s block euugh. I am still not happy with it. Sorry, best I can do;; Didn’t do the prompt justice
in my experience with the three (3) i went to in the surrounding area it was. uh. you know when you step into a place and there’s nothing immediately noticeably wrong but you can just Feel that this is a Bad Space? like the kind of space where if you catch a glimpse of your mother walking down an aisle and turning a corner you know it’s a demonic trick and if you follow her it’ll lead you down a path to a dark space you can’t return from?
or you go in with your friend who’s right next to you but you get a text from them saying “hey i’m in the shoe aisle, you should come here” and you know it’s a trap from the devil? like other things:
only half of the dim, washed out, often flickering fluorescent lights were lit at any given time, usually only every-other set, leaving these valleys of darkness that made entire aisles inaccessible for fear of shadow people latching on to your soul like a dark passenger.
entire sections were just Empty. empty shelves with no product, never any employees filling them up, no boxes waiting to be unpacked, no signs saying what should be there.
no employees at all actually? wandering around the store even though the parking lots were full and you walked in with a group of 20 or so felt so lonely. you could walk the whole place and it was dead silent and the only other “people” around always were several aisles away with their back turned, unmoving. there was always only one cashier and there was never anyone in her line.
there was never any music on or announcements played? another place that does this are all the dollar trees in my area and it gives me anxiety. i feel like i’m being hunted, like i have to hold my breath and listen for the footsteps of beasts in other aisles.
the fitting rooms had a strange, dark energy to them. it felt like if you ever used them, whatever universe you closed the door on would not be the same one you stepped out into when you were done. the washrooms also contained this same dark energy.
passing the employees-only doors felt like wandering too close to a bears den. the glass windows never showed anything going on back there, no racks of product, no employees milling around. it was just pitch black, complete darkness. a hungry void.
leaving a target was the same disorienting feeling as leaving a dark theatre and exiting into the light. sound and colour and feeling rush back in. you feel like you can breathe again. a weight is lifted from your shoulders. you can’t remember any of the time you spent inside the target.
it is my sincere belief that the targets in canada never existed. the storefronts were put up, yes, but the stores themselves were vast empty caverns filled with dark dreams and sinister interlopers. passing through the automatic doors was meant to teleport us to the nearest american location, but something went wrong and we entered an unnatural zone halfway between the upside down and whatever it was that happened in the langoliers.
In Canada, Kmart is/was a portal to some sort of evil, claustrophobic Watership Down twilight zone.
Canadian Target, on the other hand, was some vast land of the fey. Not evil, but chaotic neutral. The doors didn’t want to let you us until we’d partaken of their goods, but the wares that did exist all gave off this uncomfortable static energy.
I’m not sure it was the balls outside. I worry that the badly designed purchasing software was actually tapping into a non-human source. That’s why it never supplied the correct amounts to stores and was impossible for employees to use. That’s why the goods made you unhappy to touch, and you left wanting to cry. The computerized system was trying to tap into magic slightly out of phase, and it crackled through the air, and you needed to get AWAY.
CHECK OUT THIS BUG I FOUND !! hey lauren what species do u think it is? im having a hard time identifying it. theyre my friend
hey hello youve found a mayfly ! ! theyre harmless bugs thatre related to dragonflies, and just like em they also spend a bunch of time underwater as little nymphs before emerging as the adult form up there
theyre kind of notorious for having REALLY short lifespans once they reach the adult stage ( especially considering some species spend like two years underwater ) they usually last a day at most, and some dont even reach an hour
since the adult form is really only for finding another mayfly to pair off and lay eggs with, they dont have any functioning mouthparts and dont eat at all when they get their wings ! luna moths are the same way. its hard out there for a bug
[previous images are close ups of mayflies]
Also famous for, in some areas by water, all flying from the water
at one time
in a single direction. For about 2 weeks, EVERY surface facing the water will be completely coated with mayflies. People sweep their carcasses off their porches but still crunch on them with every step. They try to coat you. You have to wipe them off your face while walking.
[Images show mayflies coating a house, a stone wall and alley, and a gas pump. Final image shows a man blowing a thick carpet of mayflies off his porch with a snow/leafblower]
Mayflowers are kind of cool, but mostly creepy horror creatures. They are pretty much perfect for @iguanamouth
“The blue-ringed octopus, despite its small size, carries enough venom to kill twenty-six adult humans within minutes. Their bites are tiny and often painless, with many victims not realizing they have been envenomated until respiratory depression and paralysis start to set in.[8] No blue-ringed octopus antivenom is available yet, making it one of the deadliest reef inhabitants in the ocean.”
Holy shit
And this is why I don’t go in the ocean anymore
Also the blue rings literally only show up when it is distressed so this person has angered it!!! You are in danger friend!!!
Actually this guy keeps them as pets they’re on his instagram (william_exotique) and he frequently holds then and I just? Don’t know why? And also every picture or video he posts of them shows the blue rings so they’re always in distress I just do not understand why he’s doing this
I mean OP pretty much covered it. A blue ringed octopus is almost on the level of CONE SNAIL on the list of things you ABSOLUTELY DO NOT PICK UP UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
But ask and you shall receive, On this episode of “Fun Facts With Cuckoo,” DEAD. YOU’RE DEAD. EVERYTHING IS DEAD AND YOU SHOULD NEVER TOUCH ANYTHING IN THE OCEAN EVER AGAIN.
There are many things that will kill you.
[citation needed]
There are fewer, but still many things that will kill you FAST.
There are yet fewer things that kill you fast and by such an overwhelming margin of overkill that nervous laughter is our only solace in the dark of this terrible, surprisingly Lovecraftian world of unearthly horrors that we live in.
Of the things that I know about which will kill you fast via just plain insultingly potent venom, which is a not insignificant number of things because I know a not insignificant number of things, there are about 3 things in the ocean – IN THE WHOLE OCEAN – which are so insanely, mind-bogglingly deadly that there is pretty much no possible hope for survival (I mean you CAN, but god help you if you’re ever in that situation, because god’s just about damn near the only thing that CAN help you). THE. WHOLE. OCEAN.
Those three things are the Irukandji (a tiny (1cm) species of box jellyfish, which has stingers not only on its tentacles but on its BELL, for reasons no one has definitively figured out, and is so toxic despite its size its sting can cause a severe brain hemorrhage), the cone snail (a group of carnivorous sea snails that is accepted to be the most venomous animals on earth, with a STUPIDLY fast acting and extremely powerful neurotoxin that has in at least one case killed a human ALMOST INSTANTANEOUSLY, because the swimmer who found two beautiful shells (unfortunately cone snails tend to have very pretty shells which makes people want to pick them up) was holding them up for a picture and ended up being stabbed in the neck by not one but TWO cone snails at the same time, and it is believed that she was literally dead before she hit the ground, I mean LITERALLY in a 100% non-fictional and non-exaggerated way, in between the time the two cone snails stabbed her and the time her limp body hit the sand, she was not alive anymore), and the blue ringed octopus.
It is POSSIBLE to survive any of these. But not without immediate medical attention. Of these three, the Irukandji is by far the most treatable, because Australia and other coastal regions (including Florida and other parts of the US) are kind of experienced in dealing with box jellyfish.
The blue ringed octopus will fucking kill you. There’s no antidote for their venom, ONE COMPONENT OF WHICH (tetrodotoxin) is 1200 times deadlier than cyanide. It’s a powerful neurotoxin (most of the worst venoms are because the species that produce them need to kill or at least paralyze their prey quickly, like jellyfish whose fragile tentacles could be damaged if their food doesn’t stop struggling) that attacks the sodium channels and causes muscle paralysis. It doesn’t necessarily kill you quickly. It PARALYZES you quickly, so that you can’t really call for help or describe the problem, and you will probably end up slowly suffocating from a paralyzed diaphragm. Tetrodotoxin can be metabolized by the body in a matter of hours, but it can also kill you in a matter of minutes if you get a lethal dose (which isn’t much, the
LD50
or median lethal dose, the dose at which you have a 50% chance of survival, is only 8 MICROGRAMS per kilogram of body weight (as tested in mice)). This is, by venom standards, not a large amount, which means the animal that is capable of putting this venom inside your body is very very good at killing the absolute shit out of you.
DON’T TOUCH THE BLUE RINGED OCTOPUS.
Now, because overkill is my motto, let me briefly explain why Conus geographus is the undisputed champion of YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE, AND FURTHERMORE FUCK YOU FOR THINKING OTHERWISE.
A cone snail walks into a bar. You’d expect the bartender to ask, “what’s your poison,” but they were paralyzed before they could ask and OH LOOK they’re already FUCKING DEAD ON THE GROUND.
Conus geographus is about 4-6 inches long and nature’s equivalent of Avada Kedavra. Cone snails literally have their own KIND of toxins named after them: conotoxin. Not only is there no antidote, but their venom AGGRESSIVELY RESISTS our ability to find a cure, because we barely understand how it works AND conotoxins are so internally varied, even within a single species, that any one antidote isn’t going to help because they’re constantly mutating and evolving their venom to prevent their prey from evolving a resistance to it. Plus their venom is like, a bunch of different venoms all at once JUST IN CASE any one of them wasn’t good enough.
I want you to read these two sentences from the wiki page on conotoxin:
“Conotoxins have a variety of mechanisms of actions, most of which have not been determined.”
LD50 of tetrodotoxin is 8μg/kg? Conotoxin is 160 times more potent. FIFTY NANOGRAMS PER KILOGRAM HAS A 50% CHANCE OF KILLING YOU. A 220-POUND HUMAN HAS A 50% CHANCE OF SURVIVAL AGAINST JUST 5 MICROGRAMS OF CONOTOXIN.
I DID SOME MATH.
IT WOULD TAKE 7-9 MILLIGRAMS OF CONOTOXIN TO KILL A BLUE WHALE, THE HEAVIEST ANIMAL TO EVER LIVE. (based on weight estimates from 300-400,000 lbs.)
Conus geographus is so fucking deadly that “In two cases of envenomation, only 0.0002-0.0005 mg resulted in severe paralysis.”
THIS THING KILLS STUFF SO HARD THAT BEFORE YOU HEAR THE FIRST “MORTAL KOMBAT” IN THE MORTAL KOMBAT THEME, THERE’S PROBABLY ALREADY BEEN A FATALITY.
And guess what? Cone snails don’t do that NOOB SHIT with the superficial biting or stinging. Your wetsuit or gloves won’t protect you. Because homeboy didn’t bring teeth to evolution’s knife fight. Oh no. It brought a motherfucking radula POISON HARPOON. It’s lightning fast and has way more piercing power than some silly little cnidocytes or salivary bacteria.
Another component of their venom is being researched for its potential as a pain reliever. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT????” you might reasonably ask. And you would be right to do so, because science has gone too far and has surely sinned against the very image of Mollusca Kedavra. Well, it turns out the answer is “Research shows that certain component proteins of the venom target specific human pain receptors and can be up to 10,000 times more potent than morphine without morphine’s addictive properties and side-effects.” That’s right, the part of their venom that SPECIFICALLY DOESN’T HURT YOU is up to 10,000 times more potent than morphine.
Also, Conus geographus (along with one other cone snail species, C. tulipa) is the only known non-human animal to weaponize insulin. In addition to the normal insulin that the snails produce for their own use, their bodies manufacture an ADDITIONAL insulin molecule that is similar to the kind produced in fish (which they eat) for the sole purpose of stunning their prey through hypoglycemic shock. BECAUSE APPARENTLY THEY DON’T FEEL LIKE THEY’D KILL YOU HARD ENOUGH OTHERWISE.
IF you are going to survive the ALMIGHTY CONE SNAIL, WHO KNOWS NO FEAR, TRIUMPHANT HEDGEMON OF THE MOLECULAR ARMS RACE, TRUE BORN HEIR TO THE SCYTHE OF DEATH ITSELF, FISHSLAYER, GOD AMONG MOLLUSKS, WHOSE WRATH IS MERCIFUL ONLY IN ITS BREVITY, ADMIRABLE IN ITS BEAUTY AND UNSULLIED BY THE UNWORTHY TOUCH OF MORTAL HANDS OR SCALES OR REALLY ANYTHING IN RANGE OF ITS RADULA HARPOON, then literally the only thing that’s going to save you is for you to be kept alive artificially (externalizing your respiratory functions to force your body to continue breathing, basically) until the effects of the venom wear off. And because of how quickly this venom acts, you need to get that medical attention VERY, VERY FAST.
And if you don’t get it, you will still be conscious while the paralysis slowly suffocates you to death.
Don’t touch the pretty shells.
this is a WONDERFUL use of the medium of the tumblr post
they start as little anglerfish babies until they’re thirty and their skin sloughs off and their teeth fall out and once they’re done molting they can walk on land with small bodies and long tails and long ears and teeth still sharp but not quite so drastic until tailfall when they’re seventy and they finally start looking like humans – shorter ears and squarer teeth but eyes still black and unsettling – and those are their wandering years, the century they can travel among men until they start to grow horns and have to go back into hiding in the secret cities of elves.
they age like lobsters, getting bigger all the time, getting slower, until they’re so big and so slow that plants grow on them and they barely move at all. they reproduce by stealing away genetic material to keep in storage in weird organs near their throats and when an elf gets in a fight and licks the blood from their knife it means something very different and when an elf is aroused they can’t eat and pretend it’s because they don’t like the food. then when an elf gets big enough all the material they’ve collected over their lifetime goes into outgrowths that burst from their skin as horrifying little merfolk.
a human finds elfspawn and the elves say “yeah that’s a weird mermaid” and the humans find a hissing little tailed elf and the elves say “that’s a gnome” and the humans find someone breaking into rooms to drink the blood of pretty women and the elves say “that’s actually just a weird dead human” and the humans find a huge horned elf and the elves say “that’s an orc” and the humans find an even bigger one and the elves say “probably a troll” and the humans find an elf so big they’re covered in plantlife and the elves say “that’s an ent” because humans breed so quickly and there are so many of them and they kill so much and they have such strange rules about when it’s okay to kill people and there are so few elves by comparison that they have all agreed en masse that humans must believe that elves are just like humans so that they can be friends.
elves aren’t allowed to be wild and feral and any elf who breaks the rules is considered fair game whether they knew the rules or not, because they put every other elf in danger. elven cities are massive with great big towers but each tower holds just one huge elf and no human is ever allowed to enter and discover that the population is under one hundred instead of the thousands they assume. elves don’t laugh because the laugh is the hardest part of the accent to get rid of, laughing like dolphins long after they’ve managed to stop singing like whales. elves don’t touch, because humans have rules about how siblings are allowed to touch but the way elves breed makes it hard for them to understand what kinds of touching are acceptable in what contexts and it’s easier and safer to just never do it than risk letting humans think elves are breaking their taboos. elves put on airs, because if they do it just right then humans will defer to them in the same way they do their own upper classes and they won’t ask too many questions or look too closely. elves have undertones of blue or of green but if they don’t look enough like what an elf is supposed to be they’re called half-elves because it’s easier than explaining the truth.
they trade in magical reagants that grow on their elders and wear sleeves over the tips of their ears and collect momentos of their travels like charm beads and never teach their language to outsiders so outsiders never know when they’re talking shit. they’re foul-mouthed and violent and like to eat crickets and sometimes they start wars because the alternative is explaining to their human allies that actually their city was destroyed because grandpa decided to try to go for a walk and they had to eat him, and it’s always easier to blame other different humans that the friendly humans already hate.
kiragecko 