what's behind that door?
You stood, cowering away in the far end of the room with a broom in your hands. Your eyes were wide and your skin cold, standing in your pajamas. Something was rustling in your designated storage room. It’s unfortunate that you lost the key- never thought you’d need it, it was filled with things you’d fill your attic with if you had one. The door was slightly ajar, and you couldn’t see into it. You can’t decide on whether to keep quiet and pretend you didn’t notice this intruder and call the police, or announce your presence and intimidate them into giving up.
Your grip on the phone tightens when you hear a series of gargling and cracks behind the door- sounds that didn’t sound natural to you. Your hand is trembling as it lifts the phone to your face. You didn’t want to risk looking away, and your eyes dart from the door to the phone as you open emergency dial.
You freeze when the door creaks. Ice shoots through your veins as you face the intruder.
It's not human.
It’s a shambling mess of dust and things you’ve stored in there- an old teddy bear, a lamp, a blanket, sweaters, fairy lights and- it’s. It’s walking towards you.
“HHhhh…” it moans, “f… friend…”
Eyes form out of lightbulbs, and a mouth forms through a hole in the dust, with glowing fairy light teeth. It reaches out with a large, shifting hand.
“M… missed… missed you…”
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so, if you've been talking to me on discord, you'll know that the 10ft measure for miranda has been inaccurate for some time now
mostly it's a holdover from an earlier iteration of her design and the fact that the numbers are the last thing that i do in the process of designing (on top of being bad at eyeballing distances too). she used to be more humanoid in stature, so i went with 10ft for length when i added her tail, and haven't really touched it up since.
however, her design has shifted pretty far since then, and it's been very clear for a long while that the 10ft estimate wasn't holding up. in the old days, i didnt have a reference for miranda to compare against, so it was fairly hard to come up with concrete numbers anyways. but, since i now have an actual reference with a height comparison, i decided to test it out and try to measure her for real
and it turns out that, yes, miranda's not really 10ft.
she's actually 19ft long.
(i used the little person here because i was using the heights comparison website to get an accurate guess on the lengths involved. each person here = 1 foot, and i have another to represent inches)
since i had this out, i decided to do some other measurements.
miranda's head is 1 foot and 7 inches long, for a total of about 19 inches.
i've always estimated her claws to be around 3 inches long, but here i can confirm that they're 4 inches, not accounting for the curvature (which will add length)
but moreso than just this, i haven't actually been happy with miranda's height lately. in general i've just really wanted to mess with merfolk sizes, because their distribution didn't feel right to me and i wanted something that felt more right to where they are currently. even moreso i feel like i keep making merfolk heads too small (they're intended to be huge, as one of their primary sources of interaction with the world around them, and also because their bite is so important), so i thought, hey, why not see how big miranda would have to be if her head were a full 2ft long?
as it turns out, she'd be about 5'6" tall.
which also puts her at around 22ft long.
so, yeah! merfolk measurements! and a confirmation that 650+ lbs for miranda's weight is absolutely lowballing it, and that needs to be the next number i find something better for.
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Because I love you~Xanlow
"Because I love you."
xanlow | 1.4k | rated T
ask game
Laslow's been left in a heap of mud.
Not long ago, he and a small army of Xander’s personal guard were in the midst of fighting. Only against some bandits and ruffians, but they were facing off in a mucky marsh. That was trouble all by itself, it was hard to move around without worrying you were going to lose a shoe.
But Xander's father provided them with a battalion of faceless for protection during their travels. And as creatures that are notoriously hard to control, one of them carelessly thwacked Laslow in the chest as they fought. It knocked the wind out of him, and he actually flew backwards and straight out of the battle.
At that moment, Laslow was profoundly grateful for the squishy mud that broke his fall. It could've been a lot worse, and a lot more deadly, had he landed on something hard or sharp. The mud acted as a nice and slimy pillow, and he was promptly smothered in it.
Dazed, Laslow couldn't pull himself up right away. Then he started sinking, fantastically, and he had to use every muscle in his body to try and keep himself steady. With a dull ache in his chest, Laslow resigned himself to his fate of needing some help to get up.
Everyone left him behind, though. Smartly, the battle moved out of the swamp and onto the more solid ground of the forest. So now Laslow's stuck, alone, mind jumbled and chest sore, in a smelly bog. Perhaps the mud was more of a curse than he imagined.
Thick drops of rain begin flicking down onto Laslow's face. Ah, not good. He might actually drown if this place begins to fill up. He decides to stop mucking around (ha-ha) and give an honest attempt to get up. It isn’t exactly fun to be lazy in the mud, but he’s tired, and he wanted to wait out as much as he could.
And he tries to escape! He really, really does! He just realizes that he's still sinking more than he's making progress and stops quite quickly afterwards.
So that's horrible. Laslow’s senses don't sharpen exactly, rather he begins to panic. Wait, is he really stuck? He tries to struggle less aggressively, but he can't find any sort of solid ground, and he really regrets letting himself sink down this far. Oh, it feels gross, and the rain is still coming down. He’s going to be devastated if anything gets in his mouth.
Which makes Xander’s sudden voice all the more heaven sent.
“Laslow!”
Laslow tries to lift his head enough to see where Xander is—and he eventually spots him, only his blond hair standing out against the dark. But he’s looking around quite aimlessly, Laslow realizes.
“Milord?” Laslow calls, and Xander snaps to attention, eyes finally on Laslow in his personal mud bath. He comes running over, and Laslow kind of awkwardly plops his head back down. “I’ll have you know I was just thinking about getting up, but somehow my limbs aren’t entirely cooperating—”
“Are you hurt?” Xander asks, kneeling next to Laslow while safely out of any gooey spots. He’s looking him over, and also absolutely staring at the mess of muck Laslow’s gotten himself into.
“Oh—I think so. But I’m not bleeding.” At least he’s pretty sure he isn’t. He feels oddly moist, but he’s certain that’s because of the frequently aforementioned mud. “I think it’s my ribs? I’m achy.”
Xander frowns down at Laslow. Then, in what seems to be a quick decision, Xander grabs the top of Laslow’s vest in a hard grip, and begins to lift him out of his muddy heap. It’s weird, even more so because it works, and Laslow stumbles onto solid ground on his hands and knees.
An exhaust comes over Laslow in the moment. It was hard work, seriously, to keep himself from sinking, lazy as he looked. He slips a bit, rolls over to sit down, and looks over at Xander quite pathetically.
It should be noted that pathetic looks work enormously rarely on Xander. So when he sighs and begins to turn, at first Laslow thinks he’s actually leaving him to his own grubby devices.
But, a cautious “Climb on my back,” from Xander speaks a different truth which Laslow readily accepts.
“Ah, my savior,” Laslow says as Xander stands, holding Laslow’s weight very well. But he always does, despite the many burdens Laslow brings along with him. “I was worried I’d drown for a moment there. Someone once said to me that it’s not a bad way to go, but how could they possibly know that? I’m not convinced, I'm really not.”
“You’re awfully talkative.”
Laslow sighs. “I’m very lightheaded.”
“We’ll find a proper place for you to rest soon.” Xander continues walking, carefully avoiding the deepest mud pits in the bog. “You were quite a ways, you know.”
“Because you all ran off and left! Abandoning me in a literal pile of goop.” Laslow flings a slop of mud off of his hand for good measure, and Xander shakes his head with a scoff. It gets a laugh out of Laslow, which makes also his chest hurt. So he just rests his chin on Xander’s shoulder. All cold and metal, of course.
“…You came back and found me, though,” Laslow says. He’s teasing a bit, too.
“I did.”
“What made you?”
Xander scowls, eyes still ahead and looking at the thicket of trees they’re slowly approaching. “What made me? You disappeared.”
“I suppose so.” Laslow tilts his head back and forth, chin still planted on Xander’s armor. “Any better reasons?”
Very often, Laslow fails to amuse Xander. Unfortunately, there isn’t a happy ending to this. “I will grant you the mercy of not assuming that you were hoping to be praised for having been trapped in mire.”
“Well thank you, because I wasn’t. I’ll admit, however, that I’m always open to my ego being stroked.” Laslow tilts his head a little far, and manages to bonk the side of Xander’s head lightly. Xander doesn’t shake him off—he doesn’t really do that anymore. Laslow has been gracefully granted the right of toleration. “My heart needs an extra beat or two, or I’ll die right here.”
“Quite the exaggeration,” Xander says plainly. Laslow scrunches his nose.
“Won’t you indulge me? Savior?” He earns a huff from Xander for that.
“Was there something noxious in that mud?”
“You wound me!” Laslow kicks his feet about, until Xander readjusts and makes Laslow nervous to fall. “I’ll be quiet if you tell me something good.”
Xander seems annoyed, but not nearly enough so that Laslow will stop being playful. There’s always some room for this, he thinks. Unless Xander gets actually mad. But lately, many things have changed, and… He doesn’t, as much.
“Why did I rescue you,” Xander repeats, not quite muttering. “Am I correct that you wouldn’t be satisfied with my saying that you’re my valuable retainer?”
Laslow grins, feeling a small warmth radiate in his chest. It’s just beneath the pain, settling in soundly. “It would’ve been enough, though you’re welcome to go on.”
Because Xander is fundamentally a kind man, he doesn’t just drop Laslow for the comment. But there’s long enough of a pause before Xander speaks that Laslow’s sure he considers it. “What would you like me to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Laslow presses his lips together. “Because I’m invaluable and not an idiot for getting knocked into a pit of mud and almost dying very stupidly?”
…Laslow is kind of embarrassed, actually.
“Hm.” Laslow waits, but that’s all Xander provides.
“Hm?”
Xander looks around. Though the army isn’t in sight even still. The two of them are very much in their lonesome, unless this muck and gunk all over Laslow is sentient.
“May I say because I love you?” Xander asks.
Laslow feels himself blush. He grunts a little, and he stuffs his head into Xander’s cloth collar, digging his nose into his neck. For a moment, he rests there.
“That works, I think,” Laslow says, still nestled in. He pauses. “…May I say I love you back?”
Xander slows his pace a bit, and he rests his head against Laslow’s. “Will you always be so needy with me?’
“Only a little.” Despite how he can’t find any exposed skin, Laslow still kisses Xander’s neck. “Thank you for saving me.”
Xander exhales. And he keeps walking through the forest while Laslow pecks his neck and bumps his jaw.
“It was only some mud.”
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