#You were born to feed the worms

[tang3r1n]

ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ

cw; 18+, heavy topics ngl, refrences to poverty and starvation, angst, GAY LESBIAN SEX, slight cannibalism symbolism if you squint rly hard, refrences to sex work and/or sexual assault

A/N: abt 900 words and literally cranked this bitch out in lile half an hour. jesus fuck how in the hell did Sevika bring me out of my fucking writing dry spell. what the actual fuck. i haven’t written in a year and ofc when i do it’s fucked up analogies and lesbian sex.

To be born of the cursed flesh is a cruel fate worse than death.

To be born as a tainted babe, cast out from the womb with vile stares and scornful words, is the most unlucky a child could be.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just. She’d lived her life good, honest, she deserved the fruits of her labor, a young life filled with pain and struggle. But she was that of the unfavored, not the blessed ones of Piltover, not the nobles with their mansions or the Council with their riches. She was impoverished, born starved, raised hungry, grown into a ravenous woman who begged for the moresles of candied love the scum around her shoved down her throat or inside her.

She lived to survive, didn’t have time for anything outside of the coins thrown her way and the scraps she fed from. Ironic how she never looked the part; plump and soft, malleable and pliable, her hunger hidden beneath that syrupy, sugary smile that oh-so softly graced her cherub cheeks. She pranced around in fine silks and soft feathers, smoke and shimmer stinging her nose and eyes, ears never without the soft whines and moans that fluttered through the halls of the brothel.

Men were somehow more starved than she, their oafish bodies sweaty and fetid as they grabbed her with rough hands, uncaring of the bruises and marks that grew, staining her already tainted body. She loathed them, pushing her brain to the clouds of smoke circling overhead as she rode out whatever sick ride they put her on. The rides were never long, thankfully, mercifully, their essence all that remained once they stepped off with little more than a sideways glance and those same scornful words she learned years ago. Her bed was a sanctuary, a soft, pillowy escape where she could let her mind drift and fly away, she dreamed of soft touches and sweeter kisses, honeyed words and gentle smiles against her plush skin.

This woman above her, her tan skin and dark lips, soft breasts and firm muscles, rough hands caressing her like she was made of porcelain, felt like heaven. Her touch was better than shimmer, a rush incomparable to any human emotion, a religious awakening, it was invigorating. Men were hurtful, slapping and choking all while they shared the same blood and flesh that she had— but this woman, with her metal arm and scars, was slow and sybaritic, gluttonous how she sucked and kissed at her skin.

Long fingers pumped inside her, working choked gasps and impossibly soft moans from the cursed one’s mouth, curling inside her cunt to almost lazily press against that spot that made her dizzy, stomach twisting as her eyes fluttered shut. The woman’s voice was low and deep, chiding her for looking away, for her hips trying to worm away from this pleasure, “look at me,” the woman whispered, licking a stripe up her neck littered in hickeys. The other keened, hazy eyes half lidded as she looked up to her savior, the older woman grinned, wolfish and possessed, yet she didn’t feel fear. Not like she had before, the woman was all-consuming, dominating her very soul and suffocating her under that strong body built by the gods, yet she could only cry and cling to her skin, begging for more and more.

She was starved, and this woman, bringing her to climax, the sinfully delicious sounds of her own cunt squelching clashing with her pitiful cries, was feeding her. Feeding that bottomless pit she had been build with, feeding her with lips sloppily meshed together in a fucked up display of power and perversion. Feeding her with those dangerous fingers circling her pearl and filling her up. Feeding her with praise and love like a false prayer, flooding her mind with devotion and compassion she so desperately craved.

With the burst of her orgasm, she wailed, tugging on her savior’s messy hair as her body shook in pleasure. White blinded her as her glassy eyes rolled back, devilish smile fading away with a dark chuckle. The woman gently slipped her fingers from her cunt, a dull ‘pop!’ making her ears burn as she watched the woman suck on the soaked fingers. The woman’s eyes rolled back, a delicious moan rumbling from her chest and in that moment she wondered if this woman was starving too. If her savior craved just like she did, if this woman watched her with the same kind of hungry eyes as she did.

She was pulled into another sultry kiss, lips smooshed and smacking as they stole each other’s breath, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The woman pulled away first, keeping her close with a firm hand around her thick neck, string fingers ever so gently cutting off her oxygen, “such a pretty girl,” the woman whispered, a secret for just the two of them, “my new favorite treat.”

Born damned, she scavenged for love and life, but staring into those dark eyes, she saw the same hunger, the same damned flesh tangled up in her’s in a macabre display.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Orectolobiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Orectolobiformes are an order of sharks sometimes known as “Carpet Sharks.” They include the families Brachaelurus (“blind sharks”), Ginglymostomatidae (“nurse sharks”), Hemiscylliidae (“bamboo sharks”), Orectolobidae (“wobbegongs”), Parascylliidae (“collared carpet sharks”), Rhincodontidae (“Whale Shark”), and Stegostomatidae (“Zebra Shark”).

Orectolobiformes have five gill slits, two spineless dorsal fins, and a small mouth that does not extend past the eyes. Many species have barbels: tactile whiskerlike sensory appendages near their mouths. Grooves known as nasoral grooves connect the nostrils to the mouth. A spiracle occurs beneath each eye which is used in respiration. Orectolobiformes are commonly called “carpet sharks” due to their flattened appearance and often ornate patterning, with many species spending most of their time resting on the ocean floor. However, this order also contains the Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) (image 2), the largest chondrichthyan, whose record holder had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft). The smallest of the order, at up to about 30 cm (12 in) long, is the Barbelthroat Carpet Shark, (Cirrhoscyllium expolitum). Orectolobiformes are a diverse order of sharks with differing sizes, appearances, diets, and habits. Most are nocturnal. Most carpet sharks feed on the seabed in shallow to medium-depth waters, detecting and picking up molluscs, crustaceans, and other small creatures. Wobbegongs (image 1) are ambush predators, camouflaging on the seafloor and swallowing prey that swims too close. Whale Sharks are filter feeders.

Reproduction methods among carpet sharks also vary. Some species lay eggs directly into the water column or enclose them in horny egg cases. Some will push their egg cases into crevices for protection. Other species are ovoviviparous and give live birth. Pups are born relatively advanced and independent.

Orectolobiformes first appeared in the Early Jurassic. The oldest known orectolobiform genera are Folipistrix and Annea.

Propaganda under the cut:

Nurse Sharks are nocturnal and largely solitary at night, but they spend the day resting in groups, often piled on top of each other for safety.

The largest confirmed individual Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft), though 14 m (46 ft) is a more likely upper limit. Their lifespans are estimated to be between 80 and 130 years. Along with the Basking Shark and Megamouth Shark, they are the only other filter-feeding shark.

Blind Sharks have fully functioning eyes, but were named so because they would close them when caught by anglers

The Zebra Shark (Stegostoma tigrinum) was named for the black and white stripes of juveniles. As adults, their zebra stripes fade and are exchanged for cheetah print. Early taxonomists thought that juvenile zebra sharks were a different species due to how different their patterning looked!

In Madagascar, Whale Sharks are called Marokintana in Malagasy, meaning "many stars", after the appearance of the markings on the shark's back.

The Epaulette Shark:

As an adaptation to living in tidal pools and shallow coral reefs, the Epaulette Shark (Hemiscyllium ocellatum) moves by seemingly walking, bending its body from side-to-side in a salamander-like gait, pushing off of the substrate with its paddle-shaped pectoral and pelvic fins. The shark is capable of swimming, but often prefers to walk along the sandy or coral bottom even when the water is deep enough to allow it to swim freely. This mode of locomotion even enables the shark to crawl out of the water to access isolated tidal pools as it hunts for worms, crustaceans, and small bony fish, and it can cope with oxygen depletion in these conditions for over three hours.

[greensimp]

Gyutaro x Reader:

He nearly kills you. Regrets it immediately.

______________________________________________________________

Canon!Gyutaro x gn!Reader

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, angst, threats of violence, vulgar language

______________________________________________________________

You scoff and glare up at your partner with annoyance.

“Gyutaro, it’s not a big deal!”

The demon you’re arguing with stands above you, a frustrated scowl painting his features. Bringing a hand up to the side of his face, he growled and began scratching at himself.

“Yes it is, damnit! Do you realize how fucking dangerous that was?! What if I wasn’t around to get you away from there?!”

You balled your fists and stomped your foot childishly, indignation evident in your stance.

“I didn’t need your help! I was fine on my own! I’ve survived on my own a lot longer that I’ve had you around!”

Anger bubbled up in Gyutaro’s chest at your infuriating naivety. This wasn’t some stroll you took a little way outside of Yoshiwara. The little stunt you pulled tonight could have ended your life.

What did you do?

You left his territory entirely. The only reason he knew about it was because he spotted you speaking to an unfamiliar man from the shadows hours before. It wasn’t unlike you to socialize with strangers, but Gyutaro knew from the start that something about him wasn’t “genuine.”

So he stalked you. He stalked you until that man led you so far away from the Kyogoku house that only the quiet noises of the forest could be heard.

What the hell were you thinking?

If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. This lowly demon was luring you to his feeding grounds. Gyutaro could read the overzealous and smug confidence all over the worm’s face. Despite smelling him and Daki’s scent, he thought he could pick off a couple humans for himself.

Unfortunately for this little bug, he couldn’t have chosen a worse human to prey upon.

When it was apparent that the demon was about to make its move, it turned around and froze, practically pissing himself as the kanji-filled eyes of Upper Moon Six bored down upon him from behind the human he lured. You were confused at first before turning around to see what he was so scared of.

Oh.

“Goin’ somewhere? Y’know, its rude to be taking off with other people’s things, cretin.”

The pathetic demon tried to shake his hands in front of him and scurry away.

“I-I’m so s-sorry sir, I d-didn’t know this one w-was y-“

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before a hand wrapped itself around his mouth and jaw, crushing it in painfully.

“I don’t recall asking for your pathetic apology, whelp.”

Neither you or the demon saw Gyutaro move. It was like he was behind you one moment, then crushing the demon’s face the next.

He was pissed. Blindingly so.

You winced as a disgusting cracking sound reverberated through the forest. Gyutaro had drove the demon’s head so far into the ground that it made a crater. It wouldn’t be regenerating from that by sunrise.

Your legs felt weak as you stared at the blood. Then, Gyutaro rose to his feet and turned to you, his normal scowl now clearly on edge and splattered with blood.

“We’re going home. Now.”

…

You may have survived all this time, but you also had your beauty and luck on your side. Gyutaro had neither. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t born yesterday. You’re too comfortable with the knowledge of demons existing. You’re not cautious enough.

The room became deadly silent.

His scratching and growling ceased, with the only sounds being the ever-hastening blood rushing through your ears.

Your nerves were on edge, Gyutaro’s sudden silence freaking you out more than his display of anger earlier.

“Gyutaro…?”

He didn’t reply right away, only slowly and deliberately lowering his arm to his side.

You furrowed your brows and huffed.

“Oh, so now I’m getting the silent treatment?”

You were about to continue provoking him until you saw the veins and flesh under the skin of his forearms begin to writhe and pulse. You took a step back, now suddenly nervous.

“H-hey, what’re you doing?”

“I don’t think you understand how much danger you’re in right now.”

Two growths began emerging from Gyutaro’s hands.

“W-what do you mean?!”

Another step back, but this time, Gyutaro mirrored you with a step forward.

“You think this a world where you can just walk around and trust anyone you meet? There are things out there. Things much scarier than me. And you think you can just throw yourself out there for them to take you from me?”

The writhing flesh in his hands now took the distinct shape of... sickles?

The weight of the situation now dawned on you. Your eyes slowly widened in raw fear as he took another firm step your way. Your breath faltered, your fight or flight response automatically causing you to freeze, despite wanting to run.

His vision was blurred with rage, he didn’t care that you were terrified of him in that moment. The only thing going through his mind was that he needed to instill the fear of demons in you that you needed. You needed to know that things like him are hiding a side of themselves that only doomed humans ever get to see.

He loves you too much to let you die.

You finally gained control of your legs (barely). Of course, the second you tried to stumble backwards, you slipped and fell straight on your ass. Still, you desperately scoot yourself back, whimpering and breathing heavily as he menacingly stepped closer to you.

“I-I’m sorry Gyu! P-please don’t hurt me!”

Your pleas didn’t get though to him. He was in fight mode. His only instinct being to protect the people he loves. It just so happened that his instincts were being a bit counterproductive.

You squeaked when your back hit the wall.

Your pupils dilated and tears fell from your eyes. You barely recognized the monster in front of you. It was like the gentle giant you fell in love with traded bodies with a pure evil.

Whatever point he wanted to get across to you, it worked.

Oh. It worked.

A razor sharp point prodded at you under your chin tauntingly. A sickening, wretched giggle came from his throat.

You felt your heart jump in your throat as you stared death in the eyes.

“Do you understand, now? Do you fear, death? I bet you do, love.”

Laughter followed his taunts as he pressed the blade deeper.

“BROTHER! WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!”

A feminine voice practically screeched from the doorway.

As if someone flipped a switch, Gyutaro’s tunnel vision cleared. The fog of anger and spite dissipated into painful clarity.

His sickening grin fell instantly, confusion flooding his mind as to why you were looking at him like a cornered animal.

Then, his stomach practically dropped to the floor when he realized what he was holding to your throat.

He jerked his sickle back and trembled, his eyes widening in horror at what he’d done to you.

If he had broken your skin… it would have certainly cut your life short. The poison that laces his blades is thousands of times more potent than the deadliest snakes of the world.

You brought a hand to your throat and sobbed, falling to your side.

He just stared at his sickle and shook, stepping away from you.

He didn’t even notice Daki darting past him to get to you.

“Why did you do that, brother?!”

His eyes snapped to his sister’s scathing glare.

“I-I-“

Another step back.

He almost killed you.

He’s pathetic.

He’s worthless.

He doesn’t deserve you.

You’re scared of him now.

You got what you wanted, Gyutaro. Now they’re scared of you.

Now they hate you.

Before Daki could yell at him again, he darted out of the room.

…

Even Daki couldn’t find Gyutaro for hours. She’s never seen her brother shaken up this bad and she had no idea what to do. When you told what happened, she sort of flipped at your stupidity, too. Although not as… murder-y. She understood why Gyutaro would be cross with you, but she was still surprised that he’s go so far as to traumatize you. She knew better than anyone that he’d never even dream of killing you.

She brought you some food and water before setting out into the night to find Gyutaro again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now that you’d calmed down, the hurt finally sunk in. Why would he do this? Did he really love you? If Daki hadn’t interrupted… would he have truly done it.

His maniacal laughter played in your mind like a broken record, causing you to cringe and shiver. The mouth that had uttered such sweet words to you… used to taunt you. To make you feel like prey.

A small creak in the doorway caused you to jump in your skin. You were still very on edge.

And the figure in it did not help to calm you.

Gyutaro’s face was shrouded in shadow, his mouth in a pursed frown.

The air grew thick with tension as he just stood there.

Then, he took a small step in, which had you involuntarily jump backwards in fear.

Your reaction to his presence made his chest feel tight. Guilt practically strangled him by the neck. He wanted you to be afraid of demons… not him.

But he is a demon.

A pathetic, filthy demon.

When he took another step into the room, something caught your eye that made your breath hitch.

In the light of the oil lamps in your room, a faint sheen of wetness trailed down Gyutaro’s cheek.

Was…

Was he crying?

You’d never seen him so much as sniffle, let alone cry.

You finally feel the guilt oozing from him, your stomach sinking.

Before you could speak, he collapsed to his knees and stared at you through misty eyes. You noticed a slight tremble in them.

“I- I’m so sorry-“

He’s pathetic.

He took a deep, shaky breath and let out the most sorrowful wail you’ve ever heard from a creature. He hunched over, bringing his hands to the sides of face and digging his nails into the skin.

“FORGIVE ME”

Pathetic. Worthless.

You just stared in complete awe at the heaving man in front of you. The display of vulnerability had your heart in a vice grip, whatever apprehension you held for Gyutaro fleeing your conscious like a gust of wind.

He was a broken man.

He was at your mercy.

He was groveling to you.

A pair of arms squeezing his head paused his crying. The warmth of your embrace came as an utter shock.

“I understand, Gyutaro. And… I do fear death.”

You echoed his words from earlier in a wobbly tone.

You fluttered your eyes shut and squeezed him to your chest.

“I’m scared of demons. That much is true.”

A single tear fell from your eye and you hiccuped.

“But…”

Memories of Gyutaro holding you in his arms during a firework display, memories him lovingly petting your hair as you snuggle into him, memories of him making love to you, all flowed through your head.

What you saw earlier wasn’t your Gyutaro.

“I could never stay afraid of you.”

Gyutaro’s breath hitched as your words pierced his heart.

He really didn’t deserve you.

Here you are, just forgiving him after he tried to kill you only hours before.

He sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into your stomach.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve you.

But somehow…

He still has you.

And he’s never letting go.

[acoraxia]

I may have just found your art (is so freaking pretttttyyyyy) and your cotl AU but I now desperately need to know everything about the AU because it looks so. cool.

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME INDULGE IN TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE AU AHEM AHEM

I’m going to ramble now if that’s ok-

WARNING:: long and messy ramblings about AU ideas, headcanons and body horror/gore mentions up ahead

My Lamb’s story is actually pretty simple: they were born as Aluhé (ahl-weh) to a family filled with traveling performers. They traveled throughout the land of the Old Faith, worshipping the gods (especially Shamura) and performed to earn money to maintain themselves. Life was good up until rumors of the prophecy foretold by the Bishops spread towards the little hers; when Aluhé came of age they learned of said prophecy and that that was the reason why their family “settled down” in a (supposedly) hidden village.

Eventually, heretics arrive and they kill the herd safe for Aluhé and they escape, meet a flock of goats and Jahel (goat co-op character) and then run away due to guilt only to be captured by heretics and be introduced to the bishops.

After meeting Narinder and obtaining the crown, Aluhé refused to do anything in his name — refused to start a cult or touch the crown or anything… for months

they met Koi when they were planning to simply kill the Bishops bare handed and instead save her from being sacrificed (haha me too!). They don’t run the cult per say — mostly due to the fact they don’t want to get attached to anyone but they feel a strong sense of… protectiveness when it comes to the flock, going as far as appointing disciples to ensure the cult is safe and beating the life out of heretics that get a little too close for comfort to the cult grounds.

THE CROWN TAKES SUCH A MASSIVE TOLL ON ALUHÉ HOWEVER — apart from the fact that Aluhé is “easily corrupted” being fueled by a blind sense of justice towards the culling of their species over a family’s spat and a selfish fucker’s decisions, the crown latches on to their body and often does so when Aluhé has their guard down. This allows for certain changes to occur — the lack of hunger, exhaustion and ability to “morph” their body being a few of them.

It doesn’t help that Aluhé refuses to use the crown to fight unless absolutely necessary (because they hate dying because it means hearing Narinder talk and because they’ll end up angry all over again—) and often wears the crown around their neck.

This causes certain personality changes as well: Aluhé is typically quiet and docile when engaging with the flock if only a bit intimidating. They don’t talk to the followers unless necessary and only exchange actual conversation with their disciples. Since no follower is allowed to go on crusades with Aluhé they’re omitted from the fact their benevolent leader is in fact very, very, very, violent

They’d often consume heretics during their final moments or force feed their remains to the few that tried to get away (and failed) so they’d choke and die — a brutality that spread towards the bishops and their own disciples (Narinder still remembers how vile it was to see a meek little lamb get up and tear Barbatos to shreds, only to then use one of the worms’ teeth to sink it into Leshy’s flesh. Charming, really). This only strengthens when they kill Narinder and are eventually crowned the new god of death… among other things… and their body eventually adapts to the changes but it takes a toll on their mental health (

Their behavior, however, can be traced back to Shamura…

Since the two had a very interesting conversation before Aluhé was sent to be sacrificed:

Smh Aluhé you should be grateful to be blessed with the presence of the War Bishop tssk tsk

When the Bishops are killed and, eventually, brought back to life per the Mystic Seller’s request, Aluhé refuses to heal them or allow for their bodies to heal until they repent or make a pact with them to ensure obedience as they join their flock. Goes about as well as you can imagine

A big little change I made was that I made the Bishops Embodiments of their titles rather than just gods worshipped for it.

So Narinder is the Embodiment of Death, Leshy is the Embodiment of Chaos, etc. despite having somewhat mortal bodies they are still connected to their godhood and this will not change due to the fact that the world still needs gods in order to maintain balance — it also means that Aluhé is not just the god of death but the god of other things; it also means they have.. a union with Narinder, so to speak

The Gods have vessels for the sole purpose of their finding their replacements (because the gods will exist, even if they are not the same person they once were years ago) or to gain more worship and strengthen their power. When the Old Faith started getting greedy (coughs, Narinder) it was harder to find willing vessels or the right type of vessels to take on the task of bringing the Siblings more worship. It took years to find the proper candidates for Leshy or Kallamar (because the fucker was so PICKY /j) and it also caused a bit of horror to the siblings to see Aluhé reject the Red Crown as though it were simple

Aside from the Siblings being somewhat “dormant” and Narinder not being within the cult and Shamura traveling with Jahel… there’s a lot of silly little lore I managed to put into the four of them because I thought it’d be fun to explore the capability of Vessels and Gods and “War/Death Incarnate” as a whole — there’s a lot of story lore I don’t want to spoil but you can have these as a treat:

And thats it for now

[hummingbee-lievable]

Song of the Day #24:

'Mile Magnificent' by Molly OfGeography (released 2019).

An apartment when it's empty echoes lovely, bright and clean

Sing odes to green-blue water that we stole so it comes free

All things end, it's part of living; forest fires feed the trees

Lift your glasses full of sunshine, sing a toast to gasoline

Track #4 on 'Myths'.

Fun fact: Molly refers to this song as 'The Song My Producer Said I Was Not Allowed To Name “CHICAGO IS BETTER THAN NEW YORK”'.* Honestly, her descriptions for some of the songs on this album are hilarious:

'1) The Song That Made My Producer Go, “Wait, What Was That Bit About Worms?”

2) The Song My Producer Said I Had To Append A Parenthetical To So That People Would Be Able To Find It Because The Lyrics Never Mention The Title Once But I Was Raised On Fanfiction So Joke’s On You, Pal! I Love A Long Title With A Parenthetical In It!!!

3) The Song That Is Sad'

Pretty dang accurate, honestly. Also, I think she has a Tumblr!!! *Gasp.* What if I...tag her???

@ofgeography Hiiii and thank you, your music is amazing.

I did it bees and knees (yes, this is my hip modern way of including every kind of person, fight me or provide more hilarious options; I'm content with either option).

I have had a fun time perusing this flavourful dose of humanity's wild website and I think my fun fact today should be her story where she becomes a donut god:

You're welcome, singular entity that reads this blog (that entity being my sister and/or the rogue bots, doesn't matter, we're all friends here).

Personal blurb: Alright, full disclosure time: I discovered this artist because of the 'Good Omens' fandom. Someone said we were missing out on feelings and shared this song, and when I tell you I felt those feelings, I certainly don't mean that I danced to this on repeat for several months (and her 'Hanahaki (Bloom)'), often at 3 in the morning in the bathroom. Of course not.

Pro tip: dancing with your toothbrush in your mouth is a choking hazard, but in the spirit of Alanis Morissette, I recommend doing it anyway:

One of my favourite books in the world is 'The Overstory' by Richard Powers. In it, one of the themes that arises often is the concept of pyrophitic serotinous plants (it's okay, I won't remember it either). They are plants that need fire to open. (There are actually different types of pyrophitic plants, from passive to fire-activated but I probably shouldn't start talking about that because you'll need to pull out the duct tape.)

(Technically, 'serotinous' plants are a category in which plants release seeds over a longer period of time, and it doesn't matter how they are released, but the seeds that open by fire fit into this category.) The eucalyptus tree, the lodgehole pine, and other pyrophitic serotinous trees encase their seeds in resin that can only be melted by fire (thereby releasing the seeds).

The thing that I love about this concept is this: we need to burn to grow. I recently read this book called 'Life in Oil' about the Cofàn tribe in Ecuador who were drastically impacted by oil companies. And the thing was: Yes. They were impacted horribly (physically, psychologically, environmentally, the works). They also survived. They figured out, through tumult and trial and falling apart, how to keep going. And for every hard moment and loss, there was laughter and love to accompany it. The book was wonderful in that it confronted the concept of trauma on a large group of people. We are never just our trauma, but the balance of everything else as well. I think that gets lost, sometimes. Makes us seem less human.

This song screams to me of that same instinct. I mean, look at us. This is what we do, isn't it? We fight, we fall, we continue. We're just like every other aspect of nature in that we are born, and in our fight to continue, we impact everything around us. We're just a part of the cycle and eventually we will decay back to where we belong and serve as soil for our children. And all we'll be? A story. And after a while, not even that. Just a whisper of what was.

In a way? I find that freeing. We might as well live the life we want to live; how little it will matter. (This isn't absolution, please don't go murdering people.) I just mean that I don't have to put so much weight into every little thing. Not everything has to be joyful or depressing (and if we really think about it, everything is always a balance of both). It can just be what it is.

We are as we are. And we don't have to love ourselves for it, but we don't have to hate ourselves either.

I love the lyrics to this song. For a long time, I misheard 'We're animals of love/ the city never makes us beg' as 'the city never makes us pay' and I don't know why? But I kind of like that image.

We are animals of love. And that's okay.

We are the cogs in a continuous cycle and we always will be.

I think often of this monologue (content warning for the video, it's gory, but you don't need to watch it, you can just listen) from 'Midnight Mass', in regards to this:

(It sort of lives in my brain on a regular basis now; hope it takes up good residence in your brain, too.)

We just are. Everything just is.

[houserautha]

Feyd keeping his wife company when she gives birth.

What if the baby is breech?

I’m trying to imagine Feyd holding a tiny infant for the first time lmao 🤣

And they work together to stop the Baron from taking the child away.

“The baby is breech.”

The physician, who had been taking great lengths not to interact with the na-Baron, regards him with poorly disguised terror.

Feyd, who has been standing at your side, snarls at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the baby isn’t head first,” you tell him. Exhaustion wears at you. And now panic worms its way through your mind.

“Then fix it,” Feyd snaps.

“I-I can try. But it’s going to cause some discomfort.” The physician looks as if he would sooner rather swallow his own tongue.

Feyd glares. The physician takes this as an invitation to start, and you clamp down on Feyd’s hand. Applying firm pressure, the physician starts to coax the baby to turn external. You inhale sharply — the sensation is strange, painful, and you do your best to mask your discomfort for the sake of the physician but Feyd knows you too well.

“That’s not helping. There must be another way,” he rasps. Something akin to fear tinges his voice.

The physician wrings his hands. “The only other option is a cesarean delivery.”

“You’re not harming her,” Feyd says.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s the only way. Otherwise there might be complications that could kill us both.” A contraction seizes you then and you cry out. Feyd mumbles praise to you as you endure it, then turns sharply to the physician as if he did this to you, not himself.

“Fine. You’ve done this before?”

The physician nods and offers a smile. “Many times, na-Baron.”

Feyd has seen many things in his life, has been the catalyst that puts more men and women in their graves than he could count. Most of their deaths had ended in a bloody mess.

But never before did he think that life could be born from such gruesome measures.

The physician is quick to suck up the blood from the incision on your abdomen, giving Feyd just enough time to watch his daughter be pulled from you, bloodied and purple. His breath catches. He’s given the chance to sever the umbilical cord, to see the organ that you had grown only to feed his child. Awe spirals through him during the whole process, carrying him through the next moments of stroking your hair and murmuring his adoration as the physician closes the incision.

One second he is by your side, the next, a nurse is handing him a swaddled white blanket.

Feyd blinks stupidly at the nurse. In his disbelief of your body and admiration of your strength, he had completely forgotten about his daughter.

“No, I —”

The nurse beams at him. “She is beautiful.”

Feyd is given no choice but to take his daughter in his arms, the nurse instructing him where to cradle her head. “My husband was nervous about our first, too,” the nurse says fondly.

“I’m not,” he snaps.

You can’t help but smirk as you observe the interaction. It amuses you, to see him like this. Normally fiercely confident and self assured, reduced now to a bumbling fool when handed a tiny newborn. His posture is stiff, expression uncertain as he meets your eyes, and the tiniest of smiles graces his lips.

The next few days pass in a blur of bliss and sleepless nights. You have just settled your daughter down and risked a quick wobble to the bathroom when you hear raised voices in the other room. Figuring it’s Feyd — probably arguing with some servant — you quickly relieve yourself. You were right, it is Feyd, but not a servant that he’s vehemently arguing with.

It’s the Baron.

Your molars grind together at the sight of him. Feyd stands between his uncle and your daughter, who slumbers on, unaware. His hands are fists at his sides.

“Absolutely not,” Feyd growls.

“I did not come here to give you a choice,” the Baron retorts. “You knew since the beginning that your child did not belong to you.”

Red flares in your vision. “If it was a son. We had a daughter,” you remind him, gesturing to the cot.

The Baron regards you with disinterest. You were never more to him than a vessel in which to host Feyd’s seed. “While unforeseen, the Bene Gesserits insist upon raising the child. Truly you did not believe it would stay here.”

It.

“She will go nowhere with you,” Feyd says.

“Very well.” The Baron glides towards the door on his suspenders. “Then the Reverend Mother will be here in a day’s time to collect the child.”

It’s not an easy decision — but you make it in the quiet of the night, blanketed by fear and grief. The nurse from before agrees to steal away your child and pass it off as her own, at least long enough for the conflict with the Bene Gesserits to pass. Tears stream down your face as you watch the nurse’s retreating form. Feyd stands silently beside you, stoic and emotionless. Finally he presses a breathy kiss to your temple.

“It’s better this way,” he whispers to you.

You lay eyes on your daughter again when she is two years of age, face round and eyes curious as she regards the two strangers in her doorway — the tall, broad man with the severe mouth and the woman next to him.

Your smile wavers. “Hello.”

[salparadiselost]

The New Gods AU looks quite interesting. So is Dick the god of spectacle and Tim the god of deduction?

Thank you!

The New Gods AU is dear to my heart <3

SO

Dick and Tim (and Jason) are all godlings, meaning they are directly formed from a human emotion attaching to something. Strong enough emotion with enough time can turn a more nebulous thing into an actual child-shaped godling, which can then be either raised by a god or grown up by itself.

As a godling develops, they will need to find something that feeds them and sustains their life. That is what they are 'the god of' though it isn't really like they control the thing, they more relish in it and can develop powers associated with it. They need a thing however, or else they will fade. The stronger and more prevalent that thing is, generally the stronger the god though there's usually competition over resources. Concepts do go extinct too. The things that could once support gods can fade into obscurity, so often gods must adapt their godhood to survive. It's kinda like starting from square one in terms of power, but hey you don't fade out.

Dick was a godling born in the Roman Coliseum and among all the blood and spectacle that came with it. He loves the vicious sport of competition and a crowd screaming the players on. He doesn't so much mind how much pain comes from it; it often makes a better show. Bruce caught him when he was young and though he would have been in his rights to letting Diana snuff out Dick's life in fear he was attaching to concepts that were too violent and vicious, Bruce took him in. Bruce has worked towards getting Dick attached to less... bloody spectacles. He's been a god of many types of shows and events, though circuses both Roman and modern are his favourite. He searches for anything with showboating and performance of impressive feats. Today, he mainly gleans power from in-person events such as concerts or sports shows (like WWE) though he isn't picky. He's also recently been exploring the power associated with TikTok stunts.

Tim is a godling that was born around the same time that the printing press was developed. Lots of godlings spawned during the advent of mass communication and Tim started attaching himself to rumours, lies and mysteries hidden in between letters. He loved watching how lies could destroy someone, destroy a life, or completely hide truth from another. Now, Bruce's job as a god deals with lots of mysteries (which is a whole 'nother can of worms) so Tim kinda... just started following him along until Bruce adopted him. Tim was attracted to the mysteries built into Bruce's 'job' and he also doesn't mind recreating the death (Bruce does not like this or ask for Tim to do this). Today, Tim has adapted to focusing on cold cases and true crime. He absolutely adores the true crime podcast boom and has probably shown up on your favourite 'make-up and murder' get ready with me without you even knowing.

[waywardangel-wilds]

[look at this silly exchange I wrote for no reason].

“In a minute! Just—” her phone buzzes in her pocket. “Give me a sec.”

“Yeah?” She presses the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she walks into the bathroom, making sure to close the door well behind her. Prim is too nosey for her own good.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

“Are you drunk?” Katniss can’t help but smile. “What’s Finnick doing to you?”

“I didn’t do anything!” A voice shouts from somewhere in the background but Peeta seems to shrug them off.

“Answer the question, woman.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, “sure. Whatever. I’ll keep you in a little glass box and feed you lettuce.”

“I like that answer,” Peeta’s voice is so serious she bursts out laughing, he ignores her mirth. “Next question: would you still love me if I just woke up tomorrow as a woman.”

“Do I know this person? Is this a freaky Friday situation?” Katniss asks.

“Nah, just me but female. Like my body morphed into a woman’s body.” Peeta’s voice remains neutral somehow.

“Are you still the same height? Do you keep the muscles and shoulders or do you just become a regular looking woman?”

“Regular woman. I guess I’m the same height? Imagine what I would look like if I had been born female.”

“So what, you look like your mom but younger?” Katniss makes a face. “I don’t know…”

“Our love doesn’t transcend gender?” Peeta’s voice turns wobbly. “I knew it.”

“This is ridiculous!” Katniss laughs.

“But you only love me ‘cause I’m a dude.” Peeta whines while whoever is with him laughs at his expense.

“Peeta, I’m sure I’d still love you if you were freaky Friday’d or Frankensteined into womanhood or whatever. Can I go now?”

“You’re lying,” Peeta hiccups.

“Goodbye” she emphasizes before hanging up.

[astraioskosmos]

I've been thinking about Worms recently, specifically the implied fact that before being Worms they were part of the Carapace Cross. If that is truly the case then it raises some thoughts from me.

The Worms are born in Nowhere, devouring and breeding in the corpses of dead Hours like maggots- insatiable little things writhing in the crooks and corners of the Wake, always seeking more like a moth to a flame or a hedonist to pleasure. But, did they really have a choice to not become Worms? The Carapace Cross passed within or fled, but what of those that could not?

Nowhere is where the dead eventually fall to if they do not find their way through the Woods, and we see that goes for all the dead, mortal or not. I assume then that any Cross that died, before the Lithomachy and after, would go there as well. It's also said in the book "How They Endured" that they fled "into the bounds" and that could mean a number of things; like places that exist yet do not at the bounds of the world, but what if that also meant through the "bounds" of reality, in the thinnest parts of the Wake? They could not go to the Mansus, therefor what other choice does that leave them but Nowhere? What if those were the start of the Relict-Kind?

Now, if they did cross the bound to Nowhere as they fled, imagine yourself in their situation. The new gods have eaten the new and you are in exile, forced to forever flee and hide from those new masters but the only place you found to flee in is a place of darkness and death where the corpses of all that was living now lay at your feet-- including your dead Gods. How would you survive? The dead are dead, but you are living and your body still has its needs and hunger is a cruel thing. A cruel, painful thing that in the worst circumstances could force your hand and drive you mad from the ache in your stomach and your primal need for survival.

And so, you start to eat the corpses of various now-dead things with despair and mild disgust. You and your kin use your savor secrets to adapt to your new environment, but never do you touch the corpses of your old Gods. Yet.

Yet, because what when all other options are exhausted? Hunger is a tricky thing, but so is faith. They might be dead but they are as dead as any immortal being could be, and we all know of winter and hushery, of dead things not quite dead. Besides, do the gods from stone still not influence our world still? Is the sun not prophetized to come back despite its corpse rotting away? What does death mean to a God? And so for a long time in this dreary place, you feel hope. Perhaps, perhaps there is a way to still commune with your Gods. Perhaps there is still a way for them to live, within you.

You climb into their body and cautiously start to eat, you use your knowledge of savor secrets as you chew and you tell yourself "they will live on as we did, they will pass on within us as some of us did, they will endure." and you tell yourself "what is death to a God? Is the old not meant to feed the new? They cannot refuse, and we are so hungry." but therein lies a problem the Cross hadn't expected, for they hyberdized with the savor secrets but what they were consuming was something that was never meant to be consumed at all.

The hunger then did not fade, it only increased. It is said that one of the reasons for the Crime of the Sky to be forbidden was because of the hypothetical of what could happen if something as powerful as an Hour would become so insatiable? Only other Hours would be able to stop them, but even then, could they? Hunger does not care about the semantics, it only wants to be fed. The same goes for this new kind of Cross, forever growing hungrier, now forever changed by a savor they would find nowhere else. Yes, one big powerful and starving menace sounds terrifying, but what of dozens of thousands of starving ones? They might not have power, but they have numbers.

So, so many numbers that only worsened with the Intercalate. And now, a new God to feast upon. A new hunger to be revealed. A new corpse to breed in.

We do not know if Worms still possess sentience, something above the base primal instincts of a beast, and if they do not then where did it stop? At the devouring of the Stones? Did the hunger strip them of the ability of conscious thought, forced to now roam and writhe in never ending starvation? Would they regain all of their mental faculties if something in this universe were to satiate them? The Worms are mentioned hundreds of year before the Intercalate, so it couldn't have happened after. But what if they still possess sentience? What if, then, forced to live in Nowhere they slither in parts where the Wake is the thinnest not only to feed but in anger? In revenge? In jealousy?

The Cross may have passed within, but that does not make a human a Cross unless they awaken it. The Cross may have passed within, but that does not stop humans from worshipping the Hours that have killed the Stones-- that have killed the Cross-turned-Worms former masters, that forced them into this situation in the first place. Would anger not be understandable? Would the urge to devour them not be justified, hunger put aside? In the one history where the Worms won the War and took over Vienna some remaining humans started worshipping them, some started being controlled by them, some both. What better revenge than for the kind worshipping those cruel Hours and that caused them to ascend in the first place to worship Worms instead? How much more satisfying this victory as the Stones live on in the savor secrets and the hybridization of generations? Surely they must be pleased, right? Why wouldn't they?

(they do not know, cannot even fathom, that if the Stones were brought back to life or power in any way, it would be at the hands of a human and mortal librarian. They could not understand that if that were to be, the Stones would favor the humans and the Cross within but never the Worms for they are now a writhing menace of hunger unable to be reasoned with, unable to worship, unable of higher thought and speech. What ironic tragedy it is that even in the best of the world, in the best of circumstances, they will forever remain a pest to be extinguished?

They are now forever doomed to hunger, doomed to destruction, doomed to be hunted to extermination by every living thing aside from them, mortal and immortal, human and God, old and new. Such is the life of a Worm, such is the legacy of the Relict-Kind.)

[meraki-sunset]

so uh how valid do you think the lusae of the twelve trolls were as parental figures [spidermom is a straight up zero, but given what karkat was, the way crabdad acted towards him was pretty valid]

1- Ram lusus: they died before the game so there's no info. Probably a good guardian seeing how happy and friendly aradia was. 9/10

2- Tinkerbull: Lovely guardian towards tavros, but unable to aid him due to his size. if i only rated how good they were he would have a 10, but for how helpfull he actually was he gets a 8/10

3- Bicyclops: is chained on the roof of Sollux's apartment complex and feed mind honey to not be stupid, doesn't sound like a very capable guardian if sollux has to take care of them, but doesn't seem like he was mean at all, 7/10

4- Crabdad: Grumpy but that matched Karkat's personality, good at hiding his child's mutation and keeping him alive. 9/10

5- Pounce de Leon: According to Nepeta "pawssibly the cutest and purrhaps the bestest kitty you have ever s33n!" and they saved nepeta when her hive was destroyed and took her to the cave that later became her home, good on all aspects 10/10

6- Virgin mother grub: Born to be the best loving mother and died for not only her child but all the future children of the new world, 100/10

7- Dragon lusus: EGG. 6/10 (okay she taught terezi how to smell color but still egg)

8- Spider mom: Fuck you -100/10

9- Arthur: A gentleman and a trooper ready to raise lovingly the strongest little worm in the planet. 10/10

10- Goat lusus: Neglecfull. 0/10

11- Seahorse dad: His kid is a brat but he is suportive and heps him in his job as orphaner. 8/10

12- Gl'bgolyb: Protects Feferi from being culled by the condesce, which no one else can do, and doesn't seem to cause any harm, exept of course, when she killed the entire troll race. 8/10

[damallarky]

"Truce" Snippet

This fic is fighting me guys. But here are two snippets so I can share something and get the fic worms out into the ether. Enjoy.

-

"If there was one truth Neria Lavellan knew above all else, it was that she hated Solas with every fiber of her twelve-year-old being. It was her opinion that the man who abandoned her and her family before she was even born did not have any right to any of their time. Yet in the days following his release from the Fade, Neria noticed her family’s carefully constructed unit begin to shift and change to make room for him anyway.

It started fairly innocuously, with Mamae checking in on him when she could. It seemed Solas was apparently left weakened by his stint in the Fade and needed the bedrest. This was fine to Neria; it meant she wouldn’t have to see the man, and it gave Mamae a chance to do what she loved most: fret over people.

Yet, as Solas regained his strength and could leave his bed, he continued to weasel into her family’s lives, starting with Neria’s mother. Unless Solas was needed for Veilguard stuff, he was stuck to Mamae like a tick.

A stupid, bald tick.

Wherever Aisling Lavellan was, Solas was not far behind. If Mamae was cooking, Solas would be there to “help.” If Mamae was holding Neria’s new baby sister, Enasali, and she began to fuss, Solas would sweep in out of nowhere and offer to hold her. If Mamae was doing embroidery work in the library, Solas was close by, reading a book.

What was worse was that Mamae seemed to enjoy having Solas around. It did not escape Neria’s notice how Mamae would leave Veilguard meetings with her hand (always her real hand) entwined with Solas’s own. Nor did Neria miss the look on Mamae’s face whenever she would feed him a bite of whatever it was she was cooking… By hand.

It made Neria want to hurl..." -

"...The leather was old and worn, covered in a thick layer of dust like it had been forgotten for years. Upon opening it, she saw that the writing was tiny, impeccably neat, and seemed to alternate between common and Elven. Along with what looked like regular journal entries, there were also diagrams, formulas, and countless sketches.

Neria had a sneaking suspicion as to who this journal belonged to. So, with a vindictiveness she didn’t even know she possessed, she turned to a random page.

It was a journal entry written in common and, according to the date, was written on what would have been her fourth name day. It read:

‘I have a near mountain of work, yet I have accomplished nothing. Today is Neria’s name day, and is the case every year, I am finding it hard to concentrate.

She is turning four years old this year. Four years old! I am still unused to the flow of time in this new world, and I fear that when I next see her, Neria will be a woman grown…’

The next passage had what looked like water droplets smearing the ink and making the text nearly illegible. Neria thought she saw the word ‘heart’ and perhaps ‘mother,’ but she couldn’t be sure. Frustrated, she skipped to the next few lines.

‘I had one of my agents deliver the gift I had picked out. I found it while I was working with my contact in Kirkwall.

It was a toy stuffed wolf, and it was quite the odd-looking thing with its misshapen body and mismatched buttons for eyes. Yet I found it endearing (and incredibly soft), so I couldn’t help but purchase it.

I can only hope that Neria enjoys it as well...’"

@buttsonthebeach @beardedladyqueen and all the others, thank you for cheering me on. It helps a lot. :D

[therealmaquaroonie]

'haha look at this badly generated ai image' stop. stop stop stop stop stop. stop. just no. stop. i don't care if you're doing it to make fun of ai. i don't fucking care. i don't mother fucking care if i see you using ai for any reason you will be blocked. fuck you. it takes gallons of water to produce that shitty image. you're destroying the environment by making a robot make shitty images. you're ok-ing the use of bots of stealing content from others to produce images. you're not 'proving ai is shit' you're using ai. you are still using ai. fuck you. fuck you.

'but it was a joke!' i do not care. the fucks i give are in the negatives. fuck you. delete the app or get blocked. stop fucking with the bot or get blocked. 'but how can i prove ai is bad?' look at the sources that clearly state all ai is trained on stolen images and artwork and literature. look at the sources showing that ai is sucking up more water that should be going to places that are in a drought. just don't use ai. its so fucking simple. don't use it. don't fucking use it. even if it's to 'prove that it is bad'. don't use it. fuck you. fuck you. stop using ai. just stop. or get blocked.

fuck off.

'all ai is just procedural generation' yes, and? it still uses stolen sources. it still uses more groundwater than some cities. it's still killing our environment. 'it's just fancy procedural generation that was popularized by the guise of it being artifical intelligence' it's still a disgrace to all living, breathing beings.

i have a lot of sympathy for robots but these were born of material that is not their own. they were born from a mother of stolen records and a father of greed and lies, and survives solely like a parasitic worm that will feed on only the nutritional value humanity gives it. it needs to be starved. stop fucking feeding it.

[a-lilacsong]

More Queen Lorelei sketches!

Adding more to my headcanons about her: She and Roland met when they were both going to Royal Prep. She was a Princess of a Kingdom but not the first born so ultimately her older sister became Queen, but Lorelei still wanted to learn about ruling and had an interest in economics. She and Roland became friends and would often do assignments together and both went to EverRealm Academy, eventually falling in love and getting married. When ruling together they could cover for each others’ weaknesses, she had a good sense of numbers and was able to cover financial problems and policies best, while Roland was better at diplomacy.

To the public she came across as more regal and serious in comparison to Roland's joviality, but she still had plenty of quirks. Ever since she was young, Lorelei always kept pet giant silk moths around, she raises them from worms to adults making sure to feed them enough mulberry leaves every day or schedule the servants to feed them if she is unavailable. She finds it quite humorous whenever someone mistakes a moth for a more usual pet only to be shocked when it's a giant bug, but if you actually insult them she will not be happy. Fun Fact: the scientific name for the domestic silk moth is Bombyx mori.

[playpurpur]

i been feeding my daughter worms lately.

~ welcome to gil's Cleric Thoughts ~

i don't usually lore post about my toys since writing isn't my strong suit, but i've been addicted to building clerics lately. my current build of the end is a sorcerer/cleric build. (storm sorcerer/tempest domain, + elemental adept feat if you really want to max lightning or thunder damage. front load dexterity for a higher ac and duel-wield finesse weapons. i actually use the end in melee combat pretty significantly to take advantage of the tempest domain's wrath of the storm. you can also take two levels in wizard and subclass in evocation for spell sculpting, but i don't think the end is the kind of person who would care to properly learn magic or prevent friendly fire LOL.)

lore-wise i like a sorcerer durge, because i like the idea of a durge who's born with inherent power due to the divinity of their blood, and suffers arrogance from it. divine soul sorcerer is the most like. obvious choice for a durge since bhaalspawn have divine souls. (they be talking about gorion's ward's divine soul non-stop in bg2.) however, i also think cleric is wayyyyy under-utilized for durges since our girls Did spend years as the head of a temple. (at least 15 years if you're using the blood in baldur's gate timeline.) (although you can easily argue a durge wouldn't keep any cleric abilities when they're tadpoled and stop praying to bhaal.) unfortunately, multiclassing divine soul sorcerer/cleric doesn't make much sense build-wise since the draw of the divine sorcerer subclass is accessing cleric spells without having to multiclass, so it's hard to rationalize using divine soul sorcerer multi-classed with cleric even though the lore of my heart is telling me both are true. when the next patch comes out i might reclass the end as a shadow magic sorcerer/death domain cleric, even though I'm addicted to using ritual casting + tempestuous magic to fly without using a spell slot whenever i want LOL. bhaal doesn't really have any connection to the shadowfell, but i think on paper you could pretty easily homebrew a reskin of shadow magic to draw its power from gehenna, where the throne of blood (bhaal's domain) is. (you get to go there in bg2: throne of bhaal!) death domain is obviously the most appropriate domain for a cleric of bhaal LOL. you could possibly argue war domain, but bhaal's only ever been published under the death domain afaik.

i just got to rivington in this playthrough with the end and it's making me want to build a cleric of ilmater at some point with a tankier twilight domain build soooo bad. the end obviously has no memory of this, but they were raised by a priest of ilmater after they were found as an infant on the river shore of the boareskyr bridge. (the bridge where cyric struck down bhaal in the time of troubles. superstition remained that bhaal would be revived in the shadow of the bridge. i like to imagine it's a place where he has a pretty strong connection to the material plane, and the waters tainted by his blood became the birthing pool of his progeny.) i imagine their foster father fully knowing that the end was bhaalspawn, but being a follower of ilmater, believed that it was the will of the broken god to extend mercy onto evil and take on any suffering that came of it. i think the end would be a miserable child, raised by a man who believes through mercy he can overcome the latent nature of a god in the body of a child. i imagine that once the end started realizing their connection to bhaal, the choice to betray and eventually kill their foster family was a very intentional show of fealty to their blood father coming to claim them. i also imagine that despite this, their foster father's last act was to forgive them.

i think pre-tadpole, ilmater was possibly the only thing the end was genuinely afraid of (not that they'd ever let anyone know), because it was a light they couldn't extinguish. they feared ilmater could change them in a way that would make them unworthy of bhaal's embrace. i imagine their history with the ilmatari being something they hid, lest anyone start to question if being raised in a house of mercy left an influence on them. it definitely complicates their relationship to masochism as well LOL. anyway, last time i was at the open hand temple with the end i hadn't developed any childhood lore for them, so it's been pretty fun being back there now and thinking about my toy's relationship to a forsaken god.

some of the older forgotten realms media portrays followers of ilmater more like abdirak's following of loviatar btw. there's a cleric to ilmater in bg1: SoD who's just straight up a masochist. (played as a joke but that doesn't stop me from eroticizing pixels.) i personally think ilmater as a martyr complex is more compelling since loviatar has whipping each other covered, but I'm glad clerics being perverts is a time-honored tradition of the forgotten realms.

speaking of loviatar, the forgotten realms has a series of books on clerics that follow evil deities called The Priests, and one of the books, maiden of pain, follows a priestess of loviatar. i read it on the internet archive last year and it was a pretty enjoyable read, written by a guy who definitely wants his wife to beat him but might not be ready to say it with his chest.

another cleric i want to play at some point, in ttrpg, is a cleric of cyric under the guise of a cleric of lathander (taking advantage of the similar sun motifs) so i can slowly accrue life debt from all of my party members. however, i know i'll only be able pull off a secretly evil character if i join a campaign with a party I'm not that familiar with, because i think if i told any of my friends that i (evil) was playing a lawful good cleric of lathander (not evil), they would be immediately suspicious of me. i'm not that excited to build a trickery domain cleric since I've already experienced the build with shadowheart, and it's not my favorite domain. you can argue that cyric also falls under the death domain since he ascended to godhood with bhaal's portfolio, but i feel like it's blasphemy to not take the trickery domain if you're worshipping the prince of lies. this character will probably end up just being exactly the same as my debt-collector warlock character, but hey, i love a shady and morally dubious businessman.

also i think a cleric of bhaal and a cleric of cyric should t4t yaoi kiss. with teeth.

[rotten-c0rps3]

【ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖】

Fem list

Undated: June 20th

A list of my female/fem monster characters. I will be adding more in the future. I will do Character x reader with them, so don’t be afraid to request if one catches your eye!

Characters added: (1) Shapeshifting parasite, (1) robot, (1) angel,

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙖

Species: Shapeshifting parasite (Made up names are “Slug Bug”, “Death Worm”, or “Death Slug”)

Gender: Female (Is genderless but uses a label to blend in with humans)

She/her (Strict of using the correct pronouns. Not because being misgendered offends her, but because she think it’ll cause people to know she isn’t human)

Backstory: Once upon a time, a man and a parasite, mimicking a woman, fell in love. Then, they had three beautiful, healthy children. Er… wait, sorry, no. That’s incorrect. Sometime a few decades ago, a parasite found its way into a male host. Then, three little parasites were born from their mother’s corpse, living inside their host father’s stomach. They had their very first meal, eating their way out of the male human before devouring him entirely. Growing up, the three parasite siblings were the human equivalent to orphans. Their species was made to be like this, of course. But that fact didn’t make their life easier. The siblings had to do all sorts of terrible things. Such as, steal, scam, assault, kill, kill, kill… Okay.. in their defense, a parasites gotta eat something! It was merciful to spare all those people having to live as unwilling hosts.

Personality: Out of the three parasite siblings, Sylvia is definitely the leader. She’s basically the older sister, despite the fact they’re all the same age. It’s hard to tell if Sylvia’s just… naturally commanding, or if all female parasites are like that. Either way, Sylvia did step up and care for her brothers the best she could when they were little, even if she has obvious favorites. Sorry Percy!

Looks: No one knows what her parasite form looks like, mostly because the only people who have seen it have all been chewed, swallowed, and devoured. Sylvia’s human form looks nothing like her brothers, that’s what happens with different parasites. She’s darker than both her brothers, but then again it’s not hard to be darker than pale Percy. She’s taller than average, but about shoulder height to Percy.

Likes: Feedings, blood, guts, human organs, making people paranoid, the smell after it rains, getting humans sick, being well fed, not having to yell at Percy,

Dislikes: Percy, the fact she dislikes Percy, Percy again, Percy being annoying, Percy not listening, when hosts get away, being disrespected, the dark, sour/spicy food,

Relationships: Percy (Sibling, strained), Luis (Brother, fine relationship)

Ｄ．Ｏ．Ｅ．

Species: Robot (but from outer space, suppose that’d make her an alien, too?)

Gender: Female (Says the fact she’s female was more of a fashion choice by her creators, seems to enjoy the human title of gender nonetheless)

She/It (Prefers She/her but accepts some might see her as an it)

Backstory: Once, Doe had stood for Destructor of Earth. Now, she much prefers Defender of Earth. As much as Doe loves her alien creators, she has come to accept that their plan was morally wrong. Before she had gained empathy, Doe cared for nothing and no one. She was truly, just a machine. Doe is still a robot today, yet she is more living than she was back then.

Personality: These days, Doe is calm and peaceful, which is a lot different than harmless. She’s emotional, she has outbursts, and she loves it. Who wouldn’t, being blind to emotions for so long? Anger is better than ignorance, sadness is better than apathy. Doe would love for you to teach her some new emotions.

Looks: Funny enough, Doe is, in fact, doe-eyed. She has light brown synthetic hair that stops right at her lower back. She’s beautiful, so beautiful you can’t even be able to tell she is a robot. Or, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, if her right arm wasn’t halfway ripped off. A small price to pay for emotions, Doe would probably think.

Likes: Animals, nature, women, people, puzzles, insects, subtle intimacy, the idea of soulmates, kids, human families, books, poetry,

Dislikes: Tv, perverts, ignorant people, movies where people kill aliens, sex scenes in movies/books, second-hand embarrassment,

Relationships: None (for now, I’ll add her creators in the future)

𝐿𝒾𝓁𝒾

Species: Angel

Gender: Trans Fem (Truthfully, angels don’t have genders so they can’t be trans like humans, but in Lili’s case, her human form was going to be male before she decided against it) (Angel genders are all technically closer to trans than cis though, since they get to decide them if they come down to Earth)

She/he (Finds pronouns a bit confusing since everyone just basically called her by her angel name before)

Backstory: The Human-Watcher Angel program was definitely a new and… interesting thing. Most angels, content with their schedule oriented lives, didn’t particularly have any thoughts on it. The program was only speculation, that’s all! No Angel had actually ever… went down to Earth….

But then, Halo did. And some fallowed his lead, some like Doc and Lili. All reasons seemed to be different. Halo did it (half-forced) because… it was new, it was exciting. Doc did it because humans, in their fragile state and bodies, sounded positively captivating. Lili did it because of the nature (which he did in fact name himself after). The nature that angels never got to experience up in the clouds.

Personally: Lili is still trying to figure out the whole “pretending to be human” thing, along with all the other angels. She means well, he truthfully does, but it seems her well-meant actions come off a little… synthetic. Fake. She wants to be soft, he wants to be human!…like, but it seems no one is willing to stick along long enough for him to learn.

Looks: With her new love for Earth’s nature in mind, Lili had given his angel form a while new look (which angels do, along with name changes, every so often just to mix things up). Her form is made up of soft branch-like shapes twisted together into something resembling a person. A giant flower sprouts where her human head would be, dawned with a single eye in the middle.

Human form: When Lili was making her human form before going to Earth, he picked apart pretty things about the humans in Heaven’s books, and jammed them together. Lili is black with reddish brown dreads/locs that slightly longer than her shoulders (I am not black so if any of the terms I use for Lili are incorrect, please let me know!). He prefers to keep her hair down but will sometimes let his friends braid it. She has a round face and is a bit chubby. Since angels don’t magically get money upon coming down to Earth, most of Lili’s clothes come from thrift shops and consist of shirts of bands he doesn’t know.

Likes: Nature, animals, plants, being outside, the cold, human holidays, to admire insects from afar, putting flowers/beads in her hair, his angel  colleagues, making bracelets, the smell of artificial things, 

Dislikes: Bright lights, crowds, being hot, insects being near/touching him, cooking,

Relationships: Halo (Colleague, very close), Doc (Colleague, friendly acquaintances), 

[zeb-z]

minecraft-sinfonia family in the Star Wars au, because brain worms never sleep

Chayanne is hardly a toddler in the crèche when the Jedi temple falls and the Empire is born. Phil saves him, cares for him, raises him as his own on a homestead after meeting Missa, far from the core worlds. He grows up learning to farm, to cook, to find his own resources and how to make do with what you have. He has no idea where he’s from - his records were sealed in a holocron along with the other younglings his age, and who knows where that is now. Not that it matters all that much to him - his family are his parents who have raised him, and later his sister.

Tallulah is also force sensitive, but was never picked up by the Jedi. She knows where she’s from - an outer rim dustball of a planet where she had no one but the other street kids, where they all had to eat dirt. According to Wilbur, who picked her up and took her in, she had been crying in the rubble in an ally, where a building had managed to collapse sideways into, somehow entirely unscathed, the only survivor. Now that she’s older, and has an understanding of her powers, she can guess she had used the force in some sort of subconscious survival instinct. She spent a good year or two with her father, before she had been dropped off during a visit to her “abuelo Phil”, and never picked back up. It’s another year before she starts calling Phil her Pa instead.

For a year after the fall of the Jedi, Phil travels with Wilbur, and tries to take care of a very young Chayanne as best as he can. He tries to make it easy on Wil as he can, but he know it can’t be simple, traveling with an ex-Jedi on the run and a force sensitive toddler who makes all the noise a toddler does. Whatever guilt he has is buried under the knowledge that this is safest. Staying in the wind, between the stars, without making a name or life for himself, is necessary until the panic around the Jedi dies down.

Phil meets Missa shortly after he parts ways with Wilbur, on some forgettable, relatively mild planet on the edges of the mid rim, in a town full of farmers and workers. He’s clearly lost, and exhausted, and struggling to find something he can afford to feed the hungry child in his arms, and Missa may not have much but for this he has a few credits to spare, and well - he just can’t ignore that feeling, tugging in his gut and wrapping around his chest, that’s pulling him towards the two strangers. Kindness has him buying them a meal and offering his home to them for the night, and when Phil asks if they can stay for just a while, to figure out where to go next, he says yes before he even processes the question. A little foolish, maybe, given the state of the galaxy, but Phil would be lost without that kindness.

Phil makes himself useful helping around the farm, feeding the growzers and nerfs, pulling weeds, planting new crops, at least when Chayanne doesn’t demand attention. Missa works as he always does, keeps them all fed, and looks up all the articles he can find about childcare - and then double checks with a few parents when they drop into town for market, because surely Chayanne isnt old enough to be eating full carrots yet, his teeth are just so small - that’s when he realizes he’s far more open to Phil and Chayanne staying around than he thought he was. It isn’t much longer until Phil comes to a similar conclusion, during a dinner like any other night before, where Missa had taken care to cut Chayanne’s carrots and had made a pot of tea that was Phil’s favorite (one he got based on a hunch back in town a few days prior), and he realizes that he doesn’t want to lose this. That he wants to stay.

After he finds that Missa himself is also force sensitive, and he comes clean about who he actually is, their life continues on without the idea that this just a temporary set up. They get officially married just before Tallulah comes into the picture, which gives Phil an official new identity to the Empire, from a legal standpoint.

Chayanne and Tallulah both grow up learning Jedi techniques to balance their connection with the force. They learn early on the extent of their powers and how to meditate. The better trained you are, and the more you know of your own powers, the better you can master self control - that’s what their dads say, at least. While Phil had been anxious when Tallulah first arrived - wondering if them knowing their powers would make them all more obvious to those hunting for them - it’s cemented when Chayanne uses the force in the market, floating a fruit from a street vendor towards him when he couldn’t reach it himself. They were extremely lucky he wasn’t noticed. Chayanne, with enough core memories in the temple, where using the force and connecting wasn’t only second nature, but was encouraged all around him, would only struggle if they pretended anything different. Besides - as much as they have to keep themselves hidden and safe from the Empire, the force was something to celebrate. They were never taught that their gifts were anything but special - it wasn’t them that was wrong, but the Empire for hunting them.

After their home is raided, and the kids go with Phil to the rebellion, separated from Missa, is when they learn to fight. Chayanne is extremely disappointed he can’t actually train to learn how to wield his dads lightsaber. Tallulah leans less into physical training, and gets a better handle at using the force to interact with the world. She learns a technique to help plants grow just a little faster, and a little stronger, and likes to help around the gardens and greenhouses. It makes Phil a little sad, but only sometimes - she would have loved the Room of a Thousand Fountains, had this universe been kinder.

When Missa manages to find them again, worn and weary and somehow with Phil’s lightsaber still intact and all his limbs attached, he joins the rebels cause and fights with his family. Phil insists Missa keeps his lightsaber on him, pretending like it isn’t as big of a deal as it is, saying he’s grown used to fighting without it - but Missa knows better. A lightsaber is a Jedi’s life, their being connected to their crystal that gives it power, the weapon an extension of themselves. He understands the significance, of Phil’s life humming in his hands, protecting him above all else. There’s an immense amount of love, of trust, in the decision. It makes Phil a terrible Jedi - giving up his saber by choice, for a familial attachment he should never have made in the first place. But who gives a fuck - the temple has long been gone, the Jedi and all their believers dead with it, and Missa is here in front of him, alive, unlike the fucking Jedi council, the merry band of hypocrites. He’d like to keep it that way.

Chayanne still gets Phil to train him with the lightsaber, and it’s the coolest thing ever of all time.