#The Dark Moons of Slough

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Fullset

Ashen

Lucas

Egbert (ft. Monologue 😌)

Jamie Oliver (sfth version lol)

I had a refrence for the start of the first one but no others (ref under cut :))

[svnnyd4ys]

some sfth plays as Richard Siken poetry quotes bc i love combining my interests sorry guys

might do a version where it's characters with very specific ones, but for now the plays!! these quotes make the plays seem much sadder than they are lmfaoo

plays 1-10 under the cut~

OMG, IS THIS A JOKE? "It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same running from yourself story," (driving, not washing - Crush)

THE MERINGUE HABERDASHERY "I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn't put them away." (i had a dream about you - Crush)

LOST IN YOUR EYES "I thought of myself as a city and I licked my lips. I thought of myself as a nation and I wrung my hands. I put a thing in your hands. Will you defend yourself?" (landscape with a blur of consequences - War of the Foxes)

THE DARK MOONS OF SLOUGH "They huddled closer, shoulder to shoulder, painted themselves in herds, all together and apart from the rest." (the language of the birds - War of the Foxes)

LONG JOHNS - STRIKE! "You're in a car. You're in the weeds again. You're on a bumpy roads and there are criminals everywhere, longing for danger." (the dislocated room - Crush)

TOO BIG TO BE A JOCKEY "A stone on the path means the tea's not ready, a stone in the hand means somebody's angry, the stone inside of you still hasn't hit bottom." (seaside improvisation - Crush)

THE OOPSIE DAISY BULGE "Our scope was much larger than I realised, which only made me that much more responsible." (detail of the hayfield - War of the Foxes)

THE HARE WHO WORE A SWEATER "The wife has a dead hand. This is earlier. She is living and her dead hands feed her pills that don't work. The boy sleeps on the roof or falls out of trees. The father works late. The wife looks out of the window and thinks, Not this." (war of the foxes - War of the Foxes)

ONCE UPON A TIME I KILLED MUM "'Cut off your head, kid. For all the good it'll do ya.' I glued my head back on. All thoughts finish themselves eventually." (landscape with fruit rot and millipede - War of the Foxes)

THE MIDNIGHT MYSTERY "He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart could fit perfectly and he thinks if he could maneuver one into place- well then, game over." (road music - Crush)

(inside the mysterious cube is getting it's own post)

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

All of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory (but remembers 90% of the sentences they make up) pt. 1

1) Oh My God, Is This A Joke?

Xavier died as he lived. ✨Shirtless✨ (THIS IS THE ONLY THING I REMEMBER FROM OMGiTaJ I AM NOT KIDDING)

2) The Merengue Haberdashery

The sick wife wasn't sick and something something she's the lady of a thousand Don Juans and she ends up winning *insert villain laugh here*

3) Lost In Your Eyes

THREE MEN ON A SHIP-UH WE USED TO BE FIFTY-FOUR. Also, gun-knife and knife-gun :))

4) The Dark Moons of Slough

Magic soup. Luke's character getting flashbacks + Luke carrying the last scene of the play

5) Long Johns - STRIKE!

They should have kissed.... Hhhhhsgdhnss... OH and also it was a very chilly winter. D.I Mannering got nothing on his lower half. His wife said "why didn't you just wear trousers?" he said "no. that's what they want"

Prev // Next

[bbatcat-09]

The three witches

Based vaguely on SFTH’s #4: The Dark Moons Of Slough.

[brunette-gremlin]

if i had a nickel each time a female character played by aj would disregard luke's character having a bad omen about the future, i would have three nickels, which is not a lot but makes it way too funny to be true

[neighbourhoodtwo]

playing along with the dm and giving your character and their weapons a cool backstory vs "i bought them from a shop"

[sister-lucifer]

Genre: Smut 

Summary: Tim is dazed and confused after wandering through these cursed woods for who knows how long, when he encounters a mysterious figure on the dark waters of the lake. 

Content/Warnings: Male reader, frottage, oral sex, the story is from Tim’s POV, the siren is referred to with it/its pronouns, some mystery/horror/unsettling elements, the siren has a prehensile penis, masturbation, attempted/near drowning, underwater ejaculation, it’s left up to interpretation whether or not this actually happened or was just a hallucination, sort of hypnosis I guess? Not really sure what to call it but use of siren song powers 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors.

Tim isn’t sure how long he’s been walking. It feels like the night has gone on forever, his boots caked in mud from hours of wandering without any vestige of an intended destination. He isn’t sure how long he’s been in these god forsaken woods at all. His frustration and anger have long since melted away to exhaustion, the endless trees silently mocking him as they watch him struggle to pull himself towards a freedom he cannot see. This entire plane of existence is a cruel, horridly sentient monster of phantasmagorical insanity built to break the minds of any who enter, and he can feel the cracks starting to grow throughout his tortured psyche like a starving parasite threatening to encompass him fully.

It feels like his body is rotting.

Like the muscle is sloughing off the bone with every move he makes, joints aching and falling apart as he forces himself to keep going. The night air is thick with the heat and humidity of the summer, threatening to suffocate him with every inhale. Sweat clings to his clothes and his body like a heavy blanket that only serves to weigh him down even more. 

He’s not sure how much he has left in him.

Everything looks the same, nothing but trees in all directions for impossible distances. He hasn’t even seen another animal, no sign of life beyond the green. He’s starting to lose his vision, sight blurring and distorting in the kaleidoscope of leaves that the moonlight filters through. 

Finally the burn in his legs forces him to come to a stop. His chest is heaving when he falls to his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. He doesn’t have time to stop.

He’s still for only a second before the raging swill of his thoughts becomes far too loud for his comfort. They scream at him for his foolishness, for his stupidity in getting himself lost this badly, in walking right into the waiting maw of the stalking creature he’s been running from like a lobotomized rabbit to the wolf. Dammit, dammit, dammit. 

The ringing in his ears gradually subsides as his breathing levels out. He pushes down his emotions in favor of keeping himself calm; panic will only doom him further. He has to stay in his right mind if he ever wants to get out of here. 

Then, a sound pierces through his clouded mind like the sharpened point of a needle. A sound, finally, other than the noise of his boots on the grass and his heavy breathing. 

Water. 

The sound of water lapping at the shore. 

He’s managed to wander his way to the lake. 

He stands so quickly he nearly falls over, looking around as he discerns where the sound is coming from. He turns to his left, then to his right, ultimately deciding on the former. His walk quickly turns into a frantic sprint. 

The noise gets louder, calling to him that he’s chosen the right direction. He runs faster. The green is starting to thin, he can see something getting closer, he is so damn close—

It takes everything in him not to collapse under the weight of his insurmountable relief when he emerges from the trees to be greeted with the reflection of the moon on the water.

He rushes to the shore, nearly tripping and tumbling down the bank as he makes a frantic dash for the lake. He stops at the edge, kneeling and pushing his hands beneath the surface, gasping softly when the cool water runs over his hands. 

It’s real. 

He’s not imagining this, it’s real. 

A gravely but triumphant laugh bubbles up from his throat as he basks in his victory. Finally, finally he’s freed himself from the prison of trees, even if he hasn’t found his way back home. He cups the water in his hands and takes a drink, not caring to even consider how dirty the lake might be; that doesn’t matter nearly as much as the cool relief that washes over his dry throat. He splashes a bit of water on his face for good measure, soaking the front of his jacket and granting him some reprieve from the hot, muggy night air. 

For a brief moment he debates taking a swim, but quickly shoots the idea down. The lake is vast and dark, he doesn’t trust it enough to let it engulf him entirely. Not to mention the idea of swimming with such a sore and exhausted body isn’t very appealing. 

He looks up and around, thinking that surely there must be some way to cool off without taking the plunge. His eyes land on a wooden dock some ways away, not too far of a walk. 

…That’ll work. 

He makes his way over to the dock, stepping onto it cautiously to test its strength. It creaks a bit, but gives no real protest as he walks down its length, stopping to sit down at the end. He unlaces his boots and sets them at his side before stowing his socks away inside them. He rolls up the legs of his jeans before allowing his feet to dangle over the side, the water reaching up to soothe his sore calves. He lets his head fall back when he sighs with relief, finally allowing himself to relax. He moves to lay back on the dock, folding his hands over his stomach and taking a deep breath. 

Finally, a fucking break. 

No, it doesn’t solve all his problems—he’s still stuck here, after all—but Goddamn is it nice to finally be able to breathe. 

For just a moment, everything is peaceful. Tim even lets himself forget the hell he’s trapped in at present, focusing instead on the feeling of the water gently cooling his legs. It’s nostalgic, almost—reminds him of when he used to sneak out to the pond behind his house to drink with his high school friends. It’s a fleeting comfort, but an appreciated one nonetheless. 

He lays still there until the frantic thudding of his heart slowly reduces itself to a steady beating, until the ringing in his ears quiets fully and he breathe without a struggle. He feels much lighter now that there’s not so much strain on his muscles and joints. He even lets himself close his eyes, just for a moment, the stars shining on the backs of his lids before fading into the dark. 

He debates going to sleep right here. It’s not a good idea, no, but it’s a tempting one, and much more appealing than sleeping in the dirt. He’s too open here, though, too exposed; he couldn’t hide in a timely manner if the need were the arise. No, no sleep yet, no matter how badly he needs it. Just rest. 

Just enough rest for him to keep going. 

That’s all he can safely grant himself at the moment. 

And for now, that’s okay. 

Just this brief peace is enough after the ordeal he’s been put through. 

He focuses in on his breathing, counting his breaths as he inhales and exhales slowly, keeping the rhythm steady as he takes in the gentle quiet of the surrounding world that, for once, has gone still, relieving him of the heavy burden of survival…

…Only for the sudden sound of something splashing into the lake to jolt him out of his calm. 

His eyes shoot open and he sits up so quick he gets a bit lightheaded. He looks around, frantically trying to find the source of the sound and preparing to grab his boots and make a run for it. He stops when he catches sight of…something that has settled on top of a rock in the middle of the lake.

He pauses, squinting through the fog that has now settled over the water. 

Was the fog always there? 

Could it have moved in that fast? 

Damn, how long has he even been here? 

He pushes the questions away for now, too focused on trying to discern what the hell he’s looking at. 

Then, as if it can feel his eyes, the figure move. Tim can’t see it very well, but he too can feel it staring back just before it dives into the water. 

“…What in the fuck?” he mumbles, unable to conjure any other response. 

What the hell was that thing? 

Couldn’t have been a fish, but it didn’t look like any waterfowl or turtle he’d seen. A gator, maybe? No, unlikely—too fast and too damn tall to be a gator. 

He looks down at his feet, his legs still submerged in the water. 

He really should pull them back out. No telling what that thing was.

He should leave all together, in all honesty, he needs to keep moving…

…So why won’t he? 

He swallows hard, eyes cast down at his still legs. He kicks them in the water a bit, but can’t bring himself to pull them back out. Surely by now he should have enough willpower to pull himself away from this…

He winces a bit as the ringing in his ears suddenly returns with an acute fervor. 

No, wait…not ringing. Some other high pitched noise, something more melodic that starts to melt into the ambience. 

…Music? 

No, it can’t be, but he isn’t able to come up with any other name for it, especially with the fog that’s suddenly thickening in his mind, clouding his thoughts like the mist on the water clouds his vision. He rubs his eyes and looks out over the water again. The figure, that creature is gone, and the rock it was perching on is rapidly fading away into the fog. 

This is bad. He has to get out of here, right now, before something terrible— 

He gasps, nearly jumping out of his skin as something splashes in the water a short distance to his left. He looks over quickly, but all he sees is the ripples on the surface left behind by something diving down into the lake. 

There’s no doubt about it now.

Something is in the lake, and it’s getting closer. 

He tries to make his body move, to get up out of the water and onto the dock, but he’s frozen. The more he tries, the more his mind screams at him to do something, the louder the music gets. echoing in his brain and drowning out any voice of reason. The sound is clearer now, a high pitched vocalization carrying a tune that feels so familiar, like something out of his childhood dripping with a viscous nostalgia that clogs his throat and sticks to the back of his teeth. 

Something splashes again, but with the operatic voice forcing its way into his mind he can’t discern which direction it was. All he knows is it was closer. 

Tim scans the water frantically, but the fog has covered the everything. He can hardly see ten feet in front of him. It feels like the cloudy mist is closing in on him with a purpose, with intent, like this was planned. 

His heart nearly stops when he looks down at his feet, only to see a glowing pair of eyes looking back at him from just beneath the water. 

He flinches, but can’t bring himself to pull back. He’s frozen, like something is holding him in place and forcing him to keep eye contact with this creature. The music is the only thing he can hear. The noise of the crickets and the water and the wind are completely gone, completely overtake by the singing. 

Tim watches, completely mesmerized as the creature slowly rises, breaching the water’s surface with wildly unnatural grace. Tim’s eyes widen in shock and awe as more and more of the creature’s form is revealed, its body revealed to him inch by inch, allowing him to take it in. 

The creatures skin is an unsettling greenish-grey, with pulsating gills that gasp softly on the sides of its torso and neck. Its impossibly long hair, tangled with leafy plants, creates a curtain around its face that hides its visage in shadows and cascades down its shoulders and into the water, as if it goes on forever. Tim’s eyes trail downward towards where the legs should be, but he finds none. Instead, the creatures body fades into iridescent scales that reflect the moonlight in a kaleidoscope of colors that swirl in his brown eyes. Anything beyond the top half is hidden by the dark water, but he can imagine what those scales become below the surface.

He should be running.

He should’ve been far, far away by now. 

He’s not as afraid as he should be. 

Why isn’t he afraid? 

He doesn’t have time consider the question before the echo of the singing starts to quiet down. It doesn’t go away, no, but it’s morphing into something else…

Tim watches as the creature swims closer, webbed hands reaching out to grasp his thighs with an unexpected gentleness. He sucks in a breath at the creature’s cold touch, the water on its palms soaking through his rolled up jeans. He realizes now that it’s closer that it’s humming, the soft sound buzzing in its throat with the same tune as the echo of the singing before it. 

The humming is far more soothing than it has any right to be. Tim should be fighting this thing off, pushing it away as it leans in to hum right into his ear, its scent of lake water and fresh plants filling his nose, but he can’t. He just can’t. 

The creature’s skin is cool and soft against his own, wetting his cheek with the water clinging to its hair and face. Its chest brushes his for a moment, and he shudders, though not with disgust. His mind is swimming, completely melted into a useless sludge that refuses to form a thought. He knows he shouldbe terrified right now, he should be running for his life, but it’s getting harder and harder to articulate why. 

He breaths deeply, inhaling the creature’s earthy scent as its ghostly voice seeps into the deepest recesses of his brain. 

Oh, God… 

That feels good. 

He can feel the creature, the siren slowly stripping him of his defenses, peeling the armor off of his carefully guarded psyche piece by piece, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He’s not sure he wants to stop it. The sensation of his will being broken down, chipped away at by a skilled hand with a chisel of forged steel that leaves no room for argument; it’s almost comforting. 

Tim has spent so long fighting…

…Why shouldn’t he just give in this once? 

The thought rattles around his skull and echoes in such a way that he’s aware it wasn’t entirely his idea, but he doesn’t care. It’s a beautiful epiphany. 

His vision is starting to blur. Most of his senses, in fact, are dulling at what should be an alarming rate. The only thing left in tact, maybe even amplified, is his ability to feel. 

The siren’s touch is intoxicating. 

He’s starting to lose himself. 

Tim shudders as something warm and wet slides over his neck, moving in a manner that is far too articulated. The siren pulls back, licking its lips, and for a moment Tim thinks he can see it mouth the word ‘delicious.’ 

The siren leans in again, this time for a slow kiss on the lips. Tim is stunned at the gesture, but can’t stop himself from kissing back. It’s almost a subconscious action, a base instinct activated by the siren song buzzing in his head. 

The kiss is far from brief, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough to satisfy Tim. He leans forward to try and follow the siren as it pulls away, but it pushes him back with a gentle hand and a cheeky grin. It playfully wags a finger, silently scolding him with only a look from those piercing eyes. 

The siren starts to move lower, and for a moment Tim is afraid it’s about to dive back into the lake, never to be seen again, but instead it stops once it’s at eye level with his groin. Tim sucks in a breath, which only makes the siren’s grin grow wider. Tim catches a split second glance of the shiny teeth that are kept behind its upturned lips. 

The siren’s webbed hands slide inward from where they rest on Tim’s thighs, lazily meandering to the buckle of his belt. The siren’s humming doesn’t cease for even a moment as its nimble fingers slip his belt from the buckle and then from the loops of his jeans with an unnatural grace. It sets the belt to the side on the dock, right next to his boots, making it clear that Tim won’t be needing it anymore. 

Tim’s breath hitches when the siren pulls his zipper down, moving slowly but with intent. It’s teasing him, he realizes in a fleeting moment of clarity, making him wait for whatever it is it knows he wants. His eyes trail down as the siren tugs his jeans down just a bit, enough to expose his half hard cock as it pushes against his boxers. He didn’t even realized how turned on he was. 

Tim bites his lip as the siren’s agile tongue unfurls from its mouth to lick over the bulge in his boxers. He shivers, barely biting back a moan. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come; there’s only a brief stammer before his lips close again, the eyes of the siren drawing him into silent submission. It hasn’t looked away from his face this entire time, refusing to release his gaze. It holds eye contact even as it leans in again, this time latching onto Tim’s hardening bulge with its lips and suckling it through the fabric of his boxers. 

This time Tim can’t stop the noise that falls from his mouth, a choked sound of pleasure that would surely be humiliating if he had any sense left. Right now all he can think about is how badly he wants more. 

The siren’s hands move again, upwards this time, towards the waistband of his boxers. It hooks its claws beneath the fabric and pulls downward slowly, just enough to release Tim’s now throbbing, needy erection from its confines. He sighs with relief at the feeling. He didn’t realize until now how badly he needed that. 

The siren wastes no time wrapping its tongue around Tim’s length, and this time there’s no stopping the shuddering moan that crawls up his throat. The siren’s tongue is impossibly long, moving with complete control as though it were another limb; it leaves no spot of Tim’s cock untouched, coating every bump and vein with the siren’s cool, thick saliva. Tim’s thighs tremble as he watches the creature pleasure him shamelessly, its tongue coiling around his twitching member and sliding up and down the entirety of his length with intent.

The siren has stopped humming, unable to do so with its mouth occupied, but its song still echoes in the trees around them, keeping Tim docile and needy. 

Hesitantly he reaches up, his hand shaking like a leaf in the wind as he moves it towards the siren. For just a moment a look of intrigue flashes in the creature’s eyes, but it quickly morphs into smug satisfaction as Tim’s fingers find themselves nestled into the siren’s hair. 

The siren’s tongue retracts suddenly. Tim’s eyes widen as a question begins to form in his mind as to why, but it’s promptly stamped out when the siren wraps its lips around his cock and sinks its mouth down on him without hesitation. Tim nearly screams, crying out in shock and pleasure before choking on his own voice. The gills on the siren’s neck flex and breathe as his cock is pushed down its slick, invitingly warm throat. The cavity welcomes him happily, as though it was molded to fit his cock perfectly. 

Tim’s fingers twitch as his grip tightens on the siren’s hair, silently begging for more. The creature complies, running its tongue up and down his length without so much as coming up for air. It uses every part its mouth and throat to stimulate his length with a sharp focus. 

One of the siren’s hands slides off of its resting place on Tim’s thigh. It trails down his leg before leaving his body completely, dipping down into the water. Tim follows it with his eyes curiously, watching as the siren reaches down to lightly rub at a spot on the front of its tail. Tim quirks a brow, but quickly realizes what’s happening as the scales part to reveal a fleshy slit, a sheath from which what Tim can only assume is some kind of inhuman cock slides out. It’s visibly slick, almost slimy, and moves much like the siren’s tongue. He can feel the creature let out a soft noise around his cock as it wraps its hand around its length. It’s pleasuring itself, Tim thinks, pleasuring itself to him. 

The siren’s free hand grasps onto his jacket for balance, keeping it upright as it floats in the water. It’s found a steady rhythm in the way it bobs its head up and down on Tim’s length, slowly pulling back and pushing forward just as the water laps at the shore in a lazy but constant manner. 

Tim’s head falls back as a sudden wave of pleasure washes over him, making his entire body shiver with chills. He wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. 

As if sensing his impending release, the siren’s pace increases. It doesn’t become vigorous or messy, only faster, swifter and even more calculated. The siren seems hyper aware of every move it makes, every muscle it flexes in its mouth and throat to make sure Tim never feels less than the utmost sense of bliss. 

Tim can’t hold back his voice anymore. The soft mewls and desperate moans spill from his lips like a waterfall of debauchery that only seems to fuel the siren’s passion. Tim can’t see it with his head thrown back, but he can hear the splashing of the water getting louder and faster as the siren pumps its own cock with more fervor. 

Tim’s back arches, pushing his cock into the siren’s mouth. The creature takes him so deeply its nose brushes his stomach, but it makes it seem so effortless. It knows exactly what it’s doing, and it’s working far too well. Tim doesn’t have much longer. 

“I’m…I-I’m about to—“ he stammers, struggling to get the words out or even put together a coherent sentence. 

The warning is a trigger for the siren. It pauses suddenly, processing the words for only a moment before it pulls off of Tim’s cock so quickly it almost hurts. Tim jumps and gasps, but doesn’t have even a split second to react before the siren grabs onto his shoulders and pulls him down into the water with it. 

He thrashes in the creature’s hold, but the siren’s tail wraps around his ankles and squeezes tightly. He tries to cry out, but his efforts are punished with a mouthful of lake water that firmly halts any attempt at screaming. The lake around them is nothing more but a dark, merciless void of water without any sign of life. The only light is the dim shine of the moon that pierces the surface of the water and the glowing eyes of the siren. 

Tim pushes against the creature’s hold, but it doesn’t budge. It leans in for another kiss, a rougher one that Tim fights this time, but not for long. 

It’s an odd sensation, the feeling of air being forcefully pumped into his lungs from the siren’s mouth, but it lets him breathe. He can’t complain about that. 

In the next instant the siren’s cock has wrapped around Tim’s, picking up right where it had left off on the dock. Little time was lost, and before Tim knows it he’s already nearing dangerously close to his release once more. He doesn’t dare pull aware from the siren’s lips to warn it, though. Surely it knows. 

Just as he’d figured the siren’s length is slimy, almost tentacle like, sticking to Tim’s own cock as it writhes in coils around it. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, making him whimper into the kiss with a need so great it’s overwhelming. The siren isn’t immune to the pleasure either; its gills and scales ripple with its impending climax. 

The siren wraps its arms around Tim, gripping at his hair and the back of his jacket as it holds him in place. It’s so desperate to keep him against it. 

Tim cries out into the kiss one last time before his body tenses, his climax hitting him like a truck as his cock twitches and spurts into the water. The siren lets out an odd noise, almost like a dolphin’s chitter before it follows suit, its length pulsing around Tim’s before releasing as well, the iridescent liquid hovering in the water before fading away into the darkness below them. 

The siren’s cock quickly retracts, unwrapping from Tim’s softening length and pulling back into its sheath. It’s as if it were never there, the parted scales moving back to hide the slit once again. 

The siren slowly pulls away, looking down at Tim with an odd expression. It’s not quite a smile, but it carries a sense of self satisfaction and mischief. 

Tim expects to be let go, even kicking his legs a bit to loosen the grip the siren’s tail has on them, but the hold only tightens. Tim kicks again, trying to pull away, but this only earns him more restraint yet again. The siren pulls him into a deadly hug, slotting his body against its own and wrapping itself around Tim. 

Suddenly its touch is no longer soft and welcoming. Its claws dig onto Tim’s back and shoulders through his jacket, which only serves to amplify his panic. The siren squeezes him, forcing the gifted air out of his lungs. He can only watch it escape to the surface as bubbles, unable to retrieve it. 

His thrashing increases tenfold, but he’s tiring fast. The lack of air combined with his exhaustion and now the siren’s humming in his ear once again is disorienting him. He needs to fight, but his body is rapidly losing the will to do so. He’s only a man, and a man has limits. 

He resists the urge to gasp as water starts to leak into his mouth. He’s losing strength by the second, not only from his body straining but also from the siren’s song draining his energy. His panic turns to pure terror as the black spots start to fill his vision. 

The siren won’t let go.

He can’t fight anymore. 

This was a trap. 

This was all a trap. 

He’s going to die here. 

No, no, no— 

The water is filling his lungs rapidly now as his fear overrides his rationality. He’s screaming as much as he can beneath the surface of the lake, using the last of his strength to fight, but he knows it’s pointless. It’s only bringing more water in. His vision is darkening fast, and soon the little sliver of moonlight he had is gone. All he can do is listen to the sound of the siren’s humming, but then that is starting to fade out. 

No, no, no, no! 

Please, God, no…

But God doesn’t come to help, and the siren’s song is barely audible as Tim’s body stills and goes limp. 

This is it. 

He’s sinking into something dark, now, something beyond his consciousness. It’s an indescribable feeling, but an absolute one, one that speaks of eternity and a horrible permanency. 

For a moment he’s aware of his own fate, his own death… 

…And then he’s coughing up water onto the sand, the bright morning sun burning his eyes. 

He turns over into his side, getting onto his hands and knees as he forcefully hacks up the lake water in his lungs. 

The fresh air is a godsend, quickly pushing the water out and taking its place. Tim can finally take a deep breath without drowning. 

He’s back on dry land, and alive… 

…but how?

He’s still dizzy, he doesn’t dare stand up yet, but he does look around in confusion. The sun has finally risen, that much is obvious; it’s warm and bright on his face, almost jarringly so. He can even hear birds chirping in the trees above him. The woods have suddenly come to life, but what feels like only an hour ago it was completely devoid of anything living. 

Did all of that…really happen? 

He has no idea.  

He looks down at himself and realizes he’s still missing his shoes, socks, and belt. His jeans are still rolled up to his knees, and his clothes and hair are completely soaked, as evidenced by the water that drips down his forehead, legs and hands. The zipper of his pants is still down, exposing the black fabric of his boxers.

His missing clothes are nowhere to be found next to him on the shore. 

Slowly his eyes trail down the lake to the dock. He squints as he looks closely, searching for the proof that that thing was real… 

…And there they are. His boots, socks still rolled up inside, and his belt, sitting at the edge of the dock.

Right where he’d left them. 

He stumbles to his bare feet, trudging down to the dock to retrieve his things. His boots and socks are shockingly dry, but that’s certainly not a bad thing. It’s a small comfort that he more than deserves.

He slips them back on, they looks down at his belt. For some reason, he hesitates to pick it up. He makes himself lean down to grab it, though, and takes a moment to inspect the leather in his hands.

It’s untouched. No sign of damage or wear and tear at all. 

He sighs as he zips his jeans back up and pulls the belt through the loops, fastening it back in place around his waist. 

He’s going to chock this up to this goddamned forest screwing with him. He has to if he wants to keep his mind from breaking in two. It’s the safest, least insane explanation he can give to himself. It’s the only thing he’s prepared to hear. 

The ache in his legs returns as a dull thrum as he resigns himself to continuing his journey. It’s painful to leave behind the solace of the lake, to walk away from the soft sound of the water, but with the day’s light he’ll surely be able to find his way out of here. 

He takes in a deep breath, internally psyching himself up before he dives back into the endless trees. 

Only, this time, they don’t seem all that endless. 

Almost instantly the sound of grass beneath Tim’s boots turns into the crunching of a rocky path. He looks down in confusion, eyes landing on beige, rocky dirt that definitely isn’t a natural formation. 

The trail.

He’s found his way back to the trail. 

His eyes widen as he follows the path into the trees as far as his eyes can see. 

Finally, his endless effort is being rewarded. 

He eagerly starts onto the trail, resisting the urge to run until he collapses. He has time, he reminds himself. The trail is a loop; he’ll get back home sooner or later. 

Finally, he’s free from the terror of these woods. Whatever entity that was keeping him trapped has released him, and he’s not going to question it. 

When he gets home he’ll flop down onto his bed, not even considering changing out of his filthy clothes before he does so. He’ll stare up at the ceiling with teary eyes as he thinks about how happy he is to be back home, back where it’s safe and comfortable. 

Inevitably his thoughts will wander back to the creature he encountered, or perhaps imagined; it’s not exactly something one easily forgets, after all. 

But for now, he’s going home. 

And that’s all that matters. 

mdni & reblog banners by cafekitsune

[sixthsensewulf]

The one thing Ive noticed from STFH, is that they can do the horror genre very very well, but they don't go down that route often for the long forms. .

Watch their horror genres in the Genre games. They know how to do it.

So I'm soo glad that they made " Strange Noises from the Hole in the Wall" public since the only other major horror vibe like that is "Priscella's Final Petal." - since yes they are a comedy group but they do Horror very well.

And YES I KNOW THEY HAVE WITCHES EVER SO OFTEN. I love "Moist and Magical" as well as "Dark Moons of Slough" etc. . Not to mention "The Phantom of Hornchurch" as well is spooky. Spooky doesn't always mean Scary.

But coming from an actual story line. the story of Priscilla's Final Petal is a horror movie. Like what do you mean, the buttercup the girl has, links to the grave of her mother.. who forces her to become her mother's vessel.. to cause revenge on her husband and his second wife. Like AJ can play creepy kids soo well. Tom being the dead wife and the current wife. Sam being the groundkeeper as well as the dad, caring about Priscilla and Luke to wrap up the supporting cast. Yes the play goes absolutely chaotic but that's Shoot from the Hip for you.

But back to Strange Noises. . It's the most terrifying villain they have had. . Doesnt help that Tom used his height and lankiness to become Loco-Motion. But the story, once you are on the train, you can't leave. You become the train. . . You forget everyone.

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Your January Forecast 🎇❄🦢

Sup y'all, I'm back for the very last PAC I'm gonna write for 2023. By the end of the weekend, we will have shifted to a whole new year, with a new moon close in tow. I'm gonna be honest, this has been a rough year for me, but not without its bright spots. Like the birth of this blog, for one! I'm already planning the 1 Year Special.

The plan is only to expand from here to see what more there is to do! There was a lot I wanted to do this year but didn't get around to doing because of life, so I have a lot lined up for January.

Thank you for your support this past year in helping my blog grow! The circle is small, but each like and reblog makes a difference, especially to newcomers like me.

Please choose your swan ornament below to find out about how your January will look for the new year. Instead of Tarot today, I'll be using my Black Salt Lenormand deck and Astro Dice to get details along with oracles for advice.

Pile 1 - Black Swan Pile 2 - White Swan Pile 3 - Gold Swan

Pile 1 - Black Swan

Death, Sun; 49. Sun A♦, Cross 6♣, Crossroads Q♦; Uranus, 11th House, Aquarius

Hi, pile 1! Hope you're feeling alive and well for 2024. I kinda called this the "zombie pile" while drawing cause I'm getting this sluggish energy dragging along. Mumbling, creeping, hair disheveled. Goodness, this past year had you wiped out, didn't it? If you're feeling pressured for a resolution, I wouldn't, because for you I think simply sloughing off the old year like snake skin is your main priority for January. I'm hearing Usher's lyrics: "I feel like a zombie come back to life." Maybe you could treat this month like an extended New Year's Eve party. You can't force yourself to be excited for it, but you can slowly build up to it.

There is an emphasis on positive thinking with this pile. You have two Suns from different decks. Doing what brings you simple joy will be healing for you this month. Focusing on little joys can help you shift perspective. Being in the present is very important right now, and you're being asked not to think too much about last year as it will only drain you of further energy. You can't draw healing to yourself if you're spending all your Magic Points on looking backwards for answers. It it feels difficult to be positive, think outside the box at how you can move away from past thinking, like making a vision board for what you most desire to experience this year.

One of the real impressive things about your reading are the dice. You have Uranus, its natural house 11, and its sign Aquarius. Emphasis on CHANGE, much? You know how in movies, where the main character is falling into darkness and has relinquished all hope of being saved, and just as it fades to black someone swoops in to help them while casually laughing off "hah, yeah, I just happened to be in the neighborhood when I saw you falling into an infinite chasm, y'know?"

The word "Deus Ex Machina" is also popping up, or "god out of machine". It's a Latin term referring to an ancient Greek theater technique where a crane would lower an actor dressed as a deity onto the stage during the final act of a comedy, delivering sudden divine intervention and saving the day for the heroes. In other words, there is massive and very unexpected change for you, one that's gonna pull you out of the sluggish stupor of 2023. This is why resolutions aren't important for you now; whatever 2024 will be for you, it's coming in lightning hot and will do that for you.

And I think this change, however large and surprising, will be ultimately wonderful for you. There is so much sunlight emerging from this fog, new life will be breathed in for you by divine planning. It's going to help you work through some of the damage that last year left behind. It will also help you pivot to your next chapter in life. It may feel weird going into a new year with very little expectations, not knowing where you're going to end up next, but it'll be worth it. When the door swings open for you, it will BURST open, so stay on the bright side and focus on regenerating your health for now.

May your new year be shockingly bright, pile 1!

Pile 2 - White Swan

Strength, 25. Sapphire; Garden 8♠, Anchor 9♠, Person A♥; Gemini, 12th House, Pluto

Hello, pile 2! This month will be a quiet one for you, in a good way. This will be a time of retreat for you. If you found yourself being rather social at the end of 2023, expect the new year to start off with a whimper. I see you going into a hermit mode and disengaging from regular activities, especially involving other people. I get the sense that this pile is the type to want to overextend and please everyone around them. If you need a resolution suggestion from me, it's to put the brakes on now before you careen over the edge. January is putting a halt to this behavior.

Yes, you are strong. No, you do not always need to be strong for everybody else. It will wear you thin to even try, and you may end up resentful over it. It's not worth the struggle. I'm not asking you to snap at anyone who comes too close, but consider not adding more of other peoples' errands to your schedule. Consider saying, "actually, I can't go today," without feeling the need to explain why. You have a right to your own personal space away from distractions now.

This pile could belong to a group of people or community that's close to you, which could be going through a lot of hell or has been in the past year. They may have asked a lot from you with few other options. It's made you have to stand up and advocate, at the cost of your own issues being put on the back burner. It is not selfish to walk away for a while and take care of yourself, doubly so if the group in question deals with a lot of arguing and gossip. If it feels bad, trust your gut and keep your distance for now. Don't try to solve big arguments while Mercury is retrograding.

I know how Pluto in the 12th house is, as it's prominent in my chart. Imagine walking downstairs to get to your basement, only for the stairs to never end until you find yourself floating in a weird little wonderland. Somewhere, in that surreal underground mindscape, is a deeply entrenched karmic pattern that may elude you at first. Some shadow work may be required here to dig through the trenches for unpolished gems. If a pesky pattern is repeating in your life, it's time to withdraw and connect to your dreams and subconscious for clues. This pattern may have something to do with this group.

You're actually going to get more progress done by meditating and seeking out nature rather than getting too involved with these issues. The time will come when things can be handled with a clearer mindset. But your higher self is pulling you inward to help ground you through this, to remind you that you are your own amazing being even when you're separate from these people. You have the strength to stand on your own, otherwise there wouldn't be so many folks seeking you out in need. Sapphire wants you to marry your heart with your mind. It's a stone of wisdom guided by compassionate understanding and care. You spin your wheels overthinking an issue, when instead coming back to your heartspace will provide the key.

Take it easy this winter, pile 2, may your dreams give clarity and hope for 2024!

Pile 3 - Gold Swan

Protection, 15. Opal; Bouquet Q♠, Person A♥, Crossroads Q♦; 4th House, Capricorn, Mercury

What's going on, pile 3? Looks like somebody wants to enter hibernation mode, lol. I don't blame you one bit. As the full moon in Cancer has passed and the season changes, there's a strong desire to nestle into the home. Your house will be like your castle for you to improve during this month. You may feel up to redecorating or rearranging furniture to make it feel more cozy or season appropriate as you settle in. Or you may simply desire to clear out old things to decide what to keep.

You may want to do a spiritual cleansing of the house to ring in the New Year, too. Try infusing magic herbs like lemon verbena into your cleaning products, or toss cinnamon outside the front door while ringing a bell to invite prosperity in. A simple incense stick with a very fresh, mild scent like lavender can also do the trick. Does your family have a special trick or recipe they use? Whatever herb and scent combination brings out that "New Year New Me" feeling is best!

I heard loud and clearly, "YOU'RE PROTECTED!" for whomever needs to hear it most. Things might feel shaky and ungrounded at the moment. I wanna wrap a big blanket around y'all. You're being totally protected right now by your guides, so please don't let the uncertainties of 2024 leave your head dizzied. Yes, there's a lot of plans to be drawn out and a lot more work to be done, and you may not know where you're heading next, but perhaps there's a reason we like to begin the year at such a slow quiet time, after all the festivities have passed. It's not sound to start off in a rush.

You're being heavily affected by Sun in Capricorn doubled with the current Mercury retrograde, regardless of your chart placements. This is absolutely not a time for rash decision making, even if it feels you're not being your most productive. Our modern society doesn't like it when workers take a break or listen to their body's needs in any way. It will always have its excuses for its ruthless standards. After a while, though, you have to learn to shrug those expectations off and do what's right for you, or you'll risk burning out before the new year has even started.

Some of you might be thinking of even doing the Dry January trend as part of your resolution. If it's a serious issue, I'd talk to your doctor about how to do it sustainably. If you're already stressed and at risk of burnout, more pressure is not going to help. But a sober month could prove beneficial for you overall. This is not a command for you to have a Dry January if you're not interested; this message is for those who already plan on doing so. Try to take it one day at a time, keep your head free of self criticism, and don't guilt yourself over "cheat days". I will be doing one as well, so please reach out if you need a supporting voice.

Wishing you all the best to come this year pile 3, may you succeed in your resolutions!

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

Cards Used: Black Salt Lenormand, Prism Oracle, Crystal Healing Cards, Astro Dice.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[searchingforserendipity25]

i will lead not my people into ruin assured, arafinwë spat.

his brothers's eyes were on him, united as never they had been before; but well he could see how thin the thread was that bound them. betrayal námo had prophetized, and grief unbearable, certain diminishment.

you mean truly the turn the hands of your vassals into dishonour greater than the one we have cast upon ourselves already? shame be upon the ill-use of bonds, and oaths, and love! if any among you were worthy of being called princes among our people, you would go no further.

his children went regardless. it was a sorry thing, to know he had sired and taught no true princes after all. some among their followers had wished to go regardless - but there was no need that they should have such a plenty of lords to do it for!

the ones who remained clung to arafinwë, well after his ascension. valar-named, he was king assuredly, a bitter office and unwished for; but his people clung to him. he could not release them from their own deeds, not the duty they bore to the teleri - but he could sit with them in sharing fashion, and be as guilty and angry and mournful as they were.

finwë would not have ruled so, but finwë was dead. fëanáro most assuredly would not have sat himself kneeling on the floor in humility before his wife, or accepted insults in his court's throne chambers - but fëanáro was ash bourne away in a foreign wind, and it was arafinwë among his kin who knew how to do patient work, hard work.

nolofinwë ought to have inherited these tasks. but in the end he loved his pride and his courage and his wrath the better than his city. in a small and rueful way, arafinwë was glad; his brother had given too much of himself to it already, as a prince dutiful and resented. it would have spent him of his powers to do it crowned.

arafinwë did it himself. through the darkening, when he made certain none starved more than others, and all those failing in body and spirit were attended; and the long ages under the moon and sun afterwards.

first of all the returned exiles was his own firstborn son, half-penitent and largely altered, in love with the land across the sea. as far as due payments were, it was less than the valar might have given.

the sloughing cold of araman bit his throat. arafinwë sat beside finrod, and embraced him, and raised him up; he heard the rushing of the waves, uinen's wrath, and the dead dark greater than the darkness where námo's words rang still.

where the fairness, where the mercy? he did not rail his wrath that one son was too little, and did not weep for all the childless parents that dwell in fair tirion - but they were his people, and he felt their grief as his own. he had held all their hands, he knew the names of all those who had abandoned their land in his brothers's trains.

he embraced his son, stroked his tresses, let himself be a bulwark against his tears. a king he was, the best among his people. to him it was to make fairness, if it was hard to find. hard work, patient work. it never did grow lighter.

[goingroundincircles-ontrack]

Part 2 of my sfth improvised play reviews, which is back by popular demand (only one person asked for a part 2)

The Dark Moons of Slough 10/10

As a person who grew up watching British cookery shows I really enjoyed this one. I love wizard Ascaroth's ringtone and the fact that Jamie Oliver sounds incredibly sinister. The soups causing flashbacks was a stroke of genius and also the idea that Mary Berry is the most powerful witch in the uk is amazing (I think she'd beat Jamie Oliver in a fight without magic powers anyways)

Too Big To Be A Jockey 7/10

Don't get me wrong, it's a really good play but I'm just not enamoured with it. There are some bits I really love like Tom going "ah so that's the kind of character I am" and the reuniting of the brothers at the end but it's just not my favourite of their plays. Also Sam's Irish accent is atrocious.

The Lighthouse 9/10

I laughed so much whilst watching this one. The plot is so abstract and I love it. The idea that the sheep get distressed by having the curtains drawn on the lighthouse is hilarious and I love Sam's character of the inbred sheep that's vaguely human and also does drugs. I also cannot stop hearing Sam just bleating "sex" in answer to luke's question. The ending is chaos, which I enjoy, and the whole play is great.

So that's 3 more reviews. Again lmk what you think but I'm enjoying writing these.

Part 1

[i-may-be-an-emu]

IM WATCHING THE DARK MOONS OF SLOUGH AND RIGHT AGTER JAIME AND ASCAROTH ARE TALKING ANOUT THE CALM APP I GOT AN AD FOR IT SKFJFKDJG

[thefreelanceangel]

Tagged: Character Details

Imayo Mikomori

BASICS:

Nicknames: N/A Age: She believes she's roughly twenty-five Nameday: 15th Sun, 4th Umbral Moon Race: Raen Au Ra Gender: Cis Female Orientation: Pansexual (in theory -- she's never had a partner) Profession: Tattoo artist (specializing in irezumi) - herbalist/alchemist - exorcist

PHYSICAL ASPECTS:

Hair: Inky black, with dark blue highlights Eyes: Crystalline white with black limbal rings, no discernable pupils Skin: Deathly, ghostly white with blue undertones, with a disproportionately large percentage of her body covered with reptilian dull black scales Tattoos/Scars: A thin, ragged line across her throat, now concealed by the scales which grew over her throat when an alchemical tonic caused a physical reaction. Notably, Imayo no longer has horns. The same tonic that caused excessive scale growth also caused her horn material to die and slough off. She now must rely on a linkpearl to hear most high-frequency sounds, and keeps a linkpearl embedded into a scale where her right horn used to be.

FAMILY:

Parents: Hisako Mikomori (M) [Deceased] / Tomoki Koizumi (F) [Deceased] Hisako Mikomori, the last living Mikomori of a declining samurai family, volunteered as a miko to serve at an isolated shrine in order to provide her ancestors with the proper homage. While serving, she was introduced to the Koizumi family who wished a 'ghost marriage' made to placate the restless spirit of their eldest son, Tomoki. Hisako agreed to perform the ceremony and was cast out of the shrine five months later when it became evident she was pregnant. No one believed her tale of Tomoki possessing a pilgrim to the shrine to have a proper wedding night and she was forced to live on the Koizumi family's sufferance. Siblings: N/A Grandparents: The Koizumi patriarch, Takamori, returned Imayo to the shrine her mother had served at and died shortly after Hisako Mikomori's suicide. In-Laws & Others: N/A As a "shadowborn" (the product of a ghost marriage) Imayo is considered bad luck [at best] and shunned by the majority of Kugane's populace. Only the desperate come to her small herbalist shop for aid during daylight hours. Her closest affiliates are criminals who come to her for irezumi tattoo work. They provide protection on a "tit for tat" basis, including guarding her shop when Imayo's called away by the priests of her mother's shrine to perform exorcisms.

SKILLS:

Abilities: As a 'shadowborn,' Imayo has a particularly strong affinity for the dead and serves as a reibai (medium) or exorcist when needed. She is able to see, hear, and speak to the dead. She is also capable of creating ofuda for protection, banishing spirits, and can sense yokai. Years of careful study have given her a wide range of knowledge about the spirit world she interacts with daily. She is also knowlegable about herbalism and alchemy, concocting tonics and potions to sell as they're requested. Hobbies: With … a lot of time on her hands, Imayo practices calligraphy, sewing, herbalism, the tea ceremony, Doman mahjong… She also reads excessively and studies cookbooks, curious about cuisines in other lands.

TRAITS:

Most Positive: Imayo is resilient. Despite her precarious start in life, her precarious position in society, and her lack of… basic human connections, she still finds beauty in the world and is determined to create a life for herself in which she can find a measure of contentment. Most Negative: Imayo expects to be rejected and will often read rejection where perhaps none was extended. She's reluctant to open up about her birth, her health, her life in general as she's received poor responses in the past and just… doesn't want to get her hopes up again.

LIKES:

Colors: Vibrant sunset colors are Imayo's favorites. Rich, warm colors seem so out of place in her life (she tends to wear black and grey as she feels that beautiful colors are wasted on her particular coloration) that she appreciates them whenever and wherever she encounters them. Smells: Pine (which she loves the scent of, but also can't smell without feeling a pang of sadness) and roses Textures: High quality silk, worn tatami mats, book pages, warm living skin beneath her hands when she's creating a tattoo Drinks: Green tea, hibiscus tea, sakura tea, sake, fresh well water

OTHER DETAILS:

Smokes: Never. Imayo's health is particularly fragile and she can't risk anything that might cause her chronic illness, such as smoke-damaged lungs. Drinks: Rarely. She will very occasionally have a small cup of sake. Drugs: Only medicinal herbs. Mount Issuance: Animals dislike Imayo's presence, becoming unruly and edgy when she's nearby, so she's never sought to purchase her own mount. If she needs to travel, she's made arrangements with a fellow merchant who has an elderly chocobo that is… as accustomed to her presence as an animal can be. Been Arrested: No.

Tagged By: @gatheredfates

Tagging: @luck-and-larceny; @dumb-hat; @otherworldseekers; @chainsofaether; @sealrock; @ungrateful-cyborg; @iron-sparrow; @ahollowgrave; @shroudkeeper; @pettyeti and I think Sea and I will overlap if I'm not careful, so if you see it, YOU'RE TAGGED.

[lydia-too-late]

(Another) Desert Vignette

Tula is looking up at the sky, squinting at the stars through tissue-paper clouds, the atmosphere gone faint hellfire above the distant city lights, a rolling-Earth harbinger of terrible orange-red. One may think the wildfires won. One may think of calamity. One may think: Three hours until certain death.

The suburbs dissolve beneath their feet as they venture farther from San Narciso. Out here, the scrubby hills and city repose together on the landscape. Slums somewhere, too, sloughing off the edges of everything.

"We could just run." Silk scuffs their boots. They inhale just to snort. "Hay unos veinte kilómetros, algo así. Maybe we even make it back." A leathersounding shrug. "That's a joke."​

In the moonlight, Silk's lashes cast heavy shadows over their eyes. She follows the darkness to the hollow beneath their cheekbones, between their parted lips, behind their tongue. She touches the bite marks on her wrists. Red, raw and open, glistening, but they don't bleed. They don't hurt.

The desert is always half dream. In the distance, a coyote screams into the night's silence and rouses a chorus, offering their unearthly din to the moon's slow descent. She's seen Luna there before: the tall, whip-thin silhouette on a distant hill, surrounded by her pack. But not tonight. We could just run. One of Tula's fingertips presses into her wound, splitting it obscenely open. It does not bleed, but it hurts.

(She shrugs, not-quite-smiling. "I'm sure there's a car trunk somewhere along the way…")

Her throat feels tight. She lifts her wrist to her lips, tonguing the puncture like a child, an animal. The warm, saltmetal taste sits on the tip of her tongue.

Silk is looking at her, all sleepy eyes and strange, hard beauty. Tula is looking at them too, eyes wide and rich-girl hungry above her wrist. Their jacket has fallen open, framing a starved waist and soft hips. The bones of their sternum between the halter's illusion of breasts. The excruciating shadow of hair trailing several inches below their navel. The profanity of their shorts, the way they pull tight around their hips and thighs. She wants to push them down to the ground. Make them say her name. Make them moan her name. Make them say it, say it…

Tula jerks herself back; her wrist falls away guiltily. "Just hungry," she dismisses the moment, shrugging like Silk shrugged, her shame hidden with a scowl. They could never outrun it, neither one of them.

[in-memoriam-tgwk]

Lightning flashes persistently across a jade colored sky, and wave after wave of heavy rainfall plasters Mousetuft’s fur to his flanks. The ground beneath his paws is slick with wet clay and it slows his gate significantly, as he hurries to make it back to camp in one piece. Just a little further, he thinks to himself, nearly there now. His lungs are burning from the effort.

He has a bundle of catmint clamped in his jaws, a rare and highly sought after herb that Oaktrail has been struggling to find the last few moons or so. While Leafbare is still a ways off, it’s good to have a strong supply of the stuff, as it’s beneficial for combating greencough, among a large number of other ailments. Mousetuft knew of a patch from his younger days, helping Cliffclaw often as an apprentice and after his promotion, so he’d offered to grab some for Oaktrail before night fell.

Mousetuft thought he had more time— the storm ravaging the territory blew in much faster than he’d expected. Before he knew it the pines were bent sideways by a terrible gust of wind, and the sky went from pink, to blue, to the ominous green it now boasts overhead. Rain drops cascaded down from above and soaked him to his skin in an instant. It’s a storm unlike anything he’s ever seen.

He finally breaks through the tree line, and his goal is in sight. Although it’s still quite a ways off, and he’s fearful of having to cross the river with the way the downpour has affected its swell, he has little other choice to make. There’s no shelter between here and the caves up the cliffside. He takes a moment to recover his breath, and continues on.

Just a bit further. Keep going, Mousetuft. Just a little further—

Beneath the blood pounding through his ears, beneath the moaning of the wind and the groaning of stressed wood, beneath the rumble of thunder… There’s another sound that catches Mousetuft’s attention. It’s faint, unfamiliar, and it comes from above him. He slows to a stop and lifts his head towards the top of the cliffside.

Is it the rain confusing his eyes? The edge almost seems to be… Moving.

The longer he watches, the more the rock shifts and shivers, slowly at first, building momentum. It’s as though a second waterfall is emerging from the cliff, but it’s not water that careens down its sheer face. It’s the cliff itself that moves, sloughing off in one smooth motion, crackling and scraping in a discordant chorus that drowns out all other sounds the storm has to offer.

As the hillside crumbles, Mousetuft’s blood runs ice cold. The land is sliding down, down, down…

And it’s heading straight for him.

Fate help me, he thinks, a moment before his vision goes dark.

[seafoamreadings]

week of october 8th, 2023

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: this week's new moon is also a solar eclipse and it's in libra, your seventh house. that's your committed partnerships, political or business alliances, and known enemies arena; the way you live in the world is reflected in the people who you interact with. the volatility inherent in eclipse times can help you break any undesired patterns and start fresh.

taurus: venus moves into virgo. ignore the old timey suggestions that that placement is somehow bad; your ruling planet is not super comfortable there but there's nothing inherently unfortunate about it. discomfort spurs growth, and virgo is an earth sign like you. let it be a blossom rather than a wilt. the week is capped by a solar eclipse to help you shift your routine if you want. also if you don't want! out with the old.

gemini: eclipse season is on. sensitive folks already feel this weekend's agitation but if you don't yet, you'll see it by the weekend. if you make art this is an incredible time for an emotionally moving piece. be aware of the likelihood of unplanned pregnancies, conflicts with children, and drama in romantic flings.

cancerians: obviously the eclipse would have to be the most significant transit of the week for such a lunar creature as you. you may need a change of scenery, beautify or clean or repair your home, or just reboot your system after an exhausting period.

leo: venus leaving your sign may take a little (just a little) of the volume and shine out of your hair but it does bless your income or material resources, one way or another, and contributes to a good healthy self concept and the ability to live authentically.

virgo: a venusian ingress into your sign brings a little glamor into your life. avoid getting into any martyr/victim mentalities. by the end of the week the solar eclipse causes a security shift. for the better or not? depends on how you've been doing things since last eclipse season!

libra: your week is most likely nothing short of momentous as your ruling planet changes sign AND there is an eclipse in your sign. some of you are still having birthdays and this may occur near your sun's degree which would make for an interesting solar return. expect upheaval but maintain poise as well as you can, and remember that although the unknown can be scary, since you don't know what is coming, there is a chance it will be beautiful. don't assume the worst.

scorpio: while eclipse season may feel to you like a sort of dark night of the soul, venus into virgo at least means you're magnetizing helpful and kindly people. mentors, good samaritans, friends, neighbors, and network connections. you are not alone in whatever the struggle is; lean on support even if you aren't sure yet where to find it. it is there. keep looking.

sagittarius: you may gain and lose friends seemingly at the drop of a hat this week as the eclipse does its thing in libra. meanwhile venus into your 10th house means all eyes are on you, and even if you make a mistake you recover gracefully and everyone is impressed. so let yourself slough off the acquaintances who don't appreciate you. move on.

capricorn: solar eclipses and venusian transits will get most of the hype this week and yes they affect you, but almost unique to you is the groaning out of retrograde of pluto in the far reaches of your sign, heading for practical purposes permanently out of your sign again. a destruction occurs, which may be blamed on an eclipse, but it clears space for new growth or construction.

aquarius: for the most part you have no issues expanding your horizons. but wherever you've chosen to stay small out of fear or "respect" or for any other reason, you are forced to grow large this week, ready or not, like it or not.

pisces: this week's venusian activity affects you more strongly than the eclipse (unless you're also a libran or something). maybe this is something to be grateful for. while eclipses aren't always bad they are by nature volatile, and venus tends to be much more stately. from now she begins to focus on your partnerships and commitments.