#Bren twitches

[sinsofsummers]

cupcake

1.9k | teacher!logan x fem!student!reader

(gif not mine!!)

summary: logan eats you for lunch. warnings: porn! teacher!logan and student!reader, so a bit of a taboo age gap, but an established situationship. oral (f receiving), desperate logan—like he is A LEWSER, p in v, creampie because he doesn’t last long (because he’s a whore), logan is a slut for ur releases mixed together, sub!logan tbh, let me know if i miss any! note: wow. sorry. this was also supposed to be a night of writing a longer fic. but i think this is my brand! short and sweet and salacious little things! enjoy, my loves! also i'm tagging @cavillscurls , @bren-lee-bear0404 , @ieatgoldfishy and @hughverine for this one cause...it just seemed like u guys were extra eager for it hehehe!

You can sense him behind you as you make your way down the corridor, heading for your room. You’ve just gotten out of an exam, and as the relaxation-lover you are, you’re thinking of one thing and one thing only—your bed, and curling up in it.

But just like Logan can sense you at all times, you’re no stranger to the feeling of being under his watchful gaze. It’s a heady feeling, and even though you can’t see him, you know that if you turn around he’ll be just a few paces behind you. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have gotten under your history teacher in an attempt to get over him, but by now it’s far too late. Logan has all but ruined everyone for you, anyway, a fact that you’re sure he would put on a billboard if you’d let him.

You put your head down and pretend to ignore the sound of his footsteps getting faster. 

You smirk. Thankfully the hallway is empty, or you’d have to answer for why your history teacher is chasing you down. 

He’s not exactly discreet; or at least, not when you’re in the same room as him. Whether it’s his intense brown eyes staring you down like a challenge, or his hands somehow finding their way to your shoulders, or your hands, trying to look innocent enough…you’re pretty sure Logan’s made it obvious. 

“Hey.”

There he is.

You pause, about to turn the corner, but he swings a hand around your arm and makes you whirl around to face him. His eyes are hard, but there’s a spark of mischief that has you flashing a tight-lipped smirk back in his face, blinking slowly. 

“Yes, Professor?” you cross your arms, holding the textbooks in your hands to your chest. “Did I miss an assignment?”

Logan’s mouth twitches into an amused grin, and he tilts his head. “C’mere,” he says gently, and tugs you toward the nearest classroom—his own. 

You’ve had your fair share of classes here, but you blush as he closes the door and sidles up behind you, his broad, heavy chest pressing against your back. 

“Where’ve you been, sugar?” His voice is smooth, low, and reeks of sex. You know exactly why you’re here.

Your throat goes dry, but you swallow and turn around, taking a step back. With a wink, you keep your hands clutched to your textbook. “I’ve been working.” 

You’re goading him. “If you hadn’t noticed, I still need to study for my exams,” you say nonchalantly, and watch as he confidently strides forward, following you up to the front of the room. 

In no time at all, his desk hits the backs of your thighs, stopping you from your retreat. Logan’s only a step away from you and capitalizes on it. You’ve got no room to squirm away; he towers over you and puts his hands on his desk, trapping you there.

“Time for a break, I think,” he hums, nipping at your jaw when you chuckle and turn away from his attempt to kiss you. “You’ve been working that brain so hard,” he continues, tugging the textbook out of your hands and tossing it to the floor with a heavy thud. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still pleased at the admission. You take it upon yourself to hop up on the desk, though it doesn’t give you much more leverage; he’s still got the upper…everything. “Oh, you have?” 

Logan lifts a hand to cup your jaw and neck, bringing your face closer to him. His hand is rough but the guidance of his touch is gentle, and he rests his forehead against yours. His next words are a whisper. “I have,” he nods. “You look so sweet, sugar. Can’t you just take a break?”

Your stomach turns in a familiar knot, and your thighs tense. It’s not that you haven’t fooled around on his desk before. But you really do have exams to study for.

“I know,” you sigh, turning to press a series of kisses to his beard. “I know, I want to be done, too. But I—”

“Then be done,” he whispers, his other hand landing on your thigh. “You’ll pass all your exams, bub, you know you will. Such a smart girl,” he says as his hand creeps toward the inside of your leg. “Why don’t you let me do something for you, smart girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek, but it does nothing to hide your smile. “Logan,” you whine, trying your best to sound exasperated. “I can’t just drop my panties for you everytime you want.”

His hand has wandered to the waistline of your shorts; an elastic band is all that bars him from your thin panties. 

“Of course,” he says, and then his eyes dart down to the crux of your legs as he hooks a finger in your waistband, tugging it away from your body. “But you sure do leave them sopping wet, don’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Well, if they weren’t before, they are now.

Your jaw drops open an inch, and for a moment you don’t know what to say.

Another finger hooks into your waistband, and he swipes his fingertips across your lower stomach, not daring to go any further until you give him the go ahead. “Please, sugar,” he whispers, and his voice shakes as he tilts your head up, holding his lips just an inch from your own. 

“I’ll be quick. I won’t even tease, baby,” he says, his hot breath fanning over your face, that delicious hint of tobacco making you flutter your eyes closed.

“Logan…” you try again, but he ducks his head into your neck and whimpers. Whimpers. 

“I’ll be good and quick, bub,” he says again. “Just let me taste you. I won’t ask for anything else, I swear.”

“Yeah right,” you say breathlessly, your composure slipping. “You always want more.”

“Can’t help it,” he breathes heavily, and his hand clenches your shorts in a fist. “M’gonna go insane if I can’t taste you, cupcake.”

You’ve never seen him this desperate, this much of a loser for your pussy, that you choke out a sigh and push his hand down your stomach. His eyes go wide and his mouth stutters as his fingers reach your mound, shoulders shuddering at the velvety smooth touch of your core. 

“Fine,” you say quietly, a smile growing on your face. “But just for a minute.”

“Minute’s all I need, sugar.” Logan doesn’t waste his time, molding his lips to yours with a deep groan that borders on the side of a growl, something that ignites a fire in your gut. 

In a flash, he’s practically torn your shorts from your body and he’s getting on his knees, eyes flitting up to yours as he leans into your core. The flush of cool air on your lower half is almost relieving. 

He pauses, closing his eyes right as he’s about to dive in. And he sucks in a breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of your arousal. It’s like a fucking ritual for him. Like a monk bent to pray, he worships the source of your sweetness.

You shake your head, carding your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a freak,” you breathe, but the humor leaves your voice as he darts his tongue out to flick your clit. 

And with your hands in his hair, he growls into your pussy and laps at it like a starving man, swirling circles around your clit and wasting no time before his fingers are teasing your entrance. 

“God,” you gasp, squeezing your thighs around his head. 

He lifts his head, and you wish you could take a picture of how fucking desperate he looks, with his beard already glistening with your wetness and his eyes wide as a puppy’s. “Not God,” he huffs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Just me, bub.”

“Shut the fuck up and make me come,” you sigh, tilting your head back and letting out a soft giggle. “Your minute’s almost up.”

Of course, you don’t have any plans on cutting him off. Once he gets his tongue on your core, you won’t be satisfied until he’s filling you to the brim. 

He moans with every drop that slips out of you and lands on his tongue, which only makes your pussy weep more for him. “Come on, baby,” he says into you, his fingers slipping inside you and stretching you deliciously over his thick digits. “Come on daddy’s face.”

He has the gall to ask you to call him daddy? When he just spent the last ten minutes begging to get on his knees for you?

You almost laugh, but then his fingers curl inside you. He’s hitting that one spongy spot that has you arching your back, your eyes rolling back and your hand pressing down on his head, holding him to your core as you ride out your release. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine, rolling your hips into his mouth to make the ecstasy last longer.

He pulls away from you, and you can’t even lift your head before you hear the clink of his belt hitting the floor. His face comes into view, and then his tip is sliding against your slit, throwing you into a frenzy as your legs shake at the sensitivity. 

“I’m sorry, sugar,” he says, voice hoarse as he circles your clit with his angry, leaking tip. “I’m close already, I just wanna…”

“You wanna fill me up,” you finish breathlessly, head resting against his desk.

“Yes,” he whimpers, and you swear you could come again at the sound of it. “Please, cupcake.”

You nod, a string of yes please falling from your lips. And not a moment later, he’s shoving himself inside, and suddenly you realize how empty you’d felt all day before this moment, before his thick cock was making room for itself in your body. 

He doesn’t look like he’ll last long enough to give you another orgasm, but you don’t really care; he looks so fucking pretty like this that it’ll be enough to fuel an entire night of play when you’re on your own.

With a guttural groan and a few uneven thrusts, Logan bursts. The swing sound of metal claws unsheathing themselves is like a drug as he empties himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, cupcake,” he shudders, laying himself over you on the desk. “M’sorry I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” you wrap an arm around his shoulders, savoring the feeling of his dick still pulsing inside you. “I like it when you’re so…”

You trail off. Nothing can quite describe the essence of Logan when he’s begging to eat you out. But there’s something so undeniably filthy about someone like Logan—your rugged, perfect Professor Logan—shedding his grumpy exterior for a taste of you.

The two of you lay there for a few more moments before he straightens, pulling you to a sitting position. He slowly pulls out, catching his seed and pushing it gently back inside you as best he can. 

You hum at the sight, and finally stand, pulling your wrecked shorts back onto your hips. “How are you gonna explain that?” You point at the small puddle of your releases, mixed together.

His hair is still messy, his fingers still shining with your arousal, but he winks. Claws retracted, he swipes a finger through the mess and puts it to his lips, drinking down the result of your pleasure. 

“Frosting,” he grins, and the return of the cocksure professor you know so well has returned. He presses a kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear. “From the sweetest of cupcakes.”

[karminecorp]

Live Now

[FR - ENG Below] Encore un stream de Bren aujourd'hui, il nous gâte ! Il est de nouveau sur son jeu signature, Trackmania. Allez le voir tester des maps !

twitch.tv/bren_tm2

[ENG] Another stream from Bren today, he is spoiling us ! He is once again on his signature game, Trackmania. Go watch him testing maps!

twitch.tv/bren_tm2

[aesterblaster]

Sleepin Demons

How Blue Lock characters wake up from nightmares/How you can comfort them [Gender neutral reader]

Tropes: Reverse Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Established Relationship, and general warnings for some gore and mentions of flashbacks along with implied sexual harassment

Characters: Almost All Of Them Lol

Songs: Insecure - Bren Joy // Coffee for Dinner - Orion Sun // Broken Clocks - SZA

The Silent Type + Actual Memories

It's the same one again. He's right back where he started. Unloved, unknown, left out of everything. The pangs of hunger run through him like a freight train as he desperately runs from room to room in his childhood home...But there's no nourishment. Someone calls his name but all he feels is fear at being recognized, he cowers as a figure rounds the corner and says his name again. "You think you could get away from me? Huh?" It could be anyone, a parent, someone he used to owe money to, an old abusive coach, all he knows is what comes next is going to hurt. "Are you fucking crying? You're so pathetic, soon everyone else will see that just like I always have!" The floor begins to sag and give way, everything creases in on itself. His brain feels like it's going to explode.

When he wakes up- his brain still feels as if it's too big for his skull, pushing against the edges like it's trying to find its way out. But he doesn't groan in pain, and he doesn't move. You're next to him after all, breathing softly. The moonlight grounds him, your hand against his side grounds him, he is safe now. The best thing you can do is stay asleep. He isn't ready to talk and admit that he's weak (or even worse...the fact that it is okay to be weak sometimes), not yet. For now he just snuggles against you and quietly brushes away any residual tears, thanking everything he believes in that he's here with you now.

Kaiser, Hiori, Naruhaya, Noa, Lorenzo

The Silent Type + More Abstract Fears

Slow. Everything was moving so fucking slow around him. His body was falling apart. Every sinew, every cell, every fucking atom of his being was breaking down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Was this what he was truly destined for, dust to dust? Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, everything was calm. He was dying, so what? Every star burns out. And then, as sharp as a clap of thunder, the pain arrived. In his heart, not his body. Images of friends, family, trophies, all the things he hadn't done yet and you surged through his head. No, he couldn't die, not yet! He gripped his arm, but it was already turning to dust. Irrelevant and forgotten.

He's almost surprised when he wakes up, remembers that that would be impossible. Wants to scoff at himself for being afraid of something that could never happen. But the truth is, he is going to die someday, no matter how big of a star he is. He watches you twitch in your sleep, obviously disturbed by how he jerked awake, and curls his arms around you. He presses his face to the top of your head and breathes you in, silently begging you to drift back into a deeper sleep. He just needs to savor every moment with you and stop worrying, he tells himself.

Snuffy, Nagi, Ego, Aryu, Reo, Kuon, Chris, Jin

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Reassurance

Why was this happening? You were in his arms, covered in blood, he was covered in blood; It was everywhere. The cheering from the fans turned into screaming, that's when he should've stopped and had the damn sense to look around. Instead, he kept running and dribbling down the field, confused why nobody was stopping him. He didn't see you falling from the stands until you were right in front of him. Your arm twisted first, then your neck, the rest of you followed. Why was this happening? "No, no, no, no...(Y/N). Get help! What the fuck are you all standing around for?!" He took off his jersey and tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn't enough, you were already going cold. He was powerless.

"I said get help-!!" he roared. "Oh..oh fuck." He suddenly wasn't holding your limp body anymore, he was in his- your room. The smell of blood disappeared. He glanced over and made eye contact with you. "Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf!" "No..can you, can you just come here?" He crushes you in a bear hug as soon as you do. Even when he lets up, he opts to hold your hand instead. He makes you tell him about your day, because he got in late when you were already asleep. He tells you how much he loves you and recounts the day you two met just to stop his heart from bursting. "S-sorry I woke you up, I just- I needed that."

Ness, Niko, Aoshi, Sendo, Gagumaru, Igaguri, Kurona

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Some Space

The first thing he notices is that he can't breathe. The second thing he notices is that he is in a hospital. "No, I don't think he will ever be able to speak or move again." a voice he doesn't recognize claims. Someone is choking him and he can't stop them. It's himself, rabid, foaming at the mouth. The doppelganger realizes he's been caught and tightens his grip. "That's right, that's what you fucking get for ignoring yourself. You don't even fucking eat enough and you want to be a star, huh? You keep betraying yourself." His neck is lifted from the cold pillow. "And betraying yourself!" It's slammed back down. He wants to tell him to stop, to say anything, but he can't.

He wakes up like he's been jolted back to life by electricity, doesn't even realize he's screaming. "Baby, baby you're okay! It's okay." He feels your hands around him and feels ashamed instead of relieved. What the fuck was that?! "Just go back to sleep, I'll be back." You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "Please." This is nothing you can help him with, he needs to take care of himself and he knows it. Can't keep relying on others to pull him out. He takes a cold shower and comes back to bed hours later, slipping next to you. "I'm sorry I scared you." is all he says as his hands glide over your back. It's best if you just accept his apology, you'll never fully understand the war he's having with himself.

Chigiri, Kenyu, Kunigami, Kira, Sae, Barou

You Wake Him Up + It's Not Okay

Of course he knows this is a fucking dream, how could it not be? The overwhelming lights, the strange woman putting her hands on his chest. He knows exactly what this is about too. The paparazzi have gotten way too comfortable following both you and him around, they keep asking invasive questions and posting up outside of your house. The lack of privacy should be illegal. "You're famous now, you should like this you ungrateful piece of shit." a voice hisses in his ear as another pair of hands massages his shoulders. He tenses and struggles, but more hands appear, grabbing at his clothes. They tear pieces away from him with no remorse and something deep inside of him wishes it could end- Scratch that, every part of him wishes this would end, the violation, the rumors, the-

"Hey! Are you alright? I think..I think that you were having a nightmare." He gasps, so the feeling of hands on his chest were yours. Everything that was tensed relaxes, it was just you. That doesn't stop all his feelings from welling up along with tears. "Can you not touch me right now?" God, he wishes you wouldn't look at him like that. "Are you crying?" "No." He slips out of bed and checks the curtains, he can't shake the feeling of foreign hands on every part of him, not just his chest. Disgust curls and uncurls in his stomach. Why couldn't he just fight back on his own in his own damn head? "There's no one out there-" "How do you know!? Huh?" he demands, a whole lot louder than he meant to. "Fuck wait..I'm sorry. This week has just been a lot." You two end up having a long and needed talk that night.

Lavinho, Reo, Oliver, Rin, Raichi, Tabito

You Wake Him Up + It's Okay

He has been walking in circles for hours. Each loop, though, something changes. At first it was funny, (someone's head would balloon to an impossible size or a sign would read a curse word instead of an actual street name, for example) but now he was just tired. He couldn't sit down though or this burning pain would shoot through him...Just like in the real world, if he ever stopped shining, if he ever stopped moving forward, he'd get this feeling like he wasn't doing enough. Even on vacations there would be a gnawing sense that he was running from his rightful title. All he needed was the spotlight, even if it took so much fucking effort to get there. Practicing the same kicks over and over again, walking in circles, looking for what would excite him next-

"Please stop kicking me..." you groan and he wakes up instantly. Honestly, he didn't realize how terrifying his dream was until he's lucid. "Was I kicking you? Sorry... I just had the weirdest dream, it was like I kept walking in circles and I couldn't stop." "Maybe that's your brain telling you to take a break and stop treating my shin like a soccer ball." You two continue to make light of it and the more he talks about it with you, the more relaxed he gets. He's going to be just fine, especially with you by his side. "Mnh, good night." you finally whisper, cuddling up against him and tangling your leg with his in a final attempt to prevent any future attacks. "Good night." He watches you fall asleep with love in his eyes and wonders how a job obsessed weirdo like him managed to land someone as perfect as you.

Bachira, Loki, Isagi, Shidou, Nanase, Otoya, Zantetsu,

[blorbologist]

could i get a trick or treat with the empire sibs?

Ended up kinda hurt/comfort-ish, but!!

Major spoilers for Echoes of the Solstice below! A bit of an alternative ending, before Caleb throws up the tower, bc I love me some Trauma.

--

Trent is dead,

(Impossible. Not possible. That is why they did not kill him then. And even - even - it would be childish to hope, and that child is buried with two townsfolk and a cat.) and Blumenthal smolders still, and he can’t leave Veth to worry for Luc, and the world quite literally hangs by a thread that they need to sever and Caleb can’t -  

“Caleb! Oy, Caleb!” Beauregard punches him hard in the arm, and says: “Breathe”

Soot clings to Bren’s tongue on the inhale. Caleb tastes blood on the exhale. 

She whacks him again. This time it stings, and he brings a hand to clutch at his elbow. 

“There you go.” With a jut of her chin she points to - “No, hey, stay with me. Look - Caleb, look.”

His eye has always been drawn to flame, gaze a moth seeking to burn. Hoping to see something different each time.

He does. He - he does. 

Unfamiliar townsfolk comfort eachother in huddles, some rushing to and from the well with soaked cloth. Some faces he recognizes - a moment given to age, not injury. There’s laughter, relieved laughter. A woman catches his eye and waves, the toddler in her arm clumsily mimicking the gesture.

Caleb still sees what he does not. 

“Even now,” he murmurs. “Even now, after all - after everything… and still Trent can ruin more lives. All this, to get back at me.”

Beau sighs. “We’re not getting into the - fucking scales of human life here.”

“You’re right.” Caleb straightens. “Where are the Nein? We need - Veth will kill us. Veth will kill us, and Luc needs to go home right now. And Ludinus is ultimately responsible, and needs to be held accountable, stopped. And - what Tent said about Essek -”

“Caleb.” The pain registers dimly as Beauregard squeezes his forearm. “Let’s just - slow down.”

Their crow’s feet match: perched on the same podiums at trials, side by side in the libraries, hopping down the roads of Wildemount and beyond much like Kiri still does. 

“You don’t need to run,” she says. “You’re not going to be chased out. Or - or locked up. You didn’t do this. And we can fix it.”

“Yeah, we should probably get to all that, and soon.” Beau scratches at the nape of her neck, looking out over the town. “Fuck. But! But - there are people here. And maybe, I don’t know, it’d be good to fix some things - actually fix them - before we head on to the impossible problems again.” 

Caleb finds a wry smile in himself. “Like explaining all this to Veth?”

“Oh, I’m planning on saving that for last.”

He chuckles - absolutely not. Beauregard carefully keeps her gaze on Blumenthal as Caleb wipes his eyes. 

And then he looks again.

Jester heaves up a beam so Fjord can pull two children - and then their parents. Caduceus pads with tea in one hand, lichen in the other. His ear twitches as Yasha helps prepare a house to hold the neighbors, as Luc herds some star-struck teens into making tents, Brenatto-patented.

Caleb Widogast does not know Mending. 

But, then again, neither does Beau. 

He rolls up his sleeves… and opens his home to his hometown.

[ilanarose7]

Some morning-after thoughts following C3E94!

SPOILERS BELOW!!

Starting from the top of the episode: Ashton's low-charisma flirting is so adorable, and I think that's part of why Fearne gets so flustered. She's used to the strong, abrasive attitude they usually put forward, so seeing this side of Ashton (if I were to take a guess) is part of the reason she gets so nervous about what to say back. That, paired with what Ashley said on 4SD ages ago that these kinds of feelings are new for her just makes for some adorably awkward flirting.

Next up: Daddy Zathuda (thank you Dani Carr for the nickname). My running theory is that he's trying to find a way to make her Exhalt for her to become the vessel so he can betray Ludinus. He learned via last night's test that nearly killing her doesn't make it happen, but clocked the protectiveness of her relationship with her found family (namely Orym last night). Test #2 will probably be more like what happened with the first Otohan fight.

Skipping ahead a bit, can we talk about the converging of 3 campaigns into one tent?! We haven't had this much overlap in a designated area since the Malleus Key Solstice event! Keyleth, Essek (in disguise), Taldorei council members, and our very own Bells Hells all talking to each other in one war tent! This is slightly reaffirming my opinions that this campaign is essentially Exandria: Endgame but I am here for it!

Last but most certainly not least, ASTRID BECK!!!! Hiding at Chastity's Nook of all places!! "Bren sends his regards" Essek you are amazing! I'm sooooo excited to see what happens next episode. Also crossing my fingers that we take a trip to visit Pumat Sol to stock up before heading out. I miss the Furbolg voice

Last night had a little bit of everything in it (including the world's fastest shopping/cleaning session) and I loved it! Also, big fan of Beacon and CR Cooldown was great to watch afterwards! Beacon live Discord chat is 10000% better than Twitch chat

[diamondzoey]

*kicks open the door* more bug questions and scenarios (I hope y’all are ready for the angst >:3)

1. If your bug was in a water gun fight would they win?

2. Fame Au!

Did they do any another series before the gator boys series?

3. Divine Au!

How did your bug meet the another bugs or the one of the seven divines?

4. Scenarios #1 Actor bug au (Tw: harassment, being followed)

The bug army went to a cosplay con and was dress as different characters from different series (Jemma dressed up as a genderbend version of bren from siren’s merman series, also who would your bug cosplay as?) and some of their fans dressed up as them or them in different Aus and the bugs took pictures with their fans and walked around the con but they met this one fan who was kinda creepy and kept asking questions and would hit on jemma a lot even when she said repeatedly she has a boyfriend (Azren) but the creep wouldn’t listen and even when the bugs walked away, the guy would keep following them and even when one of the bugs were in a conversation with someone else the guy would but in and out himself in the conversation

Jemma who talking with one of the bugs than the guy interrupts the conversation

The guy: So jemma did you rethink about going on a date with me?

Jemma who’s right eye twitch because this the 16th time he asked her that question

5. Scenarios #2

Some of the bugs were hanging out in living room and talking to each other and than hears jemma’s voice

Jemma who has a box with her: hey guys you’re never guess what I found!

One of the bugs: What is it?

Jemma opens the box and the bugs see that it Chibi versions of themselves and chibi versions of the gator boys: aren’t they cute *While having the chibi version of Azren and Sammy on her head

6. If they were to body swap with one of their au selfs how would that go?

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii

@insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow

@rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf

@littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @stray-glitch

@threeweekinsomnia @redcated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry

@lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @not-5-rats

@astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @headstrashdump

@megapugman @reefhastoomanyaccs @kaydenskiwi @greaysharkboi @itzscribz @blingzyya @atonalasmr

[dent-de-leon]

He’s caged—like a demon. Like an animal. A soul damned over and over; from the Matron’s curse to his own infernal blood, a wretched fate and the wrong family line, the folly of his last fatal mistake—a little trinket shining in the moonlight, a prayer unanswered. 

Was the weight of those chains worth it? 

“It’s just another devil,” an archmage assured him. And Bren is forced to remember all the demons and devils he’d seen since ascending to the city, every creature chained and bound, paraded through the streets for the mages’ entertainment. The way it chilled him to the bone, seeing collars emblazoned with the names and ranks of other wizards, symbols of wealth and status as surely as any finery or crown.

He can’t see what's engraved on the tiefling’s collar, but the cuffs at his wrists and ankles are gold, glinting with jewels and adorned in intricate runes. And it makes Bren's stomach turn, seeing the red eyes branded all over his body—the countless scars he carried—

He starts tugging at the bandages on one arm, nails biting deep into the old fraying rags. Doesn’t think about his own scars still raw and burning, the shards of residuum gleaming just beneath the skin. The pinpricks of pain that never fade. 

In the back of that cage, the tiefling stirs; head frantically tossing and turning, his whole body trembling. Eyes still shut. A nightmare, Bren thinks, knows, can feel it in the pit of his stomach. The anguished, muted cries. The breaths coming too sharp and fast. He’s woken far too many nights in a cold sweat—especially when the scars were still fresh. 

When the tiefling’s tail twitches and lashes, clearly anxious, Bren's heart breaks a bit. 

The Somnovem’s captive was locked away far below the enchanting halls of the Dawn Crucible, one of the greatest wonders of the clandestine, outcast Cognouza Ward. High vaulted ceilings and walls, all luminous with the dancing flicker and flare of an ethereal, azure light—a soft, warm glow suffusing the whole dome. The walls an array of endless shelves, every one overflowing with books and scrolls and tomes as old as memory itself. The threshold crest the crown jewel of it all, a glistening crystal centerpiece to illuminate the whole rotunda in dazzling radiance, a temple worthy of eternity. 

“The birthplace of dreams,” an unnervingly zealous philosopher had promised. Her eyes were hollow, sunken, rimmed with dark circles. Bren wondered how a person could ever love dreaming so much, when they hadn’t slept in weeks—or months. Her magic seemed to spark with a kinetic energy, electric as a live wire. Her voice echoed with a moonstruck fervor, a divine reverence that was surely blasphemy. And wherever Bren turned, he could still sense her unerring gaze.

And here, down below an archive of endless dreams and possibility, the only light was the faint flicker of arcane torches. And Bren was faced with rows of human cages. He tries not to think of all the other prisoners, where they came from or who they were, what horrible misfortune had cost them everything, banished them to the darkest corner of a reigning empire. 

“Why this one?” He can’t help but ask, even as he kicks himself for letting the words slip out. It’s foolish—dangerous. You were never this stupid before, he chides himself, Clever as you are, with things like this—you’re stupid. 

The philosopher, Elatis, smiles warmly. It makes his skin crawl. 

“Of all our research subjects, he has the greatest potential. Within his soul lies the key to eternity,” she said with a wondrous, contented sigh. “We are all of us the enemy to death, to suffering, to grief. But for all the horror she’s wrought, the Matron has also given us the very thing we need. She has planted the seeds, and now it is time to harvest.”

Fate touched, Bren realizes. Forever bound to a fate he could never hope to fight, strung up by the Matron like a puppet, the threads of destiny already woven. A prisoner, a pawn, another doomed soul to be sacrificed for the gods. 

And for an archmage, a soul touched by the divine was a powerful conduit for otherworldly magic. Enslaved like the devils they bent to their will, the very essence of their life siphoned away. Mages bathing in their blood for just a taste of the divine. 

With a whispered word and a wave of her hand, the cage door swung open, and Elatis stepped inside. She moved with a certain grace, as dignified as any noble. And when she knelt at the broken tiefling’s side, reached out a hand to embrace him—her touch was almost gentle. Kind. 

“Shh. Hush, Nonagon. You were destined for this,” Elatis soothes, her voice washing over him in a soft, lilting lullaby. 

She combed back a lock of hair to revel a crimson Eye branding his throat—a voracious hunger reflected in her own haunting stare. 

She beckoned for Bren to join him, and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Gaze pointedly averted as he crossed the threshold, forced himself to enter the tiefling’s prison. He can’t bear to look too closely, to see just how much the poor thing suffered. He could only bite his tongue and shudder, willing himself not to see. 

Beside him, the philosopher kept petting the long, dark locks of the tiefling’s tousled curls. It would have been comforting, perhaps even maternal, if not for the iron bars that caged him, the golden chains that bound him body and soul. 

“Aeor and Zemnias are the last remaining bastions of mortals,” Elatis mourned, her dark, piercing gaze softening for but a moment. “It was good of your master to send you here to learn, to join us in this time of so much war and strife. All are welcome here, in our design. You have but to ask, and we will open your mind to the Dream.”

My master wishes to see you fall, Bren thought darkly, Trent’s words still echoing in his head. “Join them. Learn from them all you can. Aid them, obey them. And steal whatever secrets you find. Bring back a weapon worthy of the Empire, one that can bring an end to Aeor.” 

“The tiefling you chose. He…was he alone when you found him? Has he no family?” The words taste like ash on his tongue, hanging heavy on his heart. Merely speaking them was tantamount to treason; any soul claimed by the gods, bound to their will—in the eyes of Aeor, their lives were already forfeit.

And when Elatis let him rifle through his personal artifacts, all that was confiscated from his person when they bound him in chains, Bren didn’t miss the shining little trinket of a crescent moon. The prayer to the Moonweaver foolishly scribbled on a bloodstained note. 

Another voice cackled, dark and gleeful. An elven archmage stood on the other side of the bars, teeth far sharper than any elf Bren had ever seen. His skin was a sickly pallor, and his eyes were rimmed by heavy circles just as dark and deep as Elatis’. 

When Bren looked at him closer, he swore for just a moment the man's eyes turned red.

Culpasi. He had seen the philosopher only in passing, but already loathed his company. 

“Oh, don’t you know where they got him?” The elf asked innocently, his smile sharp as a knife. “Some little troupe of traveling performers, in some shithole little town back on Exandria. A happy family of tieflings, putting on plays and nunnery. Quaint and adorable, I’m sure. Well, until someone looked into the caravan, and found out one of the kids was a walking corpse. Parents handed him over to some hag, if you can believe that. And the things they made their other son do, well…let’s just say, he’s far better off in here. Rather lucky we found him, really.” 

“He…struggled, the first few years,” Elatis admitted sadly. “Lashed out whenever someone got too close, afraid of our gifts. But we helped him to forget, the poor dear; opened his mind to the Dreams—cleared his troubled head a bit. And he’s been quite docile and tame ever since.” 

“Lost all the fight in him when we emptied out his thick skull,” Culpasi said, with a knowing grin that made Caleb’s heart twist. 

The way the philosopher looks at him, it’s like he knows, and it makes Bren sick. 

There’s this…hollow emptiness, that lives deep inside him, some vital part that was cut out and carved away. Excising the rot, so the rest of the tree can grow—that’s what they told him, when they took it. When he woke with weeks and months and years just gone, all of it slipping away. He doesn’t remember who Bren Aldrich Eremund was before he boarded his first skyship, the boy who lived in the world below. They took it, when they broke him. Reforged his soul in fire and brimstone, dug deep beneath his skin and tore him up from the inside. 

Did Bren have a family? A home? Did someone miss him, somewhere far below the sky and stars down there? 

Or was he like the tiefling, all alone? Abandoned? Forsaken by family and the gods both. 

From within the cage, a soft, mournful cry echoes. Inhuman, but so innately mortal. Anguished. Heartbroken. The kind of hushed, choked back cries that escaped Caleb in the midst of his own night terrors. 

Bren had seen his victims beg. Had heard the words, alien and distant, discordant—as if submerged deep beneath dark waters, drifting and drowning and fighting for breath. The rest of the world a distant memory. He hears it, sees it, but he’s choking and gasping, can’t move, can’t breathe, pulled under by the current. He suffocates, and everything burns. 

They were traitors, enemies to the Empire, Caleb told himself, chanting the mantra over and over, shutting out the sight of all those fearful eyes and agonized screams. But…if he was ordered to partake in this creature’s torment, to torture this being whose only crime was being born to a wretched fate—

He couldn’t. He couldn’t. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t the enemy, a killer, a poison, a betrayer—

He had a family, Bren thinks, and for some reason, that more than anything breaks him. 

In Elatis’ arms, the sleeping tiefling continues to tremble and shake, thrashing in some subconscious attempt to break free of her grasp, twisting and writhing with a plaintive, desperate cry. “Empty,” he chokes out weakly, voice soft and slurred by sleep. He echoes the word again and again, a breathless litany, a hollow chant of shaking breaths. “Empty. Empty. Empty—” 

“Shh. Come now, dear. No more of that.” 

Elatis runs her hands over a single red Eye, and all at once the tiefling’s shaking body falls still, an eerie, disquieting calm falling over him like a shroud. As another dream claims him, the tiefling smiles faintly, as if finally at peace.  

“W-What did you do?” Bren whispers. 

Elatis pats the boy’s head fondly. “I merely let him have the Dream his heart desires. You see? Through dreams, even the most haunted soul can heal. It is our blessing, a gift—one that we wish to share with the whole world. Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

It’s cruel, Bren thinks. You’ve done nothing but carve out every part of him. You’re toying with him, pulling at his strings just like the Matron. “It certainly seems…useful,” he says, and lets the rest die on his tongue, choking it back like bile. 

Elatis’ smile is purely tranquil, beatific. “Whenever you wish, we will always be there to welcome you home. Now, forgive me, but I must attend to other matters before tonight’s ritual. I look forward to working with you, Bren; I can sense you have a wonderful imagination, one I’m sure will create the loveliest dreams. Sleep well.” 

She glided down the dark corridor, humming a soft, soothing melody as she disappeared into the dungeons’ depths. 

Culpasi made to follow her, but not before getting far too close for Bren’s liking, and resting a deathly cold hand on his shoulder. 

“A word of advice, friend,” he said, still smiling bright. “Maybe don’t do anything stupid, alright? I mean, really—letting a wild animal out of its cage? What do you think will happen?” 

Before Bren could stammer out that he had no idea what the mage was going on about, the elf turned on his heel, and vanished in a cloud of burning smoke. 

As the searing heat and choking taste of ash began to fade, Bren stood alone. There was only the darkness, the cage—and the hollow, empty soul who laid still before him. A sudden impulse seized him, desperate and foolish. Suicidal. What the hell are you thinking, Eremund? What in the world are you doing? He was reaching out to the tiefling before he could stop himself, acting on sheer instinct, compelled by some force more powerful than any charm or curse. 

Bren’s hand hovered above him uncertainly, hanging over the tiefling’s shoulder for but a moment. Verdammt. In a snap decision, he shook the tiefling roughly, enough to wake him from the mage’s spell.

“Hey! You—ah, you are, the traveling player, ja? From the little caravan troupe? Do you remember?”

The creature stirred from twisting dreams, tossing and turning as his tail lashed with every shaking breath. Bleary eyes blinked open wide amidst the charm induced haze, peering out fearfully into the darkness, glowing with a feral light. Eyes as red as the brands upon his skin, but…softer. Full of longing. 

Though Bren’s words didn’t seem to reach him, there was a waking intelligence in his piercing crimson gaze, the stirring remnants of a soul that had not yet been broken.

“Can…can you hear me?” Bren whispered softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, looking him in the eyes. Bearing a part of his heart he had long since buried. “I…I feel empty too. I know what it is, what they did to you…And I swear, I—I won’t hurt you.” 

A flash of fear flickers in those hollow, empty eyes, a brief spark of something in that vacant, glassy stare. You’re in there, somewhere, Bren thinks, latching onto it like a lifeline, seizing that single thread of fading consciousness. Reaches out and pulls until it all unravels. 

“You don’t want to die down here, do you?” He whispers, bending down to gaze right into the tiefling’s burning carmine eyes. “You want to live.” 

[yvesdot]

yves.'s 2023 PRIDESTRAVAGANZA!

Friday, June 30th, 2023 @ 10:00 AM PST on Twitch

Please join me for a homotranssexual (+Constantine) battle royale, sponsored by OHHOW's monthly theme of Interactive Fiction and (consequently) everyone's favorite Hunger Games simulator. Root for your favorites! Boo the losers! We're having the top LGBT yves. characters fight for our amusement, because why pit two queens against each other when you could pit twenty-three? (+Constantine.) No prior yves. reading experience required.

RECORDING AVAILABLE NOW

Support the author: all posted writing | book | ko-fi | Patreon

Further info & stream spoilers below cut:

Final character list used for the stream:

Kay and Atlas (KAY RAINIER) Constantine (KAY RAINIER) and Bren (Sometimes it Happens) Ephraim and Elle (Sometimes it Happens) Eliza and Red (Forest Castles) Avner and Ahava (Forest Castles) Dana and Flor (Tell Me About the Nonbeliever) Mel and Jenny (Something's Not Right) The Father and The Daughter (Exhaustively) Vidalia and Brayden (Tragic Accident) Charlie and Scarlett (World Got Smaller) Rebecca (Something Weird I Heard About Rebecca) & Traveler Wife (The Traveler Wife) Beck & Annalise (Long Line) (NSFW)

________________________________

All the unused characters I considered using:

KAY RAINIER: Constantine's fruity brother Ariel, mysterygf, Leah, Bode, Elizabeth

Sometimes it Happens: Lilith Giselle, Michael, Alyosha

Dressage protagonist, Tragic Accident protagonist, Thomasina and Katie from The Summer of Katie, Percique and Annet from A Fruit Platter of Unintended Consequences, Violet from codename: violet, Ocean, Mr. Tanner, and Tim from Practical Applications, Will from HOMECOMING, Starling and Westenra from IF YOU ARE MADE OF LIGHT., the women of Galactic April, đào and titania from as you were, Home Wife from The Traveler Wife, The Groom from Bride & Groom, Graecen and Rosauro from The Hands and the Mouth, the protagonist and Gale from Six Reasons I Have To Do This, Nishie and Juliana from the magic number.

(If I missed anyone, you should tell me!)

_______________________________

RECAP

Round 1: Bloodbath

Ephraim Sokolov and Dana Singh fight for a bag. Dana Singh strangles Ephraim Sokolov with the straps and runs. Bren stabs Annalise in the back with a trident. Brayden shoots a poisonous blow dart into Jenny's neck, slowly killing her. Red kills Vidalia with her own weapon.

Round 2: Day

Constantine Rainier severely slices Avner Ivory with a sword. Beck silently snaps The Girl's neck. Red taints Scarlett's food, killing them. Ahava severely injures Atlas and leaves him to die.

Round 3: Night

Constantine Rainier falls into a frozen lake and drowns. Traveler Wife kills Flor while he is sleeping. Mel bashes Red's head in with a mace.

Round 4: Day

Mel poisons Brayden's drink. he drinks it and dies. Kay Rainier dies trying to escape the arena.

Round 5: Night

Ahava accidentally steps on a landmine.

Round 6: Day

Rebecca taints Mel's food, killing him. Traveler Wife forces The Golem to kill Beck or Bren. he decides to kill Bren.

Round 7: Night

The Golem severely injures Charlie, but puts Charlie out of Charlie’s misery. Rebecca overpowers Elle Valentin, killing them.

Round 8: Feast

No-one died

Round 9: Day

Rebecca kills Dana Singh with a sickle.

Round 10: Night

No-one died

Round 11: Day

Beck stabs Rebecca with a tree branch. Eliza Feldman begs for Traveler Wife to kill her. she reluctantly obliges, killing Eliza Feldman.

Round 12: Night

No-one died

Round 13: Day

The Golem attempts to climb a tree, but falls on Traveler Wife, killing them both.

WINNER: Beck

MOST KILLS: Rebecca (3)

[kmackatie]

it's been a while since I've posted something, but since it's Wednesday (somewhere), here's a little WIP Wednesday for what is affectionately called evilgast2 (this is your warning for nsfw under the cut):

“Ermendrud,” gasps Thelyss, voice strained with an attempt at control.

“Your mental walls are shockingly woeful and inadequate, sweetheart,” croons Bren, fingers squeezing around Thelyss’ hips and shifting his grip slightly. He doesn’t stop moving. “How have you survived this long without getting caught?”

Bren catches a flash of annoyance, of a desire to throw him across the room in a flash of power, catches how often does he do this and he chuckles, low and heady before pressing his lips to the nape of Thelyss’ neck. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I’ll give you the answer to that one if you surrender.”

Thelyss’ breath is coming in rapid inhales of air, his hands white-knuckled against the desk, and Bren leans forward to take one pointed ear into his mouth. The noise that drops from Thelyss’ mouth is filthy, a short burst of Undercommon that Bren can’t quite follow, and his whole body goes taut.

A moment later, Thelyss is spilling, hot spurts of cum flow down over Bren’s fingers and across the desk as he strokes him through it, his teeth continue to tug and nibble along Thelyss’ sensitive lobe even as he twitches and tries to draw away.

A smug hum makes itself known in Bren’s chest and he doesn’t stop himself from vocalising the chuckle that follows.

“There we go,” says Bren, his fingertips shifting up Thelyss’ side slightly before nudging around to his front. It causes Thelyss to move backward, to bump into his cock, and Bren groans and can’t help the slight hitch of his hips. He’s still hard, and he has plans before he will find his own relief. “Mm. Do you really want to know?”

Thelyss is panting before him, his chest moving where it rests against Bren, and he says nothing as he slowly unwarps his fingers from the edge of his desk. It’s an impressive bit of furniture, some form of dark wood with a purple vein through polished into a dull shine, quills stacked in ordered rows and multiple bottles of ink built into one end. Half-open books have been pushed to the side, sheets covered in Thelyss’ precise hand show progress on spells though Bren hasn’t gotten a good enough look to identify anything. Thelyss’ entire study is impressive, shelves lining the curved walls while a spelled pentagram is inlaid into the floor—a perfect container for experimentation. Thick velvet curtains are drawn across what Bren guesses is a view out to Rosohna. 

It would be a stunning view of the perpetual twilight if it was open, but it’s probably for the best that it’s closed since he isn’t entirely meant to be here.

“Yes.” 

Bren’s thoughts are drawn back to the drow before him, the shaking inky-violet hand that briefly touches his own before lifting to wipe at Thelyss’ forehead.

“Hmm?” With a final lazy stroke, Bren lets go of Thelyss’ cock and raises his hand, resting his chin on Thelyss’ shoulder to peer over at the mess coating it. Before he can do anything, Thelyss is already flicking through somatics he’s familiar with and Bren tsks. “Really, Thelyss?”

Bren presses his lips to Thelyss’ cheek, just to see if he can. He doesn’t immediately draw away. Interesting.

“I have no doubts you’ll get your mouth on me eventually,” says Thelyss, his usual night-whisper voice just a little haggard. Bren smirks. “Play then, I’m sure the one who holds your leash taught you patience. How often?”

Ah, right.

[dirty-urie]

Flipping and Fucking

The hotel bedsheets are still cool and smooth under you, and you squirm happily in anticipation. You can’t wait until they’re warm and rumpled from your frantic bodies.

Brendon emerges from the bathroom with a self-assured smile, his tour pants still slung low on his hips. His subtle v-lines protrude from the waistband, and it’s obvious that with just a minuscule tug down, you’d be able to see where they don’t-quite-meet. He saunters towards you, relishing that the two of you have all the time in the world.

You yank your eyes from his abs and burgeoning erection to his right hand. He’s holding one of your vibrators, a small pink wand that you surreptitiously tucked into his bag before he left. You’re sure that was a fun surprise going through airport security.

He stops. The right side of his mouth quirks up, and his eyebrows raise. “Babe?”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Mhm?” you respond coyly.

“Does this belong to you?”

You pretend to think for a moment, putting your finger to your temple. “Hm, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Brendon keeps his gaze laser-focused on you as he tosses the vibrator in the air. It flips once before he catches it easily, flicking it on. “Do you need a reminder?” He closes the rest of the gap to the bed, and crawls on top of you, nestling the pulsing vibe against your clit.

You give in and grin, nibbling his lip as you push your hips up. His demeanor falters slightly at the sensation of the vibrations against his cock. “Did you mic flip my vibrator?” you ask incredulously, amusement playing across your whole face.

He laughs, kissing you deeply before pulling away to answer. “Old habits die hard, darlin’. Tour ended today, I can’t be expected to lose my showmanship immediately,” he teases.

You squeeze a hand between your bodies and squeeze the swelling in his pants hard. He chokes, thrusting forward into your grasp. “Oh no, baby, I love the showmanship. In fact…” You let yourself pause, knowing he won’t interrupt you. You run your thumb teasingly over the throbbing bulge before moving down to cup his balls gently. “I think you should put on a little show for me right now. Strip. Strip while I touch myself with this toy you’ve so generously kept safe for me.”

Brendon clambers off of you eagerly to stand next to the bed. He undoes his belt expertly, and unbuttons and unzips his pants before peeling the leather down his thighs. The sight of his flushed cock makes you moan and bear your toy down against you.

“Fuck, Bren, baby, you have the most perfect cock,” you cry, squeezing your thighs around the toy. You reach out and drag your finger along his length, and he twitches under you, precome beginning to amass at his tip. “Oh god, I love how you respond to me.” You moan as you increase the vibration speed. Your muscles tighten, and you know your peak is soon approaching.

Brendon crawls back on top of you, and the feeling of his bare erection against your skin is incomparable. For both of you it seems since he’s rubbing against you desperately. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, and you groan, not bothering to hide any of your pleasured noises. It’s nothing the band members next door haven’t heard before. You both know it gets them hot and bothered, and you love seeing proof of your excellent sex lives when the crew and band flush seeing you the next day. “Fuck, Brendon, so good.”

You don’t have to say anything else, he knows your body well enough. “Come for me,” he urges, and that’s all you need. You convulse and soak both the bed under you and Brendon on top of you.

He moans, biting your shoulder, and you know he not-so-secretly loves when you squirt for him. He didn’t write a whole song about it for nothing.

“This toy always makes me come so hard,” you pant, switching it off. Brendon continues to rock against your heat wordlessly. “It’s why I packed it for you. You know I didn’t wash it first, right? I’m such a filthy girl for you Brendon,” you whisper, your tone sultry. Brendon makes a strangled moan, and you continue. “Wanted you to be able to smell and taste this pussy whenever you wanted, baby boy. But I know it’s not as good as having me here for real.” You slide the toy out from the folds of your cunt and press it against Brendon’s lips. He sucks it into his mouth eagerly. “Did you use this when you touched yourself, Brendon?”

Brendon doesn’t answer.

“Oh come on, honey. Don’t play dumb. I know you touched yourself this tour. I saw how hard you got on stage every night. My slutty boy. Know you jerked that perfect cock and imagined it was me. Imagined me letting you come on my tits,” you fantasize aloud, your clit starting to throb again. “Even some nights we couldn’t do phone sex because of the bus, I heard your breathing get louder throughout the call. I know you were getting off to your girl’s voice."

Brendon whimpers in agreement, and you take the toy out of his mouth, replacing it on your clit. “I put it on the head of my cock,” he confesses. “Imagining you using it on yourself,” he swallows, “fuck, it got me there so fast. Embarrassingly fast.” He’s red and panting, and you’re starting to take pity on him. He’s been so good for you.

“Oh my pussy slut,” you say affectionately. “Can you come for me, Bren? If you come on me, I’ll be able to come again.”

The thought of your orgasm is what does him in, and he tenses hard as he lets go on top of you. You’re happy you’re on birth control as warm come drips down your pussy. You wrap your legs around him and come too, this one rolling through you.

He places a sweaty, sticky kiss to your forehead, and you don’t know where your body ends and his starts. You’re just one fucked, exhausted heap.

You yawn. “Can we sleep in and get shitty hotel breakfast tomorrow morning?” you ask weakly, smiling at the thought.

“Hell yeah,” he murmurs before drifting off.

[brendan-block]

𝗥𝗣  𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗘  𝗙𝗢𝗥  𝗧𝗛𝗘  𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗗 [WATCH]: For your muse to watch my muse sleeping + Reverse ((Bren watching Dori or Xan sleeping, your pick! - @theeldritchmortician))

From within the darkest corner of the slumbering music director's unlit bedroom, two glittering eyes watched him unseen. They had not been there when the man first slipped into bed, but a window left ajar allowed them to climb inside not long after and remain there throughout the night. While the shadowed figure in possession of those eyes did nothing except sit and quietly observe, the seemingly harmless act still filled them with an intense pleasure and feeling of satisfaction.

How could it not?

After all, they were able to indulge in their obsession for the music director for hours. They greedily drank in every moan and whimper that fell from his parted lips, every intake of breath that came with the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and every little gasp that followed whenever he moved or twitched and accidentally exposed the naked flesh under his pyjamas.

"Yeh ave no idea how hard it is keepin' on my best behaviour, when yeh look this delicious and temptin'," Brendan's familiar Scottish brogue suddenly invaded Xander's ear.

@theeldritchmortician

[karminecorp]

Live Now

[FR - ENG Below] Nouveau stream matinal de Bren aujourd'hui ! Il est de nouveau sur son jeu signature, Trackmania. Allez le voir tester des maps !

twitch.tv/bren_tm2

[ENG] A new morning stream from Bren today ! He is once again on his signature game, Trackmania. Go watch him testing maps!

twitch.tv/bren_tm2

[stesierra]

Today, I'd like you to meet the other two main characters in Mud-Child. Here's chapter two. Chapter One is here:

CHAPTER TWO

Go to Derryford for a job. That's what everyone said. Thousands of people crammed into that place, all who thought they were better than farm or townsfolk. They couldn't scrub their own walls or care for their own horses. Had never seen their houses burnt down by invaders, or their fields looted by the duke's soldiers. Had never shoveled shit in their lives.

That's what everyone had told Bren.

Ten days into his visit to the city, he leaned against a wall on Merchant's Street and tossed a worm-pocked apple from hand to hand. Free jobs, his ass. The war had reached everywhere. Even here.

A chill gust of wind whistled past his ears and blew the stink of ox-shit up his nose. Some geezer had bent his ear at the last inn that'd let him squat in their stable, telling him just sixty year ago the city would've reeked of nothing but horse-dung and ladies' perfume. Bren knew horses, but they hadn't been common since before he was born. As for ladies' perfume? He avoided it – and its wearers — whenever possible.

He took a crunch of apple, and his long black hair tumbled into his eyes. His budget hadn't stretched to cover haircuts in months. He brushed it out of the right eye, the blue one, but he let it hide his orange left iris from the world.

"Messenger?" a nasal, grating voice yelled over the clatter of ox carts and the arguing of street sellers. Bren turned and spotted a merchant dressed in a stainless white coat and a battered top hat. The man stood outside a stall, his too-wide eyes twitching under the brim of his hat. "Are there no messengers in this town?"

A girl, her patched calico skirts tucked up about bony knees, jumped out from between the stalls and darted up to him. "Lots, sir. Carry your message?"

She had the local accent, vowels longer and consonants softer than in the country. She was no older than ten, and her skin was the same dark chestnut shade as the best of horses. With that complexion, she must have blood from Gwenes, like Bren. She could've been his sibling, except Little Sister here had two blue eyes, not one. And no sibling of Bren's had lived.

A new girl in a ragged apron and rolled-up pants elbowed Little Sister into the street, into the path of an ox cart. The driver screamed at her, a shrill invocation of the gods. Bren winced and started forward, his apple forgotten.

The new girl was pure Sarican pale and nearly white-haired. Not a good thing to be in these days, when Sarica and Rebora were at war. Safer to be one of the shades of brown found in the average Reboran mongrel.

"I know the streets like my hand," the blonde said. "And I'm least twice as fast as everybody else."

"Are you?" the merchant said. "Well, I could use speed."

Little Sister pushed back up to them, unfazed by her near trampling. "She's lying. She don't know this street, or I would've seen her before. But I'll take your message, sir."

The blonde glared. "I know the street! I know all them. I was born here, behind an old lolly cart on the corner, and I'll get the message there fastest!"

"We was all born here," Little Sister said. "You don't know nothing."

The merchant's caterpillar-like brows furrowed. "I don't care which of you takes it, but I'll only give it to one. Make up your minds which of you it'll be."

The thin sunlight flashed off the knife the blonde yanked from her sleeve. It slashed out, but Little Sister tackled its owner around the knees. They crashed into the muddy gutter.

Bren ran for them. His hair streamed back behind him, uncovering his orange eye.

The merchant lifted his gaze skyward and doffed his hat. "Oh, for the gods' sakes. This won't do. Will no one carry my message? Ah! You, cursed fellow! Can you deliver a message?"

The girls stopped kicking and stabbing, their chance at the job lost. Bren skidded to a halt under the force of their glares. His stomach grumbled, but he tossed Little Sister the rest of his apple.

The merchant said, "There's coin in it for you."

Bren said, "I can, if you'll tell me where to take it."

"The old guardhouse. As quickly you can. Haste is of the essence." The merchant threw him the letter and three pennies.

Miser. But it would buy another night in a stable. He took the money.

#

The walk across the city was long, noisy and disheartening. Bren passed glass-fronted stores, some of which weren't even boarded over, and heavily guarded stables filled with the nicker and stamping of horses, and inns with drunken carolers hanging around their open doors. He had applied to work at all those places. They had turned him away, and they hadn't been kind about it.

The old guardhouse loomed on the north-east edge of the city, set off from the shops and houses in its own stone building. No one loitered outside that building, and the traffic that passed was hushed. Bren had not looked there for work. Life had taught him better.

A flag hung over the door, a blue rectangle cut by the skinny body of a fanged snake. The locals called it "the duke's earthworm," but not anywhere a soldier or guard might hear them.

The heavy door of the guardhouse squeaked open under his hand. Bren lingered in the doorway, glancing about for danger.

The front room of the guard house was wallpapered with butcher's paper and stuck full of tacks that pinned up yellowed fliers and posters — and, in the corner, some woman's flouncy drawers. The fliers screamed "Able-bodied? Curse-free? Soldiers wanted. Regular wages" and "Man sought for impregnation. Good blood lines only. Cleanliness a must. No pay" and "Suspect your neighbor of magic? Report to the duke's guard, not the temple!"

Two guards played cards on a scratched table, a pile of brass buttons scattered before them. One muttered, his voice a scratchy city drawl.

"Sirs?" Bren said.

They looked up, and their eyes narrowed in unison. One slapped his hand down on the table and rose, leaving the cards fanned on the table behind him.

Bren took a step back and pulled out the letter. It crinkled between his fingers. "I've a message for you, sirs."

The guard snatched it from his fingertips and broke the sloppy wax seal. The other tapped his hand into a neat rectangle and asked, "What is it?"

"Merchant fusspot again. Another complaint. The neighbor's paying some witch to have him cursed, the neighbor is selling unlicensed goods, the neighbor employs doxies and whores."

The second guard snickered. "Going to go read that to the neighbor?"

The first snorted. "And waste time breaking up the fight when the neighbor hears what fusspot called his daughters? File it in the usual place, Carter." He pivoted back towards Bren. "I ought to fine you ten pennies for bringing this drivel."

Bren's hand closed on his coin purse. The merchant's three pennies sat like ballast at the bottom. "Sirs, it wasn't my message."

"I told that idiot he'd be paying the nuisance fee if he bothered us again. Why shouldn't I take it out of you?"

"I don't have any money, sirs. I didn't know—"

The other guard stood and strolled up to them. "No money? What are you doing in the city, then?"

The first guard leaned close. "We don't like vagrants or beggars. Especially not your kind, odd-eye."

Bren scowled and thought, once again, about getting an eye patch. It was only pride that stopped him; pride, and the desire for depth perception. "I'm neither. I work for my beer. I came to the city to get a job."

"If you got no job, you're nothing but a drain on the temples. We got enough of those. Pack up the cards, Carter. Odd-eye needs an escort to the city gates."

The guards started towards him. It was too late to bolt for the door. Far too late to simply not waltz here like an idiot trusting in the goodness of guardsfolk.

"Now, in case you think your curse is going to get you out of this, know that if I grow frog warts for laying hands on you, I can have you lynched."

Bren's back scraped the wall. "I have a job! I just got hired. I start tomorrow."

"That so? Where?"

Bren's eye fell on the recruitment poster pinned up across from him. Inspiration struck. "The army took me on to care for their horses. It's steady work."

The first guard laughed. "They wouldn't hire you."

"Why not? I got twenty years of experience with horses." That part was true, not that it had helped him. "The animals don't care what I look like."

The grin on the guard's face crushed Bren's hope for a quick escape. "Well, we'll just see if the officers do."

#

They didn't tie his hands. The little trodden-down part of his brain that accepted being marched to the edge of the city as normal appreciated it. The rest of him seethed with resentment.

The army camp stood just south of the city, a sprawl of unfinished wood buildings and canvas tents overwhelmed by the duke's snake-flags. It looked half-assed, like the builders had planned to uproot themselves at any time. Maybe a hundred years ago, when the war had just started, they had. But the weathering on the buildings told Bren a temporary solution had become permanent.

The walls were thin. Even outside, he could hear the banter of the soldiers, the low complaints of someone on guard. A loud and disconcerting belch.

The guards prodded him towards a building with "administration" tacked up over the door. The paint on the sign was peeling, as though some old maid had cursed it with boils. They pushed him inside.

At the back of the building a lean, raw-boned man sat at a desk and shuffled paperwork. A pipe, stained with use, lay at his left hand. The man looked up at the three of them. His voice was deep with authority, but so scratchy he must take five or six pipes a day. "What's this?"

One of the guards slapped Bren's shoulder. "We were just checking this fellow's references. He says he was just hired on by you folk. That so?"

The officer laid his paperwork down and leaned on the desk. It creaked. A green and gold cockade bloomed on the shoulder of his blue uniform, but Bren didn't remember what rank it designated. "What's his name?"

The guard chuckled. "If you hired him, shouldn't you know it?"

"You think I remember every fresh face around here, gentlemen? His name."

Bren swallowed. "Bren. Bren Turnbull."

The officer looked Bren up and down. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Bren Turnbull. Our newest monster-herder. Yes, that's right."

Bren gaped at him.

The guard said, "He said horses."

The officer shrugged. "Well, I don't know what our recruiter told him, but now that he's signed on, he'll work where I want him."

"Sorry to bother you, sir," said the second guard.

"No bother at all. Leave him here. He has some paperwork left to do."

Bren stood stock-still until the door had slammed behind the guards. Then he burst, "What do you think you're playing at?"

"What am I playing at?" the officer repeated. "Funny you should ask, since it isn't me playing games." He leaned back in his seat. "Yes, I think you'll do. You're tall enough, if a bit older than our usual recruits."

"I didn't agree to join the army," Bren said. "I never enlisted and you know it."

"Do I? I think you'll find you did. Didn't you dream of riding monsters into battle as a boy?"

Bren crossed his arms and glared. His glare was particularly impressive, he knew. It was the eye. But the officer didn't even flinch.

Oh, Bren had worked around the army many years before, like almost every young man had. He'd driven carts and rubbed down horses, but when the real fighting had been done, it hadn't been his job to do it. He liked it that way. He said, "I'm not a soldier. Not a monster-handler. I take care of horses."

The officer steepled his hands. "It's a major offense to lie to the guards, friend. They'll fine you for that. Ten pounds, I think it is."

Bren swallowed. Twelve pennies to a pound. He didn't have a fraction of it. "If you can't pay the fine?"

The officer's smile flashed yellowed teeth. "Debtor's prison. Or the mines."

Bren wanted to punch him.

"I don't think you want me to tell the guards we don't have an agreement. Do you, Mr. Turnbull?"

#

He should've picked prison.

The deer carcass disappeared head first, its glazed eyes and dangling tongue vanishing into the pulsing mass. The deer didn't actually move; the chest of the monster flowed around it. It slurped like a drunkard sucking at a bottle of ale. Bren didn't know what it smelled like; he had his hand smashed flat over his nose.

The soldier next to him smirked. He hadn't bothered to cover his face. "If you're going to throw up, don't do it here. If it takes your breakfast, the whole thing'll stink of it for months."

Bren wasn't going to throw up. He wasn't. The taste in his mouth was just apple, not acid. He said, strangled, "How could a little stomach juice make it worse?"

The soldier shrugged. "Doesn't smell so bad. It's magic. It don't rot. Flies eat it, but it don't rot."

The monster was made of meat. Raw meat, veined with fat and gristle, and shoved into a vaguely bestial form. It had abandoned most of that form to feed, but a few touches still lingered. A slab of beef ribs formed an unshapely thigh. The paw wrapped around the deer's back leg had pork sausages for toes, and a turkey carcass made an unlikely head.

It was sucking the deer into itself, adding it to its torso like a child squishing two lumps of dough together.

Bren said, "Where do you get a thing like that?"

The soldier spat. "Butcher's wife made it. He got himself wounded at the front lines, couldn't get a child on her, and she wouldn't let anyone else take his place."

"Of course she didn't." Bren looked away from the meat monster as it took the last of the deer up with particularly loud slurp. "I suppose it didn't matter to her someone might end up cursed."

"She was a sweet-tempered thing. No curses come out of that sort."

Bren, who knew curses, said, "A monster's bad enough. They should know better."

"You ought to be glad for those barren old virgins. You wouldn't have a job, otherwise." The soldier flung a rope around the meat monster. The twine squished through its loose flesh, but bone stopped it. "This one near killed the butcher, though. They may be brainless things, but they don't hold still to be chopped up, either. Something for you to keep in mind."

Bren flinched when the other end of the rope bounced off his chest. He caught the leash, felt the vibration of the monster moving on the other end of the taut line.

"You're crazy to take this job," the soldier said. "You cursed lot are fearless."

"We aren't," Bren said, staring at the monster as it sucked its mass back into the shape of limbs. Was it too late to run back north and leave the city behind all together?

"You'll like the perks, though."

"Will I?"

"Food and wages, and no questions ask. Army's guarantee." The man tapped his nose. "Keep the monsters repaired and under control, and nothing else will matter. No history. No curses."

Bren's hand flew to his orange eye. Well. He had needed a job. Now, disgusting or not, he had one. He might as well make the best of it. "I'll hold you to that."

#

The woman-creature had destroyed its offering. That was bad.

The being had tried its best to fix the cylinder, but she had thrown it in a bucket of water. The clay object would soften and go to pieces there.

The being vaguely remembered how the water would soak down into it, back when the being was still in the earth. It touched its own strangely solid arms. They were smooth and slightly sticky, but if it focused, its surface hardened, and the stickiness faded.

Water wouldn't soak it now, it thought, and then marveled. It didn't remember thinking before it had climbed out of the pit. It remembered being earth. The woman-creature had dug it out of the hill and taken it home like she wanted it.

She didn't seem to want it now.

There were other memories, but they didn't belong to the being. Vague impressions of the feel of coarse wool on skin, the catch of smooth cotton against callused hands, the burning of muscles and aching bones and the hot agony of fire. Whiffs of smell and hints of flavor— blueberry muffins, wet earth, cough syrup — were most maddening of all. It couldn't scent or taste anything now.

The memories gave meaning to the woman-creature's noises and her face's contortions when the being had climbed out to meet her. She had been angry.

Something very new caught at the being's mind. Fear. What would happen to it now? It wanted to stay with the woman-creature. It could almost remember being her. That meant she was important.

It touched its new face. Everything was confusing. But what it did understand was that the woman-creature had made it more like her. That had to mean something. Perhaps it meant that it was wanted.

It lifted a shapeless hand before it and concentrated. Fingers spread and smoothed.

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@palebdot

@hyba

@da-na-hae

@macabremoons

@the-dragon-chronicler

[sierrabinondo]

2022

~5-10 minute read (depending on how fast you can read i guess lmao)

it’s time!!! my annual recap of the year where i detail as much as i can remember as possible because i will 100% forget most of it in the near future. kind of depressing, kind of fun!

i took a peep at the 2021 post and...my god. ohhhh no. lmaooooooooo

in some ways 2022 was better than 2021. where it was worse, it was worse than i could have ever imagined. i was in a very terrible place for the better part of this year. thankfully, a lot of positive things still happened. so,,,without further ado,,,

i went into this year with, again, lofty expectations. i was convinced 2022 would be uber busy and explosive for WSA. the beginning of the year was rly quiet. it was basically just about recording acid redux and getting prepped for our first tour since 2019. for the first time ever, i was entrusted with drawing the tour ad mat. it was so difficult but i’m glad i was able to contribute. i needed to have that experience because i had never done a piece that big before, and i need to do more of those.

my job situation at the time was FUCKING terrible. anyone who is close to me knows how toxic the environment was at eventide. it was really getting to me. i was making an incredible amount of mistakes and i felt myself shrink every time i needed to be in a zoom call with my superiors. i came to hate my job so, so much. eventually, i lost my job around end of february. i already had a new position lined up (i feel like they knew because i updated my linkedin and they FUCKING said something to me about it) but it wasn’t the way i wanted to go. whereas i was panicking losing my job pre-pandemic, i was just angry i had no control over my exit. 

another thing that cushioned the blow of losing my job was almost being on the b****** album. pulses. wrote to him that i should be on his next record and he liked murder mountain so much that he contacted me. he reached out a week prior to me being let go, and that kicked off a really cool period of the year. so then i get this cool opp, no longer have to show up to this job i loathe, get a month off, accept a new job offer during this short break, go on tour, and come back to a new job. that was probably the best part of the year. it was great because i had zero idea what was coming lmao

getting a month off was a FUCKING blessing. the only huge downside was that my credit card debt became INFINITELY worse. in 2020 i was privileged to be paid to not work for the entire year and it was one of my favorite years of my life. i will take any chance i can get to experience that again, i.e. having a month and a half free from working. i got to go collision with my twitch friends that i FINALLY got to meet in person, finally hung out with donis, bren, frankie and christy after not having seen them in years, took brawly on long ass walks every day, and drew a lot. it was a relief to have so much downtime WHILE prepping for tour.

most of all. in that period of time, i finally started listening to twice. i don’t know if it was just hitting extra because i was in a transitional period at the time, but it only took a week before i was FULLY fucking indoctrinated. i. love. kpop. i love it!! so much!!! like yes, i know i’m mentally ill, but it’s like cocaine. it’s addicting. i spent the year learning the choreo to two full twice songs then the main chorus parts for about 10 other random songs for other groups laksjdl;akjsdf. i literally hadn’t danced since performing arts hs. i only have like a handful of friends i sometimes see who fuck with kpop and it’s killing me lmao help 

i won’t spend too much time on it because there’s like 8 other entries below this one about it, but we spent a week of april on tour with pulses. and IMAY for WCII and it was probably THE best thing that happened this year. our shortest run ever, and our most successful. i am so thankful we got to finally tour again, and it was better than i could have imagined. i really hoped at the time it wasn’t going to be our last tour for the year, but things fell apart (i’ll get to that lmao) so it sadly was our only run.

when i came back from tour, i had my first-ever subathon. i had so much trouble running things smoothly, but it was so much fun. it was a wonderful way to celebrate the folks in my community and everything we’ve done together over the last two years. couldn’t be more grateful for them!!! 

in may we played beers 4 tears fest with a shit ton of our friends and it was chaos. i have never played a set trashed before then, and i will NEVER do it again. oh my god. and to my dismay, the evidence is on full display on youtube. so yeah. we wanted to actually enjoy ourselves at the fest and drink red tank beer, but we had to play fucking last at near midnight lmao. one of our worst sets, but it was a fun day and i’m glad we got to be a part of it.

i also finally got covid! that was fucking awful! and i’m pretty sure i am experiencing some form of long covid. i have never been so tired in my life and if feel winded more easily. it really sucked. i wish i could have avoided it, but it’s absolutely impossible now. thankfully, i didn’t get it again for the remainder of the year.

in june, my uncle passed suddenly. it was so devastating, and he died way too young. he had health complications throughout his life, but i never, ever thought he’d go this soon; they were never life-threatening. in may, i knew he was in and out of the hospital, but my mom was frequently visiting him and insisted it wasn’t crtiical. then, out of nowhere, he’s in serious condition after a procedure and the doctors are swearing up and down they can’t do anything to help him. my aunt and mom had just gone to a second doctor for his opinion and said there was something that could be done to save him, but they couldn’t get him what he needed in time. i still to this day can’t grasp that he’s gone. 

in both june and august, my band was invited to DJ emo nite baltimore (and eventually emo nite asbury, which we bombed hard lmao) which was shocking to us, but considering we’d get to hang with pulses., and the emo nite crew, there was no way we were turning that down. that was such a fun weekend trip to baltimore. for baltimore we were lucky to have our set earlier in the night so that made things a little easier but we still felt so awkward on stage just dancing around with no instruments hahaha. dropping smooth to a room full of 300 emo zoomers was hilarious. afterwards, alexa put us up overnight and cooked brunch for all fucking like 15 of us. it was so so lovely. 

over the course of the year, i got to hang out with pulses. SO often. out of all my friendships with anyone, ours is thriving so fucking hard. we really make this long distance stuff work with no issue :’) for the better part of 2022 they’d make the drive to us, but i made trips down to them in august, october and november. in july they came down to go see thursday with jaime and i. every time we’d hang, we stayed up til like 3-4 am drinking and watching music videos. in the fall, we saw shows in VIP at soundstage together and those shows were even better because we had seats lmao. i got to hang out more with adam, carlos and the emo nite crew more, and i’m glad we had more time to chill!! 

as i mentioned earlier this year, i got a new job. i actually really, really like it. i will never romanticize a job- they’re all going to have their imperfections- but holy shit, i am actually not waking up every day feeling crippling anxiety about having to work. i have ample PTO (almost a month’s worth). i work with really amazing, like-minded people who actually believe in boundaries and having a life outside of their jobs. the work i do feels like it means something. and i am actually not afraid of my manager and/or boss. i have never felt even the slightest bit positive about a past position, but i do here. and these people got me out to CALIFORNIA and SPAIN this year. so yeah, out of nowhere, i get a new job and find out two months after i start that i’m going to los angeles for a few days. then, i spent a week in september in spain, which overlapped with my birthday. normally, i vehemently reject having to do anything outside of M-F office hours (even parties), but those were two of my favorite parts this year. i absolutely fell in love with LA and i did so much exploring in spain. most of all.....i ate so much good fucking food. to think that, i not only got a way healthier work experience with this new position after going through HELL, but i also got to travel? that’s incredible. and i very much adore the people on my team. they make me want to actually... care about my job

my 30th birthday was this year. i tried so hard to rent a place for it but what the fuck it’s SO expensive. so we ended up throwing the biggest rager we’ve ever had at our house. IT WAS SO MUCH FUN and i wish i could have spent more time with everyone that came. karaoke ruled, THE FOOD SPREAD WAS INCREDIBLE (TY TO MY FAMILY AND KRISTEN) and we partied hard as fuck. so many people came through, and it was an honor to have so many amazing people show up for me (even driving HOURS to be there). i have the best fucking people in my life,,,,,ever. i really do. and i’m so lucky.

i never thought this was ever going to happen but this year i ended up joining nintendo noise! truthfully, i had secretly gotten started in like may or june hehe. never ever thought i would end up being a podcaster. i was elated when pete and steve asked me to join as a co-host and i wanted to do whatever i could to make it work. i am obviously not the most knowledgeable guy when it comes to video games, but it’s been a blast getting to talk games every other week with them. pete and steve alone have been my favorite duo to listen to since 2017, and i’ve known pete since 2010. i’ve learned a lot from listening to their past shows, and now being on a show with them. i know i’m really passionate about music, but i’ve also come to realize that video games are equally as much of an important part of my life. so it’s incredible to also be involved with them in this way, thanks to my friends :’) and i get ANOTHER platform to tell everyone that they should be playing digimon,,,,,,

that really cool feature i landed at the beginning of the year ended up not happening. i really thought, “there’s no way after he paid me half and we put in all this work together that he would just ghost me” but he did. but i’m grateful i even got the opportunity, and i know it means i was worthy of getting there. whatever happened was out of my control, and i came to accept that. it’s not my song. i have my feelings on the way the situation was handled, but it’s all in the past. just! don’t meet your heroes, folks!

in september, WSA stopped playing shows to focus on the full length. i don’t know what happened but we just didn’t get it done this year. as of the time i’m writing this, all main guitars are done and fully tracked, some drums still need to be done, and ALL of the vocals need to be tracked (i just got started last night). the thing i try to keep saying to myself to calm my anxieties about it is that- we only get one chance to drop this album, and once it’s out, we get about a week of people’s attention. that’s it. so, if we have to take our time, so be it. but it’s 100% coming out next year IT HAS TO AT THIS POINT LMFAO

and that was really the rest of my year. enjoying the holidays (cosplayed as mirko for halloween :-----) and trying to stay productive. every time december rolls around i try really hard to make it a fun holiday season, but i end up getting too busy :((( december was also a scary month for me, mentally. my depression has been worsening as of late but i’m trying really hard to work through it.

i also realized this year that i have a lot of friendships that have stood the test of time, and it’s okay if we’re not always in sync! i spent a lot of my mid 20′s second guessing the people in my life, but i don’t have to anymore. i know that i have incredible friends who will always be there for me if i need them. so now i just need to learn how to be a better friend to myself.

it was a really tough year, and there’s so much i wish i could do over, but the good that came with 2022 was ultimately really positive. tons of fun gigs, dozens of late nights forcing my friends to watch buff correll, drunk heart to hearts, lots of kind new faces, and an abundance of laughs. i think this year a lot of foundation was laid for 2023 to be really cool. i’m crossing my fingers and keeping my expectations as low as i can lmao.

so if you read this far, i’m sorry HAHA. but thanks? i hope to come back this time next year with some good news. a lot can happen in 12 months.

[blorbologist]

17 and blood?

[this one's also pretty obvious, but! Had fun with it :D]

Enemies of the state, master Ikithon had said. Traitors to everything the Empire stood for. Terrible women.

But Bren’s sure he hadn’t imagined the glance in Astrid’s direction, the unsubtle thread he drew between them. So sure. He knows she saw it, too, from how the arrow of her back became sharper, drawn tight and terrible. 

Selfish women, thinking their petty interests mattered more than the Empire they lived to serve. When it came time to die for their king they hitched up their skirts and ran. From there, master Ikithon presented the recountings of sordid tales from across the sea: nobles massacred, a hero slain and revived by grace, the terrible machines now spreading as a plague. All with the little flashes of the yellow-white of his eyes as he looked to Astrid. Like she might be of cloth to the marionettes presented in this play.

Bren does not know what caused such concern in his master. Only that their mentor was wise, so very wise - and yet wrong, here, because Astrid would never. Astrid was loyal, fervent, always the first to stand to oath and last to bed when they argued of the hearts of their people. 

Astrid would never. 

He just… he only had to be sure. Find where their paths strayed, so hers would not. She could be fiery, their Astrid. Bren only had to know how to keep that flame away from black powder, that her hands would never be bloody as the ladies Briarwood and Ripley. 

(In a year - nein, less - Bren will look back at the thought, then down to the crust he can’t scrape from his nails, and scratch the uneasy twitch from his arms.)

[Send me an ask with a number and a word and I'll share/write a snippet from the random AU that corresponds to it!]

[youaremorethanyouseem]

9/20/24

Man do I feel like I live three whole years in between entires! Well, a ton has changed since my last post so buckle up.

I am now a citizen of San Francisco, CA. I got a little studio apartment out here this month and it’s so bright and cozy and a block from the water. I also started ANOTHER new job. I wasn’t looking for one and then it just kind of fell in my lap once I decided to make my way to NorCal. Speaking of NorCal, my parents officially sold their Truckee house and moved to Sac full time today! Mom has been living in the ADU the past few months, but now dad is officially down there too. Soph and Zach got a puppy, Sunday, and it’s been a dream getting to see her and them often. Also helps that they all live two doors down from the love of my life, the new boyfriend I mentioned in my last entry.

Things will Bren are amazing. I honestly never imagined things could be so good. Amidst a season where everything is changing my faith and Brennan have been the two constants. I’m so lucky to have a pillar and lighthouse in Brennan. He’s so gentle, loving, kind, and all good things wrapped into one handsome as HECK man. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.

We are actually going ring shopping tomorrow. Just going to drop that one in casually. We are going to Derco, which is the company my parents have been using in the city. Coincidentally on Brannan street, haha. We aren’t getting engaged asap but more so going so Brennan knows how much he needs to save up for when we are ready.

I’m so excited. Everything is so sweet. Hard, yes. Consistent eye twitch, yes. Anxiety and panic attacks, yes. But amidst it all I feel so lucky and grateful to be closer to family, living life with Brennan and my best friend and bug.

Can’t wait for what the future has in store.