#Truly a relatable and horrible creature

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about after-school chapter 28!

I had assumed this interaction was what made Teru, our king of pettiness, go "You know what? I think I won't exorcise your evil spirit problem. Perish."

But?? Akane already had stiff shoulders at the start of their talk?? And Akane waited until it was near the end of their student council time to brag about his 'date' with Aoi.

Meaning Teru just let Akane carry the embodiment of stress and hatred on his back during their entire student council time??

I can't fathom why? This was not an 'I trust Akane to handle it' case, not when Teru was the one who enchanted his glasses so he know better than anyone how vulnerable to supernatural Akane becomes with it, and telling myself Teru needed to wait for the supernatural to feed on Akane to grow when this guy is a pro exorcist also feels like an excuse.

Maybeeee Teru was morbidly curious as to how Akane would fight the feeling?

Speculations on the insane decision to let Akane be haunted aside, their conversation is a trainwreck, shout out to how Teru instinct upon hearing Akane got a date is that his buddy is hallucinating.

I get his skepticism tho, pre-severance Akane you are... A lot.

"I love the part of her that invites me to go shopping" Akane, my dear, you need help. I know you're being honest but please find a less awkward way to be a lovesick fool. (---> I say, knowing full well he'll need to go through a traumatic feelies talkies section in Death's house first)

"cya!" is just cute to me. Look at this smug ill-informed dumbass.

"Hey, the flowers behind aoi are different this time," I think in surprise, even tho realistically Akane must associate Aoi with the entire garden at this point.

And here comes the professional thrid well, the prince himself! His mere presence means Teru actually fell for Akane calling the shopping trip a date though, he gives Akane too much credit.

Teru knowing Akane well enough to translate his stammers of a pathetic creature into "Why are you here?" is beautiful, bro is better at his side gig (pester akane) than his main job (be an exorcist) today.

Aoi's "I know a liar when I see one. let's indulge him anyways" she truly is a kind soul.

Speaking of said liar, I love that Teru doesn't have a basket or shopping cart.

He isn't even trying to pretend he had plans to go shopping, what a guy.

Aoi getting excited over dirt and fertilizer, my girl <3

Shout out to Akane for being happy that Aoi is happy and to Teru for finally figuring out that he doesn't need to sabotage anything cause there is nothing to sabotage.

Teru: *speak*

Akane: and away goes my joy and whimsy.

Love Teru trying to bond with Aoi right after the realization this is a hangout. He wastes no time.

Aoi telling Teru the truth is sweet, I'm glad they are getting closer. Also happy to see Teru remains shameless.

Aoi gave him the driest look possible and Teru still put carrots on her basket. He even said "buy it" SO HE WOULD HAVE MADE HER PAY FOR THE CARROTS.

YES AOI REPRIMAND HIS ASS!

She really treats him like a dog! Is incredible. From her 'grrr' to the way she points a finger at him, it gives me "bad dog! Drop it!" energy.

Fascinated by the way Teru blushes. He seems to be more hung up on being called 'bad' than anything, but he definitively liked being reprimanded, he is still blushing when he walks instead of displaying the dejection of the convenience store.

He doesn't even give up on his quest to make her buy veggies.

Teru, you're doing horrible sweety, keep pestering her and you two will be inseparable in no time <3

Love how Akane snapped out of the curse's first attempt to make him spiral by refusing to be on the same level as Hanako.

He is so arrogant "What am i a loser? A pathetic toilet loser? Nah nah, I am better than that." like damn, okay bro.

I can't believe he pushed back against a curse by the sheer power of self-confidence and determination though, he is built differently. 90% of the characters in this manga cannot relate.

Love how Teru probably didn't suggest a single flower for Aoi to buy, trying to test if he could sneak even one vegetable into her basket, so his closeness to Aoi just made Akane's petunia suggestion look that much more thoughtful in comparison (she does look very happy to be given an actual flower).

Rest in peace Teru you suck at sabotaging.

(Or he would suck if that was the goal! He stuck around for this entire hangout despite how rare his free time is. He got his ice cream, he even walked Aoi home, he just want to hang out. Same vibe as when he went "Oh aoi come with me to the festival, Akane will be there")

I find Teru's zoned-out face so cute.

There is no speech bubble to Terukane's first panel here, but i am 95% sure Teru was the one who asked to be notified about Aoi's gardening progress considering the '...' contrasting Akane's enthusiasm. Love that for him, yes talk to Aoi, get close to this closed off girl.

And Akane didn't like that iuguyguygyui

Teru can always just take off his glasses like Akane never fights that. Good for you.

I am still not over Teru just letting him carry this curse.

But now I really doubt he did it specifically to torture Akane, cause Teru likes helping Akane as much as he enjoys annoying him.

I wonder if he is proud of Akane for not acting on any of the negative feelings he was being fed, cause Teru looks genuinely happy here! It's a far cry from his usual 'bullying you relax me' or 'i am petty' kind of smiles.

...I may be biased but I am throwing my "Teru didn't exorcise the monster for this long to have an excuse to be hanging out with the Aois while tecnically doing his job." idea here. We do get a heavy confirmation he could have done something before and wanted to third wheel after all.

Teru wants to turn this couple into a tricycle so bad. What a guy.

"I hope I didn't act weird" That's an insane thing to think considering how you act near Aoi on the daily bro, you're lucky she is too down bad to mind your madman tendencies.

Peak weirdo to weirdo pining hell.

Speaking of which, she sent him a message to show off the planted flowers! She went out of her way to make sure he saw it, Akane never asked her to update him.

LOOK AT THEEEEEEEEEEM

"Thanks for taking me out today!" says the one who invited him. And 'taking me out'? to the hardware store? I swear I wouldn't even be surprised if she mentally referred to their hang-out as a date too. I love you Aoi.

"As long as Ao-chan had fun, I am happy" l know and I love you.

ps: Their height difference still sparks joy. The smallest girl in the block, the tallest boy in the group, and the perfect middle ground.

[markerofthemidnight]

just wanted to say thanks so much for bringing up the whole trolls thing in relation to the stepfamily being abusive. it is something that i think starkid did really well, and it seems to have not been noticed by the majority of reviews/posts people have been making!

Thanks!

I was one of the people who noticed what Starkid was trying to do pretty much instantly, but apparently some people didn’t immediately understand that, hence the whole drama?

And I will say, while I do agree that portraying a specific race of creatures as inherently evil and irredeemable is kind of… cringey, in a sense, and I get where they were coming from in at least that regard, it makes a lot more sense with the context that they’re supposed to represent a specific, horrible type of person rather than a specific minority.

Anyways, back on topic! I think the trolls, especially the Stepmother, are an amazing way to represent domestic abusers. Representing them as being creatures that die in sunlight and have to wear other people’s skin to fit into normal society is genius, and I also love how Stepmother is pretty explicitly shown to be a really psychological manipulator in the scene at the riverbank.

Truly, the thing that makes Stepmother as big of a threat as she is, is the fact that she relies on her wits, not brute strength. I saw a comment on the official video about how Justine and Lucy not taking into account that the trolls might have skinsuits, as well as the town not believing Ella about the troll skinsuits in the first place, could be interpreted as a sign that skinning people and wearing their hide is something that trolls just don’t normally do in this universe, and something Stepmother came up with all by herself. If that’s true, that hammers home the point even further!

[gddancefloor]

A Kasane Teto and Hatsune Miku original song by SoYaSuYa (me)!

ᯓ★ DON'T YOU FEEL LIKE A FOOL

WHEN YOU SEEK MADE UP TRUTH?

THIS IS THE GAME OF LIFE,

THERE'S NO DOUBT ABOUT IT!

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HEY GAMERZZZ (yes, that was on purpose), decided to work on a little concept I discarded about a year ago and gave it a little fresh coat of paint! I also reworked the song it's related to! Still working on it, but this is what we've got! Everything is all mine, both legally and artistically. It all took about 10 days in total!

Lyrics and more info about the project below the cut! (Definitely check it out please!)

════════════════════════════

LYRICS

[VERSE]

Gamble to see what it means to be a living human Roll the dice, shake it twice, so boldly betting your life Where's the fun when you can predict the game? It all ends the same, deny that and you'll go insane

Looking for a cheap way out? Why don't you cheat your way out? You've got only one life left n' you won't have to play the rest Where's the fun when it's just to endure the pain? Get it through your brain, why stay a pawn living in vain?

[PRE CHORUS]

Hey, tell me if anything truly matters! You choose to live only just to die, that's the game of life So, don't blame me if that false hope shatters, It's your life, your problem, not mine if you choose to live a lie

It's starting to make sense to you, now isn't that right? We're all meaningless creatures with a drive to survive and die So, buckle up and get ready to enjoy this ride Of the meaningless desire for the meaning of life!

[CHORUS]

Oh, doesn't it hurt to lose No matter what you try to do (oh, doesn't it hurt) Don't you feel like a fool When you seek made-up truth (oh, it's all made up)

There's no target to beat Other than to accept defeat (oh, nothing to beat) So, please explain to me What else is there to believe? (and that's all how...)

This is the game of life, there's no doubt about it! (no doubt about that!) Live to see nothing matters, reality's a real lie (such a lie!) Philosophy's a joke, does it look like we're laughing? Keep on searching, gaming, playing for meaning in this stupid life!

════════════════════════════

So, this song is pretty old. I made the original concept in 2022 when it was called "BAD LUCK" and had an entirely different meaning behind it. But, I revived it in 2024 and because I was facing a very horrible time due to an existential crisis, I wanted to write a song about my feelings towards life in general. That isn't the song's only meaning, but a pretty good generalization as to why I wrote it in the first place.

These are the original designs from 2024. I never had a color palette in mind when I made them, I just knew I wanted them to be bright as fuck and match. Soooo basically the new designs required me to come up with one off of the top of my head, but to also somewhat rework them. I think even the new ones might undergo some changes in the final release. I dunno. I'm a picky guy.

I had to learn a lot about audio engineering (in NO way am I a professional, hell nah) and Vocaloid 5 (I've been using V4 since 2021 so this is a very big change for me) to make this song, and even then I do have things I still wanna tweak about it. But so far so good! I love the way it sounds and I hope you do too!

My goal was to make them appear a little disturbing considering the topics of this song. I wanted them to look "so depressed they're insane", to an extent. "What about the bright colors?" I'll let you theorize about that :)

Also, I've never drawn vinyl before so it might look a little odd as I get used to drawing it 💔

I will post their individual concept drawings when I can, as there's some shit I need to do with them and I just can't really do it right now.

I hope you absolutely LOVED this and if you did, please reblog this to support my art. I would also greatly appreciate fan art! Just remember to tag me.

I'll likely get the finished song on YouTube and niconico soon but not Spotify considering the horrible shit they're involved with, nor SoundCloud. They're both evil "generator" (iykyk) supporting, art stealing corporations. Soooo yeah. At least with YT you can opt out. Same here on Tumblr. I would do Bandcamp but I don't want ppl to feel obligated to buy my music since I don't really want money for something that comes from my soul.

Anyways, have a great day and God bless ya 💕

(also secret for people who bothered to read til the end: yes theres yuri)

[in-search-of-an-exit]

Hatchetfield, Continuity, and Eldritch Horror

So, Nerdy Prudes Must Die just came out and it reminded me how much I love the Hatchetfield series and I want to talk about one aspect that makes it so unique and interesting. Continuity.

If you don't know Hatchetfield is a series of stories by Starkid that has three stage musicals and a series called Nightmare Time and a short film. It is a horror anthology series where in every story some different supernatural or other horrible event occurs where characters die or the world ends in different ways. But that is kinda of not true because anthology isn't quite the right word.

The characters stay the same as the inhabitants of the small town of Hatchetfield but each story focuses on different characters at different times and the interesting part is that while certain individuals will act differently because of something related to the horror or supernatural elements mostly they always stick to canonical personalities and histories, and it is heavily implied that the events all actually happen and there is some wider story where there are multiple timelines.

This creates two really cool effects.

One is that you slowly start to learn more about the characters as you encounter them in various stories, and different things come about depending on how the current threat affects them. It also gives more information than any length single timeline would because we get to see what pushes them to different points. From NPMD for example, the story takes place two years after The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals in which the world ends and Paul and Emma fall in love, but we see in NPMD that Paul for the first time gives Emma his number perhaps hinting at what the timeline would be for Paul and Emma's relationship to mature without the intervention of a world ending disaster.

The other thing is about Eldritch Horror. Hatchetfield's core story revolves around the Lords in Black a group of Elder Gods who orchestrate most of the events. In most cases Eldritch Horror has difficulty truly selling the concept of creatures outside of our dimension who are not bound by time and space, and even if they demonstrate their power to the characters, as an audience it doesn't have a huge effect. But with Hatchetfield, because as an audience we are aware of the multiple timelines, we take on the role of the eldritch beings and see the stories from their perspective. In NPMD they make references to other stories implying that it is the same Lords in Black everytime with Tinky talking about having "another Spankofski" for his collection(an episode of Nightmare Time.) They also play with having the audience being the perspective of these Eldritch beings with the stagecraft like in Black Friday where entering the Black and White has the president move in from the audience, or in TGWDLM the ending has the audience clap for the end of the show with Emma screaming for help and unsure why the audience won't help her.

Its a really cool format that I personally have never encountered before and really sells the horror and makes you more invested in the characters.

[smilepilled]

in light of all of these horrible things jappening to till, i would like to start a loveletter train to hir. i'll go first, and i'll tag some people under the cut. please try to be platonic and reasonably-far-yet-friendly if you're not close to hir, because im sure no one that does this wants to make void even more upset. let's show some love for a dear member of this community; show some kind words and support for hir

i'll go first...

@idwl, till. we are distant mutuals, and i wish i could utter these words in a private setting, but i will repeat them as many times as i can until you accept it as a undoubtable truth. i will say so much more than this when i can, and i truly apologize for not once expressing my heartfelt appreciation for you.

coin-related; you are brilliant. your terms shine upon mine eyes when i see them, and the geniosity of the majority of your terms brings me hope for a more unified queer community. you've created things that struck close to home for me, and im sure your terms have brought the same feeling of homeliness to many others. your creations arent just pretty labels with pretty flags— they are ways for people to feel unionship, a sense of belonging & hope for themselves. your creations may be mocked by the soulless minority, but you should ALWAYS remember that your terms have, do, and will reach into the hearts of people.

person-wise; i am not able to say much myself, but from all and any interactions i've seen from you, i can tell you are a lovely, dear person. you are cared for, people cherish your presence— and even if i'm a mere aunt (read: vibe of a "distant relative") for you in this case, i too partake in the appreciation of your presence here. regardless if you choose to move on from liomogai tumblr spaces or choose to remain, you will always have a place in the memoirs of the people. you may leave the scene, but you'll never ever be removed from the picture frames in the people's hearts. you are appreciated and folks will be willing to offer support for you, no matter how small or big they feel it is.

please, please count on us. don't isolate yourself or run away out of fear that you're "too much" or "evil" (for example?), or any other adjacent though you personally may have about asking for help. your friends and peers care about you, and i hope this old creature stending its hand to you can act even as little as being a symbol of that. you are valued and cared for, and even if you never coin again, people will still care for you — as a person, not a coiner. thank you, thank you & thank you for all you've done in here, and thank you for hanging in there as you are today (& have many other times). please dont be mean to yourself, hurt yourself, and instead go to your friends & watch a nice nature documentary with snacks instead.

your community's got your back, publicly and/or privately. you can reach out, and we do care. please be well, and take a bunch of breaks if you need to— play some games and get some snacks, you deserve it; especially now, but you always do.

i'm happy to spend time with you if you need a distraction, my discord is @\hackerbug if you wanna drop by. no need to ask or warn me beforehand, just airdrop yourself and i'll be glad to help. its not just me, either. please take care

additionally: i apologize if any of this is too much or too intense. i'm just really worried and i want to make sure you understand im offering myself to help you with a space to rant/vent and take your mind off this situation. thank you for being yourself

tagging: @radiomogai, @lunentity, @rwuffles, @kiruliom, @inknoidd, @h-halos, @puppfie, @gender-mailman, @hypnosiacon, @losergendered, @rabidbatboy, @acronym-chaos, @daybreakthing, @gengernoway, @local-maneater, @scr-ppup, @sevvys, @icwdtea, @floraeth, @nyrieve, @snugmutt, @starstruckdolly. — it's obviously okay to skip this, but i'd appreciate if you guys could drop some love for till. hi definitely needs some hearts right now. please focus on giving support to hir instead of attacking the harrassing party, for this.

[evolutionsvoid]

It should be obvious that when it comes to flora, fauna and fungi that there really isn't "evil" species. I am sure some would think I am referring only to simple animals, ones that lack sapience and thus are incapable of moral wrongdoing. This is incorrect, because even sapient species are not inherently evil. The second we start running with this idea is the second we start running down a very terrible path. I mainly bring this up because of the usual talk of "monsters" and destructive beasts. Dragons and what not that folks would label as "cruel," "evil" or "malicious." This is pure slander, spoken by those who assume that all life must follow their idea of morality and rules. Sure, what a carnivore may do may make you uncomfortable, but it shouldn't lead to it being seen as wicked. Why do I talk about this in this entry? Because while species are not evil, sometimes you see a creature that feels like it was tailor made to trigger this reaction in folks. A beast with a certain visage or ability that makes you immediately go "oh boy, people are not going to like this..."

The honnari is one such creature, looking as if it slithered out from some human child's book about noble warriors slaying evil beasts. The serpentine frame, the bold red scales, the mouthful of shredding teeth, the wild mane of black "hair" and of course those horns. I can already hear people screaming at the mere notion of such a beast! But the honnari is no evil monstrosity, just a really long reptile with an intimidating visage. Wise readers may be able to look past these "horrible" features and detect the relation in this serpent. With that strange mask-like face and "hair" made of scales, you better believe that the honnari is related to the nure-onna! Their cousin is quite smaller and more coastal, while this crimson snake is found more in mountainous or forested regions!

Honnari spend most of their time alone, keeping to themselves within hunting territories. They make their nests in caves, burrows and wherever their claws can make a proper home. When it is time to eat, you know those sharp teeth of theirs are hungering for meat! Honnari are fast and agile hunters, chasing down prey or striking them from unseen places. Their serpent bodies let them climb up and hang down wherever they need, typically using this trait to really catch their food off guard. While they can unleash a surprising burst of speed to catch up to fleeing targets, there is another weapon at their disposal. Honnari are capable of breathing fire! So you know when prey tries fleeing or predators starting eyeing the serpent that this creature lets loose the flame! One quick burst is enough to drive away attackers or light targets up! And against really feisty meals, they love to trap them in their coils and roast them with a long burning breath!

This fiery breath isn't just for defense, but is also utilized when it comes to breeding. Male honnari attract females with their horn size as well as with flaming displays. Both show off their health and strength, which brings in the ladies and drives away the competition! And when the eggs are laid, you know those same flames help keep them warm! Female honnari tend to coil around their eggs and use their fire breath to incubate them if the weather starts to get chilly. During this time, from when honnari find mates up til their young leave the nest, these serpents become even more aggressive and territorial. Woe be to those who get too close to a nest, or do the incredibly stupid thing of harming their young or their mate. During this season, the honnari are very protective and very vindictive.

Their intimidating look already makes the honnari a feared creature, but it is their temper when slighted that truly makes them a legend. A honnari that has been wronged by someone will unleash absolute hell upon them, willing to chase them to the ends of the earth. Some stories even claim that they will go upon this quest of vengeance even if it means their death! Though their fury can make them seem savage, honnari are not dumb. They remember the face and smell of those who have hurt them and will do all in their power to make them suffer. Locals see them as vengeful demons, and beasts of fiery fury. Yet, despite this fear, the honnari do earn respect and a bit of admiration. I mean, they are gorgeous creatures to behold, and thus perfect for any art! Their horns, scales and black tendrils are valued as materials for armor, costumes and other garments. Their facial markings have inspired masks and tales, while their coiled bodies make them perfect for sculpture and carvings. Honnari are not just vengeful spirits, but also symbols of strength and wicked cunning. Especially for certain folk!

Where the honnari is appreciated most is with local women. The long mane of these serpents and their facial markings cause the entire species to be seen as feminine in a way. And to have that label while also being a beast that does not accept any slight and is willing to throw down with those who offend them causes them to be appreciated as a symbol. This is why women are typically those who wear garbs fashioned from honnari parts, or use them in personal art. Their visage is one of internal power and fury, ready to be unleashed upon those who dare bring them harm. They are a creature whose image says "mess with me and I will tear you to pieces" while still retaining that elegant beauty!

It is said that a honnari is a popular tattoo for the ladies, showing fiery passion, primal strength and deadly elegance. And I got the opportunity to see one with my own eyes! It was a truly extraordinary piece, having been painted upon a towering woman I had met during my stay at a village. She had the crimson serpent coiling up her leg onto her back, where its fierce visage was in full display! Those horns, that snarling maw! The writhing tendrils wrapping around her shoulders and sides! She was like a walking mural with such art, and I had the honor of seeing every inch of it! And she was certainly worthy of bearing such a symbol! Fiery passion indeed! Deadly elegance for sure, ensnaring you in a vice grip and taking your breath away with just a mere look! And a savage strength that feels like it could crack you in two, yet you always come back begging for mo- I probably shouldn't be putting this in the entry, should I? Might be a bit off topic....and a little too personal...

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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After a full month (and more!) of FOI stuff, got to start off with a Chlora entry in case people think I forgot about her! The gall! I would never! I remember all my creations! It just happens that sometimes you get hooked on one for a little longer!

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark, pt. 3

[adar/oc]

read part 1 | part 2

Set in the "Awake, Arise"-verse (I'd recommend reading at least chapters 1-9 if you haven't already to get the history of these characters) PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is.

OKAY PEEPS AS PROMISED, HERE'S THE SPICE. [cw: blood, knife-play, implied previous dubcon/noncon, related to the creation of the orcs]; M rating applies.

ENJOY. (don't look at me.)

Cuiviénen.

Her blood sings at the sound of the word. She does not know how it could be true, only that it is. She begins to pick up the scattered pieces, the visions that she had seen: a lake under stars… water flowing over stones… tall, primordial trees…

With eyes full of questions, she lets the dagger fall away from his throat. “And you…”

“I was yours,” he says, tremulous and yearning. “And you were mine.”

A breeze moves gently through the glen, and in her mind’s eye, she catches a glimpse of him, young and uncorrupted—his skin unblemished as he steps into a patch of moonlight, breathless after chasing her through the wood.

She remembers how she’d led him through the trees after he’d caught her, down to a secluded place by the waterside. She remembers how they’d spent blissful hours discovering one another beneath the stars, how much she’d hungered for him.

She realizes then that she knows his name—for it is an inextricable part of her own: Eren.

“Oh,” she gasps, struggling to reconcile that vision of Eren with Adar who sits before her now, still bound to the tree. She can still make out unmistakable traces of his elvenness—his pointed ears, his high cheekbones—but his terrible transformation from elf to orc is clear.

She squeezes her eyes closed, overwhelmed suddenly by more memories of her own—of time spent in darkness and torment. For she had not escaped a similar fate…

Despite the strengthening sunlight, she is suddenly pulled down, plunged into icy waters—she is drowning in cold, swimming in a sea of terrible truth.

“I was with you,” she says, discovering it slowly. “In that dark, nameless place. They brought me to you, after I had been changed… after I had forgotten your name, and mine.”

She lets out a strangled sob, remembering the chamber, remembering being held down, remembering Morgoth, watching. “He forced us.”

As quickly as they’d returned to her—those blissful memories of starlit Cuiviénen—they are eclipsed by this single, horrible fact. As quickly as everything had come together, it now smashes, like a pane of glass against stone.

Erenyë crumbles with a terrible cry, wrenched from the depths of her soul as she comes to full understanding. They had been used—both of them—by Morgoth, to create the race of the orcs. She hearkens back to the hordes of snarling creatures that had attacked her party earlier. With a wave of nausea, she realizes that they are descended from her.

She looks back at Eren—Adar, she reminds herself. He is Adar—an orc, an enemy. She considers leaving him there, bolting off into the forest, returning to Pelargir, forcing the ship to turn around and return her to Valinor.

But Valinor is not her home…

At last, she understands the reason why she’d always felt incomplete. She never belonged in Valinor, not truly. She belongs with him—he is her purpose, her place in this world.

But she does not know how to have him now, after everything.

She is no longer the wild elf-maid who had danced carefree through the forests at Cuiviénen. Now, she feels broken and afraid—and she senses that he is, too. They are both changed, though her body bears the physical scars no longer.

“Erenyë.” His voice, barely a whisper, pleads with her. “Á cene ni.”

Look at me.

His unlovely face is bathed in golden sunlight. As the moments slip past, she allows everything else to fall away, piece by piece, until she focuses only on him. She allows herself to see him—to see in him that which Morgoth could never destroy, and what even the turbulent storms of ten thousand years could not weather away. She feels a hunger stirring deep within her, a hunger that only he has the power to slake.

She is utterly at a loss for how to proceed, but she feels a faint flicker of the boldness she’d once possessed, and it helps her to take the first step. She returns, kneeling over him, straddling his legs, reaching out with her free hand—the one not still clutching the dagger.

To her great surprise, he recoils from her, shaking his head.

“I do not deserve your touch,” he says, his voice thick with self-loathing. His eyes fall to the knife in her opposite hand, and she understands that given the choice of pain or pleasure, his preference now is for the former.

With a terrible pang, she wonders if he can even remember what tenderness feels like.

A part of her is angered by his denial, but she strives to accept it. They are neither of them who they once were, she reminds herself. They must forge a new path through the ashes.

She raises the dagger, letting it rest lengthwise against his cheek. Taking a steadying breath, she digs it into his skin enough to make him wince and squeeze his eyes shut.

“How are you here?” he murmurs, incredulous, as a single tear escapes.

She leans in, tilting her head toward him until they are almost nose to nose. She breathes him in, her body slowly relearning how to be close to his. She shifts, rolling her hips tentatively, experimentally against his legs, feeling heat kindling to life deep within her core. Her lips move close to his ear. “I am here,” she replies.

He shivers, leaning into the blade like a caress. Angling it carefully so that it will not rend, she traces it down the side of his face. His eyes open, and they are tinged with the haze of deep memory.

“I watched you die,” he says, laying his anguish bare before her, and it is a gaping chasm so wide and deep she fears her own heart to be in danger of splitting into and falling into it.

She had been so caught up by her own harrowing discoveries, she had not yet fully contemplated that while she had lived long in ignorance of their torment, he had wandered the world carrying the full weight of everything that had befallen them under Morgoth’s hand.

“I came back for you,” she breathes, seeking to reassure him, to assuage his anguish as best she can. She wishes he could accept softness, and she offers up a silent prayer that in time, he might come to do so. But for now, she drags the blade again, letting the tip of it settle at the center of his lower lip. He is trembling now, and his breathing is heavy as he begs her silently with his eyes.

She lets the dagger pierce him, splitting his lip in two and drawing blood. And then she dives, hungrily, unwilling to wait any longer, swallowing his gasp of surprise with her mouth. He resists at first, but she moves the blade to his throat—a gentle but direct threat. He acquiesces, opening himself to her kiss. She does not try to be sweet; she devours, letting their teeth gnash together before moving to nip and suck at the wound she’d made.

He moans against her mouth, and she remembers the thrill of being needed by him. How, she wonders, had she survived for so many years without this?

She twists the fingers of her free hand into his hair, pulling his head back so that she can assail his neck. She nicks him with the dagger several times in succession, letting him feel pain for only a moment before allowing him the balm of her lips. His black blood tastes bitter on her tongue, but she savors it, nonetheless.

With a sharp intake of breath, he shifts beneath her and she grinds herself down hard against the cradle of his hips, the heat between her legs blooming until it is slick and wet and impossible to ignore.

She pulls back, lowering the dagger to the cord of elven rope that binds him. Hesitation flickers across his face, but she grips his chin in her free hand, jerking him toward her to claim his lips again. “Grant me this,” she says when they are both breathless, resting her forehead against his.

He makes a noncommittal noise in the base of his throat, and she prepares her argument, but he interjects before the words reach her lips.

“Grant me one thing in return.” He leans back ever so slightly, his eyes raking over her face, coming to rest on the long, dark braid draping over her shoulder. “Your hair,” he implores. “Undo it.”

Warmth floods her chest. It is such a simple request, but as she moves her hand to undo the cord, he watches her with a startling intensity, and as she begins to finger the strands free from the braid, she realizes that she had never worn her hair this way back in Cuiviénen, and that his request is born out of a desire to see her as she had been then.

His breath hitches as he watches her, and she slows her movements, taking deliberate care as she unwinds the rest, combing through her dark locks carefully until they fall free at last, framing her face.

“There was starlight in your hair on the night of our awakening,” he murmurs, his voice dreamlike. “I have never forgotten it.”

His desire for her is so guileless, so open, as it ever had been since their earliest days, and she feels a sudden burst of incandescent joy amid all the anguish that had passed between them during their reunion.

She takes his face between her hands, heedless of his earlier talk of undeserving, and kisses him fiercely, thumbing over his scars and broken skin. Then, with haste, she reaches down for the dagger she had dropped, and slices cleanly through the elven rope, freeing him, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms enveloping her.

But he does not match her fevered pace—and when he does reach for her, it is to lightly stroke her hair. He does so with reverence, as though handling a holy relic. She leans into his hand, placing her palms upon his chest to brace herself, for even under this lightest of touches, her knees grow weak.

His armor is firm and solid—an outer shell that she longs to remove. She wants nothing between them, just as it had been when they had lain together in the eldest of elder days. But as she gropes for the fastenings, he catches her wrists, and the pained look in his eye tells her no.

She wants to ask if he means never or not yet, but she is frightened to learn the answer, so she leans in soundlessly, winding her arms around his neck, knitting her body against his, coaxing his lips to part for her once more.

She is confused by his unwillingness and wracked by feelings of selfishness for wanting him so recklessly. She prays he will not notice her hot, anguished tears as they begin to fall. But she soon tastes their salt, and she knows he can, too. He pulls back, and she drops her eyes immediately, ashamed.

She feels the cold kiss of metal as his gauntleted hand tips her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His face is contrite yet pained—he hides nothing from her.

“For you, it was once,” he explains, and she knows immediately that he is speaking of their violation in Utumno. She clenches her jaw, feeling the icy, sick sensation overwhelm her again as he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “For me, it was… many times. Always at Morgoth’s command.”

Her heart shatters at his confession. The death she had suffered—it had been a mercy. She understands that fully now. Her tears fall faster as she aches for everything she imagines he’d endured, alone. Without her.

She yearns to comfort him, but to her distress, she realizes that she does not know how—she does not know anymore what will soothe him, or if there is anything that can.

With a shuddering intake of breath, he continues. “Being lost to lust—I fear it now.” He looks to her mournfully. “But I do long for you.” His unclad hand caresses her now, sliding slowly down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, over her belly and down to the cleft between her legs. “Oh, how I long for you,” he growls low, stroking her there.

She cannot contain the cry of pleasure that breaks free, and to her surprise, he smothers it with a sudden, scorching kiss.

His hands move to unfasten the clasp of her cloak, letting it fall away behind them. Snatching her around the waist, he tips her back, laying her out on top of it, a silken barrier between her and the ashes that lie beneath it. He kneels carefully over her, and she watches a silent struggle play out upon his face. He breathes in deeply, finding steadiness within himself.

She waits, as patiently as she can manage, though every inch of her feels raw, and in desperate need of his hands. One by one, he undoes the fastenings of her tunic, unfolding the fabric gently, unwrapping her, letting the morning sun soak her pale skin. A ripple of delight courses through her as she watches him look down upon her, followed by a surge of impatience. She thinks she sees the edges of his lips curl up ever so slightly as he slides his fingers beneath the hem of her trousers, as he begins to tease them slowly down her legs.

His unhurried pace is maddening. She bucks her hips as he strips the garment finally away, releasing a pathetic whimper. He returns it with a satisfied growl that sounds from deep at the base of his throat, before lowering his head, planting a chaste kiss on the skin just above her hip. His bare hand moves to cover her breast, fingers sinking into a slow caress as his lips forge their own path across her abdomen and lower.

When he reaches the place where she needs him most, he delays no further—her legs part as his tongue finds her center. She undulates in pure, simple, velvet-soft ecstasy, as half-conscious sighs and moans fall freely from her lips.

The sensation of his mouth upon her sex makes her deliciously weak, but she summons enough strength to raise her head enough to look down and watch him, his dark head between her thighs, eyes closed in concentration, his grey hand kneading her breast, his iron gauntlet gripping her hip, the sharp spikes of his fingers sinking into her flesh.

Within a few moments, she is finished, reduced to quivers and cries as she comes undone beneath him.

His face swims into view above her, wan and satisfied, his green eyes cloudy with arousal. She clasps him around the neck, pulling him down to kiss her, catching the trace of her own tang still upon his tongue. Finding more strength, she rises somewhat clumsily, moving to straddle him once more, so that his back is against the tree.

They are both breathless, and for a moment, they linger in stillness. Her hand drifts to his forehead, brushing strands of dark hair away from his face. Then she leans forward, kissing along his jawline before teasing at his ear with her teeth. He gasps at the sensation, hands digging deliciously into her bare back.

She presses her body close to his, flattening her breasts against the hard plate of his armor, rocking so that she feels the friction of his mail against her flesh. Her hunger for him—having been momentarily sated—comes roaring back, and her motions grow more frantic as she confronts again a deep sense of emptiness between her legs, aching to be filled. She trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, each an invitation.

Please, she begs in between them.

His hands abruptly leave the base of her spine, and for a moment she fears that they have reached the end—that she has asked too much, pushed too far.

She buries her face in his neck, unwilling to tear herself away. But then she feels something brush against her—something hard that teases at her still-weeping entrance. She sucks in a sharp breath, glancing down at the space between them. He is holding the hilt of the dagger against her slit, clutching it in his own hand by the blade, and she can see a thin rivulet of black blood running down his fingers. He winces, but she reads in his face just how much the pain grounds him, and she remembers his earlier words, his fears of being fully lost to lust.

This, she realizes, is what he can offer her now. All she can do is accept it and be content, and live in hope that together, they might conquer the rest in time.

It is a challenge that she is more than willing to accept for him, and she tells him so with a deep, passionate kiss. Pulling back, she locks her eyes onto his, letting herself sink down onto the hilt, as a breathy moan begins at the back of her throat. He manipulates the dagger gently, pressing it inside of her as the sound deepens and lengthens. His forehead droops against hers and they breathe in time together with each thrust until she comes, and his hand is covered in blood.

With her body still quaking from the aftershocks, she wastes no time in tending to him. Reaching for her cloak, she tears a strip of fabric and binds his mangled palm. When she finishes, she holds his hand carefully in both of her own.

Where will we go now, she asks him, suddenly fearful of what may lie ahead.

Home, he answers. To Mordor.

...y'all still with me?

want more?

[i have some ideas]

lemmeknowkthanksbai

[imitative-magpie]

Please Share What's Given You Mental/Phantom Shifts

We all know that feeling- where you're watching a movie, and something on screen catches your attention because it's just like you. That creature transformation, that dynamic between two people, that mythical beast.. whatever it is, we latch onto these scenes because they help us better contextualize and explain our experience as alterhumans, because it so deeply affects us, leaving us in shifts for days after. 

I would like to share a few moments in media, besides the suggestions of others, that have impacted me in such a way.

I'd like to start by sharing my thoughts regarding the movie The Omen. It's one of those horror movies that stick with you, not just because of the plot but the intrigue surrounding such a film. Everyone knows that rumor that it's a cursed film due to the tragic occurrences that surrounded it's production. In the series of films, horrible things happen to anyone who gets close to Damien, as if he himself has willed them to happen. He's depicted as the antichrist, and the way he talks, the things that happen in the trilogy.. Well, it just left me feeling like we're in the same boat. That there's something more to it, because I feel stained by something horrific and I feel as though I've inflicted this malcontent against anyone who gets close to me. 

It's part of why Insidious spoke to me as much as it had, my first watch through. The demons and spirits in Insidious are described as hungry and they can even smell the still living souls when they astral project from their bodies at night. They feed off the fear of those they afflict, and they aim to steal the bodies of the dreamers for their own. That scene where there was that dark figure standing in the corner of Dalton’s room? That is so close to how I've found myself in my many dreams, haunting others like a sleep apparition demon. I would be lying if I said that was my only reason though�� The red door that's been shown in the original film– I heard they're making a movie giving it some background story, but there's something about the red door that felt familiar. I don't even know why. 

The Rake had been one of the creepypastas of the early 2000s that had stuck with me throughout my childhood- I remember a depiction of its ghoul like figure, sitting at the edge of beds. If you look directly at this creature, it attacks viscously, wishing not to be perceived. This shrill voiced anomaly of the woods reminds me much of myself, reminds me of things I’ve long forgotten. The Rake holds a special place in my heart. I was nearly obsessed with the story in my preteens, and it remains a topic of interest to this day, along with the stories of The Operator. 

It should come as no surprise that I relate a fair bit to Johnny Truant, with his descent into paranoia and hysteria throughout his journal, and his ambiguous end. It’s just one of the many reasons I felt so attached to House of Leaves. This character is not my only reasoning for why I feel attached to House of Leaves though. There are recurring themes that have left its mark on me, and made me who I am. The house’s inner dimensions being as twisted and foreboding as they are, as well Will’s letter regarding the house to Karen had left a significant impact on me. It’s so unfortunate that only fragmented pieces seem familiar to me while not touching on some of the topics of my dream memories- because I would claim this as my source in a heartbeat. 

Smile was an interesting one, to give me Kin shifts. While Insidious was the first movie to allow me kinshifts that left me truly feeling like a monster, Smile was the first time I found I liked it, and how that terrified me. The idea of something so horrific infecting someone in a parasitic nature–

I have always felt my urges held those same parasitic traits. It only got worse with the sequel. The opening soundtrack and the ending left a terrified thrill in my heart, left me feeling that desire to suck the marrow straight from fear itself. 

.. And then there was ‘The Murders of Molly Southbourne’, a book that I still reflect on not for it’s literary prowess, as I found myself not particularly enthused by the lackluster route the book had taken.. But the very first moment the story’s central theme was unveiled to me, the idea of what could be had always sat heavy in my head. Stories of doppelgangers, and monsters being born from shed blood had always been something that caught my eye, and this book was no different. Sure, there were other stories such as Plastic Faces, taken straight from r/No Sleep, and Tender is the Flesh with the dehumanisation of Jasmine and heavy themes of gore. I guess in truth, the visuals in my head have always drawn me in, fed life to me where I would otherwise be vacant. I just want to know who I am, maybe that's why the theme of doppelgangers and the uncanny has always caught my attention so consistently.    

There are others like this that I ruminate over, trying to find meaning in while it turns a blade of desire deep in my soul,

But I’m interested in you. What do you remember viewing, that first ever gave you those ‘shifty feelings’? Feel free to reblog with your own experiences.

[artbyblastweave]

hello. I am in the middle of doing My Take on vampires and would appreciate your thoughts on Them in fiction. they don't seem to pop up more than occasionally in superhero media, but also you are pretty widely read & they have noticeable Eras/Tendencies that I can see.

I'm definitely not as much of a vampire guy as I'm a Superhero guy, so all my opinions on vampires should be taken with a grain of salt, and with the knowledge that a lot of this is stuff I've picked up through Osmosis and the occasional lit-review for that one class in college. But here goes-

One of my potentially more controversial takes about Vampires is that I think Vampires (and adjacent creatures like werewolves) are great at capturing the emotional truth of being part of a marginalized group, or sometimes just for being subaltern- the world against you, people make you feel like you're wrong for existing, that you're dangerous, etc.- and this is why they go gangbusters both on this website and in general. But the narrative often faceplants for me if it tries to portray vampires as a literal marginalized group because all of that stuff is often objectively true within the fiction in a way that it isn't true of real-life marginalized groups. It's a souped-up version of the X-men problem, because most of the X-Men aren't obligate cannibals! The result of this is that there have been several times I'm consuming something vampire-related that wants me to primarily sympathize with the vampires, and meanwhile I'm going "geez, that's a rough deal, but I think you all need to be killed on purely utilitarian grounds, sorry."

(I do also get the sense as well, right, that this is inextricably tangled up in the fact that a lot of foundational vampire literature was kind of just taking a lot of the horrible lies people tell about the scapegoat group du jour to justify their oppression and then making a guy of whom these things were objectively true. I get the impression, at a distance, that Dracula demonstrates like fourteen different flavors of "Those Depraved Easterners Are Coming For Our Women," although to truly lock in that Take I'm gonna have to read the thing instead of just absorbing it through Tumblr Osmosis whenever Dracula Daily is running.) There are ways to thread this needle, the big one of which is to just sand down the negative externalities of vampirism. Have them feed on animals or voluntary donors or make the human predation thing an in-universe slanderous fiction to begin with. Have them feed on exclusively on quote-unquote "criminals," if you have the right unexamined assumptions about the validity of the death penalty. Go the Elder Scrolls route, where drinking blood isn't necessary to survive but is necessary to maintain a human appearance, thus ensuring that the most morally conscientious vampires are the ones most likely to be identified as vampires and scapegoated by the angry mob. The issue I sometimes take with this is that the act of implementing a "fix" of any kind can sort of broadcast that you're trying to have your cake and eat it too- that you're cutting away the ideatic core of what makes vampires interesting when divorced from metaphor, taken objectively- that they're living trolley problems. As others have said, if you sand them down too much, what are you getting out of a vampire story that you couldn't get from a Tolkien Elf, or from Batman?

A fictional group which I've never really had this issue with, though, is Zombies, in the Romero tradition. When a work wants to construct Zombies as a primarily sympathetic group, it's much easier for me to get on board with that without feeling like the core Vibe has been compromised. This is because there's actually a fairly recent source text for zombies in the form of Romero's Living Dead films, and a major component of the Living Dead films is how much it sucks without recourse to become a zombie.

I was working on a post once, which I never finished, about how there are like, three-to-four vectors of horror that zombies can embody, which different works play up to different extents. While obviously one of the big straightforward ones is the fear that your entire community starts trying to kill you and eat you one day for basically no reason, a major anxiety on display in the original Living Dead trilogy- Dawn in particular- is that in the face of a weird but manageable problem human society would act as its own condemnation, totally failing to rise to the challenge-the horror is that we would let something as inept as a zombie be dangerous to us! Also present in those films? The horror of the idea that your daily routine is so rote and conformist that you wouldn't need to be sentient to continue to carry it out- that the biggest difference between you and them is that you can occasionally be evil in more interesting and evolved ways. And there's this fear of physically and mental degradation with zombies, which for a host of reasons I find extremely fucking relatable. The sense that your body is falling apart piecemeal, bits of you sloughing off when you turn the wrong way or turn your head too quickly. There's this fog over your thinking. The bone-deep knowledge that you used to be more, and are now fundamentally less capable- that there's just enough of you left to understand something is missing. (Read into my personal circumstances whatever you want from this.) Being a zombie is foundationally, fundamentally gross in a way that being a vampire isn't; when people try to do "sexy zombies" half the joke is the pairing of those two words. There's this horror comic Kieth Giffen did once called Tag which is basically entirely about the horror of being a corpse that could feel it; I think about that comic a lot. Anyway, because so much of the horror of zombism is external to whether they're actually attacking and killing people or not, you can totally sell me on zombies as an unfairly-maligned demographic in a way that's much harder for me to buy with Vampires- dropping the danger they pose to other people allows you to maintain so much more of the core of the thing than it does with Vampires, where it feels much more like you're tip-toeing around the tensions between Wanting To Have Fun and the moral horror inherent to what you're trying to have fun with.

[oceanlipgloss]

LUNCHBOX

MEPHISTOPHELES.

+ no warnings.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Nobles didn’t need lunchboxes. They didn’t share lunches on school benches.

Nobles indulged in fancy luncheons and had luxurious dinners. That was how he had always lived; not for decades and not for centuries, but for millennia. Yet, the next thing he knew, this pretty and horribly fragile creature had come along and spoiled the whole rhythm.

That did not merely mean his lunching habits, of course, or the traditional noble programme, or anything else like that—for the little butterfly had let her wings move a bit too fast, fly a little too far. She had let herself land on his velvet fingertip, twirl around in his brain, then sneak her way into his heart.

Do you understand what it was like for him?

She was messing with his mind and troubling his heart, spreading the nectar from part to part until the entire organ was contracting with his red admiration, and all her own.

He was a demon. Holy scripts of all kinds and in all languages told of how those like him are damned before their creation, and born damned still.

Goddamn it though, wasn’t she a demon too? She made disliking her hard, altered the rhythm of his heart; it pounded faster when she was there. Made him think about her so much, all the time, even when he had better things to do—more important things, like taking down a fallen angel, for instance.

Goodness...was this not an alarmingly strange phenomenon all around? That is why, for the first time in his seemingly endless life he actually and genuinely thought, ‘I am damned.’

How could he not? Was there even a sliver of probability to think otherwise?

After all, he was willingly seated next to a commoner on a school bench. So much like a silly school crush...

The cherry on top, though? The icing on the cake? The sugar rush to his bafflement? How he was heartily eating the weird stuff in her lunchbox. The flavours were very good.

Oh, dear.

Scratch that.

It was worse.

So much worse.

He was so, so, dangerously close to a human, a mortal woman whom he had not been very fond of—if at all—in the beginning, and for quite a long time. Their shoulders were touching. She was very warm. He could feel the mellow heat through the fabric of her uniform.

Were all humans this warm, or was it just her?

He would have to study that later.

For now...well.

It wasn’t just mere material proximity; it was not their bodies that were close only. The romantic tales and legends did not quite get it right, and many poets did not pen it properly.

How to put it...

You see, he could almost feel a quaint connection in their souls, as though mystic hands were tugging at the enchanted thread by which their spirits were tied. It was a thread impossible to see with the eye, but easy to feel in the heart.

And he had no way of truly knowing, but perhaps their hearts, too, were pulsating to the same song playing within them.

Unsettling as it were, the feeling and the sensations it brought remained quite nice.

Routine is a curious matter; it arranges days and nights, organises time itself—and yet, should they choose to, one can change it however they like.

Before this lunchbox ordeal, his hours had constantly resembled one another and looked nearly identical. They were too much alike.

He had followed a certain pattern, but now he had chosen to paint for himself a new excitement—an unprecedented event with an unexpected person—in that redundant schedule.

In truth, she was well aware that he did not hate her, so she was the one who had been incessant on spending this time with him. She was the one who had begun their little journey of sweet fortune.

She taught him new things. Sometimes she talked about profound matters. Sometimes she made meaningless small talk. Eventually, she made him think about how he would love to visit the twisted realm of humans with her.

With her, he realised that solitude disappears. Relations could be blessings. He was happier eating common simplicity packed into a plastic box more than he had ever been stabbing silverware into fine gourmet meals laid on exquisite china.

Never once had he imagined he would find spiritual pleasure in the company of this particular creature, this—truth be told—lovely lady. It appeared that fate had wished to prove him wrong in this subject, and so it was.

But when it had never before crossed his mind that he would one day come to enjoy her presence and bask in her warmth, how could he ever have predicted that he would long for that same warmth to be by his side?

Perhaps it was true that ignorance is bliss.

Who could know whether their soul will ever bind itself to someone or not?

Who could ever know the destined one that will rob them of their heart?

There is no need to do so.

Walking through time with an unknowing mind that cannot form any predictions and blind eyes that cannot make out a picture of the future could be pleasant.

What one cannot expect may very well turn out to be a great surprise, an absolute delight...or their sweetest demise.

+note: sort of word-vomited this one and wanted to put it up. [9.11.2024: did someone from NTT read this fic in reverse or smth 'cause glue ur eyeballs to the screenshot for a minute affinity bar WHEN]

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[institute-of-oddology-founder]

(It's a book, a familiar book to Stanford, with a crooked note pinned to it and a strange play of light)

Please help. I…

Hello, I… It doesn't matter, I just… Please just listen to me.

A few years ago… It's been so long I think I've lost count and I'm just scared. I'm still scared. I found a book… A magazine. A simple book about unicorns and other anomalies with a six-fingered hand on it and the number 1. At first it seemed like a ridiculous fantasy for little girls or boys with codes and riddles. It was tattered, with streaks and water marks… I think someone cried when they opened this book.

And… A few sheets of paper here and there in handwriting different from the author's. Almost childish comments from a person who loves him complement him. I taped them down so they wouldn't disappear. It seemed important to me… Until it ended with words… It doesn't matter which ones.

I'm truly sorry I got confused. It's just that this book, it seems cursed to me. There's… someone reflected in it, someone who's not me and… then I met HIM. He said he could help me get rid of… He could help me if I found the rest of the books. My life is far from perfect, and he promised me that the problems of the past would… (words blurred by tears).

He told me that he was looking for someone like me. That I was special. Chosen from hundreds of others. That he was from another dimension and could save me from this destructive reality and with my abilities I could help him… And he would help me.

I'm a witch. Not just a horrible word to describe my appearance. Not a vengeful girl. A real witch and with this book I must find others and open the door to HIM and his friends.

I had my own tools, magical items and… and scientific data from the journals would help open the portal… Stupidity, how stupid I am, to fall for the words of this triangular creature and I…

I just threw this book into the nearest crack between the worlds and this note. The book is enchanted, it is impossible to read… Well, the parts related to the portal are undecipherable. The rest remained unharmed. It is still cursed and protected by a spell that cannot harm your world, no matter where it goes and… (The ink is smeared and the word possessed is barely legible, but the rest leave no clues)…

Forgive me. I do not know how much time has passed for the book in wandering. It is just that if you have found and encountered a similar problem… Do not trust the triangular creature that promises power, money, knowledge and entire worlds. My mistake should not go further. Do not trust Bill Cipher.

(The rest of the words are blurry, and the sheet that was attached to the Journal is torn with the last words of regret)

(Welcome to the world, or rather part of this world, where Stanley Pines went on a journey with diary number one and Stanford's promise to keep in touch. Only Bill, dejected by the failure in this world, killed Stanford. And Stanley, some time after he learned of his brother's death, caught up with Rico and killed him as well. He almost did not resist. But the diary… Oh, the diary is the only connection, that he simply stayed to guard it in every possible way. And to prevent Bill and… And is reflected in gold foil at the moment when he was tired, exhausted and unhappy. End of explanation, no excuses)

(And yes, he would be very glad to see his brother. Aged. Living brother and really wants to understand how to give a signal so that Ford understands that he is near. Here… And sincerely loves him, promising not to leave him until the very end. Even if he is not his Stanley)

My friend, please listen to me. That journal may be the worst thing you could come across. I am thankful for the willpower it took for you to get rid of something that has promised you great fortune from an entity who calls himself a god, a muse.

That demon has tricked me before, I sincerely hope you all avoid the same mistakes as mine.

[theblackwhitengrey]

Worldbuilding pt. 2

Since most of the story is in some parts, related to the Black, I'd give a rundown of the Black. You can expect most of it being a dark forest, cold like mentioned beforehand. It is an evernight-type situation with the sky, except one area. Else, most of these creatures down here, do not always see proper "sunlight" (however thing they may interpret as sunlight).

Sniggleville, Drowsy Town

Now, you've heard of the Sniggles living in Drowsy Town. For this particular AU however, they now live in a particular area of Drowsy Town. Sniggles gotta get a break or two away from their masters, ye see. You'd see a rather bustling "night life" down in Sniggleville, for they hardly sleep themselves... ok they do sleep, but they do like themselves a little banter and kick-backs after serving their Lords thanklessly. "In exchange for safety!", that's what they'll tell you. Like mice, this town of theirs is rather "underground". The buildings there appear to be clay-based, and because it’s very far down, they illuminate their dark surrounding with quite the many lights. It’s improved quite a bit, thanks to the LiB helping with constructing and establishing Sniggleville with the knowledge they’ve gained from other places, be it humans or other Eldritch folk. Perhaps you might find Snigglette and Snigglots and other Sniggles reside here on the days they get to pay a visit back to their community in Sniggleville.

Hatchetfield, Drowsy Town

Now this place always appears to observe day/night cycles, and this is where human souls (mainly, whoever came into contact with the LiB, whether intentional or accidental) come to make a home out of what they've got, thanks to the Lords in Black. These spirits seem to live their days in a (really realistically impossible) world where they do not need to truly work or suffer all that much from lack of money. It’s a strange place. See, they can operate very simply, like selling each other some stuffs and the like. But also, the supply of such things seems to, spring out of nowhere. Almost. If these human souls happen to suffer horrible injuries or even get mangled (what happened there I wonder), these souls are just pieced back together like a puzzle, and given some time to gel themselves back into the proper shape. Which afterwards, with no scars to show, they can just living their life as if nothing terrible just happened to them.

“It’s perfection!” A very peculiar someone might say.

“It’s simply paradise! There’s no suffering, no agony, no death, all you just have to do is just live your life the way you want it! We all ought to give thanks to our Lords for this new life! Don’t be silly, everyone knows that this fate befell upon them.”

The Black Castle

The residence of the Lords in Black, and some of their close (eldritch) allies. It is located right next to Hatchetfield, Drowsy Town, for ease of access to the human souls that they now govern over. True-born Eldritch beings of the Black could tell you how this castle simply, grew over the years since its initial creation. Perhaps it had to do with its owner’s desires becoming greater, perhaps it itself is still a pet project to satisfy one Lord’s fickle mind. How many more rooms until he is pleased with his work? Who knows.

[asher-agere]

It's perfectly fine if you're not up to it, but can you do a hurt comfort little reader with caretaker Atsushi .

Little raider has been so overwhelmed and regressed to somewhere between 7 and 11. They're upset and angry at themselves. For not being able to do the things that they know they should be able. They don't know how to ask for help. Or they're too scared to ask for help.

All they can hear is all the horrible things Their previous caretakers said to them when they were like this. Atsushi Overhears, they're muffled crying with his tiger ears and goes over to check on them. After realizing what's going on and relating it to his own experiences, he helps take care of them and comfort them.

I can totally do this! Your wording kind of implies you were hoping to get a fanfic out of this which I’m afraid I won’t be doing, I’m not very comfortable writing with the reader as a character, however I can write headcanons for this general situation!

Caregiver Atsushi + Distressed Little

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☆ Immediately when he sees a distressed little one Atsushi’s reaction is to comfort them! Of course he encourages crying, it’s a harmless release of emotions, and he knows how hurtful it can be to get yelled at for crying. However Atsushi is definitely incredibly protective, he sees tears and he wants to stop them. He’ll scoop the little one into his lap and cradle them, gently shushing them and muttering sweet nothings about how everything’s going to be alright. He’ll walk them through breathing exercises and things of that sort too! Just trying to calm them down

☆ Someone regressed to the 7-11 range is pretty likely to be able to talk, however Atsushi still offers up options! If they’re struggling with words he’ll give them communication cards and try leading the conversation by asking simple yes or no questions, multiple choice questions work too! The little one can hold up fingers to select their answer! Though it’s definitely preferred if they can explain what’s going on, using their own wording provides insight to how they’re feeling and also puts priority on certain topics rather than others

☆ Atsushi will be very quick to assure them that they don’t need to worry about doing things when they’re regressed. They regress to get a break from things, he wouldn’t expect them to do things! He wouldn’t expect a little kid to do stuff, so why would he expect it of them? He tries to figure out specifics of what they were trying to do so that he can do it for them! Show them that they don’t need to do anything because he’s got it covered, anything that needs to be done he can do it for them. And if they truly insist on feeling useful he’ll give them things like activity or coloring pages!

☆ I think telling stories would help! Atsushi will use the names of him and his little, telling epic tales of only happy things! Letting the little one forget about their sad past, replace the sad stuff with stories of princes and princesses! Of befriending amazing mythical creatures! For side characters he names them after the little ones toys! It makes it feel more immersive hehe. He’ll act out scenes with the toys, and even hand some over to the little one to let them play a role themselves! Of course with extra silliness to cover up any and all tears! Extra silliness is the best sadness cure

☆ Being overwhelmed isn’t the best feeling, it quite often ties in with feeling overstimulated as well, so taking away stimulation can help a lot! Atsushi will try to encourage changing into comfortable clothes, or as a temporary solution simply shedding some layers! Noise cancelling headphones are definitely a good thing to have too, but if they’re not easily accessible he’ll just cover the little ones ears with his hands! He definitely is a very hands on guy, always wanting to be holding and snuggling his little one, but sometimes contact can be too much. And he understands that! He’ll back off if he’s asked to

☆ Some people might get emotional support pets to help them calm down. You know like a dog or a cat? Atsushi’s little one gets an emotional support tiger! Byakko has such strong mama tiger instincts. He’ll just let her take over sometimes! Go full tiger mode, curl up around the little one. The soft fur is perfect for petting and cuddling, and the deep rhythmic purring is perfect to match breathing too. The downside is that he can’t talk in tiger form, so he only does it during times he won’t be talking! Like before his little ones ready to talk, or while they’re trying to explain things to show that he’s not going to interrupt them!

☆ Having experiences of past caregivers shaming you for letting out your emotions can be incredibly harmful, so Atsushi is quick to reassure his little one that what they’re doing is ok! Crying is ok. Throwing tantrums is ok. Not wanting to talk is ok. They’re dealing with a lot of big yucky feelings, a lot of big feelings that a little kid shouldn’t need to deal with. It’s only logical that their expression of these feelings might be negative! He’ll remind them that as long as they’re not hurting themselves or others it’s ok. When you start hurting anyone it’s a problem, but as long as their reactions are harmless he’s going to encourage it

☆ Positive affirmations! When you get lost in the negative feelings in your head sometimes everything feels all topsy turvy upside down, so he wants to remind his little one of all the truth! And having them say it can convince them to believe it. He’ll sit them in his lap so they’re looking at him and he’ll hold their hands as he calmly says things he wants them to repeat back to him. He tries wording things simply so it’ll be easy to say, that way his little one won’t need to stumble over the words to much. But sometimes a word might be too hard and that’s ok! He’d have a system set up to communicate that! Something like 1 tap for they’re just to embarrassed to say it and 2 taps for they can’t form the words

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I’ve officially finished all the asks from last year now (Other than the one I messed up…)! I’m so good at catching up guys, it’s totally not almost April

[DNI ID: A white box with a grey border. Atsushi to the right and a white tiger to the left. Grey text reads “DNI if your blog isn’t child safe. I be will block NSFW accounts” End ID]

[iiposblog]

https://www.tumblr.com/iiposblog/769900554203840512/i-really-like-yinyang-as-a-character-and-truly?source=share

DUDE. ALSO A SYSTEM. SAME.

despite the fact that I was the host I was like ii2 yang back when I first discovered my alters. I would literally CONSTANTLY fight them like he fought yin and it was horrible but seeing his growth in iii along with some other help I learned to calm down and actually face my alters in a less destructive way

we still fight sometimes and it's definitely not perfect and it probably won't ever be. but it's definitely better, and I think yinyang was what helped me with that. thank you yinyang for being awesome

I do see why people think ii2 yinyang is bad though but I do really relate to them. I could never hate them for it

.

also I'm realizing how funny all of this is now that we've recently formed a yinyang fictive. the character that helped me work it out with the creatures in my head has now became one of the creatures in my head. systemception HAH

-📗 anon (ps. yin and yang both say hi to everyone)

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[wuxiaphoenix]

Book Review: Grand Theft Sorcery

Grand Theft Sorcery, by Elliott Kay. I’m giving this a no-holds-barred five out of five stars as an excellent urban fantasy. Not just for the worldbuilding, but the characterization. We have good guys, bad guys, and plenty of people (human and otherwise) just trying to get by. And they’re all distinct.

I find it fitting that our hero is named Evan Murphy, because we meet him when everything has gone horribly wrong. Working as a freelance repossession agent, he’s snuck into a party which is technically a public charity event, so he has the right to be on the premises and snag the car in question so long as nobody stops him.

This, plus his worry about, if I die, my cats-! immediately establishes Evan’s character; a guy who’s clawed his way up from the streets, but lives as moral and legal a life as possible. He is, in short, that rarity of modern protagonists: a good man.

(We need more of these. So much.)

As you can guess, someone who’s brushed off making the last five payments on his Lamborghini Countache is not a good man. Worse, he’s tied up with even less good people, several of whom turn out to be supernaturally evil. In fact there’s a whole gathering of various supernatural leaders going on upstairs, using the mortal party as cover.

(Here we get some excellent foreshadowing of who these people are and what they suspect each other of that becomes really important later.)

But as they say, oft evil will shall evil mar. Anatole, the bad guy in charge here, is a very cunning, smart, manipulative guy; smart enough not to kill Evan yet, when it might lead to trouble with the party. Yet not quite smart enough to realize that the horde of stolen artifacts he leaves Evan locked in with might not all be evil artifacts. Which is just enough to let Evan make a daring escape....

I won’t spoil you for the plot, because it has twists and turns that all make sense but are often something I never would have expected. We get to see, among other things, street-racing, smuggling, a secret FBI agent team, all kinds of odd supernatural creatures, ongoing rivalries and stereotypes held by such creatures about each other, and some truly creative use of magic.

The FBI team is of particular interest to me because it’s such a common urban fantasy trope; secret government organization fighting supernatural evil. But this story shows how that only works if everyone on the team is a hero, morally upright, and dedicated to justice. Get in one bad apple, when your team’s not accountable to regular law and order? Even if all the rest of the team is honestly trying to be on the side of angels... it’s not good.

...On the flipside, I have to say a part in the book that made me break out laughing was when a seriously powerful Big Bad who’s assisting Anatole looks at the collection of heroes a group of bad guys has captured, all of whom are seriously injured (but still together in the same room!) and goes, Nope. Screw This I’m Outta Here. And then does his best to cut his losses and leave. Intelligent bad guy. Awesome.

There are two spicy sex scenes, and I’d more comfortably rate this whole book R than PG-13. Not for young readers. But. There are genuine good guys here. And also distinct lessons about what happens to you when you know something evil has happened to someone you know, but you brush it off with, “not my problem”. Because letting that evil slide leaves it free to act against you next, and it is definitely your problem now!

I’m not sure I’d go for the related Good Intentions series by the same author, I’m not into polyamory. But this one? This one is good.

[ironaparrot]

i wanted to bring this up because i know i make memes and jokes about the shadowtale characters and such.

Shaster (Gaster) is a genuinely horrible person. he's manipulative, mentally, physically, and emotionally abusive and manipulative. he's an egotistical narcissist who views other living and non living things and creatures as objects to be toyed with and experimented on.

Shadow has never been in a great state of mind. he's been pessimistic and nihilistic, and has reached the point of truly believing nothing matter before. part of the reason he's doing good now is both because he has friends he know cares and because he was fucking tired of being so sad, and moping all the time. he hated feeling down and like nothing all the time. the numbness almost felt worse then when he was actually crying and it was much more overbearing. he got tired of it. he forced himself out there. and he's actually doing better because of it.

Ash (Papyrus) tries his best to make people happy as much as drains him. he just wants to keep hope alive and keep people smiling. Papyrus is arguably at one of his lowest points currently. He feels hatred for his brother, uncertainty for his father, and is drained beyond belief. The only person he feels like he can truly vent to and just collect himself about is Mettaton. He hates Shadow for abandoning everybody, he has existential dread due to the existance of the multiverse, and doesnt understand why Gaster is making him keep it a secret, as well as the augmentations related to the void.

Raspberry (Mettaton) Is trying his hardest along with Papyrus to keep moral high, and people happy. he knows how much people really rely on him and need him to be at tip top best. its draining, but he knows it has to be this way. Him and Papyrus are very close and he thinks Papyrus is his closest friend, and is concerned for his sudden change in appearence, attitude, and he can just tell theres something building up thats going to boil over at some point.

Flowey is constently afraid. he's afraid of the infected and uninfected alike. he doesnt know where chara is and he doesnt remember chara being the one who killed him initially. the only time he gains some semblance of comfort is when frisk falls, and when he eventaually finds chara again.

Chara lives with the guilt of being the one who killed Asriel. she hates herself for it but knows it had to be done or else she would have died. she tries over and over to convince herself it was okay but she cant help but hate herself for it. the fact she ran away weighs heavily on her mind because she knows that to the dreemurr family they lost two children in one night. chara was eventaully found and kidnapped by gaster for a while. she was experimented on, abused and treated like a labrat. now that gaster has her with the rest of the survivors she's being blackmailed to stay quiet about what gasters real motives are to the people or else flowey will find out how he really died.

Plasma (Grillby) has almost given up completely. his daughter is infected and is slowly turning, its hard to keep people fed. he knows things are slowly going down hill and he's just waiting for the snowball to speed up at this point. the only reason he still gets out of bed in the morning is that way he can keep people fed, do his part, and because the somehow still alive burgerpants is too mentally unstable to do it himself. He's also being blackmailed by muffet.

Muffet is a crime boss essentially. she blackmails, threatens and harasses. she knows she's important because she can grab whatever remaining supplies are left from places the actual people assigned as guards cant thanks to her many many spiders. she views people as a means to get rich, and thats it. she, if anything, enjoys the apocalypse because it causes people to be reliant on her.

The AU is really screwed. Especially with the characters. Some are trying their best and losing, others have given up. Some aren’t even good people and are just using the apocalypse to achieve what they want because they can. So, enjoy. It’s less telling new info, and more putting things into perspective!