#and the textures are Very dissimilar

[visceraspit]

i used to be like " why are the sims houses so mismatched these homes look so bad" but then i started looking at zillow and by god they're charging Above market value for this shit look at this garbage

and just for fun: what is this.

what. the fuck is this.

i dont even know where this is in its respective house i shit you not i have NO idea

[michaelenthusiast]

SON OF A BITCH!!!!!

[ms-demeanor]

Hey also you know that post about getting better at cooking and handling meat and stuff?

Meat is really expensive and it goes bad pretty quickly.

If you're a new cook and you're trying to figure out how to pan-fry something so that it tastes good, might I recommend tofu?

I'm not saying "treat tofu like meat and try to replace all your favorite meat dishes with tofu" (though, I mean, if that sounds good - go for it), I'm saying "it's a lot easier to practice heating a pan and flipping objects in a pan for a meal and seasoning objects in a pan when the objects in the pan cost two dollars instead of ten dollars."

Tofu lasts a lot longer in the fridge than meat does, is easy to season, and you can easily learn how to pan-fry it into a tasty snack (or main course) and only requires a little extra prep. You can also pretend that the tofu is raw meat (the texture isn't dissimilar) and start practicing for things like how to take it out of a package or cut it on a sanitizable surface, etc.

My favorite way to cook tofu is to press extra firm tofu for at least half an hour (you can get a cheap tofu press for around ten dollars, or you can put it between two plates with some books on the top plate - this is that extra prep i was talking about - tofu cooks best if you press the excess water out), then slice a 14oz cake of it into 8 slices. I lay these flat and sprinkle cayenne pepper, mushroom powder, and smoked paprika on all of the slices, then I rub it in and flip the slices and season the other side the same way. I cook it in a frying pan with a thin layer of avocado or olive oil over medium heat, flipping every two minutes until the flat sides start to crisp up a little. Just before the last flip I add about a tablespoon of tamari sauce (you can use soy sauce, I've just got allergies) to the pan, sprinkling it over the tofu so that both sides get a little bit of sauce on them.

I have that with steamed vegetables and with jasmine rice (with two teaspoons of rice wine vinegar per 3 cups of dry rice and 4.5 cups of water). I also make a honey-siracha-mayo sauce that I dip the tofu in.

It's really good. And now I end up eating leftover rice and sauce with fried eggs for lunch at least two days a week and that's also really good.

This has become one of my go-to low spoon foods because it's so easy to make, it's filling, it tastes good to me, and it has become extremely easy for me to keep a stock of tofu in the fridge compared to the effort of keeping un-expired meat in the fridge.

I find that a 14oz pack of tofu feeds two adults for one meal, though I can stretch that to three meals if I'm the only one eating.

It makes a very cheap, filling, easy dinner that I can keep the ingredients around for without too much concern for food waste or anything going bad (the tofu that I get lasts about a month in the fridge and these days I just buy three packs every time I'm at aldi and cycle in new stock - it costs $1.50 per pack)

If you're interested in becoming a better cook, rather than worrying about actual high-risk products like raw chicken that can be seriously dangerous and also cost a fair amount, tofu has a pretty low barrier to entry while also being a good way to learn on a new ingredient that has some similar properties to raw meat.

[zooliminology]

do pelets feel like fiber glass?

Pelets have a texture not dissimilar to obsidian on their main bodies, while their tails are coarse and can be most accurately compared to flexible glass strands. Despite this texture, pelets are very durable.

[cannonball-37]

I just had a theory about the larger shadow that disfigures when Bendy tried to make it into a human shape being related to the lost ones in Bendy and The Ink Machine and now I can’t look at it any other way.

It could even explain why they have emotions when other demon’s shadows don’t because there is definitely some kind of connection with Bendy and the actual ink machine in The Inky Mystery.

On the Bendy wiki it describes the lost ones like this:

‘The Lost Ones have a similar appearance to humans, only deformed, skeletal, and slimy. They are composed completely out of ink, with skin texture similar to black tar’

This could a reference to how the shadow disfigures and is made of shadows in The Ink Mystery. Additionally:

‘Their original personalities remain almost untouched, but they appear to be suffering in a state of despair; most will stand in complete stillness, some either hunched over and crying or, in one case seen in some occasions, banging their head against the wall in a suicidal manner. If provoked, the Lost Ones act as a threat towards anyone they deem dangerous’

This could explain the feeling of dread Bendy felt and the way the shadow acts a few moments later when it tries to attack him and Allison.

However it could also be a reference to the searchers in Bendy and The Ink Machine because of this:

I mean look at them:

There are a few dissimilar things between the two like only having three fingers and the arms being the same length but it’s also show in BATIM that the searchers and the lost ones have a lot of variation in their appearances so that’s not enough to discredit this theory.

If you listen to the sound the searchers make it’s very similar to what is described in the scene

And the way that the shadow attacks is similar to how the searchers attack in BATIM (with their arms).

(Sorry if it’s hard to see it’s was difficult finding videos of them actually attacking.)

Also! This could explain why Baby (the smaller shadow) is so helpful to Bendy because some Lost Ones are friendly (as described by the wiki):

‘there have been a few notable exceptions such as Porter and Heidi who aren't aggressive towards Audrey Drew and actually help her out.’

I came up with theory this like 10 minutes ago and I’m already in love with it

[katsurinssims]

Katsu's alternative Afterglow Palette

as I mentioned in my last post, I made a lil alternative hair colour palette. Before I got into Afterglow, I really wanted to try out @0201-sims VK actions, as I love the idea of a visual kei inspired hair colour pallete. But I got into afterglow, so forgot about it for a while! Then when I was ill and making a bunch of sims and downloading a bunch of CC recently, I thought that I wished I had a secondary family of naturals to chose from, as when I was using Pooklet's colours I used 2, one being what my DRs were in, and the other being just another option. So I tried out the VK actions, but wasn't 100% happy with how some of them looked on Afterglow textures. Afterglow has a subtle, silky shine (which is what converted me, aha) that can easily become flat looking with certain colour actions applied- so I trialed some other colours I like and this is what I came up with!

The colours and why I chose them:

It's a mix of Cassis' VK actions and @digisims2 Ephemera Inspired Color actions. Cassis' Aliene is a much cooler (as in cooler tone) and slightly more unnatural, alternative looking black than Poppet's, which fits well with the Vkei theme. I knew I wanted cooler, but the green undertones are really striking! Basier is used as the red rather than the brown, its the main one I wanted as it reminded me of when I was a teenager and took a picture of Hizaki to the hairdresser as a reference photo. I suppose you could call it a strawberry-esque colour, its very fun. For blond and brown I picked out a couple of Digi's Ephemera colours that were dissimilar from the colours already included in afterglow naturals, and Digi's always been an inspiration for me in my CC making journey, as well as Ephemera, so it seemed only fitting. The main idea I wanted to get accross with the main 4 colours is hair that has clearly been dyed, but in natural types of colours, maybe for alternative types of sims, aha. For the grey I knew I wanted something richer and warmer, so went with @blackswan-sims Pipe Bomb x Finade mix, which I have had saved by for a while because it intrigued me so much! Finally I'm adding just one unnatural because I missed having a bright pink option, and this was the hardest to pick out. I went through a lot of options before landing on ol' reliable @pooklet, in Pentolite. It's warm but not too red, and doesn't blast out all the subtle detail. So yea, the main purpose of this alternative selection is to suit my game with a lot of late 90s FRUiTS and other Japanese street style inspired fashion ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

That may be too much information/explaination on my choices there, I'm mainly just excited to show you all these colours!

As much as I just picked these out because I liked and wanted to use them, anyone else is welcome to try this alt palette; but I don't expect others to like or use them, or for them to be a norm amongst afterglow creators. Besides these being maybe a bit of an odd choice- having one family of naturals makes CC creation easier, cuts down on the size of your downloads folder, and keeps your bodyshop neat! Nothing wrong with that, I'm just someone who's a lil over the top with these types of things I suppose, aha.

If you do want to use them, I'm uploading them as a set of actions for PS:

Download my Afterglow Alternative Palette actions

I didn't alter the original creators actions at all, just bundled them together- which means they may not work on all versions of Photoshop. I've included individual swatches in the file with the creators names so they can be found easily!

Intended to be run over Afterglow but would work on any volatile base. Check @the-afterglow-archive for more Afterglow ₊˚⊹♡

I'll be posting anything I make with these colours to this tag!

[sirtaliesin]

9 for jason and etrigan?

Number 9 from this prompt list.

9. Shoulder kisses

The furs piled in front of the fireplace are familiar. Layers of texture cast out over velvet and down, framing the golden scales of a pleased demon lounging in the fire’s glow. Etrigan lays on his belly, idly watching the earthly flames in their stone bed. Tame, gentle in a way hell is not, and offering a mingling sensation of comfort. The soft mattress under the thick bear skin doesn’t smell of sweet straw, but it’s a tiny difference. One easily outstripped by the fragrant heat of the fire.

Not that Jason really needs the woodfire with Etrigan so close. Or the layers of fur and wool, but the room is cold and they’re just as welcome. With the fire before him to warm the room, the old familiar textures of fur and wool and silk velvet, and the living furnace drowsing at his back.

Etrigan stretches out over the thick cushion of the bear pelt. It isn’t the same one he’d left for Jason centuries ago, that’s long gone in time, but it is close. A slightly smaller animal, with an interesting notch in the pelt near the neck that might have been from another bear’s claws. It still covers the mattress and provides a pleasing contrast. He still thinks furs suit Jason better than silk or cotton, but those smoother textures have their place against delicate skin.

Jason rests comfortably against the demon’s side. Back to Etrigan’s waist, with pleasant heat keeping the chill of the room from his own bare skin. Content with the soft wool piled over his legs and soft velvet under his elbow. A blanket lined with soft rabbit fur slides under his fingers, adjusted about his waist as he turns. Twisting his torso just enough to lean on his own folded arms, resting on Etrigan’s back. The demon rumbles under him, an idle noise with no meaning, and something like contentment brushes against Jason’s mind. Jason twists a little further, half laying on his side, and stretches out an arm. Tracing curious patterns over seldom exposed scales and old scars.

The scars are fewer than he would have expected, given Etrigan’s propensity for violence and delight in it. In time, he suspects they’ll vanish entirely into that gleaming granite-tough hide. Maybe a faint sheen would remain, like a seam in fine gilt. The thought tracks idly, tugging at his fingers to search for any such hidden mark. Some long-healed nick or gouge that had worn smooth like granite beneath the rain.

Nothing raises under his fingers. Still, he marvels at the contrast of that tough skin against his own. It does glitter in places at the right angle. Like dragon hide or fine ceremonial mail. Under his fingers, he still expects it to be rough as hewn stone. It’s no rougher than his own callused hands for the most part. Less yielding than human flesh, less fragile, harder to pierce or bruise, but not really much rougher. It is so very much warmer though.

Jason hums to himself, tracing up over muscles not so dissimilar in arrangement from his own. Fingers following the dip and curve of a spine that leads into broad, hunched shoulders. Another thought crosses his mind in that lazy, meandering consideration. How much of what he was doing could Etrigan even feel? He must be aware of most of it at least. What with how that low, content sound that reverberates in the demon’s chest.

Jason pulls his hand back and then sits up. Pulling away from the comfortable heat only a little reluctantly. A question without words brushes against his mind in drowsy curiosity, and that’s far more endearing than it ought to be. Jason shifts, pulling his knees up under himself, and placates that little sensation in his thoughts with a hand between the demon’s shoulders. He isn’t going anywhere. Not really.

Etrigan still turns his head to look. To see what it is Jason’s up to. All those idle, curious touches had been strangely pleasant. Gentle wasn’t an experience Etrigan often received, nor one he sought out really. It wasn’t disagreeable. Certainly not with the present context. A small display of trust. Reaffirming years of it that Jason still sometimes feared were misplaced.

He can see Jason sitting up on his knees, backlit by fire, considering with a furrowed brow. The hand between his shoulders flexes slightly, fingertips pressing, testing. Then, the weight of it shifts. Pressing down, palm flat, and Jason doesn’t weigh nearly enough to cause him any discomfort, let alone any harm. Isn’t trying to when he leans up, bracing his weight more on his other arm, his other hand flat against the fur draped mattress.

Jason leans over the prone form of his demon without a word, pressing slightly chapped lips to warm scaled skin and humming to himself. He does it again. A smile forming as he repeats the action twice more. Brushing soft, lingering kisses against hunched shoulders. Memorizing the difference of how those scaly plates are somewhere between warm leather and very nearly human under his lips.

Etrigan huffs in amusement, lurching up from the mattress just enough to catch Jason and pull him down. Tucking the man against his chest with a content growl. Jason squirms in his grip, looking back over his shoulder as best his can.

“Such sweet devotion to savour.” Etrigan sighs.

There’s no mockery in the tone, and that is somewhat a surprise. Jason settles a little easier, still fidgeting to arrange the pillows more comfortably. Stilling only when he’s managed to shift the one trapped under his hip out to the edge of the mattress. Caught fast in the firelight with a heavy arm curled about his waist.

“T’would be a shame to waste this favour.”

Jason frowns at the odd choice of verse only a moment before its meaning is clarified. Dry lips press against his shoulder, and hot breath tickles against his ear. He can feel Etrigan’s smile against his skin. A memory of his own smile presses against his thoughts. An echo of sensation that answers the questions he didn’t ask. The demon presses another gentle kiss to his shoulder and Jason doesn’t wonder about it. Etrigan enjoys a little tenderness too, even if he doesn’t seek it out, and Jason’s perfectly happy to keep that secret to himself.

[gabri-el]

16, 23, 89 and 117, which is the question of my choice: what should I eat for dinner tonight?

16: Do you always answer your texts? historically yes, the idea of not replying to someone as soon as i was aware of the message and need to reply felt incredibly rude but i no longer feel that way 23: Were you happier four months ago than you are now? very specific, this time four months ago i was ill in bed having just had a five hour architectural walking tour of cambridge in quite inappropriate clothing and -6 windchill so yes 89: Do you cook? yeah every meal, child of single mother without much money or time we used to have a lot of 'ready meals' growing up but since i started making my own food i havent looked back, on the rare occasion i have a ready meal i generally cant make it through, it's just chemicals and odd textures to me now 117: What should I eat for dinner tonight? without knowing what you're partial to that's difficult. i had some nepalese momos? tonight which arent dissimilar to chinese dumplings, perhaps those, veggie ones. if not hard to go wrong with pizza?

[dragonfelling]

Happy Storyteller Saturday! Tell us about an Ascendancy bug!

HAPPY STS

I think I've already explained butter grubs and I don't have much info on the other insects of the world yet... so here is a POV of a critter becoming the first fae / fyr fi :D

My waxy, furred body kept me breathing as I was pulled under by a disturbance in the pool. 

I remembered how a simple drop from a leaf crashed beside me on the cool moist rock. The great splash knocked me in. 

I attempted to stay still, knowing well the air brought down with me should pull be back to safety… but found myself in limbo.

I knew I could spend a long time here, surviving off the shimmering coat surrounding myself; but a long time is not forever.

The idea of mortality meant nothing to me until I resurfaced.

But after all, I did not breach the water the same as how I entered. 

I attempted to groom the coldness off me, feeling sticky and feeling my body temperature dropping rapidly. 

Very small droplets ran off my claws. 

How peculiar, I thought. How could droplets cut this small?

Then I thought, what is a thought? 

My antenna sluggishly twitched, sensilla seeking out answers in the form of pheromone. 

I felt around, each claw being placed carefully upon the mud and rock. 

Head swivelling and mandibles grinding nervously. I was touching, tasting, and smelling everything but experiencing nothing familiar. All I could sense was the damned water I was immersed in.

Until I felt anther's, giant claws wrap upon my head, under my blurred eyes.

In a way I somehow understood, yet did not yet recognize, the owner of the claws communicated to me. 

“Oh, dear thing… What has the pool done to you?”

I placed my antenna on it to try to familiarize myself with it, understand its intentions and hastily decide if it was friend or foe before it decided my fate for itself.

It ran its surprisingly soft claw across my head in a way easily described as calming. 

It tasted like the water…

The kind thing fed me with grubs and ripe fruit. 

It gave me something he called a name. 

Fyr.

It told me, I am Fyr and it is Shen. 

I am no longer bound by a queen, but of my own free will. 

I did not understand what this meant, but I knew I could no longer follow the trail home. There was no taste of my fellows and no smell of my mother. 

One sun, the kind thing touched my eyes. 

Their many, unfocused facets altered into a usable lense. 

I could see the body of the kind thing and the world about me. 

It does not have antenna, or mouth parts I recognize as similar to my own. It's a strange beast… not dissimilar to an overgrown rodent or a very strange deer. 

It is bigger than me, by about twice my height.

Everything was so small… The mountains were stepping stones, and the towering blades of grass now were a soft blanket of green. I enjoyed the feeling of each small sword bending and poking into my body. I also enjoyed the texture of bark in my claws.

I turned my head and focused my lenses upon my ghost. 

One of me, foraging upon a morsel of fruit. 

I watched its little legs grip on and how it struggled to pierce into the flesh. I watched it. Its body pulsed and it's stinger poke out. 

Its orange and black stripes were mesmerizing.

I willed my body to do the same, peering down at the blade in my abdomen.

My body was monstrous.

Since the submersion, my body has betrayed me daily. 

What was once a reasonable covering, became a mane encompassing my neck column. The thicker, more abundant hair began growing all over. 

I noticed as well, a rather strange habit I have taken to. 

Like the beasts so similar to the kind thing, I found myself breathing through my mouth along with my many spiracles.

My ever changing body rises and falls. It beats to a rhythm that quickens when I think about it beyond a passing acknowledgement. 

I do not like it and I can not stop it. 

[amor-immortalem]

Hi hi. I'm in the mood for angst and I really enjoyed your brothers react to MC enforcing the pact on Mammon. So I was wondering if you could do a brothers react to Mammon getting hurt saving one of them and maybe is in a coma or has irreversible damage like losing a wing etc your creative choice. Like all of them react to the news or maybe they witness it. Mammon saving one specific bro from an assassination attempt or an explosion from the science lab type accident of your choice. I'd prefer if it was either Beel or Satan. It would be nice if it was more of the fic style version but I wouldn't mind the head cannon bullet point version. Your writing is really good especially the angst 🤧

A/N: hope this lives up to your expectations, anon. I tried to go with like a pre-nightbringer-esqe setting just because I feel like in the ‘modern’ times the brothers are pretty much tolerated so there would really be no reason for an assassination attempt on anyone and I couldn’t get behind a scenario of an accident at school either (trust me, I tried! that’s what drafts 1, 2, and 3 were all about…) also it’s written half-and-half, one part story format, the other part bullet list format.

Warnings: Not canon-compliant (cuz I just can’t be arsed to care about canon atp) personal headcanons used, potential ooc-ness description of injuries

I wrote most of this during the height one of my manic phases so sorry if this isn’t worded well.

・・・〆・・・

It was supposed to be a normal day for the brothers- just a normal day where they continued to hide away in the castle while they awaited more permanent housing to finish being constructed but it just seemed to not be in the cards for the new demons.

There was a ball held by Diavolo to welcome the Devildom’s newest elite- war criminals who’d fled from the Celestial Realm after a failed rebellion to save one of their own.

Mammon notes how these nobles are all sizing him and his brothers up for any weaknesses among them- not too dissimilar from a pack of lionesses picking out the weakest gazelle in the herd. It makes him uneasy, wings pulling tight to his war-wounded body. The leathery texture makes the demon squirm. It wasn’t too long ago that those very same wings were once a pure white with feathers dyed crimson by the blood of his fallen former brothers and sisters- maybe just a couple of months ago at most.

“Here.” Beelzebub holds a plate out to his older brother, drawing Mammon from his thoughts. “You should eat something.”

It’s filled with a generous portion of gourmet foods that make second-born’s stomach queasy. He’s still not used to his food having such otherworldly colors and abominable textures to it. If Mammon’s being honest, he’d rather starve.

“Thanks, Beel,” he turns his eyes back to the crowd of demons in the ball room, “but I think I’m gonna pass this time.”

“You’ve been passing for the last week,” the sixth-born frowns, worried for the second. “Your wounds will never heal right if you don’t take care of your body inside and out.”

“Do you notice the way they’re looking at us?” Mammon changes the subject. “I don’t like it.”

“We’re safe, Mammon.” Beel insists, twilight-gradient eyes follow his brother's line of sight. “Lucifer’s here- he’ll protect us if any trouble arises. Let yourself relax for a moment.”

“Lucifer’s got his hands full with Satan at the moment.” The white-haired demon only sighs, watching his exhausted-looking older brother attempt to wrangle the demonic child in his arms. “That group over there’s been eyein’ the two of ‘em up ever since this whole shindig started. The one over there’s been watching Levi ‘n Asmo ‘n then you and I have our own dedicated group of spectators as well.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Beel sets the plate down and takes a much closer look at the crowd surrounding them to find his brother is indeed right. “You noticed all that from just observing them?”

Mammon nods slowly blue-to-gold eyes still scanning around them in hyper-vigilance. Something has felt wrong ever since the ball began and the demon can’t quite put his finger on what it was.

And then everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Glass shatters, screams can be heard, a volley of arrows thunks into the ground one right after another.

The attendees panic- typical of nobles who’ve not once seen the hell of a battlefield- as Diavolo and his father begin attempting to calm them, so none are trampled in the hysteria.

The brothers group together as close as they can with their nearest sibling in all the chaos, all of them on high alert to whatever threat there is. They stand back-to-back in their own separate little groups to ensure nothing can creep up on them in all this as they begin to move to each other.

That’s when Mammon hears it, the whizzing of another set of arrows to his left. There’s not much time to react as the tanned demon uses all his strength to shove Beel forward, knocking his brother off kilter and straight onto his front.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

Mammon doesn’t necessarily feel it at the moment of impact. All he knows is that he can’t breathe, and a warm liquid is flooding throughout his airway. His ears are ringing, and the sounds of his brothers’ voices are all muffled, almost mute and he can’t move his left and wing from his side.

Mammon starts to choke on the fluid backing-up in his airways as he coughs and gasps and he finally looks down to see the arrows piercing his throat and side, golden lines of celestial magic spiderwebbing out from the points of entry as his skin starts to crack and decay at an alarming rate. His vision is starting to go dark now, black spots dancing all around the white-haired demon’s eyesight from lack of oxygen.

The last thing he can remember is meeting Beel’s eyes and seeing the sheer horror in them as the six-born realizes that, yet again, he’s failed to protect one of his siblings.

・・・〆・・・

The Reactions:

Lucifer

• Can not believe this is happening

• He thought they’d be safe here. How could he have been so careless?

• It almost feels like he’s reliving the war and that terrifies him. He can’t lose another sibling.

• The first to react, he’s across the room in a flash, doing everything in his limited power to help his favorite brother while the others stand around too shocked to do anything for the moment.

• The damage to his skin looks like it’ll take eons to repair on its own and his wing already looks unsalvageable.

• When he catches whoever did this, they’re going to wish they were never created.

Levi:

• *cue internal screaming*

• He’s fine! He’ll be fine! We won’t lose another sibling like we lost Lilith!

• Mans was paralyzed by shock at the scene before him- some ex-General he is…

• After the whole ordeal he goes to visit his brother in the hospital despite all the demons there and how uncomfortable he is in settings like that.

• He leaves feeling even worse for not acting sooner after seeing the way Mammon’s wing is nearly mangled and the way his skin is chalky and cracked where the arrow heads pierced his body.

Satan:

• The noise and promptly being dropped on his ass is what really catches Satan’s attention

• His tiny body is still filled with nothing but rage and contempt for the family he got stuck with at this point so he doesn’t exactly care that one of his brothers might die

• He doesn’t really expect Mammon to bite the big one though- I mean, this is the same brother Satan watched get his shit rocked by Lucifer not more than two nights ago for stealing something out of the royal vault. He’ll live.

• After Mammon comes home from the hospital though, Satan is a pest ™️

• After hearing the others talk about how dangerous Celestial Gold can be for demons and how it’s nothing short of a miracle that Mammon didn’t immediately combust in the areas where is body came into contact with it, Satan decides he’s going to study his brother like a bug.

• And Mammon’s a good sport about it… until it turns into a six-month ordeal before ultimately Satan decides there’s no more information left to glean from his observations…

Asmo:

• “Did that really just happen?”

• His jaw? On the floor- Beel’s such a big demon and Mammon just shoved him down like it was nothing!

• But now’s not the time to be admiring his older brother’s strength- this is an actual emergency!

• Does his best to help with what little medical knowledge he did have- in the war between angels and demons, he’d been conscripted to a legion responsible for healing other injured angels so at least he knows enough about what not to do.

• “No Beel, don’t pull the arrows out like that, you’ll injure him more!”

• After Mammon comes home from the hospital though, Asmo’s there to help him find ways to hide the scarring without the use of glamour magic.

• Also, like the king of boosting people’s self-esteem so like if Mammon’s ever feelin’ down ‘n out about the scarring, he’d always have something to say make him feel better like: “some people are into scars, you know?” Or “No, they don’t make you ugly, they add to your character.”

Beel:

• This poor demon- he got to watch as his little sister died at the hands of these same arrows, now his older brother is meeting the same fate?

• Not on Beel’s watch.

• Tablecloths are being torn to shreds so he has enough material to pack and dress the wounds in makeshift bandages until they could get their brother properly treated.

• Afterwards, he blames himself every day for what happened even after Mammon comes home from the hospital.

• Thinks he should have been the one to get shot up by all those arrows.

• Always making some kind of meal for his brother- the quickest way to promote healing is to make sure one’s body is properly nourished after all.

Belphie:

• Didn’t see the initial incident because he skipped out 20 minutes before shit hit the fan to go take a fat nap. (Can you blame him though? The music was calming, the food filled him right up; it was only inevitable)

• When he wakes up, he initially doesn’t seem all that bothered because he’s good at hiding that shit

• But on the inside? Whoo boy, he’s sweating bullets. What if the worst comes to pass?

• “What do you mean the arrow heads were laced with Celestial Gold?? that shit’s lethal to demons.”

• Breathes the biggest mental sigh of relief once he finds out his brother’s gonna be okay.

• Crisis averted; he can go back to be the annoying baby brother now.

• Doesn’t draw too much attention to Mammon’s wounds- mostly so he can avoid thinking about the incident himself.

[figroth]

Flickers in the Dark

The orange lights flickered unexpectedly in the distance of the abyssal darkness.

Thania observed the first source of light she had encountered in years thoughtfully. What could the meaning of this be? Down in the Abyss there was no light. There was barely anything to be honest, but especially not light. She had learnt to sense her barren and bleak world through other means, so much so that she had almost forgotten what it was like to see. Could she believe her own sight after it'd fallen in such disuse?

Indeed the question of whether she could trust the vision was prevalent in her mind. Her many years of experience in the Abyss had taught her that trust was a sentiment one shouldn't afford to anything.

Once, she remembered, the harrowing cry of a woman echoing through the darkness. She had hurried to the aid of the distressed woman, hoping in the depths of her heart that she might finally have a companion in her empty journeys. At the end of her dash, however, she had met no person, but a bulbous mass of disparate parts. Her first tentative touches had felt a number of faces, distorted in unnatural asymmetrical shapes, undulating in and out as one with the breathing of the beast. As she stepped back, she could hear the unearthly shrieks of people rendered so inhuman in how real they sounded. She had barely escaped the claws that had then swooped in to catch her, and likely add her own face to the amalgamation.

No, there were two very fundamental lessons about living in the Abyss. The first was that despite the general emptiness, in the rare event of encountering something other than yourself, investigating was never worth the danger it put you in. Though Thania did not understand the purposes of the things she met and could never predict their actual nature beforehand, she knew they were never safe. From the pleasant aroma of a flower luring you into a plant that would entrap you and incorporate your living body to its growing vines; to a room of warmth and comfort inviting you to rest your sorrows away, only to sap away all your will and motivation by the time you woke up; everything in this world harboured a threat of some kind or other.

Yet, these orange flickers of light made Thania feel warm just by looking at them. She remembered a time when a flame of not too dissimilar hue would have kept her company through the night, shielding her from the cold of the outside world. She could imagine the small crowded home that surrounded such hearth. She yearned for its warmth. Could these lights possibly be houses of people? What else could create light? She had never seen the creatures of the Abyss do such a thing.

The second lesson of the Abyss was that the cold, lonely life it offered was not living at all when you didn't let even its rare encounters approach you.

"Do you reckon you'll find people over there?" Grinner suddenly appeared with a condescending chuckle.

She ignored him.

"It's almost inspiring how you still believe after all this time. Your optimism is why I like you, though", his mocking grin was perceptible even without having to see him.

Once upon a time, a naive young Thania had allowed herself to feel around his face and body. He had seemed roughly human-shaped, even if the texture wasn't quite right. But most noticeable had been the incredibly wide smile his face was contorted to. It was a smile she could hear in his very voice. That's why she had called him Grinner back then.

Of course, it had been entirely wrong to engage with him. She had once been glad to meet another person she could speak with. Nowadays, she wasn't sure if she should refer to him as a person at all. Her current theory had him be a demon haunting her in an attempt to confuse and mislead her, out of pure appreciation for her suffering. She still feared he might have yet worse intentions, however. Thus, she ignored him.

"Still not much for conversation, I see. You wound my feelings, dearie. In any case, be careful in your foolish little endeavour. We wouldn't want you to die, would we?" his last words were dipped with a pretend concern that induced an ominous feeling in her.

With his part said, she heard Grinner's essence dissolve back into nothingness. She was alone again. Perhaps she wouldn't be for long. Her tormentor didn't seem to think the flickers held anything good in them, and in truthfulness she agreed. But if the demon was right about one thing was that in the core of all her jadedness, she simply wanted to believe in the light again.

After all, although Thania always said she had been alone since the start, in reality she'd met other humans before. It had been mostly in the beginning, right after her home had been taken by the Abyss. She assumed they came from the same place, but she hadn't been able to confirm it, since she didn't recognise anyone she knew. Unfortunately, in most cases the humans were already dead or in irrecoverable states that didn't allow communication when she found them. Horrifying though these instances were, they were invaluable learning experiences that allowed her to survive all this time.

After a while, the humans stopped showing up. Thania was left to deal with the Abyss and its dangers by herself. What happened to her home, she never knew exactly. In her childhood she and her family had lived in a mining colony on a far-off moon of the solar system. It had not been an easy life, but it was all Thania had known and she had been happy. She knew that now at least. But then with no sign or warning, a fog of complete blackness had appeared and consumed the whole moon within it.

Where was she now and where was the moon gone now? She didn't know. Her current whereabouts, the thing she called the Abyss, didn't feel like she was on a planet or in space, or even in the fog that started it all. Sometimes the Abyss didn't even seem to have any corporeal form at all. It was just a Darkness, and she existed in it. Then, sometimes other Things would appear within it.

The fog had taken her entire home. But then, after the initial panic and mayhem, she was alone. She had met some people, but not nearly enough. Where had the rest of them gone? Where had the buildings and towns gone? Where had her family gone? Were they also somewhere in the Abyss to be found? Or had they perhaps been spared from the darkness and she could go back to them, if she only found an exit.

Those questions bothered her whenever she tried to sleep. But they were also what kept her hope alive. What kept her moving after a long series of disappointments.

There was of course something else that motivated her. That inner hunger she always felt that could never be quenched in the bare landscape of the Abyss. An agonising unrelenting hunger that plagued her always. It tormented her, but it kept her alive. It drove her to take risks she wouldn't have otherwise, every time a step closer to death. And yet when she made it out alive, she had what the hunger demanded of her. Perhaps without it she would have given up long ago.

Her belly now again rumbled. She didn't get to eat often. Whatever waited for her at the end of this trip, this was an unmistakable chance to alleviate that hard knot in her stomach.

She looked down at herself, a motion more symbolic than anything else. If she did find people, though, would they be able to accept her as she was now? A wandering creature, twisted by the instincts of survival and the corruption of the dark, who can only think of consuming whatever she can find to satiate her hunger... Was she perhaps also a monster of the Abyss now?

Her clothes were long gone, torn and frayed through time and wear. They wouldn't fit her grown body anyway. Instead now she wore a veil of shadows, fashioned like a cloak. Although no prying eyes could pierce the darkness that enveloped all and no clothing could shield from the coldness permeating everything in the Abyss, she still somehow felt safer or more comfortable with something on rather than otherwise. Perhaps it was an artifact of a life in a more reasonable world.

Would such appearance scare a fellow human? The transformations the Dark had forced upon her. Could they ever be accepted by people? If she ever re-surfaced to the real world, would she be welcome? Would she be able to live there? Or would she be so far gone, the warmth would burn her?

In the Abyss, there was no night and day. The only differentiation of time for Thania was the cycle of necessary movement replaced by the loss of all willingness to think and experience. Then, she would sleep, surrendering herself to the same void that surrounded her from all sides. Once again now, stopped in her tracks by her maddening thoughts, she found a hole to crawl in and lied down hoping the oblivion would claim her and erase all worries.

She had no dreams.

She awakened to the call of her hunger. Though sleep in the Abyss rarely offered enough rest to be considered fulfilling, Thania had at least shed some of her exhaustion, allowing to build up her mental fortitude once again.

The orange lights were still there. Whatever lay there, human, monstrous or otherwise, she would have to face it in the end no matter the outcome. That wouldn't change.

She made her way towards them once again. Although the Abyss had no definite shape or form, it did sometimes assume a particular, more corporeal state. Often Thania found her feet walking upon what felt like hard rocky terrain. Other times, it was as if she was in a murky bog, her legs submerging themselves into invisible mud and water. And yet other times, even more structure appeared in her way, like stony trees, pillars made of tar and even rivers of ambiguous substances defying the notion of gravity and flowing in any direction they saw fit.

This time the darkness melted into a liquid form and Thania found herself having to swim through a lake. It was not her favourite state. The touch of the water, if it could even be called that, made her yet colder. She pushed on despite it. The faster she swam, the sooner she'd be out of the lake.

Whilst at first, her head remained above the surface, letting buoyancy keep her afloat, suddenly all the enveloping darkness was liquid, pressing from all sides. In a panic, she tried to swim upwards, but no end to the water appeared. She'd closed her mouth as soon as the change occurred, so nothing had gotten in, but as a result she hadn't gotten a good breath in. She didn't have long.

Taking a moment to calm herself, she stopped and looked at her target, the only visible thing in so long. The Abyss was playing tricks on her, but the lights were surely there and approaching. She could try go back, but it wasn't certain the Abyss would change back. The lights were true and material, though, no matter what the Dark shaped itself into. That was her only hope.

She dove straight for the orange dots, now blurring through the pain-induced tears. She didn't even know if oxygen existed in the Abyss, yet her lungs longed for it nonetheless. They begged her to open her mouth, ignorant that what lay outside was not air. They pressure built up far quicker than she had hoped. She couldn't stand this. She was getting closer, but her instincts fought her.

She opened her mouth.

The darkness flowed quickly into her mouth and down her neck, filling her up inside with the most dreadful stuffy solidified sense of drowning. It reached the capacity of her lungs and then overflowed, spreading to her entire being. A single scream escaped, short in duration, muffled, and eventually swallowed by the void.

The next instant that she could be certain she was conscious, Thania was on solid ground -solid enough at least- with no sign of the lake that had been drowning her, for how long she couldn't tell.

She greedily breathed in and out, partly to calm herself, but also to make up for all the breaths she just skipped. The essence that had invaded her seemed to be gone and any lingering taste was probably her imagination. However, she didn't trust that it wasn't hiding somewhere within her with some insidious purpose. The fear of that would be something more to worry about in her lone moments of sleep, but in the moment she couldn't do anything about it, so she tried to repress it.

She felt around her body, from her limbs to her chest to her belly, to make sure everything was still in place, then she got up. The lights were closer than ever, fairly bigger than before and easier to distinguish. Without any other landmarks, it was hard to estimate distances, but she felt she was almost there.

As she continued on her way, the ground started to turn uphill. Eventually, after some searching she found a swirling path that appeared to climb up a hill or mountain. The lights proved to be higher than her current level, so the path seemed to be a promising way of reaching them.

As she went around the hill, the flickers came in and out of sight, as if something was hiding them, but now Thania could see they weren't quite round, but had a more elongated squarish shape. The excitement caused by this almost made her turn around and run away, for fear of the disappointment being wrong would cause.

"Don't do this to me now", she inadvertently mumbled to herself in a croaky voice.

The remaining climb was some of the hardest exercise she'd gotten in a long time. Other than running away from dangers, the empty Abyss didn't often offer much physical challenge. Now, the clear path up the hill seemed to stop and instead the way up was through steep jagged cliffs. Yet, the lights were just above, tantalisingly close and yet out of reach. Thania put in her all, making her way up, blindly searching for stable footing.

She was faintly reminded of climbing a much less steep slope in the dark during the exploration of an abandoned mine, back home. Was she with her friends then, venturing into dangerous passages out of curiosity despite warning; or had her father brought her there to familiarise her with the mines that she might also have worked in some day? She couldn't remember. Her memories of her old life seemed so far now, so faded. Lost almost, as if taken by the all-consuming Darkness.

A sharp feeling grasped her gut. Her memories of the old world were one of the few things she had, one of her precious treasures. Without realising it, it had escaped like sand in her hands. Was forgetfulness and nothingness all that awaited her? If she had lost what once was, could she perhaps ever make memories to replace the ones that were gone? A warm life with warm people. Could she possibly ever have something so nice?

A monstrosity of many eyes and enormous size stared at her and seemed to almost silently reply "No". Archs of almost human size, emitting orange light, with a cross separating them in four parts dotted the gooey flesh of the monster. By all accounts they should have been windows. And yet they were just another trick of the Abyss meant to deceive her. The window-shaped eyes of the vaguely spherical mass of overlapping disproportionately small arms turned to look at her. A maw covering about half of the creature opened in anticipation, revealing its inner dark depths. The two chicken-like legs supporting its weight dubiously, slowly started to move towards her.

Thania wasn't sure if this was worse than the creatures she imagined when she couldn't see the horrors of the Abyss visually. It didn't matter in this moment, however, as instead of a fearful scream, hoarse laughter escaped her mouth. Of course. What else did she expect? She felt horrible, yet she could only laugh.

But something else stirred within her at the same time. Looking down, below her cloak, in the light of the beast's eyes, she could for the first time see the gem that had embedded itself in her stomach. It opened up to reveal the mouth she knew was there, demanding flesh to quench its hunger.

Many might have wondered, had they heard Thania's tale, how she managed to survive this long in the Abyss, escaping its touch and its horrible traps. The simple answer is she didn't. Since the very beginning, the taint of the Abyss had accompanied her.

When the fog came, unimaginable beasts had emerged from it. Some had been satisfied hunting for food. Others had simply killed, seemingly for its own sake. Some few had committed unthinkable horrors on the unfortunate victims of her home. As for Thania, before she could escape one of the small ones had bitten her leg. What happened next was always a blur, but the creature had managed to enter her body and somehow merge with it. She could still feel it inside her, attached to her heart, its tendrils reaching within her, sapping any warmth she could produce.

Its thirst for life, its search for sustenance had always followed her. It was what had made her eat the the detached claw of a face-stealing monster. What had convinced her to accept the fruit of a tree growing out of a man. It was what gave her power and what had helped her survive.

It was what would have her fight the many-eyed monstrosity charging at her right now. And the survivor's hunger will be sated.

If only for a moment.

[turtlemagnum]

some facts about me and restaurants:

i always order my drinks without ice because drink almost always comes out cold anyways and now i get more drink per drink and i dont have to worry about my drink getting watered down because of the ice melting

because of this, i couldn't tell you how many times the server brought me with ice anyways and i had to be like "hey, this has ice. dont-wait no, dont take it back, just dont put ice in the refill ok"

i really dont like wasting food, hence why i'm very adamant about them not just dumping the first drink. the rare times i don't finish something and dont bring it home are like when the burger at that chain steakhouse made me puke. pretty much anything less than "literally made me puke" at least gets brought home so at worst, i can remake it to be more edible

back to drinks: i generally dont use straws. a while back i realized that as far as actual restaurant cups go, straws dont really do anything other than add another thing to throw out and just generally slowing down my sippage. from what i understand this is different for physically disabled people, but given how (as far as i'm aware) i'm not physically disabled, i can just lift the cup just fine. this does not apply to things like fast food cups, like you ever break a straw when using one of those? i swear they're designed to be as inconvenient to drink out of without a straw as possible, the mcdonalds one the last time i tried had this little lip on the brim that felt like it was specifically designed to spill shit when drunk without a straw

if it's a place i've been to enough times to know what the menu is right off the top of my head, i usually know exactly what i want before i even sit down. the local bar i'm a regular at, the owner lady who takes my orders when shes there; she knows my order by heart at this point. honestly got a little uncomfortable with how much shit she gave me when i got something else that one time, even if it was joking (i'm pretty sure, anyways)

probably my most controversial opinion: i like my meat well done. crispy, even. the other day i got food with my grandparents and the sausage they gave me tasted about as close to uncooked as you could get while still technically being fully cooked, was wretched. when it comes to burgers and steak, i can definitely tolerate medium or rare stuff, dont get me wrong. i feel like what's probably the Objectively Correct stance to have is that some meats are better suited to some styles of preperation, and that's fine. but honestly when it's done poorly, rare/medium beef tastes like a wet goddamn sock. wretched

so, something about me: despite being whiter than a significant amount of white supremacists, i can handle my spice pretty well. to put this into perspective, my mom's last boyfriend was black (and therefore more used to actually seasoned food), and we got chicken from a local place and i heard him from the other room go "hoo! that's hot!" in a fairly exasperated tone, and while i definitely think the place actually knew how to season their goddamn food it wasn't like, loudly exclaim how spicy it was levels of spice, y'know? at least to me. anyways, this sucks for me because i live in the midwest, where an arguable majority of places don't season for shit, probably because a significant amount of their customer base are like my grandma who eats tacos without seasoning. not fuckin making that up. like it was just cooked ground beef with like, maybe a miniscule amount of salt, put into these nasty ass tortilla bowl things with a texture and taste not too dissimilar to plastic. i remember this one time i asked a place what kinda seasoning they used in their fish, and they just straight up said "none". god i hated that restaurant, it was like if you distilled all of the worst qualities of suburbanite wasps into a physical space

my default food i get at most places is definitely a burger. it's at least partially because it's generally hard to fuck up to the point of inedibility, but also because most places around here don't make any fried chicken at all other than tenders and That's Like My Main Thing, Bro. sometimes i get pizza, which is somehow more common than fried chicken but also i fucking hate noodles for the most part so it's pretty much the only edible thing for me to get at italian restaurants. the exception to not liking noodles is in wonton soup, but ever since the chinese place we always went to closed down we haven't been able to find a place that's nearly as good.

finally, back to drinks. my specific drink of choice tends to change over the years but stay pretty consistent over any given period of time. i've been a mtn dew typea gamer for the past few years but i've been liking cherry coke more and more, which was my favorite circa 2016 or so. i definitely feel like i'm being a bit more mixed about it, though. recently i've been drinking a fair bit of water simply due to the fact that the only other shit in the house is this diet root beer that my grandpa always gets because it's on sale and he insists on buying diet shit. and like, it's objectively good tasting, it's still fucking root beer which i've never tasted actually bad root beer. it's just that he buys so much of it for extended periods of time that i'm so sick of it that i'm probably not gonna be able to drink root beer in any significanf quantities for at least a few years. but yeah i definitely feel like i can get behind any kind of pop. my fallback is standard coke because that's something literally everywhere has, and while there's definitely a tangible difference in taste between coke and pepsi i wouldn't say one's better or worse than another. my preference lays in RC cola anyways, which i've literally never seen served in any restaurant but god dammit it's so fucking good, dude

[treetownconfessions]

htfs and the textures i think theyd have if i bit into them

cuddles: marshmallow. soft. like digging ur teeth into those jumbo mallows

toothy: sopping wet disinfectant wipe. flat and squeaky against the molars. weird

giggles: dots candy. almost stale if youre trying hard enough. relatively malleable

petunia: acetone. disappears as fast as it comes in contact with your teeth. very cold

lumpy: sand. gritty and falls out of your mouth in large clumps. unbiteable but still crunchy

handy: sawdust. similar to sand but finer and more persistent. probably has residue

pop: foam insulation. takes effort to pierce through. chewy

cub: jello pudding. slippery and wiggly

disco bear: pickle. crunchy for like the first two bites. then its mush

russell: actual wood. like biting a wooden pole. possible splinters

flippy: solid cheesecake filling. like in the fridge kinda solid. almost like butter

fliqpy: crackly. not dissimilar to pop rocks. a tad sharp

shifty: banana peel. stringy and possibly pasty. bad goosebumps

lifty: apple stem. not solid enough but not soft enough. kind of annoying

sniffles: stack of papers. practically impossible to bite right. incredibly gross feeling if you drag your teeth against it directly

nutty: period blood clot. bad

mole: horizontal toothpicks. has the potential to be very painful but its not. still splinter possibility

flaky: fake itchy sweater. stray threads brushing at your mouth. plastic

mime: dense cake. very chewy. (un)surprising lack of air

lammy: half-dried candle wax. oily

splendid: raw steak. cold. gross

.

[parasphendale]

be honest- do you have a type for feeding?

For humans, I tend to be practical and prefer smaller people whom I can more easily overpower. Joggers tend to taste better than average people, which I think has something to do with adrenaline and other workout chemicals present in the blood. Younger people tend to taste better, but not always.

Cainite vitae is varied and I'm a bit more... well, I was going to say "picky," but I'm a vitae garbage disposal. Let's say I'm more opinionated.

Malkavian tastes okay, though it reminds me of when I'd bag my own vitae and store it for later. It's just weird.

Toreador tastes like the platonic ideal of what vitae should taste like, but can be boring in the same vein. It's like... any of the men on The Bachelor and how they are attractive yet unattractive.

Lasombra and Brujah both taste similar to Toreador, but dissimilar from each other. Lasombra has a more textured flavor with a noticeable pleasant aftertaste, whereas Brujah is more heady and aromatic.

Lastly, there is something dead inside Hubert's veins. Very bad. I'll still drink it, but I'll grimace the entire time. Tastes like a wine tasting spit bucket.

[amalgamationillustration]

This is incredibly common in the UK, to the point that I forgot that it wasn't exclusively a UK thing. There is much discourse and 'back in my day' over the cost of something called a 99 flake, which is a specific brand of ice cream sold in ice cream vans/trucks specifically called Mr Whippy, it's very soft serve, not dissimilar in texture to McFlurry, and it comes with a chocolate flake (which is a Cadbury chocolate bar that as it's name suggests, is made of flakes of chocolate stuck together so when you bite into it it fucking goes everywhere and melts immediately all over your hands and clothes) and usually but not always some kind of strawberry or raspberry syrup. These were called 99 flakes because they always cost 99p. Rain or shine, no matter the state of the world.

Now however inflation is insane and everyone remembers the day when they cost 99p, now if you're lucky they're £1.99, but often they're closer to £2.50 so they're just called a Flake or a Mr Whippy Ice Cream or something similar.

I personally am also lamenting that my local ice cream vans are all using cheap soft serve vanilla scoops instead of the proper Mr Whippy. They come out with a different texture and colour (a pale yellow colour now instead of the stark white they were before) and that a great deal of them have stopped selling ice lollies (ice pops or popsicles to Americans) entirely, where as you used to be able to get all sorts of different treats, even if you weren't an ice cream fan. Now you get 3 different sizes of non Mr Whippy off brand, off colour, off texture ice cream with a flake for the low low price of a small mortgage.

Thanks for coming to my ted x talk about ice cream in the UK and how it sucks now.

Explaining to my Australian ex that ice cream trucks are in fact real and not made up for television.

[patientluckrevenant]

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