#and hive having the light. lmao

[yloiseconeillants]

MAYNCIENT :: Day 12 - Shine

It is possible to get Icarus @hermits-hovel out of the city, he just needs a bit of coaxing. And a lot of flattery. And a fair amount of bullying.

[ii-zi]

I'm aware ppl here don't actually know my parents but do u think they're mad bc i basically gave my younger sister permission to travel to the other side of the country with her one friend (a little older than me and very responsible) I really like and trust for a concert and she took as all the permission she needed?

[vethale]

Incoming Marble Sky theory about the Marmors' origin planet and more! Spoilers ahead!

I think if we ever get to see their original planet, it might be a dark place (literally and metaphorically), with hives or cities built within ant-like cave systems. Their society also seems to work like those of ants with a queen (Moon), workers and drones.

I think the fact that the Marmors use a form of ecolocation rather than our traditional eyesight might imply that on their original planet, sight as we know it is not a viable option. Their planet might either have little to no light, making eyes redundant, or too much, which would also cause the same problem. I think their fur coloring might also be proof of this, as they seem to display bright colors with no patterns. (Patterns usually help animals, especially predators, blend into their environment, because a blotch of a single color is usually easy to spot). However, there is also a possibility that their coloring might be a result of them becoming the dominant species: We see this with domesticated animals- think cows or cats, with white patches of fur, that make them easier to spot. When colors no longer affect their survival, new color variations tend to pop up.

I also think the fact that they are bipedal (with tails) also tells us that like humans, they might have started walking on all fours and then went up. This allows the brain to become larger, because the neck can hold up more weight, boosting their intelligence. Animals that walk on all fours are usually limited in this aspect because the neck muscles do all the work, so their heads can't get heavier.

The existence of tails might imply that those are still required for balancing purposes. Humans used to have tails but we kinda didn't need them and they went away, but the tail bone still exists. The fact that Marmors still needed them might imply that they still had to climb a lot in their original planet - maybe they live on trees (there's some ants that build their hives hanging from them! Super cool tbh) or they build their homes on cliffs/mountains.

I personally think them living in mountains or cave systems is the more likely option. In the comic we have already gotten the comparison with ants, who tend to build their little hives with tunnel systems going in all directions. This would make their tails useful for climbing, as well as their special eyesight and connections useful for navigating the hive. I mean, a connection like the one we have seen in the latest update is not only useful for hunting but also for their hives, as they can quickly figure out where more "manpower" is needed vs where there's already enough of them in one place.

Also, they have both sharp claws and teeth. Obviously those teeth are stylized in the comic, but they seem very very sharp. Definitely made for ripping and shredding. So it's very likely that the Marmors are obligate carnivores, meaning that, unlike dogs or bears, they can ONLY eat meat. I mention this because those claws would also be useful for hunting and disabling prey BUT connecting this to the cave system theory: Those claws are big and sharp, whoch might also be useful for digging. The giant anteater, for example, has some seriously sharp claws. This thing does NOT hunt other animals, besides ants and termines lmao, but uses those sharp claws to dig into the really hard ground. And those claws are SHARP, boy. They use them regularly to wars off and ERASE jaguargs. Yes, jaguars. So maybe these sharp claws might be tools AND weapons for the Marmors, useful for deleting your prey and digging into the ground!

Going back to the ant comparison: ants society usually has a queen, her simps, and the worker ants. The queen lays the eggs. If those are fertilised by the male drones, they become female workers but if not, they become male drones (the simps lmao). Ecliptica mentions that she is tall because she is a female AND the center of their network. Obviously these are aliens, but I think we can draw parallels: she might be their queen, the only one that reproduces -which would also explain their "children belong to everyone and noone" attitude"- while the rest might simply be the workers. I say workers, even if they are male, because I think the drones might actually be something else. We have seen smaller Marmors like Shepherd's assistants. Now, they might just be small or younger, BUT they could also be the lower ranking drones.

So, to sum up: I think Marmors come from a planet with little light, where they build their hives/societies in ant-like cave systems, digging into the ground. They might also have an ant-like society, that revolves around their queen, the workers and the lower ranking drones, where everyone but the queen is a male.

[kiwanopie]

“What does it look like to see crime lord!kiyoomi blow up at someone threatening the reader?”

cw: mention of bathroom (reader has to number one lmao), character death, death by suffocation

wc: 2.4k

His head immediately turns when he hears your voice calling out for him.

You’re breathtaking in your ball attire. Glowing under the balmy haze of ballroom crystal lights as you duck into his gaze. You’re radiant, and It’s a chore to look anywhere else as Kiyoomi scans the large hall, leaning in to get a better listen at your voice. “What’s up, angel?”

“Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You whisper. “I’m too nervous to go by myself.”

Kiyoomi pauses to delegate a pensive moment. He was supposed to mingle with OneSource’s people to check in on his annual contract bonding. ‘Course there’s no reason to think that anything has changed - they’d have a death wish to pull out from something like Sakusa Enterprises - but it’s etiquette, and it’s still important to maintain general communication. At the very least uphold his reputation as a studious businessman.

He traces the fullness of your eyelashes from where you look up at him. “Mhm.”

Kiyoomi reaches for your hand and leads you to the laboratory.

He’s not the least bit embarrassed to be leading his wife into the otherwise empty women’s bathroom. And even if it weren’t, he doubts he’d be any less unfazed. - Impassive still as he watches you glide your way into the cleanest stall and close the door behind you. Kiyoomi leans against the sink as he waits for you to finish your business.

“Can you turn the sink on? I don’t want you to hear me tinkle.”

“Tinkle?” Kiyoomi snorts as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Baby, I hear you tinkle every day in our bathroom. Just let it out.”

“Yeah, but this is a public place,” He can hear you pout. “And I’m already nervous. I don’t want you to make fun of me for spotting.”

Spotting. He quietly titters again. I mean, he’s brushed his teeth with you planted on the bowl before, a little piss staggering wouldn’t even faze him. But still he grabs a paper towel, and uses it to turn the nodule on one of the sinks.

“Thank you!” The better portion of your dress lifts over your heels.

It’s only a few moments that it takes till he’s hearing the telltale sound of an automatic toilet whir into the room. Even with his eyes planted on his phone, he sees you neaten your dress back down in his peripheral. Dark blues turn velvety in the bathroom lights, and pretty spaghetti straps fall loosely on your shoulders; and with the way your hair so lively shines as you walk, he’s nearly convinced that you’re an angel.

His eyes light up with familiar adoration as you approach him at the sink, the smile you pass him is enough to turn his cheeks flowery. “How long is this party gonna last for?”

“Till two, but we can leave earlier than that if you want.”

“Are you having fun?” The soap in your palms audibly squishes as you lather your hands.

Kiyoomi sighs through his nose. “I’m making good connections, but you know me. Huge crowds like these start to break me out in hives. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

You ring your hands in the sink. “That makes you and I both then. There’s so many important people here that I can’t help but worry. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt just cause some bastard has a vendetta.”

You move for the air dryer on the side of him. “I saw Onslaught and Shinobu wandering the halls together. Those two dudes make it desperately apparent that they despise us.”

“They’re attention seekers, angel. They - No, don’t use that.”

You look at him curiously as he moves you by the arm to the paper towel dispenser. “Those things are disgusting, they’re riddled with germs.”

He snatches a few out for you. “I doubt anyone here has ever bothered to disinfect these.”

You simper as you finally wipe your hands down. “Oh. Well, thank you for looking out for me, baby.”

“Always.”

Kiyoomi slides his phone in his pocket as you move for the mirror again. “They’re attention seekers,” He starts again. “They know what my status is, they know that you and I are the most prevalent family running the underground business nowadays. Anybody who’s anybody should know that the Sakusa’s have owned the better half of Asia for decades. - It’s easy for them to stay relevant when they’re feuding with the most powerful empire in the game; regardless of what risk they’re putting on their lives by doing that.”

You eye yourself in the mirror. “They’re cockroaches. They’re just feeding off us for a little bit of business talk. What will it take for them to understand that business doesn’t even exist if it doesn’t come from you in some way.”

The little boost to his ego already turns him pink, but the way you spin in the mirror has his lips curling over his teeth. “Yeah? You’re absolutely right.”

His reflection mirrors the way he reaches out for you, pulling you closer in his direction, and softly pinching your cheeks with his calloused fingers. “But it’s nothing you’ve gotta worry your pretty head about, huh? - You’re really cute..”

You pout up at him. “What if they pick a fight with us?”

Kiyoomi kisses his teeth. Uncoupling the little grip he has on your cheek to smooth it over with his thumb, and let his blithe gaze settle on the dip in your lips. “As if they’d be so stupid. Self preservation reigns, angel. They all know better.”

You give him somewhat of an unimpressed look. “Death isn’t the price you pay for slighting us, Omi.”

“You’re right,” He hums. “It’s the price they pay for slighting you.”

You lean into the kiss Kiyoomi presses gingerly onto your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Omi.”

“So much.”

“Show me.”

He leans in for another one. A little firmer, somewhat tailed by a quiet hum but the way you move forward to deepen it has him openly sighing into your mouth. Long, savory, tender lip smacking. - Smoothing his grip under your jaw till you’re all but making out like a couple of teenagers. That’s how you make him feel - like a teenager. Jittery and palm sweaty. Meekend as you moan into the kiss and he’s rapt by butterflies. Breathless when you part from him and still overdosing on that contact high.

God, “I love you so fucking much.” He sighs.

“I love you so much more.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t think something like that could be remotely possible.

_____

Kiyoomi pushes your seat in for you as you both take your spots at the grand table.

There are many very important faces here. From the face of your renowned husband, to well known yakuza leaders, - High ranking members of The Sinaloa Cartel, Solntsevskaya Bratva, Sun Yee On, and so forth. With this many dangerous people at one table, most controlling near global power, it isn’t unheard of to feel a little out of your wits. You can’t show your fear as much as you want to, sitting at this table with your husband means sharing the collective power he has - and representing it as well. Much like the other wives and spouses sitting with their respective criminal lovers, you keep your cool with a natural grace. Still pretty even as your palms start to sweat.

Ken Shōhei, leader of the sixth generation yellow fangs, raises his glass to propose a toast. He glitters with shined jewels and gaudy rings as they reflect in the chandelier light. You glance at his wife before glancing at him. Catching a less than friendly evil eye that chills you straight to the blue bone. If you had to guess, they’re friends of Onslaught. If you had to guess again, you’d say it’s probably upsetting to realize you’re not the hottest foreign wife in the room anymore.

“Beautiful people of this nation - of your respective nations,” He begins. “Let us take this moment to reflect on the novelty of such business making and our untaintable honor. To the choices we’ve made thus far that has led us here. The chances we take that - understandably shouldn’t work out in our favor - but has. Our fortune, our hard work, the allies we’ve made today and the friends we’ll make tomorrow. I propose a toast to us. To our virtues, and to our decency. Let us all come together and celebrate ourselves.”

His wife smiles as she picks up her glass. “To ourselves!”

The rest of the table brandish their cups and follow suit. “To ourselves!”

The chatter continues as most of them take a quick sip to their glasses.

Or well, all except for you and Kiyoomi, who’s got the flute halfway to his lips before you stop him in his tracks. “Wait, baby.”

“Hm?”

You lean in to whisper softly. “These glasses don’t smell clean.”

“Hm?” Kiyoomi furrows as he dips his nose in his champagne flute. “They don’t-? Oh. Ew.”

He reaches for your glass. “Don’t even touch that. We’ll sanitize our hands after they-“

Someone’s choking.

Someone’s hacking and gasping for air right in front of you. Loud enough to startle as your head whips in the direction of whoever it is coughing up a lung across the table, and Kiyoomi instinctively reaches for you - pulling you by the bicep as he prepares to step out of his seat.

It’s an appropriate knee jerk reaction for what actually unfolds in front of you. Kiyoomi forces you to your feet as Shōhei’s body crashes into the fine cloth of the grand table and sends the majority of their plates crashing down with him. His shrill wheezing cuts into the silence that befalls the group of leaders as they stare down at him. Twitching and flailing before finally seizing up and you all watch in horror as he eventually goes limp.

You all watch in dread as his wife follows. Nithya, Maciej, Jalmari, Takashi, and Yuina, dropping to the floor in similar fashion. Some fall back in their seats in an effort to save themselves, some face plant into their plates before unceremoniously hitting the ground, but they all meet the same fate. Foaming at the mouth and blue from asphyxiation, all poisoned by something lethal likely slipped into their drinks.

Kiyoomi is the first to break the long stunned silence, calling over one of his underlings to meet him at the table.

He shoves his drink in his face. “Drink this.”

The man does so without hesitation.

After a few long moments the faceless scout looks generally unharmed which immediately raises red flags, but it isn’t over yet.

He hands him his wife’s drink. “And this?”

Another sip, another few long moments.

And then he’s falling to the ground.

You both stare in sickened shock as he flails on the ground just as the other victims did. Gasping for air as his spit foams over and the vessels in his eyes burst from suffocation. He’s dead within a few tortuous minutes, and Kiyoomi all but turns blue.

He nearly breaks his back with how quickly he turns for you, already frantically cupping your face in his hands. “Did you eat anything on the table? Have you eaten anything?”

There are tears in your eyes, rightfully. “N-No.”

He’s shaking. It’s a rare moment of weakness for the revered kingpin. One of the most frightening, if not the most frightening man in all of Asia - glassy eyed at the realization of his lover coming so close to death. He’s pink under eyes, pupils twitching back and forth as he frantically scans your face for any sign of change. The men and women surrounding the two of you take pause. It’s clear this is a shock to you both. That the man in question would rather kill over than put his wife in harm’s way, especially one so gruesome. ~ But there’s layers to this collective suspension shared among the room. Shock, confusion, apprehensity.

Fear.

As expected Kiyoomi’s reaction is less than pleased.

“Miya!”

At the sound of Kiyoomi’s booming voice, Atsumu races into the ballroom and up to the table. “Boss- Whoa, holy shit.”

“Bring me the heads of everyone in the kitchen,” His voice is vitriolic. It sends shivers up the spines of every living body in here. “All except for the chef. Pack him up in the shuttle.”

The boldness of the demand knocks Shinobu out of his daze, he’s kissing his teeth not even a moment later. “Don’t just start giving orders like you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Shinobu. Be thankful I don’t start picking from the table!”

One of the other businessmen at the table speaks meekly. “W-Wait. Let’s just... Everyone just-“

“Enough!” Kiyoomi narrows his eyes. And even to the most lethal of men in the room do they quaver at the venom in his voice. Sakusa Kiyoomi is not known for being an angry man. A spiteful man, sure. Cold and callous and cruel, on his worst days a little psychotic. There’s a scowl on his face more often than not, a sneer almost in the way he speaks to his adversaries and enemies alike. He’s known for being a mean son of a bitch - the meanest, really. But not angry. Not down right irate. Not so wrathful in the way he addresses the crowd around him.

“Someone here,” He breathes. “Has made an enormous lapse in judgment. If not to the leaders we just lost at this table; than to threaten me - to threaten my wife, my family,”

He’s firm yet earnest in his efforts to keep you behind him, nearly yanking you back by your arm but you bump into his firm back with one of his hands fastened over your waist. “You must’ve all forgotten that there is no one on this earth who I can’t get my hands on - especially for something so despicable. Whether they're in that kitchen or in this room, every second of their worthless life is borrowed from me. - Goro!”

The host of the ball swallows as he answers quickly. “Yes, Sakusa-san, sir?”

“Get me the names of everyone who’s been in or out of this place within the last forty eight hours, not a minute short.”

“Yes, of course.”

Kiyoomi nods his head for his men to follow as he drags his wife out by the hand.

[rottenomelet]

regimen - yandere geto suguru (1.5k)

(warnings: nsfw! i’m eighteen and you should be too! yandere geto suguru, degradation, no after care (is that a tag/warning?) hints of anal sex and like, barely even anal fingering.

note(s): geto basically hates the non sorcerer reader lmao like he is not sweet at all. also geto does not call the reader monkey. this is placed a few years after the kfc incident.)

-

you start your day the same way you have for the past seven months - getting plowed from behind with geto suguru tugging your hair.

your whine is muffled by the pillow he’s pushed your head into. the pillow is wet from your drool and you can hardly breathe, hoping that he’ll be done soon and your day can continue.

your wish isn’t granted, but then again, the universe hasn’t exactly been in your best interest lately anyways. you spend the next twenty minutes or so taking geto’s cock, only taking small gulps of air whenever his grip on your hair loosens and you can tilt your head up a bit. it never lasts long before he’s pushed your head back down, but your grateful for even that small mercy.

you try to focus on anything but the feeling of his cock inside of you. he’s not aiming for your pleasure, you know that well, but it feels betrayingly good whenever he slams into that special spot inside every once in a while.

you keep your noises to a minimum and save for his occasional grunt or groan, only the sound of skin slapping and birds chirping can be heard.

when he finishes, he finishes on your back. he’s never not once finished inside of you which is another small grace. geto’s reasoning is because, “i wouldn’t risk getting a stupid thing like you pregnant.”

as soon as he’s come down from his high, geto removes himself from you as if touching you gives him hives. without his hands holding your hips up, you collapse onto the bed and curl into the sheets. it’s almost as though you’re a puppet whose strings have been cut. he doesn’t say anything as he gets dressed and reties the knot in his hair.

“get cleaned up. i’ll be back tonight.” is the only thing he says as he leaves. the door closes and you only bundle up tighter, bottom lip caught between your punishing teeth. getting back to sleep is futile, you know, but you always take a few minutes to recuperate afterwards.

eventually you rise. you throw the ruined nightgown and sheets into the hamper and draw a bath. once you’re clean and your muscles have relaxed as much as they could in the hot water, you put on another dress. dresses, night gowns, babydolls: they’re the only things he’ll allow you to wear. something about easier access.

you numbly make your way to the garden. you don’t notice anyone in the hall or the paintings hanging up or the whispers around you. you don’t have the energy to care about any of it. once outside, you take your usual seat at your usual bench. a small ghost of a smile appears on your face when you notice a pastry and cup of coffee on the other side of the bench. you know it was the gardeners - they do the same thing every morning but it never fails to make you smile.

“good morning.” you say to one tending to the wysteria tree you’re sitting under. “thank you. beautiful weather we’re having.”

he doesn’t respond, continuing to trim and pluck away. you pay the silence no mind - you know they don’t speak under geto’s orders.

when you asked why no one ever talks to you, naively back in those first weeks, he laughed cruelly. “i told them not to. after all, i see no point in making anyone converse with the house slut.” you stopped asking questions after that.

the day goes on, with you sitting in the garden and the gardeners working around you. once the sun sets, you head back inside for a light dinner that you can barely get down. you go to your room, change into another nightgown, and wait for geto on the bed.

when he walks in, he only gives you a look before he turns to close the door behind him. you know that look and obediently, you put your head in the pillows and perk your ass up.

it’s disgusting, it’s dehumanizing how well he has you trained. but you know better than to fight back, you know what monstrosities await you only a snap away if you put even a toe out of line. so you’re pliant as he lifts up the edge of your gown, no underwear in the way because he refuses to give you any.

you hear the familar shuffle of his robes before that same warm tip kisses your cunt lips. no matter how many times he does it, the breath always gets knocked out of you once he slips inside. his cock is always bigger than you remember, always more consuming than in your nightmares.

tonight is what you classify as an unfortunate night. he’s slamming into that sweet part inside of you more than usual. you moan accidentally and go rigid when you do. but he either didn’t hear or didn’t care because he doesn’t reprimand you for making noise.

it feels good, the pleasure leaving your brain a little fuzzy. when he’s against that spot, it’s easier to focus on the slide of his cock in and out. makes everything feel better and better.

you try to fight the feeling of your orgasm but it’s a losing battle. he goes deep, balls kissing your untouched clit and that tips you over the edge.

when you cum, you bite the pillow to muffle the scream. your world explodes with colors before completely whiting out. you tremble with the force of your orgasm. it’s been weeks since geto last forced you to cum - your body’s unused to the sensation. you can feel your pussy tighten around him, hear him grunt at the sudden warmth.

“you fucking whore.” his hand threads through your hair and tug until you’re looking up at him. his bun has completely fallen apart, sweat soaked messy strands framing his face.

“my cock feels that good? you came and i barely touched you.” his thrusts start back up again, punishing and hard. “this is why i keep you here - a little slut like you couldn’t survive without my cock.”

“say it. say your a slut.”

you know what will happen if you don’t do what he asks. “i’m a slut.”

you thought it wouldn’t be possible but he speeds up. he thrusts harder and harder each time. the sounds of skin slapping get louder, the bed creaks and groans as geto screws you silly. the overstimulation is driving you insane, your poor pussy aches for a break but all you can do is allow your eyes to roll into the back of your head and bite your lip.

“say you’re mine.” his grip on your hair tightens and you yelp without meaning to.

“i-i’m yours!”

“fuck, fuck. say my name.”

you hesitate.

you’re not allowed to say his name. that was the first thing he told you - that it didn’t matter to him what your name is, and that his name is too important for someone like you to know. you only figured it out a week after that by listening to the maids gossip in the halls.

you’ve only called him by his name once. you learned after that to fear those two words.

‘is it a trick?’ you wonder. he hasn’t tried to trip you up in months but you could never know with him.

you don’t have anymore time to think before he delivers a punishing thrust. he doesn’t like to wait.

“g-geto… geto-sama.” you whisper. gods, you’re practically shaking. please, please don’t be some trick.

one, two, three more thrusts and geto’s pulling out just in time to cum all over your butt. his hand lets go over your hair as he comes down from his high. you drop, gracelessly, onto the bed, too worn out to try to sit up. your head falls into the pillow and you just lay there, trying to remember what your name is.

you expect him to let go of you like you’ve burned him. to quickly get his things and scoff at your cum and sweat covered body and then leave you to your own devices.

but he doesn’t immediately jump away from you like he usually does.

instead his hands travel from your waist to your cum coated ass. his left hand pulls your cheek apart as his thumb slides from the other cheek to that untouched hole. his thumb teases that unused entrance, circling it but never entering, making a mess of his cum on your butt.

you’re trembling as he does. in the past, he’s threatened to fuck your butt, just to see you quiver. but he’s never really gone through with that particular threat.

is he going to do it as punishment for saying his name?

luckily you don’t have to worry for long before geto stops. he removes his hands and then himself. he routinely gets dressed and reties the knot in his hair.

and right before he’s about to leave, he says, “get cleaned up. you know the drill.”

[ms--lobotomy]

Hi, can I request a Konrad Curze x reader oneshot? I like how you’ve written him so far.

anon im so stupid for curze its not even funny. i love rat men. in my head hes really dumb but also a little shit.

---

summary: curze has no idea how to court someone he finds attractive, lmao

word count: 1184

content warnings: its curze so nearly comical amounts of violence, i feel like im putting a lot of headcanons on him but what even is canon anymore we're all primarch fuckers here, also its kinda toxic because its curze

---

Nostramo was a lightless planet. The only things illuminating the path you tread were manmade lights, harsh and unyielding. It didn't help that it was pouring rain, either. You trod alone, but it was time for the factories of the planet to close, so you were just one face in a sea full of people.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. This wasn’t an uncommon feeling, things commonly went wrong in the hive city in which you lived. You clutched the bag you were holding, a sad brown thing that carried the remnants of corpse starch and some money and other things you needed to get through work. It smelled awful. 

“Put the bag on the ground,” you heard a voice behind you proclaim. You felt something round and hard at the back of your neck. 

You already knew what to do. Nobody turned around to look at you, the people walking home milled around the two of you. You turned around to see someone wearing nondescript black clothes and bearing a cold iron gun. You put your bag on the ground. “Here you go,” you sighed. He did have a gun, but this wasn’t your first day around town. “There’s maybe two coins in there, if you even care,” you continued. “Enjoy.”

Just before you turned around, while you were thinking about how many factory shifts you would need to replace your dearly departed bag, a dark blur hit your mugger. Your… would be mugger now, because he had just become a cloud of blood and viscera. It would be almost comical if a man weren’t turned to dust before your very eyes. 

Your eyes darted to that… thing that attacked him. It--no, he--was tall, very tall. Maybe twice your height. He had dark, unkempt hair and his sclera was black. The crowd was starting to disperse, taking different directions, but you stood there dumbfounded. And he looked just about as dumbfounded as you did. 

“Um…” you managed to squeak out. “Can I help you?”

He pursed his almost nonexistent lips. “Follow me,” he said, his voice more rumbly than anything you’ve heard come out of a human before. You weren’t even sure if this was a human you were dealing with. While you were busy contemplating whether or not the being in front of you could be considered human, he put a firm hand on your shoulder and started walking. You had to run to keep up, or you felt your shoulder was going to be yanked from your body. His fingers dug into your flesh, almost breaking it open. You saw the crowd part in front of you, the odd person giving you a confused stare before darting away with the rest of the crowd. 

After winding through the streets of the dimly lit city, you found yourself in front of a large, imposing building. Skulls around your size hung on pikes around it, and that had to be human skin carpeting the ground. 

“Your… new quarters,” he said bluntly. 

“Excuse me?” you asked. You had lived in crummy apartments your whole life. Having a whole building, let alone one this large, was an alien concept to you. Not to mention the uncouth decorations. 

He stared, nothing hiding the crazed way in which he looked at you. You looked away to break the intense eye contact. A few moments later, he scanned his hand and led you through the door. The door was the perfect size for him, but the knob was just a little further down than you were tall. 

“Thanks?” you asked as you entered the threshold of the building.

You entered the elevator in the center of the room, and it shot you up to the highest floor of the building. It was as if you could see the entire city from where you were. His hand trailed from your shoulder to your waist. You looked out to around where you came from, there were people milling around again as if nothing had happened there. You looked back up at the man who had brought you here. He was staring at you again with that same crazed look in his eye. 

“Who even are you?” you asked. 

“You don’t know?” he responded. The crazed look became one of genuine confusion. “You haven’t heard of the Night Haunter?” 

“I have no idea who that is,” you responded flatly. “I don’t get out often.”

“Well…” he said, looking away from you for a second. The elevator dinged, you were at the floor you were looking for. His hand left your waist. He turned around to exit, but you could still hear him fine. “You can call me Konrad.” 

He scanned his hand next to the single door, and it swung open. The room that greeted you was nothing short of opulent. Windows opened up a view of the city, and there was a bed big enough for three Konrads nested in one of the corners of the room. Sure, the paintings on the wall were… unsettling, but you’d seen worse. He put a hand on your shoulder again and led you to the window, staring down at the city. You couldn’t escape if you wanted to. 

“Why are you doing all this?” you asked as he knelt down next to you. He was still taller than you. 

He took one of your hands in both of his, clasping his hands around yours. “I…” he started. “Uh… I suppose this is how courting works, correct?” 

Your mouth hung open. Of course this was what he was doing. What other explanation would there be for this behavior? “Absolutely not,” you said after a moment. You couldn’t help it, but the corners of your mouth quirked up. You knew that he could tear you to shreds if he wanted, you could be another part of those skulls and skins at the front of his dwelling if he so chose. But there was something about the gestures that he made that was… charming. 

“We will be sharing a bed anyways,” he said, bringing your hand to his mouth. He ran his lips over it in an almost-kiss, but pulled away. “I imagine you are going to be okay with this arrangement.” 

You felt your face go warm. “I… I guess I can’t refuse, can I?” 

Konrad chuckled. “You are getting it,” he replied. “Now, it is getting late. And you need to go to bed.” 

“I just got off of work,” you protested, but Konrad led you to the bed nonetheless. He practically threw you on the mattress before slumping onto it himself. After hitting a button to turn the lights out, he grabbed you and held onto you. You went limp on the bed. If he said you were going to bed, who were you to argue? 

His breath was warm on your exposed neck, his face nested in the crook of your neck. You ran a curious hand through his unkempt hair. The bed was softer than anything you’d ever experienced. 

You could get used to this.

[puzzled-pegasus]

WoF eye related headcanonssss :)

The most common dragon eye color is green, as it is present in all tribes.

SandWings don't have black eyes, they have normal dark brown eyes. They're just called that because their tribe tends to have the darkest eyes out of any. They have normal structure of whites, pupils, etc. not sure why that took me so long to figure out lmao

I've said this before, but SkyWings have the best long distance eyesight of any tribe. RainWings have the best color differentiation ability, however, and NightWings of course have the best night vision.

SeaWings are able to see through the glare on water, like an osprey.

IceWings don't only have blue eyes. They can also have silver, grey, green, blue-green, or even gold eyes.

SeaWings are the tribe in which blue eyes are the second- most common. SilkWings follow in third.

Blue eyes are considered intimidating by SkyWings, and most parents will cull their blue-eyed dragonets. Blue eyes are believed to be associated with animus magic or other types of witchcraft, making the SkyWings wary of raising such offspring.

Blue eyes are not directly associated with firescales, Peril was just very lucky to have both at once and survive.

For this reason, SandWings actually have a higher rate of blue eyes. Blue eyes in SandWings are especially common with those who are piebald, with white patches, which is a common appearance in SandWings relative to any other tribe.

Heterochromia is most common in SilkWings.

When a NightWing has heterochromia, they are sometimes believed to have both mindreading and future visions.

RainWings are rumored to be able to change their eye color; however, this is false.

IceWings are always, always born with pale blue eyes.

SeaWings, NightWings, RainWings, and LeafWings have slitted pupils. All other tribes have round.

MudWing eye colors include more than just brown, though that is most common. Other colors include amber, copper, gold, hazel, green, and uncommonly, blue.

The most common SkyWing eye color is amber or gold.

NightWings actually have light eyes, to help reflect light so they may see in the dark. Their retinas are also very reflecty like a cat. This is the same in SeaWings.

SeaWings can see slightly better underwater than on land. On land, everything is slightly blurry. If they spend longer time periods on land, they also get dry eye.

Proportionally, NightWings have the largest eyes of any tribe. Large eyes are considered a desirable trait in mates.

LeafWings sometimes have red or magenta eyes. Yes, it is rather spooky looking.

Heterochromia is considered a hideous deformity among IceWing nobles, and they will fake politely offer their condolences to the parents.

Wasp absolutely hates blue or green eyed HiveWings and gets suspicious of interbreeding between Hive and Silk when they appear.

[aardvaark]

the librarians "and the city of light" watch through:

i think this guy is about to have a very close encounter of the third kind lmao

they’ve really gotta stop introducing themselves as librarians. one of these days, someone is gonna know exactly which library they’re talking about.

idk if cassandra speaks french but she’s still managing to understand the important part of jacob & mabel’s conversation pshhh. not the time for flirting jacob!!

hm, the guy who went missing seems to-

EVE NOOOOOO!!!!!!!

-have come back to be part of the evil people group ig? hes not himself or its some kind of ghost hive mind thing?

evidently the gas lamps are a problem

"wow… you don’t expect me to buy that, do you?" i like this mabel lady lmao. worried she’s evil though.

tesla town

okay this is my favourite story so far. out there, but so cool and interesting. i like the trope of body snatching/possession and the obvious issues that come with that. and the theme of being trapped (which very much resonates with jacob & relates to his past) is great.

the "patent pending" label on the very messed up malfunctioning machine is extremely funny to me

glad baird is back & i definitely understand mabel’s decision, but that’s a deeply fucked up fate for all the other people trapped

aw, yay jacob. don’t be the one to keep yourself trapped.

[sweetbeagaming]

Okay I'm actually done done this time lmao the final plan fits everything I need! Breakdown below in case anyone is a planning dweeb like me.

The mods I use for barn and coop interiors have room for processing, so I'll need no sheds per unit. One small shed for fishing/recycling stuff by the lake with crab pots. Crab pots will also go in the pond by the coops in early game, but I usually move these to the island later. I like to make an aquarium with my fave fish and legends towards end game. One small shed for caviar processing and additional fishing stuff. Two big sheds for kegs. The cellar mod I use has more than enough space for that many casks. I normally have a forge shed for ores, but the quarry mod I'm using has a shed so I'm just going to use that one.

Since there's so much interior space available for me, it left room for an additional Junimo crop field in the middle as well as two bee house set ups. I love the bees and I will always have hives. They pay for themselves quickly. And I've never actually used the Junimos before so I'm excited for that since this many animals will need a lot of TLC. I have plenty of room for additional fruit trees at the bottom, but considering how much grass all of the animals will need I might just cut those out and extend the fields.

The cave mod I use is pretty big so I plan to move my mushroom logs in there. I want to learn how to properly utilize the slime hutch this time around which is why I have one set up next to a lighting rod field. Also the slimes are cute and I luv them.

By the end of the game I will be making more money than I possibly ever need to. But for me it's about the journey and I'll be taking more time to decorate and enjoy this time around. Very excited!

[friendlyneighborhoodforestwitch]

3 Things!

Firstly I love the Mini work and I adore your Orchid stingwings!

Secondly you liked my most recent tyranid update literally the INSTANT I posted it lmao.

Thirdly. In honor of you I'm going to make a future Tyranid slightly pinker and I'm also going to be mutilating a box of sisters to base the Iridescent Death~

Secret Fourthly. I'm thinking your special, fully assembled and painted dead sister model compared to just mutilated bits will go under a Pyrovore... buuut I'm not averse to letting you chose the tyranid that ruthlessly cut her down🥰

Ask anonymously No

Thank you so much! With all the trouble I've been having, a little support goes a long way.🖤 The timing was just a coincidence, honest! 😄 I really liked the light-handed use of greens on the carapace paired with the high-saturation red. Good work! Wow, never did I imagine anyone doing anything in my honor... I don't know what to say but thank you. 🥲😭 Despite plans to build a couple units, I know almost nothing about Tyranids, so I defer to your expertise there. Instead, I would like to request that the Sister be of the Order of the Valorous Heart (or something thereabouts, I certainly know they're a pain to paint) - gives us an excuse to take a break from turning Heretics into candles and come after your Hive Fleet. 😜

[adaze-4d4z3]

[DELETE]

Extra+rambling under cut

Me when clear all Cathy (feat: my pm oc/insert)

No but I started to cry when it got to this stage of the node and man I clicked on the thing like 30 times before clicking on the clear all Cathy. MAN I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A COOL JOKE UGHHHH. Also Cathcliff is one of my favourite PM ships now they’re just cute.

Random note but I couldn’t finish this when the 3rd part of the canto came out because my iPad kept crashing on the Vergilius node and I had to wait like 1-2 days before I was reunited with my computer to finish this so I missed out on the cleared before nerfs : ( (The moment I got home after a 8 hour flight and 2hr ride home I played through the last bit because I didn’t wanna be spoiled lol, and a lady at the airport got me sick too so I was jet lagged, tired as hell and sick but first priority was limbus lmao)

But like, seriously this canto made me spiral on this one thought. So in the canto it is explained that souls can’t like move on to actual death death because the Wuthering Heights manor is built on a stream. This stream that’s the same thing that the original seed of light project utilised to make cognito and in lobotomy corporation it’s derivatives such as enkephalin and the light/ golden boughs.

And we learn in Lob corp that cognito is pulled up through a well, likely connected to another stream of sorts. (Or is it just the bucket/ Carmen’s nerve system?) (because if it’s just that everything else here’s just invalid lmao)

So like if every branch had a well, which they would because they will have the extraction team to get more abnormalities that means there was a ‘stream’ of sorts underneath every Lob corp branch.

That means in every facility there’s just ghosts haunting the place. Everywhere. And people who died in those places even after Lob corp fell, (Aya, Yuri, the bug veterans) is also just ghosts there now???

Imagine Yuri just dying in that branch and is greeted by the ghosts of all her former co-workers and they’re just like oh cool you managed to get out but why tf did you come back or something.

But this is more interesting for the main facility, the main branch because of Enoch/ Tiphereth B and the light that happened. So Carmen and Ayin got sucked up into the light right? So what about all the other dead souls unable to go on because of the stream? Did they get sucked into the light as well? So is there just a hive mind of people up there we don’t know about? Especially for Enoch since he was a pretty big player in the script and everything. (Here’s where I shall just ramble about the little boy because I quite like the little man) If he got swooped up into the light as well what would his interaction with Carmen be like. I would think he’d just forgive her because he knew what he was getting into. But what about Ayin? Would he understand that this was for a better purpose or be angry at what he made the others (especially Lisa/ Tipherepth A) go through? And additionally would he be angry at Lisa? I pose this question because he wanted to have a purpose, a bigger reason to be living and would he view her letting him be killed (again) as something sad because he could never experience the end of the script and the result of his work/ his ‘purpose’ that he lived to create. Or would it be a little more messed up where he finds his purpose in the light, helping distort people/ gain EGO. (Mostly gain EGO as the preferable outcome, Carmen in Leviathan says something to that extent where’s it’s better for people to ignore her and develop EGO) (I think, I haven’t really read it, just watched random analyses using Leviathan for evidence) And if all the dead people in the main facility is in the light imagine what the actual hell they could do. Like that’s so many people in there.

Also if they are all in the light Tiphereph reunion isn’t impossible, but unlikely since Tiph A has gone through her character develop already :T but I want to see that. How Tiph B feels about what Tiph A did both with pushing Carmen further down depression and her decision to put him down for the sake that he didn’t have to suffer. And just how Tiph A would react to seeing/ hearing him in the light which she probably won’t think it’s a good thing he’d getting caught up with Carmen again : P

Also could the records team have something to do with this fact as well? Like does this explain how the dead are able to come back other than the time thing?

[thefirstknife]

I was going to ask how much of the Hive royal family/families we've killed, but it's probably a shorter list if I ask what named Hive royalty we haven't (yet) killed.

LMAO. Literally the only one we still have left is Xivu Arath.

Obviously, we killed Savathun but since she has the Light, she will return, so I don't know if that counts. Similarly, we killed Dul Incaru (Savathun's daughter) but since she's tied to the Dreaming City curse, she repeatedly comes back when the curse resets. Up to you if that counts.

For fun:

Oryx and his line: killed by Guardians - Oryx, his son Crota, his son Nokris (twice), his daughters Ir Anuk and Ir Halak, Crota's wife Omnigul, Crota's daughters Hashladun and Besurith killed by Osiris - Crota's daughters Voshyr and Kinox, including Voshyr's daughters Yishra and Ayriax and Kinox's son Ulg'Urin

Savathun and her line: Savathun (twice: first by Mara, second by Guardians but reborn in the Light so she can come back), daughter Dul Incaru (repeatedly), daughter Balwur and son Malok

Xivu Arath and her line: all of her known children: Xavan (daughter), Tir Balok (son), An Ragaar (son) and Scoroboth (son) (interestingly enough, the first three were all Taken)

Remaining: Xivu Arath. This actually puts her anger in perspective as we killed her entire family. Savathun, while still able to return, is now more or less aligned with us, in a way, through the Light.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Cry Wolf (m, cold)

Buckle up, y’all, it’s 5k words of ~pure drama~. Lmao, but for real this one is long, dramatic, and a little snz-light (apologies). Also, there isn’t a sneeze until like 2500 words in (oops). Greyson fakes a cold to try to get out of trouble with Elijah, and is instant-karma’d, as one would hope lol. It’s a little more flowery, there’s a lot of snarky dialogue and inner monologuing... idk. I like this one, even though it’s not super snz-heavy. I hope you guys do, too. Let me know what you think :) 

cw: male, cold, coughing, fever

Cry Wolf

“Not to be dramatic, but that sounds like literally the worst event on planet earth and I think I would rather be entirely consumed in flames than do it.”

Elijah turned around slowly in his chair and gave Greyson an incredulous look. “‘Not to be dramatic’? What would being dramatic sound like if not that?”

Greyson shrugged and reached around his boss to click out of the email displaying the event details. “Probably me saying, ‘If you make me do that event, I will cut off my own arms and legs and feed them to you’,” he said, sliding back into his own rolling chair. “But that seemed a bit much, even for me.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit much,” Elijah said, grabbing his mouse back and reopening the email. “Consumed in flames is so much more chill.”

“Agreed.”

Elijah snorted. “Grey, I’m sorry but this isn’t an event we can turn down. I know it’s a lot of work, but the press it gets is unparalleled.”

Greyson groaned and threw his head back theatrically. “Liiiiiij,” he moaned, “c’mon, dude. A ten-course dinner for a bunch of blowhard millionaires throwing pocket change at kids with cancer? Seriously? It sounds like my literal definition of hell. Plus, you know anytime I step into one of those stuffy, soulless banquet halls I break out in hives.”

“Genuinely, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, I have never met anyone as dramatic as you are. And I have a twelve-year-old niece, so that’s saying something,” Elijah said, placing a faux-caring hand on Greyson’s arm. The chef shook it off, annoyed, and Elijah laughed. “Grey, I get that the people who pay to go to these things are assholes, but it really is a good cause. Plus, the American Pediatric Cancer Society seriously has the crème de la crème of social media teams. They promote you for months before and after the event.”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Creme de la crème?” he asked. “Seriously?”

“Oh, fuck you, Chef.” Elijah said, shaking his head. “You’re doing the damn event. Get used to it.”

***

“Chef?”

Elijah looked around the corner, behind the line, and in the prep kitchen, but Greyson was nowhere to be found.

“Greyson!” Elijah called, pushing through the swinging doors to the dining room, and running directly into the chef, who was innocently making coffee in the server’s station.

“Yes…?” Greyson asked, putting a lid on his coffee and making his way past Elijah, back into the kitchen. The GM followed behind him, annoyed.

“Have you ordered anything for the dinner this Friday yet?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were closed Friday?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look of complete exasperation. “Yes, we’re closed, Grey, but you remember why we’re closed, right?”

“Uh…” Greyson said, eyes darting towards the calendar. “...winter break for the staff?”

Elijah pursed his lips and closed his eyes; he took a deep breath, pressed his hands together, and readdressed the chef in an entirely too-calm tone. “Greyson. No. Not winter break for the staff.”

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “You’re… out of town?”

“The cancer awareness dinner, Greyson, oh my fucking god,” Elijah slapped a hand on the desk beside them and Greyson cringed. “How could you forget this? The fuck is your problem? We’ve had it on the calendar for months.”

“Dude, I’m really sorry, it just slipped my mind! I’ll be ready, it’s only Monday, this shindig is in four days, I’ll order the stuff now,” Greyson said. He turned towards the desk and started rummaging through the mess of papers by his computer, before looking up at Elijah again, guiltily. “...did we send them a menu?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Greyson, yes we sent them a menu in September. Seriously, are you okay? How in the ever-living fuck could you forget such a huge event? I know you don’t want to do it, but fuck, Greyson, this is my restaurant and my reputation on the line!” Elijah couldn’t seem to ebb the anger now that it had started flowing. He slammed himself into his chair and pounded the computer keys until a PDF popped up – the menu they’d had approved three months earlier. Greyson visibly shrunk back.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I… now I remember. Shit, Lij, I’m so sorry, man.”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and pressed his fingers into his eyes before addressing the chef. “I’m asking in earnest this time,” he said, his voice small and controlled. “Are. You. Okay. Because you never forget shit like this.”

In hindsight, Greyson knew he shouldn’t have said it; he should’ve told Elijah that he’d put the dinner out of his head the moment he’d halfheartedly slapped together a menu and hoped that Elijah would do the same. He should’ve said that he’d hoped Matt would want to take it over, even though he knew Elijah would never let the sous chef take care of such a high-touch dinner. He should’ve said fucking aliens had abducted him and stolen that one piece of information from his mind, for fuck’s sake, anything other than what actually came out of his mouth.

“Actually, I uh… I haven’t been feeling great. Maybe I’m like, coming down with something?”

In what universe, a tiny voice in Greyson’s head whispered, is this a good idea?

Elijah’s face softened at the false admission. “Shit, Greyson, really? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong?”

Greyson felt the guilt pool in his stomach the moment Elijah’s voice turned to one of concern. Shit. “Uh, I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just like a, uh…sore throat and headache. Just not feeling 100% myself. I’ll be good, just, y’know… a little foggy. But I promise, I’ll order the stuff now and make sure I have cooks for this weekend, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to forget.” At least only half of that was a lie, Greyson thought to himself, grimacing. He and Elijah never lied to each other – as a rule.

Elijah sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, “and I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. Did you take something?” Greyson nodded, the guilt pool in his gut growing larger. “Okay,” Elijah said. “Just… I mean, let me know if it gets worse, okay? Take it easy today. I’ll close the books.”

Greyson nodded as his boss stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, a swallow that probably looked painful, and Elijah winced in sympathy. You fucking asshole, Greyson chastised himself. “I’m good, boss. Thanks, though.”

Elijah gave the chef a small smile and headed out to the dining room to talk to the host. Greyson let out a little ‘fuck’ and sat down to call purveyors. Why would he say that? If there was one thing Elijah was sympathetic of, it was illness. Greyson had essentially phoned in sympathy points because he didn’t want to be yelled at. What was he, a child?

Greyson tried to shake it off; maybe Elijah would forget the fake-sickness in lieu of the big event this weekend. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal at all. The chef put his head down and called the first purveyor, made an excel sheet, began preparing for the dinner he desperately did not want to do.

He was so wrapped up in preparations, he didn’t see Elijah sneak in to the office; didn’t see him stealthily switch out his coffee cup, or leave just as quick as he’d come in. He didn’t notice until he lifted the cup, took a big swig – and swallowed down a hard lump of guilt with the lemon tea Elijah had brought him. Oh, fuck, Greyson thought, placing his head in his hand. This is not going to end well.

***

The shift felt long.

“Get some rest, okay?” Elijah said to Greyson as the chef packed up his bag. “We need you at 100% for Friday.”

Greyson nodded, somber, and hiked his backpack onto his back. “You got it, boss,” he said; he’d been a man of very few words tonight, which didn’t help the long shift feel any shorter. “I’ll be all good tomorrow. Promise.”

Elijah gave his friend a small smile and nodded back. “See you in the morning,” he said, and Greyson gave a wave behind his head as he walked out the door. Once the chef was out of earshot, Elijah sighed.

He wouldn’t deny the fact that he was worried. Greyson was the king of pushing through illness, but he had a tendency to push himself too hard too quickly, and end up absolutely destroyed a few days into whatever ailment he was fighting. Elijah wanted to make sure that didn’t happen this time; all day, he’d tried to keep Greyson seated if possible, to keep him hydrated, to bring him lozenges and Dayquil and make him ingest them. Care-taking was far from his strong suit, but today he’d really tried; not only to keep Greyson from careening into a worse illness, but to make up for the fact that he’d yelled at him. That had been uncalled for, and he felt like an ass.

An hour or so after the kitchen staff had departed, the final server closed out her check and brought Elijah her paperwork. He finished filling everything out, filed the daily report, and shut off the harsh kitchen light. As he waved the last server goodbye, he found himself thinking, I need a drink. It wasn’t something he did often, but occasionally he’d stop by the club three doors down for a beer and the possibility of spending the night with a real person instead of a glass of whiskey and late-night talk shows. Tonight, when he didn’t have the option of grabbing a burger with Greyson – his only real friend, if he was being honest – at the dive bar, felt like a perfect night to scout for some booze and a warm body to fall asleep next to.

Elijah pulled his jacket on, locked the back door of the restaurant, and set out for the club. The air was frigid this evening; he huddled further into his jacket and upped his pace, reaching the front door of Zed in record-time. He was practically salivating at the thought of a neat whiskey as he yanked open the heavy door – fuck the beer. Let’s get right to the good stuff.

The club was full, but not packed, and Elijah managed to get a seat at the bar – rare here, especially since the club’s bar was tiny by design. They wanted you on the dance floor, mingling, sweating, working up a thirst for another, and another, and -

“Can I get another double Maker’s?” Elijah’s ears perked up at the sound of someone ordering over his head; if there was one voice he knew for certain, it was that one. The GM turned slowly around and to his left – oh, you mother fucker.

“Greyson?” Elijah called over the thump of electronic music. From about a yard away, Greyson’s  head snapped around, searching for the voice that said his name. When he and Elijah locked eyes, Elijah noticed he was sweating and panting – and certainly not from any feigned fever.

“Oh… fuck,” Greyson said, obviously too drunk to realize how loud he was being. “Oh, shit. Fuck. Lij, I -”

Elijah shook his head. “I see you’re… feeling better,” he called over the heads of the people seated next to him. “Asshole.”

Greyson couldn’t seem to form words after that, and the bartender interrupted him anyway by placing a full glass of whiskey on the bartop. “Name on the card?” the bartender asked. Before Greyson could answer, Elijah called out to the bartender.

“Put it on me,” he said, and the bartender nodded before moving to help another guest. Greyson stood, seemingly stuck in place, before taking a tentative step towards his boss. Elijah put a hand up, as though to say stop right there. “No need to thank me, chef,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Enjoy your… medicine.”

Elijah slapped a fifty on the bartop in front of him. He drained his whiskey, slammed down the glass, and breezed past Greyson, his face flaming with embarrassment. What an ass he was, not realizing he’d been played. What a complete moron.

“Elijah, wait -” he heard Greyson call behind him – but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Without looking back, Elijah pushed open the door and immediately hailed a cab outside. When Greyson finally made it past the throngs of people and into the street, Elijah was long gone.

***

To say the next few days were awkward would be the understatement of the century.

The morning after the club, Greyson had barreled into the office, spewing apology after apology before Elijah could even say hello. The GM had accepted, albeit coldly, and hadn’t mentioned it for the remainder of the day. He hadn’t mentioned much of anything, truly, and when the shift ended Elijah walked out without saying goodbye, leaving Mark to close the restaurant down.

“What did you do?” Mark had asked Greyson when their boss had departed. Greyson just shook his head.

“I fucked up,” he said. Mark snorted.

“Clearly.”

The next day had continued in the same fashion; Elijah giving Greyson the cold shoulder, Greyson attempting to apologize in every way he could think of. They barely spoke Thursday, as well – and by then, Greyson was starting to worry that they’d never speak again.

“He’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Mark promised when Elijah walked out for the third night in a row without saying goodbye. “He can only hold a grudge for seventy-two hours, max.”

Greyson wasn’t so sure. He’d never seen Elijah this mad before, not even when Greyson had fucked up and only bought two tenderloins for a party that requested nothing but steak in his first month of working together. Plus, Greyson was dealing with a bit of a sticky situation – a situation that he was sure would make Elijah ten times angrier at him. A situation that literally could not have arisen at a worse time.

“Hhh...hhNGTSH-zue! HTSHH-ue! NGTZSHUE!”

“Bless,” Mark said, distractedly, his eyes trained on the computer monitor in front of him. “You feeling okay?”

He wasn’t. He’d woken up that morning with his throat sticky, and his head pounding. Instant karma, he’d thought as he chugged tea in place of his usual coffee. When he remembered the tea Elijah made for him a few days before – a gentle kindness, a peace offering, a showing of care for someone who’d blatantly lied to his face – his stomach soured. Greyson had dumped the tea down the drain and forced himself to chug an energy drink instead; the bubbles made him cough until his ribs were sore.

“I’m good,” Greyson said, stealthily managing to keep the congestion out of his voice. “Allergies.”

Mark turned to the chef, an eyebrow raised. “It’s December,” he said.

“Right,” Greyson answered, though it wasn’t an answer at all. “Yeah, it is.”

The event was tomorrow; Elijah had spoken to Greyson long enough to remind him that they needed to be in the van by three PM for a six PM call time at the banquet hall. Greyson had said he knew, had said he’d be in at ten to get everything finished and packed and make sure Matt was well-versed on their menu, as he was the second set of hands Greyson would need to plate up. Elijah had nodded, obviously done with the conversation, and that had been that.

“Alright, Chef, I’m out of here,” Mark said, snapping Greyson back to reality. “You need anything before I go?”

Greyson shook his head. “Thangks, Mark,” he said, internally cursing the congestion that had wormed its way into his voice. Mark pursed his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get some sleep, Chef.”

A parroting of Elijah’s sentiment at the beginning of the week; a mockery. One that Greyson most certainly deserved.

***

When Elijah got in the morning of the event, Greyson was already in the prep kitchen tightly wrapping his food for the evening and briefing Matt on the menu. The GM sighed; it was finally time.

“Chef,” Elijah said, knocking politely on the wall. Matt and Greyson looked up, surprised, and gave their boss matching smiles.

“Morning, boss,” Greyson said, his voice low. Something seemed… off, but Elijah couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just wanted to say, I accept your apology,” Elijah said. “Thanks for letting me sulk the past few days.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Thanks, boss,” he said, simply. “I appreciate it. Sorry againd.”

Elijah nodded back and made his way towards the dining room to begin packing up dishware for the dinner. Something was weird about Greyson today; he’d really expected a bit more fanfare when he’d announced his acceptance. A bit more gushing, maybe a signature Greyson pick-you-up-off-the-ground hug – but he got none of it. If anything, Greyson seemed more reserved than Elijah had been in the days leading up to the dinner. Maybe he was angry that Elijah had held the grudge for so long – though that didn’t seem like Greyson in the slightest.

He decided to drop it; most likely, he was putting weight on a situation that required none. Elijah finished packing the dishes into milk crates, and headed back into the kitchen to ask Greyson and Matt for help loading them in the van.

“Grey?” Elijah called into the kitchen. “Matt? Can you guys come give me a ha -”

“HNGTSSHHH-ue! HTSHZUE! NGTSH! Huh-! Huhh...HUHESTZHUE!”

He wasn’t cut off, because Greyson clearly hadn’t heard him speaking before unleashing a seemingly-unending volley of sneezes. Elijah’s heart first sunk deep into the pit that was his stomach – and then his face flamed with an anger he hadn’t expected.

“Oh, you’re shitting me,” he muttered, stomping his way into the back kitchen. “You are absolutely fucking kidding.”

Greyson, who was posted up at the sink blowing his nose, nearly jumped when he saw Elijah storm into the prep kitchen. “Christ,” he said, trying to nonchalantly throw the paper towel he was holding away, “give a guy a heart attack.”

“Is this some kind of joke to you, Greyson?” Elijah asked, crossing his arms. Greyson sniffled, rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for Elijah to continue his diatribe.

“Is… what a joke?” Greyson asked when he realized he wasn’t getting any more context clues from his boss. Elijah huffed out an angry laugh.

“You’re trying to fuck with me. Right? You’re trying to make me look like an ass, see if I’ll once again feed into your weird little game.” Elijah was practically snorting with anger; he couldn’t help it. Fool me once, and all that.

“Lij,” Greyson said, holding his hands up as though to surrender, “I… I don’t kndow what you’re talking about.” Elijah laughed – a mean, ringing sound.

“I get it; you’re making a point. You don’t want to do this event and you never have. Well, Greyson, it’s too fucking late now, so just stop. I’m not in the mood for whatever fucking ruse you and your little minion have up your sleeves. So get rid of whatever it is you’re using to make yourself sneeze – we get it, ha ha, Elijah’s a moron, so goddamn funny – and cut it out. In fact, hand it over. Clearly you’re too much of a fucking child to know when enough is enough.” Elijah held out his hand, waiting on Greyson or Matt to fess up and slap a pepper mill or something into his hand, but neither of them stirred. After an awkward moment of the three of them standing, all waiting for something to happen, Matt cleared his throat.

“Um…” he said, “I… I don’t know what’s going on here, but we don’t, like… have anything.”

Elijah threw the sous chef a dirty look, then looked back to Greyson. “You’ve got him trained well,” he said, not giving it up. Greyson opened his mouth to say something, but his face collapsed before the words could make it to his mouth. He crumpled to the side and used an elbow to cover his mouth.

“HRRTSHH-uh! Huh...huhhNGTSHH-ue! ITZSCHUE! Huh! Hhh…” Greyson didn’t allow himself the luxury of waiting on the last sneeze to make its appearance; instead, he pinched his nose to ebb the fit and coughed into his palm – a hacking, congested sound. Elijah’s anger dried as quickly as rain in the Sahara desert – oh, fuck.

“Oh… fuck,” Elijah muttered as Greyson grabbed another handful of paper towels to blow his nose into. “You’re… you’re not actually sick, are you?”

Matt started to answer for him, but Greyson cut his sous off. “Ndo,” he said, curtly. “Allergies or sombething. Ndot tryigg to fuck with you. Sorry, Lij.” He finished with another painful-sounding cough, while behind him Matt shook his head, eyes wide; a silent miming of he’s sick as a dog.

Before Elijah could say anything else, Greyson tossed the paper towels and headed out towards the dining room. “Were you sayigg you ndeed help with plates?” he asked, wiping a hand under his nose and swallowing painfully. Elijah, unsure of how to handle this situation, simply deflated, a balloon in the harsh summer sun.

“Um. Yes,” he said, following behind Greyson. “Yeah, I… help would be great.”

Greyson nodded, turned, and headed to grab the plates. Elijah held back, and turned to Matt.

“He actually has a cold now, doesn’t he?” he asked, though it was soft enough to not know if it was to Matt or himself. Matt shook his head.

“No,” he said, giving Elijah a disapproving look. “It’s definitely not a cold.”

With that, the sous followed behind his boss, side chosen – leaving Elijah standing stalwart in the back of the kitchen. This, he thought to himself, is not going to end well.

***

If he was being honest, Greyson wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this dinner.

At the beginning of the day, he’d been fairly sure he could hold it together; sure, his throat was on fire, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Yes, he was stuffed up to the gills and every little movement triggered another sneeze fit. But he hadn’t had a fever, and he’d been plying himself with cold meds, so everything had been fine.

...that is, until the Elijah-explosion.

Things had gone downhill quickly after Elijah’s screaming fit. Greyson started attempting to hold back all of his sneezes and coughs, resulting in a headache that made his eyes feel like two swollen golf balls lodged inside a too-small head. He’d stopped pounding ibuprofen, cough syrup, and dayquil after Elijah’s freak-out, too; didn’t want to seem like he was egging his boss on. Now that they had arrived at the event, he had a new problem: it was incredibly difficult to medicate in a banquet hall filled with stuffy, old assholes.

“Mbatt, is that everythi – NGTSH! TSH! HTSH! Huh - ! HRSSH-uhh!” Greyson tried desperately to hold back yet another string of sneezes, to no avail. Whatever shit he’d picked up was persistent; persistent and fucking annoying.

“Yes, Chef,” Matt said, giving his boss a pointed look. Greyson meant to return the look, but instead sunk down below their prep station to cough into his sleeve. From the ground, he heard Matt sigh – then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bottle of cough syrup in his sous’ hand. Without thinking, Greyson snatched it and chugged.

“Chef,” Matt said, quietly, “we’re all set here. Just waiting on people to arrive – why don’t you go have a cigarette or something?”

The last thing Greyson wanted with this bitch of a cough was a cigarette, but he nodded anyway; he knew Matt. He knew what he meant was go outside and collect yourself, you’re in for a long night.

“Thanks,” Greyson muttered, standing. “I’ll be back ind ten.”

“Take your time,” Matt insisted.

Greyson stumbled out of the building, clutching his chef’s coat close to his body; he’d left his jacket in the car, but he desperately needed some air. Fortunately or unfortunately, he’d already caught his death; no need to worry about the cold infecting him further.

Whether it was luck or just the fact that it was too cold for anyone else to dare venture outside, he couldn’t be sure, but either way he was glad to see that no one else was in the courtyard when he pushed through the heavy banquet doors. Greyson sat heavily on a bench arms wrapped around his middle, and took a few deep breaths. On second thought, he found himself thinking, maybe a cigarette does sound nice.

The chef pulled his pack and lighter out of his jeans and brought the cigarette to his mouth with a shaking hand. It took a few clicks to light it; once it was finally lit, he only got one good pull before he heard the door open noisily behind him.

“Are you seriously smoking?”

Elijah.

Greyson turned around, sluggish, and gave his boss a coy you-caught-me smile. “Addiction’s a hell of a thigg,” he said, turning to cough once again. “You wandt one?”

Elijah sighed, clearly thinking twice, but ultimately nodded and sat next to Greyson. The chef handed him the pack and the lighter.

“If you wandt it today, trust mbe you don’t wandt mbe lighting it,” Greyson joked, holding up a shaking hand as proof. Elijah bit his cheek, then slid out of his heavy outer coat and placed it over Greyson’s shoulders. Greyson went to protest, but Elijah held up his hand.

“You need it,” he said, taking the lighter and producing a flame immediately. “Just as much as you don’t need that,” he pointed to the stick between his friend’s fingers, but didn’t go to grab it.

“Yeah,” Greyson said, “you’re probably right.”

They sat in an awkward silence after that, punctuated only by Greyson’s coughs and sniffles; a game of chicken neither of them seemed keen on losing. Finally, Elijah finished his cigarette and stomped it out beneath his foot. He stood, and turned to regard Greyson.

“Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand. Greyson gave his boss a look, then took his hand and allowed the other man to pull him to his feet.

“Dond’t mbention it,” Greyson said, sniffling. He tried to hold the eye contact Elijah was giving him, but his nose seemed to have other plans. “Huh! HuhhhETSHHZUE!” Greyson sneezed, hard, into the sleeve of Elijah’s coat, then groaned when he realized what he’d done.

“Bless,” Elijah said, apparently unfazed by the coat’s untimely demise. Greyson nodded, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and sniffled. “Grey, I’m -”

“Please dond’t say it,” Greyson said, holding a hand up. “Please. I’mb the boy who cried wolf, y’kndow? Instant karma. I did this to mbyself.” He rubbed a tired eye, attempted a light cough, then dissolved into a full-on coughing fit.

“Christ, Greyson,” Elijah said, patting the chef on the back. “That sounds fucking awful.”

“Weird,” Greyson said once he’d composed himself. “Because it honestly feel ambazigg.”

“Seriously?”

“Ndo. Ndo, I feel like I’mb going to keel over at any second.”

Elijah couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. Greyson laughed, too; tension broken. They caught each other’s eyes, and burst out laughing once again; friends once more.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Elijah said. “And I’m sorry about this event. You’re right; these people suck ass.”

“Mbost people do,” Greyson said, chuckling. “I’mb sorry for being such a dick about this dinner, though. And forgetting. And pretending to be sick.”

“And then actually getting sick,” Elijah finished for him. Greyson smiled.

“And that,” he said. Elijah shrugged, gave a short little laugh.

“Very typical ‘us’,” he said, looking through the window into the banquet hall. Greyson nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing. “You ready to get this shit over with?”

Elijah smiled. “Yes, Chef,” he said. Greyson laughed, which dissolved once more into a crackly cough. “Then let’s get you to bed.”

Greyson nodded, a hand pressed into one of his aching eyes. “Boss,” he said, “You read mby mbind.”

The two men headed back inside and took their places. It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d do an event with one of them on the brink of death, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last; that was the way of this industry. Greyson sucked down some more cold medicine, Elijah fixed the table settings, and Matt gleaned that all had somehow been forgiven and visibly relaxed. Just another night. The show must go on.

[flowers-of-io]

Someone had sent me an ask back in July about how Luzaku's name is a combination of two Assyrian words, lu ("be it" ≈ "may this one be") and zakû ("to become clean, clear, light"). And first off tumbr didn't notify me about a new message so I completely missed it, AND now that I wanted to respond, I saved it in drafts partially-answered and went to check something in the dictionary. And when I come back the ask is gone lol. Nowhere to be found. Why Is This Site Like This.

But!! Anon, if you see this, I'm terribly sorry I didn't respond sooner, and thank you for the message, I had no idea!!! It's so cool!!! I checked Euloch and Azshrūnah (The Blooming Deep lost sector boss) in the Akkadian, Sumerian and Assyrian dictionaries as well, but I didn't find anything. However, TFS added so many new Hive names I have yet to dig through all of them lmao.

(If tumbr decides to return the og ask to me, I will post it too! Once again sorry, amd thank you.)

[remotus11]

Shit ton of FoE OCs that I don't have refs for

(or i have but they're fugly lol)

Long post under cut

Hawk

Not his real name, hawk is ashamed of his actual name an cutiemark so hides them.

Been there, done that, done her, done him, done all of em))

Forgot to add that he's short as fuck. This is weight reduction for better flight trust me bro

Bro fucks everything that moves. Element of Disloyalty

He got few funny outfits

Fading Light

The failed "Protagonist tm"

Tried to become a princess like Twi by creating Elements of Disharmony but womp womp

Went insane with revenge after failing her "Protagonist tm " goals, fused with her dark creepy def cursed magic amulet and became Rising Dark (sth like Nightmare Moon)

Rosalia and Wolfheart

"Wolf" is read like in german with "o" sound instead of "oo"

Mafia boss and her bodyguard husband :3

Rosalia has a dress and a rose for every occasion

Muzzle Flash and Barrel Blaze

Famous gunslingers in the past, were called The Bullet Brothers

Muzzle Flash wears his brothers bandana after his death

Barrel is Thunder Blast's shitty alcoholic father. Well was until Thunder fried this head into the ground. Best son in the world :)

Muzzle is Thunders uncle, not the best moral example but at least he didn't drink. He's like 75 now, retired from mercs and owns a gun shop

Polly Pint and Molly Mint

Twin sisters. Polly was a barpony and Molly was a farmer

Polly was good friends with Muzzle and Barrel and sometimes babysat Thunder. Unsuccessfully tried to seduce Muzzle Flash cos her boring husband died and she was bored lol. But his aro/ace ass wouldn't give in

Both sisters had died of old age

King Carmine

Self-proclaimed Changeling king with basically no hive yet

Worked as a prostitute at the Blue-winged Filly brothel (blue-winged grasshopper (Oedipoda caerulescens) is called голубокрылая кобылка(filly) in russian also has similar name in ukrainian, but this world play and brothels grasshopper theme doesn't really work in english idk) under two alter egos Caramel Carmine and her male counterpart Carmine Caramel to feed of scraps of lust in this evil loveless world *dramatic faint*

Kinda reformed after he found out he can love (but in abusive and obsessive way)

Before reformation

Has been born way before The War, served Chrysalis as a soldier, been there at the Canterlot Wedding( i don't care about FoEs actual canon ok all the shit happened after season 4!!!!!). When the War happened fell into hibernation, woke up the present day with no conection to the Hive.

I could make him an Element of Greed but idk honesty

No name yet idk lol (feel free to propose some names if you want)

Element of Unhappiness

Sprite was made in Pony town cause Ashes town had no good mane options

No cutiemark is intentional she's an adult but haven't done anything meaning in her life besides sitting in the Stable 49 and being depressed

Beefy Butchers

You can certainly trust her with a knife yes definitely give her a knife nothing bad would happen she's totaly a sane person :)

Порохобот ( полное имя Жигуль Порошенкович Прайм)

There's no translation to that shit lmao sorry not sorry

Broken and lost military robot that Hawk was tasked to retrieve, before saying "fuck it i'm leaving" to another military organization for a 1000th time lol

Kebab lol

Feral kirin ghoul. His nirik form burns with balefire

"kebab has rotten"

"ow fuck kebab is buuuuurning"

That's it lol for now...

[half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk]

Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 17 😁

we're getting extremely close now yalls 😳 so I'm going to either shorten my posts or post them a lot closer together ... like I've reserved tomorrow to do nothing but watch tbb 🤫

either way I hope you enjoy 💕

The Bad Batch 1x13

"it's not the first time she has left out key details" ~ Tech @ Cid yeah bud and it won't be the last 👀

pykes 🤢

Omega recognising Ruby the lil lizard thing

Hunter's plan to leave Ord Mantell and do their own thing WE WERE ON THE VERGE OF GREATNESS 😫 WE WERE THIS 🤏 CLOSE

and Cid's just waiting for them on their ship 😡

"I believe she's threatening us" YES SHE IS JUST SHOOT HER ALREADY

poor confused Omega my bby she's using you 🥲

Wrecker wearing his helmet as a hat again 🥺

Cid: "you guys are good at stealth right?" lmao who's gonna tell her

Cid just pulled a Joel Miller with the "we're silent, not quiet, silent" hehe

Wrecker: "we're not afraid of a few bugs" oop-

okay so did Omega name the lizard thing Ruby or is that actually her name?? bc Omega calls it Ruby and after that Roland calls it that too, so is he just copying her or did Omega like force-sense it's name? like how Ahsoka can talk to Grogu?? 🤔

Echo: "ugh and I thought Wrecker was a slob" pls- 💀 stinky boys

bad guys who baby talk to their pets and blow kisses and cuddle them

HOLD UP 👀 Hunter just slammed on the brakes, hijacked the other cart and jumped back off in time for it to move away 👌👌👌

how many times did I watch Hunter jump in the cart? yes

"at least we got rid of the spice right?" ~ Trace Omega + a bonus Tech looking into the camera like he's on the office 👀

I'd trust Bolo and Ketch more than Cid lolol

lmao Cid really thought she did something 💀

they literally all move at lightning speed to get their blasters out when the pyke says he'll keep Omega 👌 then they: 😡😡😡😡

if I was tbb I'd leave Cid at the bottom of the cavern, take the spice to the pykes and leave the planet

they're in the upside down fr

CAN PEOPLE STOP PUTTING OUR BABY IN HANDCUFFS !!!

but she makes friends with everyone 🥺

Roland: *being a spoiled rich kid* Omega: 'do you do crime'

CID YOU NUTBRAINED GECKO IF YOU WEREN'T SO BUSY TELLING WRECKER WHAT TO DO MAYBE YOU WOULDN'T HAVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY WOKEN THE ENTIRE HIVE-

Tech just yeets the light grenade and yells "incoming" I love him sm 🥰

it reminds me of Boba's seismic charge 💕

Hunter's hand on Omega's back when she stands with him and him reaching for her when she steps to Roland 🥺

Omega covering her face when she thinks they're gonna kill Roland 😭

the way I thought Roland was Vizago from rebels when I first saw them cut his horn 💀

Cid says "first rounds on me" and Tech and Echo smile at eachother 🥰

as always thanks for joining my friendsss ilysm 💕