#crypt crumb

[bam-stroker]

The Heart of a Dragon's Hoard

Fuck it, have a slice of my dragon/royalty romance story Royal Rogue.

This character study is about my lovely dragon Asrir musing about his hoard/friendship. (also for those who read my bug fairy romance, The Courting Web, Spark got his gender transed by Dewy - who also gets mentioned in this snippet)

If there is one thing most people assume about Asrir, it is that he is a romantic with his heart on his sleeve. It isn’t an incorrect assumption, but it also isn’t entirely the whole picture. Asrir has, and always will be, a hopeless romantic, dreaming of soft sighs and adoring words. One must have some sense of dreamy hope to have a hoard such as his; collecting the first drafts and failures of artists, to treasure and remember.

To a cynic, they’d pin him as optimistically naive to find anything salvageable from the often messy application of his many collected manuscripts. Or, at the worst, they’d call in to question his ethics. Why collect such things, if not to laugh at the expense of those who failed?

Sometimes he isn’t quite sure himself anymore. What the truth of it all is.

When he runs his claws over the cracked spines of books stored along the endlessly upwards climbing shelves carved into the yawning chasm of his home, each point of contact sings to him with a song of connection. To be heard. To be seen. To find some meaning in this world, and for the fellow bleeding hearts to find one another. To feel less alone.

Loneliness, is something Asrir understands all too well.

At a young age, he’d learned quickly through the sneers and quips of his peers that a tender heart is best used to the advantage of others. It’s the kind of easy joke to get a harmless laugh out of, often at his own expense. Or at the worst, easy prey to take from until there’s nothing left to give.

In a world of fierce dragons, someone like Asrir is an anomaly. Soft, tender, and romantic, is not the stuff of legends that dragons are built from. While the others felt power in their sharp teeth and swift talons, Asrir found himself holed away dreaming of fairytale’s and true love. While the other dragons built their skills to collect their mighty hoards, he created stories in his mind and hid from his ancestry.

The act of creation, is not what dragons are skilled in. To give, is not what they are meant to do. Dragons, are meant to take.

With time, he came to despise the very sight of his mighty claws, teeth, and wings.

As the seasons changed, so too did his appearance—growing into all the sharp edges a dragon should be proud of. He grew into his body with the disdain of a gnarly root waiting to be ripped from a garden bed. But what was to be done about it? It simply was what it was, and Asrir was a dragon. He could not change that truth.

When he finally came of age to pursue the romance he’d dreamed of, there was none to be found. Instead he soon found a tender heart is an open door for a sly thief.

What he had thought were kind smiles, quickly turned sharp and hungry. The brilliant eyes of a new love meant only for him, never held true devotion, instead they searched to see what he might give. And he gave. What ever they asked, he would gladly serve his heart up on a silver platter. And once they had their fill, time and time again, through the processional march of seasons, his lovers would dissipate into the far off mists of time, to only be memories.

Asrir found no lack of bodies in his bed, but the gaping wound of his heart bled and bled until he feared the river of his love would run dry.

There comes a point when an open book must be shut. If every page is torn from it, is there any story to still tell? And so, Asrir hid himself away to live in his dreams, rather then risk the chance for the fragile remains of himself to be scavenged. Safe in the seclusion of his mountains. Safe from the expectations of being a mighty dragon.

For a brief time, he thought solitude was true freedom.

The dream he had held on to all his life, to share a home with someone he loved, instead became a hideaway. Safe behind the mighty stone walls of the mountains, the roots of his dreams crept out into the nearby forest, like twinkling stars, as his magic weaved itself into the home he’d found. Like stubborn roots cracking through cobblestone, Asrir’s magic longed for more.

It was through those magical roots, that he’d met the person who changed his life. Knocking on the massive doors littered with signs to stay away, a bold pixie stormed into his life complaining of magical ley lines creeping into his yard—like a curmudgeonly gardener.

With a double set of transparent dragonfly wings, a black hue to them like the night sky with veins that shimmered like the stars above captured in his wings—stood Dewy Dewdrop. His skin was a cool dark brown, with a feint shimmer of verdant green and blue in the afternoon light. Dewy struck Asrir from his stooper like an icy winter night with an endless clear sky of stars.

Standing at a proud four foot high, with sharp green eyes, sharp teeth, and an even sharper personality. In every sense, the other man should have fit the bill to match everyone who had ever hurt Asrir in the past, and yet… there was an uncanny sense of honesty to him. There was no hiding behind a sweet smile to ease the rough edges, Dewy was who he was, other’s be damned. He would not bend for a single soul to stop being his authentic ornery self. But he also would not demand others to hide their truth, in turn.

The world of the faeries is not too dissimilar to that of the dragons. Friendly faces are just as quick to flip, once a fairy has what they want. But there was no trick to Dewy, at least not at Asrir’s expense. The man came to his door and simply requested for the dragon to help prune the stubborn magical roots creeping into his home from Asrir’s forlorn longing.

To repress oneself to the level Asrir had, that kind of unconscious magic can be a beastly thing to wrangle alone. And so, their time together stretched the span of weeks, which then became months. Not once did Dewy demand for the dragon to give him something in return. It was a job to be done. “Fix the messes you make. If we all spent our time ignoring that shit, then the world is just gonna be one big pile of garbage!” Dewy had barked at him, while pointing the end of a gardening spade his way.

The situation was so strange, it had been the first real laugh Asrir had given in ages. Dewy only waved him off with a flare of grumbles, but in the end, a small smile found its way to the edge of the pixie’s lips as well.

Such a strange man. And yet, Asrir began to look foreward to their time together.

As the two of them worked side by side over the months, dredging up the deep roots of Asrir’s unconscious dreaming, a comfortable sense of companionship bloomed. All the while, Asrir listened to the daily complaints and stories Dewy had to tell, but he never offered to share his true self with this strange pixie. He simply nodded and listened.

As they worked, Asrir came to learn quite a bit about Dewy. The gruff veneer Dewy maintained, was concealing his own kind of vulnerability. Magic amongst the fey, is weaved in their words. It’s all about the turn of phrase that holds power. Often, that power is used to lead the nonmagical into precarious situations, for the fey to inflict their magic upon. Those are the rules of it, after all.

Dewy had dedicated his life to becoming the greatest magic practitioner of his kind.

Dewy was good at what he did. The best. The most magically skilled pixie anyone had ever known. At least… that’s what he proudly boasted to Asrir quite regularly.

The thing is, fey were boring. They liked to cause mischief and illusions to trick the mind. But that’s all it ever was—a short trick. Dewy wanted to create! He wanted to mold and make magic into something that lasted forever. So he gave up on the cheap tricks early on.

But even through the bravado, Asrir could see a fellow bleeding heart.

“I don’t spend much time with other pixies. They say I’m boring,” Dewy scoffed while stabbing his spade deep into lush green earth, “Fine by me. I don’t like most of them anyway. Flighty bastards. They’re all too busy giggling with their creepy bright eyes, little freaks… Always trying to find the next joke to pull.”

He digs his hands into the dirt to take hold of a magical root. “What I make is real. I’m about the real things, Asrir.” And with a harsh tug, the very real root of Asrir’s lonely dreaming was wrenched free.

Friend of the fey. That’s what the people who came to Dewy were called.

Like gravity, Dewy’s magic pulled the lost souls that would run away to the fairy forest to him. The kind of people who were looking to leave their old lives behind. To run from the lives expected of them. To run from the expectations they could never meet—to be the good daughters, sons, wives, or husbands they were born to be.

Birth is hardly the vessel for truth. In the face of magic, why should the man born a woman not be able to be reborn? Dewy could mold the truth to become real.

And that’s what he did. He made deals with the nonmagical, to make their truth real. To finally let them feel at home in their bodies. For men to become women, and women to become men, and every other variation under the sun to come true. Fairy magic is built on deals, but who’s to say the deal can’t benefit them both? Dewy got to practice his magic, and they’d get a shot at a new look.

Of course a deal is a deal and fey has its rules, he couldn’t just give away freely. So he asked for the promise of a first born, when clearly the person wasn’t planning on having them. For names, when they never wanted the name they were given in the first place. And even pronouns, after Dewy was done—people wouldn’t even be able to think of the old ones around them anymore!

He played his game and flexed his skills, with no repercussions, in proper fairy workarounds.

Truly, a fascinating man.

“I do it for the practice. That’s all.” Dewy had huffed, as they sat side by side in what seemed far more like two friends enjoying an afternoon in the countryside, then a job needing to be done. There wasn’t a single root left in sight to upend.

Though his gruff walls stayed up, the way his eyes lit up with pride describing magical grounding lines of olive branches along chests, shimmers of stretch marks like gold, rosy cheeks and hair of the most verdant greens, and the moment when someone would See themself for the first time, well, Asrir would hardly call any of it cold.

There was more then just pride from Dewy, when people reacted to who they wanted to be became real. He would never admit it, but Asrir saw the kindness and care behind it. Lives were changed, all because of his magic. What a great gift that is to give.

“Well… I suppose that’s the last of them.” Asrir had murmured as he looked over the rolling fields of wildflowers, no sign that there was ever a disturbance caused by his magic. “I apologize once again for ruining your landscaping. I’ll be sure to keep my magic in check, so that it doesn’t disturb you again.” The unspoken admittance of, So that I don’t disturb you gain. And yet, he lingered. For the first time in a long time, Asrir wanted to open himself up. To trust again. But, he could never outright impose that on to Dewy.

Scratching the stubble along his cheek, Dewy squinted at him like a stray gray cloud on a sunny day. “You know… I’ve been having trouble with my garden lately. Can’t get the strawberries to grow right. Think you might wanna take a look at ‘em for me?”

The walls Asrir had put up to save his heart tumbled like dandelions in the breeze.

With a broad reptilian smile, Asrir bowed his head with joyful relief. “I would love nothing more… Friend.” And the two have been friends ever since. Even if Dewy pretended to grumble at the word from time to time.

So was Asrir truly an open book? Only for the right ones. With an entire life left to live, Asrir had learned the art of patience and that listening can be keen and sharp, in its own way. That self-induced loneliness was not the answer, but to instead keep guard. To stay watchful.

But most of all, he had learned that it is worth trying.

Life is full of risks. If one hides away, to only dream of it… can it actually be a life well lived?

The cynics can say what they will, but Asrir truly treasured the failures and flops of his hoard. Because in his own life, he certainly has his own fair share. So why should trying not be honored? Why should it not be regarded with celebration?

To try, is a very brave thing.

[angebluee]

CELEBRATORY ART FOR SEASON 2 NAME DROP RAHHHHHHHHH

LESS

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[wakeofvultures]

Chapter 17 of my kinda historical Volturi oc fanfiction is out! Myrtis talks with people and deals with the fallout of last chapter! The author remembers that there are other people in Twilight canon other than the Volturi Royals! And the author’s note is bloated af because I wanted to infodump about a historical figure only alluded to in the chapter (I don’t even namedrop him!)

[planetquest]

FOR MEEEEEEEEEE THEYRE DOING IT FOR ME

[danger-bird]

Touchstarved Demo Music

Decided to have a productive weekend and search for every song in the ts demo bc I’m a hungry bird and I need my crumbs🐤

Some were easy to find, others required manually going through artists’ discographies that might have the song I was looking for help (in order of appearance)

Sonata to Melancholy – Crypt of Insomnia

Fabric of Night – Crypt of Insomnia

Suspense Drums Trailer – ARCHIMUSIC

Dance Macabre – Crypt of Insomnia 

Reverie – MARiAN

Mystery – EightBallAudio

Medieval Harp Ambient – Orchestralis (all 3 versions are used)

Cold Dark Place – Crypt of Insomnia

Shards of Night Light – Crypt of Insomnia

Late Night Ode – Crypt of Insomnia

Rivendell Sunset – Crypt of Insomnia

Love Will Never End – VICTORMUSIC

Tango – Blacksmith

Fadeless Memories – Crypt of Insomnia

Slow Baroque Strings – Orchestralis

Once Upon a Dark Time – Allen Grey

Scorched Earth – Crypt of Insomnia

Ethnic Ritual – Nuclearmetal

Dark Ethnic Suspense – Allen Grey

Persian Beat – MARiAN

Deserted – Crypt of Insomnia

After Dark – Crypt of Insomnia

Beautiful and Tragic – Crypt of Insomnia

The Harp – SilverHoof

The End of the Journey – Crypt of Insomnia

Individual routes:

Ais

Unearthly Love - Crypt of Insomnia

Dangerous Middle East – iCENTURY

In The Time of Romance – MusicDog (also in Kuras' and Mhin's individual routes)

Kuras

Pizzicato Comedy – Orchestralis

Sorrowful Storytelling – Crypt of Insomnia 

Mhin

Rains Will Come – Andrea Baroni

Vere

Sad Tango Violins – Korolkov

Delusion – Crypt of Insomnia

Bonus:

Gothic Emotional Suspense Riser - Allen Grey (homescreen music; edited)

Horror Atmosphere - Orchestralis (ominous music; when Soulless/threat is nearby)

[julibf]

Sansa Stark connection with

the Blue Rose

A GAME OF THRONES 

We all know that the Blue Rose has a very important significance in the story of ASOIAF and many readers seem to believe that Sansa story has nothing to do with the Blue Rose, but George managed to sneak in some hints that the blue rose will be a big part of Sansa story. We start to see the connection right in the beginning of the story, when King Robert is visiting Lyanna in the crypts of Winterfell. 

"I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father." …….."I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was … fond of flowers." (A Game of Thrones - Eddard I)

We have George telling the reader how important flowers are for Lyanna storyline. 

THE HAND’S TOURNAMENT

"It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. (A Game of Thrones - Sansa II)

Sansa is experiencing her first Tourney, this is even greater than her dreams. Now, we all know that her aunt Lyanna Stark was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty in the Tourney of Harrenhall. She received a crown of frosting blue roses from the beautiful Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and if you read Sansa’s chapter you would think those events have nothing similar, yet, if you pay attention, you can see the crumbs that George have left for us. 

Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd….. Sansa never saw it. Her eyes were only for Ser Loras. When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst. .... To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. (A Game of Thrones - Sansa II)

Ser Loras, the KNIGHT OF FLOWERS, gives Sansa a red rose (different from the white ones he was giving to the other maidens). A few chapters later, on Eddard VII, Ned notices that the flowers in Ser Loras armour are covered in sapphires making the flowers all blue. 

When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa's fervent whisper, "Oh, he's so beautiful." Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires. (A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII)

First, we have Ser Loras, the Knight of Flowers, who wears an armour covered in blue flowers, giving Sansa a rose and telling her she is beautiful. Later we have Lord Baelish telling Sansa that she has her mother ‘s look and tells her Catelyn was HIS queen of beauty. For last, we have Sandor Clegane the champion of the lists after protecting Loras from the Mountain, having been named champion by Loras, escorts Sansa home.

Sansa was the Queen of Beauty and Love of the Tourney, only the author deconstructed the events in tiny little pieces. Again, George is literally giving us a puzzle with tiny little pieces that we must put together in order to get this story right.

A CLASH OF KINGS. 

In this book, we are going to read a tale about the Blue Rose of Winterfell in one of Jon Snow chapters. The author is going to intercalate the chapters giving us a foreshadow for the end of the story. The chapters 51, 52 and 53 are going to be very important for the story.

A CLASH OF KINGS CHAPTER 51, JON VII

In this chapter Jon Snow captures Ygritte and while she is his prisoner, she tells Jon and the audience, the story of Bael the Bard, who stole the maiden of Winterfell and left in her place a blue rose. 

She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. "And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?" "I never knew my mother. Or any such song." "Bael the Bard made it," said Ygritte. "He was King-beyond-the-Wall a long time back. All the free folk know his songs, but might be you don't sing them in the south." "The Stark in Winterfell wanted Bael's head, but never could take him, and the taste o' failure galled him. One day in his bitterness he called Bael a craven who preyed only on the weak. When word o' that got back, Bael vowed to teach the lord a lesson. So he scaled the Wall, skipped down the kingsroad, and walked into Winterfell one winter's night with harp in hand, naming himself Sygerrik of Skagos. Sygerrik means 'deceiver' in the Old Tongue, that the First Men spoke, and the giants still speak." "North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark's own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he'd made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. 'All I ask is a flower,' Bael answered, 'the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o' Winterfell.'" "Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o' the winter roses be plucked for the singer's payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished . . . and so had Lord Brandon's maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain".(A Clash of Kings - Jon VI)

In the song, Bael calls the maiden of Winterfell the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens of Winterfell and stills her for himself. The Lord of Winterfell thought he meant the winter roses from the glass castle gardens, but it was the girl that Bael wanted for himself.

The next chapter of the book, chapter 52, is SANSA IV

In this chapter Sansa will get her period and be ready to give children to the king. A winter rose (a maiden Stark of Winterfell) is flowering and blooming. 

"When she woke, the pale light of morning was slanting through her window, yet she felt as sick and achy as if she had not slept at all. There was something sticky on her thighs. When she threw back the blanket and saw the blood, all she could think was that her dream had somehow come true. She remembered the knives inside her, twisting and ripping. She squirmed away in horror, kicking at the sheets and falling to the floor, breathing raggedly, naked, bloodied, and afraid. But as she crouched there, on her hands and knees, understanding came. "No, please," Sansa whimpered, "please, no." She didn't want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now...... The sight of the food made Sansa feel ill. Her tummy was tied in a knot. "No, thank you, Your Grace." "I don't blame you. Between Tyrion and Lord Stannis, everything I eat tastes of ash. And now you're setting fires as well. What did you hope to accomplish?" Sansa lowered her head. "The blood frightened me." "The blood is the seal of your womanhood. Lady Catelyn might have prepared you. You've had your first flowering, no more." Sansa had never felt less flowery. "My lady mother told me, but I . . . I thought it would be different." "Different how?" "I don't know. Less . . . less messy, and more magical." Queen Cersei laughed. "Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you'll learn that soon enough . . . and the parts that look like magic often turn out to be messiest of all." She took a sip of milk. "So now you are a woman. Do you have the least idea of what that means?" "It means that I am now fit to be wedded and bedded," said Sansa, "and to bear children for the king." (A CLASH OF KINGS - SANSA IV)

I must admit I was always surprised that so many readers never notice how Sansa chapter where she flowers comes right after the chapter where we hear the tale of Bael the Bard and never put the two together. If the story follows the end of the show, Sansa will be the last maid left in Winterfell, since Arya is sailing in the sea and Jon will be the King Beyond the wall. 

A STORM OF SWORDS

Finally, my favourite foreshadow in the entire serie!!!!

This was it was noticed by https://www.tumblr.com/nattyslove22 please go check her gorgeous post here in this link!!!!

To catch the little crumbs that George left us in this book, we have to go back to book 1, A GAME OF THRONES in order to find our clues. In that novel, Catelyn kidnaps Tyrion Lannister and takes him to the Vale, to her sister castle the Eyre and while she is there, she mentions that Lysas apartments are close to a small garden of blue flowers.

Lysa's apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. So the Lords of the Eyrie planted grass and scattered statuary amidst low, flowering shrubs. It was there the two champions would meet to place their lives, and that of Tyrion Lannister, into the hands of the gods. (A GAME OF THRONES CATELYN VII)

Later in A STORM OF SWORDS, we will have Sansa leaving her apartments and finding the entire garden covered in snow. We know that it’s the same garden because George made sure to point out the sculpture of the Weeping woman in both chapters. 

In this scene, we have Sansa being kissed by the SNOW on her lips in a garden of BLUE FLOWERS, reviving her dreams of love and innocence. The entire chapter feels like a dream, where Sansa longs for home, for the dreams that she used to dream. 

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home. …….. Snow was falling on the Eyrie. Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. Was this what woke me? Already the snowfall lay thick upon the garden below, blanketing the grass, dusting the shrubs and statues with white and weighing down the branches of the trees. The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood.

We are going back to her childhood. 

She had last seen snow the day she'd left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she'd ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done.

We have now Sansa for the first time in the novels, mentioning HER SONG, the song she thought it was going to happen in Kings Landing, the song that she now believes has come to an end. But what if, her song is just about to start???

When she opened the door to the garden, it was so lovely that she held her breath, unwilling to disturb such perfect beauty. The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet, she stepped all the same. 

Ghostly silence is very on the nose. 

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

SIGH, this will NEVER not be the most romantic chapter of the books.

THE BLUE ROSE AND SANSA STARK

Many of you, will say that the Blue Rose is not Sansa, its Jon Snow, which I agree somehow. The books point out to Jon as the blue rose, but the books also point out as the maiden of Winterfell as the winter rose. 

A very interesting point to notice is that this time, George is making the story a little different. You see, in the tale of Bael the Bard, Bael is the singer who enchants the Winterfell maiden, runs away with her and gives her a son; the same thing with Prince Rhaeger, who stole Lyanna and gave her a son, Rhaegar, just like Bael was a singer and played the High Harp, we have several characters in the books mentioning what lovely singer the dragon prince is that he even made Lyanna Stark cry with his sweet voice. With Jon and Sansa, the story will be a little different, because in this story, Sansa is the singer!!!!!

CREDIT https://nobodysuspectsthebutterfly.tumblr.com/post/716900314509361152

Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. (A Game of Thrones - Arya I)

Well look at that, the same instrument that Rhaegar used to play. 

Margaery’s kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce. ( A Storm of Swords - Sansa II)

And of course, Jon only mentions Sansa a few times but he makes sure to mention Sansa singing.

"Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow.". (A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII)

It was Sansa who bewitched Jon Snow with her songs, right in the beginning of the story. Which is why I believe that Sansa first child will be a girl and not a son, like Lyanna and Rhaegar. 

THE POWER OF SONGS

Its with a song that Sansa saves her life during the battle of Blackwater. We all know that during that chapter Sandor Clegane abandons Joffrey guard and goes looking for Sansa in her room. He is drunk and angry and Sansa believes he will either rape or kill her, she is terrified of him, but instead of screaming or crying, she sings for him and her song calms him and makes him cry. 

Later, in the next chapter Sandor Clegane comes looking for Sansa in her room and threats to kill her, Sansa is terrified of him and instead of screaming or crying she starts to sing and her song calms him and makes him cry. 

His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking. Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. A CLASH OF KINGS - SANSA VII)

Yes, Sansa is no warrior and can not use swords, but she was still able to defeat the great Sandor Clean by using a song. I love that detail in her story. This is a Song of Ice and Fire and my baby girl is one of the singers of the story.

OK, this is getting long, so I am finishing here. I am a re reading of all the books this year, expecting for a release date of WINDS (we can dream right?) but I am getting surprised at how many little details I am finding this time. The books are full of little surprises. 

BTW, I am planning to do a thread pointing out the parallels between Sansa and Rhaegar and let me tell you, the singing its not the only one I notice so far!!

[talesfromthecrypts]

7 Comfort Movies

tagged by @crumb (hi crumb!) to list 7 comfort movies

Near Dark

Malignant

Aliens

Paterson

The Company of Wolves

Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight

Nightbreed

tagging @hellboys, @andtwelfth, @losthavenmine,@pascow

[requiesticat]

Celebration of Twilight update

Planning to finish COT sooner or later. I've changed my mind about playing LGTS so will likely get that game as well. Not sure of whether I should change the Strange Boy's name or not since he got a canon title (Ozzy).

In the process of penning Lisette's next chapter, Death Drive. Here's a short preview:

At the very end of the table, where Goldia had once been bound with rope, surrounded by guests permanently invited, a lone figure sat hunched. Cautiously, Enjel moved closer. Lisette's double was not a captive, but remained in place, violet eyes glittering in the low light, face unsmiling and haggard. She didn't move, even as Enjel stopped a safe distance away, and cleared her throat. Bread crumbs decorated a soup dish surrounded by crumpled napkins.

"Hello," said Enjel, for lack of a better approach to friendly topics. "Can you hear me?"

The golem took ages to nod, but at least it was reciprocation. Didn't turn, or even flinch at the sight of another person, staring blankly forward.

"Pardon my interruption. I… wish to speak with your creator. But it doesn't look like Lisette is here. Could you, ah, provide directions, please?"

Chapped lips moved, cracking like worked, dry clay. She was saying something. Enjel leaned in, strained to listen.

"What?"

"She's right behind you."

Heart hammering in her chest, Enjel jerked around like she'd seen the devil, and was still trying to process it when a boot slammed down with the force of a thunderclap, echoing across cobblestone. Even Lisette's movements seemed to be amplified, stiff and haughty, as she approached from behind a pillar like a corpse shambling out of a dank crypt.

She certainly knew how to make a memorable entrance.

[jessilynallendilla]

Dylan Hollis Baking Quotes Without Context Part 6

“We’re using it in linguini form, which I’ve never seen-eugh" 

“Dates are inevitable” 

“I don’t know where this is going, I don’t think I want to” 

“You mix this up to make it all green and disgusting. Charming” 

“This is just not right” 

“Now we’re going to plate this monstrosity” 

~”Peaches and linguini. Hearts of palm. Dates too~” 

“Now on goes our frozen swamp cream” 

“These are fresh eggs. From the business end of the chicken” 

“Ooh it’s wet!” 

“This is roughly four cups of crumbs and tears from artisan bread makers” 

“Now into a separate bowl goes two chicken eggs. Well, thank heavens you specified, I was at risk of using my locally sourced ostrich eggs” 

“We start with two large packs of lemon Jello because one would be too easy and three’s a felony” 

“Once you get to this color you are severely dehydrated” 

“Lemon lime fever dream” 

“Pour this into something, preferably the garbage” 

“This person has been to a dark place.” “Ugh it lingers.” “Seen bad things.” 

“You hear that, Henry?” tosses skeleton. “Long live Christmas!” 

“Make sure to take off the diapers, not very nutritious.” 

“Optional cup of chocy chips. Optional my ass!” 

“If you leave it in too long you risk pregnancy” 

“I call that a cup. No need to be precise, your in-laws will still find a way to insult you.” 

“We don’t cook with pot hash anymore for the same reasons we don't attempt to cure indigestion with lobotomies” 

Sheri is the popery of liquor. It was once very fashionable back when people bathed once a week and wondered why there were rats in their wigs.” 

“Smells really festive, like Febreze in a crypt” 

“Just a tablespoon of rum.” pours whole bottle, proceeds to drunkenly stumble into oven. 

“This looks like I microwaved a squirrel.” 

��Are you supposed to eat this for Christmas or for punishment?” 

“I’m sure people loved it back then when they ate lead paint and wood chips.” 

“You don’t have to use the whole box, you can beat a few and suck on the rest.” 

“Sorry I’m late I took the wrong exit at Cape Canaveral and ended up getting probed for free.” 

“Oh boy it’s butter on butter, nobody tell Paula Dean, she’ll bust in like the Kool-Aid Man” 

“Apparently these are named after the seed of the Buckeye tree which kills humans and cattle. Ohio you do you.” 

“Oh, the fifties, where when breakfast was a verb, baseball was relevant, and I would have had to have a wife” 

“Pinch of salt-”spills it-”Screams” 

“This looks like 10W40” 

“You can still buy powdered creamer if you like the taste of wood glue” 

“Finally alternate adding the dry and the motor oil” 

“For years I have searched for a gelatin mold that is edible and for years I have done so in vain” 

“C’mon Pepto!” 

“This book contains five secret cornbread recipes believed to be the lost sacred texts of Nebraska. Bake them all, die!” 

“Two boxes of cornbread mix. By the power of the Midwest!” 

“Sprinkle with water to avoid dry spots. What type of Nebraska voodoo is this?” 

“It reeks!” 

Stressed laughter “My house smalls like Hidden Valley.” 

[rulebaetannia]

Parties? On HMS Victory? Oh, the shame of it!

There is nothing funnier to me than this piece from some years ago, in which the Daily Mail tries to lazily fear monger about allowing small and respectable receptions and dinners on the over two hundred year old warship, HMS Victory.

"The Great Cabin, where Admiral Lord Nelson plotted his strategy during the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, is available for fine dining by a group of 20 people for a minimum cost of £30,000." Trying to make it sound so grandiose and therefore undignified to have a dinner party in the room that Nelson planned his battles in! And that Nelson lived in. And that Nelson invited people into to come visit him. And...had dinner parties in.

"[. . .]dinner on the Lower Gun Deck – where the lower ranks survived on stale biscuits and ale – starts at £240 a head." What an affront to history! Eating fancy food where battle hardened sailors once survived on dusty crumbs! Never mind that Nelson constantly went out of his way to make sure his sailors ate well, but no one writing this actually cares one whit about Nelson or Victory.

"The use of the vessel – which led Britain to victory against the French and Spanish fleets – will dismay traditionalists who believe treasured parts of the nation’s heritage should not be exploited for commercial benefit." The money is specifically going toward the on going restorations of Victory, of course. Unfortunately these traditionalists don't seem to be aware that Nelson loved dinner parties so much that his two closest companions, Captain Hardy and Lady Hamilton, were both known for their knack and grace when hosting dinner parties. Honestly, eating overpriced food and pretending to know about wine is probably the most historically accurate thing you could do on this ship.

Also funny, they quote people who have much reason to care about the ship--a descendant of Nelson's, the Nelson society, the National Museum of the Royal Navy--all of whom were generally of the opinion this is fine, as long as the ship is taken care of and respected. But surely the dignity of Victory shouldn't be the site of some brat teenager's 16th birthday! Or a hen night (bachelorette party) oh, the indignity of penis shaped candles on Lord Horatio Nelson's hallowed ship!

But then they have a quote from the man who books the parties saying that they are very selective and have strict rules regarding allowing parties on the ship. Most of these are to do with preserving the ship's condition, though they say they are also careful about choosing what to allow on the ship. They even specifically rule out 18th birthday parties and the aforementioned hen nights. It's nice when conservative rage bait pieces helpfully debunk themselves.

But my friends, this is the best punchline to this article:

You can have a party around Nelson's crypt! He's entombed in the black marble sarcophagus above the plinth in the centre. They even gave him lovely lesbian lighting.

[rollercoasterwords]

the wolfstar crumbs…. are keeping me going,,, why am i so focused on that remus was the only one to wait for sirius before they went into the crypt,,,

but seriously atwmd is my favorite fic and the world building is so so so good. thank you so much for sharing your story (and talent) with us!

thank uuuu <3 glad ur enjoying…there will be more than crumbs in the next 2 chs so 😁😁😁

[bam-stroker]

Grrrrrrrrr I love my dragon OC so much!!! *rips shirt werewolf style* ASRIR!!!!

For context, his hoard is made up entirely of unfinished stories, art that got ruined by cats running across paintings, weird fantasy fanfic, or those human faces on medieval cat art style paintings.

Just all around, he adores the things that an artist might toss aside to be forgotten

Love this guy :')

[corndoggod]

Our Bed

Our bed was secret. Had to be. That was part of the fun and all of the hurt. 

Our bed was a crypt with no cover and a muddied welcome mat.

Our bed was unbecoming to anyone, even us. I loved it. Ate off it buffet style. Threw the bones inside a pillowcase and called it a gun. I was lost in the high desert of Oregon, about to die, when I finally fell asleep.

Our bed was a curtain of light compressing milky skin.

Our bed was my shoulder and your heavy head. Scorched hair, smell of peppermint shampoo. I could not look away. 

Our bed was a nest of crumbs and endless episodes of The Office. Are you still watching? Yes, yes we are. 

Our bed was a pit. Our bodies were dry husks. We made no sound. We waited for new light.

Our bed was a gust of desire. A siren blared in the distance. We left the basement and walked through the wreckage like tourists.

Our bed was a cowboy exposed to the elements. All six of them.

Our bed was all we talked about even though we didn’t share one. 

Our bed was a feathered sarcophagus we sold to a museum.

Our bed was a river bed, polished by centuries of rushing water. We pressed against one another, wind in a sail. That’s how we moved through the world. 

Our bed was a claw-foot bathtub. I could not sleep because before my epileptic grandma had a seizure while drawing a bath and drowned. She was lost to that thin place between breathing and sleeping, and so was my insomniac Dad. Just two years old, he sat nearby and cried and cried.

Our bed was the cheapest mattress money could buy. This was in New York, where the pressure to make money throttles the will to make anything else. Even love.

Our bed was an airless furnace. We welled our spit, kissed, swallowed, gasped for more. 

Our bed was all windows and an early frost. There were fish to take care of. There was a war to win.

I am alone now, and this bed is too big. 

[tavtiers]

Homestuck Planet Ideas for Fankids, Fantrolls, & Crossovers

These come from my: Theory for Accurate Quest Planets based on Classpects

Simply combine a class and aspect and create a new planet. Enjoy!

sylph: rays, spotlights, sunlight page: mounds, sand, spires, forms, mountains seer: rain, flow, fountains, minerals heir: shade, caves, prison cells, fog, dusk rogue: pyramids, little cubes, generic objects, metal bars, igloos bard: (both aspects) maid: crypts, quartz, coffins, tunnels, catacombs, wells knight: heat, haze, dragon-fire, grey, illusions mage: brains, memory, conscience, sanity, psyche, marbles witch: frost, glass, mirrors, clear water, hail thief: treasure, bounty prince: (both aspects)

space: frogs, stardust (bards & princes of time only) void: neon, silence, night, ravens breath: wind, zephyr, flurries, blizzards life: helium, dew, crumbs, plenty mind: krypton, thought, tactics, justice, tales rage: wrath, tents, demons, labors hope: xenon, angels, mirth, spirits, daisies heart: tombs, tea, roses, vermillion, cats doom: fire, undead, sludge, plague blood: pulse, bloodstains, warpaint, phylacteries, valves light: light, maps, sextants, gilding, coins, glow time: clockwork, melody, serpents, dissection, horus

[honeysmokedham]

Call Me Maybe || Nora & Teddy

TIMING: 4/28 at 3:12 pm LOCATION:  A Cell Phone Store PARTIES:  Nora @honeysmokedham & Teddy @eldritchaccident SUMMARY: Nora goes to steal a new cell phone and Teddy is ready for a fun little time. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

There were a lot of things Nora enjoyed about her new life. Namely it was the freedom to exist the way she wants to exist. Nora was without eyes watching her move, ready to write tweets about the pathetic attempts Nora was making at living her life. The one thing Nora didn’t like was the lack of money. Sure, stealing things was easy, but having an unlimited credit card was easier. The amount of ham she could be dining on every night was nothing compared to the few crumbs she managed to scrounge together each night and call her nightly meal. 

Today Nora had a “shopping” list of one new cell phone. Her last one she’d smashed into the wall of a crypt. She didn’t want to talk about it. It was a sore topic. Nora walked around the electronic store, eyes glued to the many devices in front of her. If she was going to steal something she might as well steal something good right. Iphone or android? Big or small? God Nora hated electronics. Her last phones had always been whatever her fathers gave her. And those were normally sent by electronic companies so people would see her using them in public and people wanting to be like her would buy them. “What’s the difference.” Nora murmured out loud, staring between what she thought was the newest android and the newest iphone. She didn’t actually know. 

Teddy had spied the kid the moment she stepped into the store. They knew that look, knew what it meant. Knew the hunger that was behind it. Technically it was their (temp) job to stop people from doing exactly that sort of thing, but in a store like this? Stealing wasn’t as easy as just picking the latest model off the display. For one, the displays were hard locked in, each with a massive charging/safety port thing super glued to their back. For another, a phone was almost nothing these days, not without a proper sim card. 

Fortunately for the would-be thief, the demon was in a particularly good mood that day. Despite, or maybe to spite the man they’d taken this job for. Filling in miraculously right when Robert Whatshisname had called out. The job was about as interesting as they had expected, nothing compared to being a line cook, or doing deliveries, or tending bar. Teddy really liked bar tending. You got a lot of stories out of that one, and most of the patrons delighted in the strange concoctions that the demon liked to make. (Usually because they were already too drunk to care about the strategic and strange flavor choices.) 

Like always, the demon had a little knack for knowing where to be, and when. And they got another temp job. Johnny Phonecompanyguy didn’t even care so much to look into the fake ID Teds had set up for themself, he was just happy to not have to be in his own damn store for a whole day. That was fine by Teddy. That was the way they liked it. 

The store was pretty much otherwise deserted. Another woman was in the back corner, deciding which case to get her four sons for their very fancy iPhones. She demanded a whole host of attention earlier, and Teddy demanded (silently, without her knowledge) a little payback. The demon sauntered closer to the kid though, quietly making their way around until they were just behind her. That’s when they leaned down, put on their best smile, and whispered. “Phones usually work better with data.” 

The last thing Nora wanted today was an employee getting into her business. Nora turned to the employee, a shit-eating grin pasted all over their face. Rose-colored glasses reflected her own blank face back to her. She looked past the reflection to the eyes beneath, looking at her and her phone choices with interest. “I have data.” Nora reached into her pocket, rummaging around to find what she was looking for. A snake, someone who caught a ride in her jacket a few days ago and hadn’t left due to the free food, wrapped itself around her wrist and started moving up her arm. Nora found her phone, holding it out to the employee. It was a pre-paid android she’d traded someone for six months ago. She knew it had six months of service left before she had to figure out what to do. 

With the attention of what seemed to be the singular employee in the store, Nora now knew this game had to play out differently. Get the information she needed from the employee. Trick him into leaving her along with a phone ready to go and then get out of there. Easy right? Nora’s posture changed. She’d played the game of the rich and famous before and she could do it again. Easily she slipped back into the mask of Eleanor Pine. The daughter of Gregory and Damien Pine, rich and powerful men who know their worth and expect to be treated in a reflection of it. Eleanor Pine would have never been allowed to walk outside in her tattered and dirty clothes. She would have never worn a repeat outfit, and she would have never been at an electronics store. She had also never been Nora Pine. Nora could do this. 

“My phone broke.” A hand came up to play with a strand of her hand. “You don’t happen to know which model I would need, do you?” In the back of the store, Nora could see another woman picking out phone cases. Maybe her distraction could be scaring that woman. Then the employee could go saunter over there, help her and Nora could sneak out. "The best of the best." The mask of it all was exhausting. Years of being who she wanted to be had destroyed the calluses of the mask. "In black." She had an aesthetic to keep up, after all. 

Teddy’s smile only seemed to widen at the sudden snakey influx, and at the game being played. One they’d been on the other side of before. The Joneses didn’t always have extra cash to throw at any problem, and who could say no to an adorable little face like Teds when they were young? Few folks said no to it now, ‘hardened’ as it was with age and the scars of the road they’d taken to get where they were. (Fewer folks would say Teddy looked like they ever had a hard day in their life. The carefree attitude didn’t quite match with the experience they’d earned. The most edgy thing about them was maybe the scar, and even that could be explained away as a port wine birthmark rather than a tale of nuns with guns and knives.) So yes, Teddy knew this game. 

They were, however, wrestling with which side to play on. Give a challenge to the young girl, or a helping hand. Maybe that depended on how well she kept up. Maybe they’d play a different game entirely. See how much help they could give without ever being spotted. “Ahh. Happens to the best of the best of us.” Teds repeated the phrasing, hopefully letting on that they had been listening well. Though, that tended to be the kind of thing the demon picked up on while not many others did. 

Teddy lilted into an easy laugh, bobbing their shoulders as they strolled around the counter. Prowling almost like a shark would, or maybe like a cat with a very interesting hair tie. “I’ve shattered more than my fair share. I’m sure we can get you exactly what you need.” And go. Roll the dice, see where they land. From then on out, each sentence would be a calculated code. 

The girl looked clever. A bit tired, sure. Had that layer of dirt that only really ever comes from sleeping outside for so long. The kind you can’t quite get off even with a few showers. Smelled of earth and damp. Maybe something underground? Hard to tell. Harder to let slide. If the kid did well in this game maybe they’d have to arrange something else. Hire that damn detective to track her down. 

“So what is your name miss?” Teddy clacked away at the keys behind the counter, acting as if they were doing anything more than just strategically keysmashing. “Did you have insurance with us?” 

 “Cassiopeia.” The name slithered out of Nora’s mouth in tandem with the snake sliding its way up Nora's arm. "It really does happen to the best of the best of us." Nora's voice had shifted from her comfortable monotone to the one her acting instructors had drilled her on. She missed the days when she was young and got away with being non-verbal. Her first words at the age of 8 had been a mistake that opened the floodgates to something else. 

This employee was so easy in their interaction. Nora doubted the tension that held her together would be reflected in them. An easy laugh. An easy approach to strangers. The appearance of being carefree. Nora itched to scare them. Nora thought it would be fun. Would they still laugh in the face of a monster? Nora wanted to know. It was the thing Nora wanted to know about everyone. 

Rich people didn't ask for the names of their help. That wasn't how the rules were played. Nora was never good at the game. "And your name?" Nora caught her mistake instantly. "Just in case." To sound like a threat. As if to say so if anything in this interaction goes wrong I can speak to your manager. That was the kind of customer employees hated to deal with. Maybe this one would be scared of those employees. It would be a fun little treat. 

Nora's eyes floated back to the phones in front of her. "I didn't get my phone through you. My last store's work was unsatisfactory. I will be getting what I am owed from them." A threat of a sue. That was the play, right? Companies hated being sued. "Now I'm here. I'm sure I won't have that same problem here." Why did the hoity-toity talk so much? Nora wanted the employee to just use their little key and pull out a brand new phone so she could make her escape. "Can I see more options for that phone?" Nora pointed at the closet model. 

“Ahh, lovely name. Some might say even prettier than Aphrodite!” Teddy grinned, loving the classic nature of the pseudonym. It had to be one, right? Not that it was impossible for someone today to pick a name from an old Greek Tragedy (or more likely, from the constellation), but more likely… improbable. Considering Teds would never give a real name when they were trying to steal something. Though, what the demon would do was hardly a metric to measure the world by. They’d learned that lesson many many times. Ah well. 

“Me? I’m Cetus.” The sea monster that came to wreck Cassiopeia’s kingdom. Really fitting, all things considered. And absolutely not what was on their nametag. Teddy wondered if she’d notice. If she was looking. Honestly probably not, nerves so often got in the way of little details. “And I certainly hope we can do better than your last store.” All smiles, sweetened honeyed words. “Maybe if I work some magic over here we can get you set up with a discount and it won’t cost you five fingers.” Was that too obvious? Or not enough? Did kids still use that phrase? It wasn’t like they were saying it was ‘so discounted it was practically a steal’ or something. 

“Sure thing, lemme show you which phones you could walk out with today.” Not willing to just throw the game right there, Teddy pulled out the docked iPad instead. Flipped to the app that had all the options in an easy slideshow esq parade. “You could even get it personalized.” That part was true, and something Mr. SellCellService had asked his new temp clerk to upsell. “You could get a black phone with an engraving of a snake like your little buddy there. We have the laser right in store. It’s fascinating to watch.” 

No one could ever say Nora was good at math, but something wasn’t adding up. Nora’s eyes flickered down to the employee’s name tag reading ‘Viktor’ then back to Cetus’s face. Okay. That one? She wouldn’t judge. Nora would hate working in a people-facing position and giving her name. Not that Nora would ever deign to work. Working was for poor people. Where the math started getting too complicated for Nora to follow, were subtle words she thought were calling her out. It would not cost her five fingers and walk out with today. Those rose-colored glasses appeared to hold more knowledge of the world than Nora had hoped. 

Nora's jaw jutted out as she fought the urge to wrap herself in illusion. To send the smug and satisfied employee fleeing away. Nora swallowed back the rash of emotion. It was that desperate need to scare everyone around her that developed her poker face. The whole while, struggling with confusion from everything Cetus had said to the urge to scare them shitless, her face had remained as impassive as ever. What Nora wasn't, was witty. When it came to words she was a blunt object. Cetus seemed to be a fine-edged tool, dancing around the conversation. Nora would have to be careful, but she found herself struggling with how. Then to make all of it worse, they weren't even scared of the snake on her arm. What kind of shit was that? That should have at least been a level-one nerve factor. 

Nora looked down at the iPad in front of her. "Personalization won't be necessary. Just the phone and nothing else." Nora couldn't control herself anymore. An illusion of scales flickered across her body. A whisper of a story that she was as reptilian as the snake crawling up her arm. Even her pupils elongated into long slits for just a second. Perhaps that little glimpse would be enough to get Cetus startled enough to pull out the phone in a hurry. "I'm sure you can understand. I'm in a rush." A rush to get out from under those fluorescent lights and the laminate flooring. Nora just wanted to go curl up back in her crypt and sort through everything that had happened the last few days. 

Well that was different. Sparking up something even more delighted in the demon. Who’s fishy side was often confused for a large mutated crocodile. (The running theory on the cryptid watcher boards was something about Big Finn being an escaped lab experiment, or a croc that ate plutonium but survived, it was all very scientific you know.) A subtle sniff and things didn’t quite match. Teddy didn’t detect the distinct… fragrance a lamia carried. Nor one a snakey fae might either. Was she trying to scare them? Was that it? It would’ve worked on a regular employee but uh, Teds wasn’t exactly that. 

Few things in this world scared Teddy Jones. Kind of comes with the territory of being an eldritch horror. Though, maybe it went back further than that. Leviathan always liked to tell stories of how the young human child seemed to enjoy seeing the great sea beast. Back when it seemed larger than life. Impossible. Horrifying. Maddening. And yet, itty bitty Teddy saw that as a friend shape. And then it was a dad shape. The rest was history. Whoever the Joneses were before, a newer, better version stepped out of that shack. 

But how were they supposed to respond to this? Gosh it was such a conundrum. Thinking it through in bullet time, Teddy had a situation on their hands regardless. Option one; be scared. But they didn’t even have the phones out yet.. Or was this meant to speed them up? The cell that Cassiopeia showed was pretty busted. It’d be a miracle if the sim card wasn’t messed up too. Demons didn’t hand out miracles. Only expertly placed misfortunes that benefited someone else. In this case, the girl. Hopefully. Their mind had already been dead set on helping before, this new scaly excursion kind of only made them want to help more. 

So, option two; cool as a cucumber. Hopefully it’d indicate something collaborative rather than combative. “Even without the personalization I bet I can help you get something even better than what you got there.” A flick of the eyebrows. C’mon kid. It was almost out in the open. The demon’s eyes darted to the other presence in the store, then back at the straight faced… teen? Was she a teen? Honestly Ted was so bad at picking out ages. She could have been twelve or twenty five, and the clerk probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you which. 

It was rude that the people of this town had such a high fear tolerance. Was Nora not always out here doing the most? Creating beautiful pieces of art for people to tremble before, and now no one cared anymore. No one was scared in this goddamn town. Everyone in this town really was liars. And probably the rest of the world, convincing Nora that she was scary. Now she was nothing. Nothing and with a broken phone. But the employee was looking at Nora like they were trying to convey something to her. Nora stopped sitting in the cesspool that was her own internal monologue and tried to follow what Cetus was telling her. Eyes darted from Nora to the other lady in the store. Did... Did they want Nora to scare that customer away? 

Nora turned from Cetus and their rose-colored glasses to look at the lady, still engrossed in her phone cases, then glanced back at Cetus. Okay. You really didn't need to ask Nora to scare someone twice. The weird thing was this was the first time someone was asking Nora to scare someone. No one had ever utilized her penchant for pranks before in that manner.  Generally, Nora picked her victims and worked from there. Most people who found out about her pranks didn't stay around for long enough to weaponize them against others. This was... New.

"Hey, lady." Nora's monotone voice filled the store, echoing off the linoleum floors and vibrating in the small space. The woman whipped around, confusion speckled across her features. "Eat shit." Nora stated. The illusion around her swelled. In a sequence of images, Nora's human skin shredded off her body, falling into translucent heaps on the floor as a giant king cobra emerged standing there and hissing. The woman was, understandably, screaming by then. The cases she was holding tumbled to the ground as she ran towards the exit. Nora made her dance for it, the snake striking out at the lady. She dodged and screamed, slamming into the door before she finally made it out. Where she had stood, Nora could see she left her purse. Nora hoped she wouldn't need to come back for it soon.

The illusion shrunk around Nora as she played it in reverse. Her flesh picked itself back up off the floor, sewing itself around her and wrapping her in her human cocoon as the snake disappeared deep inside her. Then there was Nora. Standing there, petting her snake with a finger. "The discount?" Nora asked, looking back at Cetus. No fear drifted off the employee, but the woman had left a wonderful trail of fear to devour. "It's rude not to be scared," Nora added. Because it was. It was rude to her and her craft that she worked so hard on. 

“Ooohoo hoo! Masterfully done!” This little spider wove quite a web now didn’t she? Teddy’s eyes lit up with glee, even just watching the back of whatever Cassiopeia had going on. It was gruesome, it was wretched, it was incredible. It made the demon a little jealous. The way the woman had fled the store worked perfectly into the plan Teddy had started spinning the second they realized what this kid was trying to do. 

“My sincerest apologies about that, Miss Cassiopeia.” Teddy humbled themself with a deep and reverent bow. The queen of fear, as far as they could tell, deserved as much. Once righted though, their grin returned, with absolutely no sugar coating. “But now that she’s gone, we can get some real work done. Stealing the phone and putting your old card into it is only going to work as long as they don’t catch on. As long as they don’t track it. I got a better method for ya, if you’re interested.” A sly tilt of their head to the side, and it was clear the demon was no longer working on behalf of the store. 

Nora had read a book before. It was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Alice had been an idiot, but there had been one singular character that Nora had drawn quite a fondness to. The Cheshire cat. This employee, standing in front of her with twinkling glasses and a mischievous grin, had to be the embodiment of the character. Frankly, that meant Nora was fucked. Not for any real reason. Simply because Nora refused to be Alice in any scenario. No, she could be Not Alice. The better Alice who is capable of making choices and doesn't have a breakdown at the slightest inconvenience. Last night... didn't count. 

At least the clever cat had manners and was interesting. Nora had finally caught on the Cetus might not be their real name and they were playing a game, just like the cat. Nora's head tilted to the side. "Why are you helping me?" She asked, point blank. As usual, she was a blunt object, never a sharpened blade. "What will I owe you?" 

“Bored mostly.” A beat. A consideration. She was so young. “And I’ve been where you are right now. Can’t say I know why you’re doin’ all this, but uhh. Y’know. One friend of Lupin to another.” Teddy softened slightly, not by much, maybe not even perceptibly. It wasn’t easy being a kid, double or triple that if you weren’t human. And unless she had an accomplice somewhere around, it didn’t look like she had her own version of Levi either. 

Alone. 

Maybe that’s what likened the girl to the demon the most. Teddy hated being alone. Hated needing other people too, which was a bit of a conundrum sometimes. Showing that the world didn’t have to be lonely, well maybe that was a good thing. And maybe that’s why they didn’t really care to ask for anything in return. Well, nothing of substance. 

“Owe me? You already paid by getting rid of Uptight McShouty back there. You didn’t see the storm she was making before you came in. Or the mess her boys made that I had to clean up before she went off to look at phone cases.” Ted's head quirked again, this time along with their gaze. Upward, thinking for a second, running the mental math and possibilities. Finally landing on something and nodding as if Nora had been able to hear the stream of consciousness. “Do you want a case? It’ll keep your next one from getting shattered like that. Though, the way I’m hooking you up you can just get a new one anytime.” 

Quick hands made quicker work of the technical side of things. Boxes were pulled, primed, and set up for the girl’s inspection. A very nice expensive model, and a few of their more hardy cases. As well as some other goodies too. Cause why not? If someone else was going to foot the bill, what did it matter? 

“Hellen Richardson was very rude to me, and if I do this riiiiiight, she won’t even notice the extra fees hidden in her bills. Honestly she’ll probably think it’s one of those rowdy teens racking up the price.” Teddy winked, feeling particularly proud of themselves for this one. “She gets just desserts for being a terrible customer, and you get unlimited data and our best coverage for breaks and losses!” 

What Nora could understand was making fun choices out of boredom. What she didn't understand was who Lupin was and why Cetus assumed she was friends with this Lupin. Nora's brain did mental flips, trying to figure out who this Lupin was. Finally, she settled on saying, "Yeah, Lupin." A simple agreement surely couldn't get her in too much trouble. Surely. She was going to have to google this Lupin when her new phone was up and running. 

Nora watched Cetus work with quick hands, selecting options on the iPad, and presenting everything for Nora to see. This was a lot to handle in a new way. Had Nora not just shown the Cheshire cat something to fear, and in return gotten praise and a free cell phone? A phone that was billed to the lady she actually had scared. Unable to see the best in people, distrust bubbled around Nora. Her eyes shifted to the door every now and then, expecting this was a stall and the police or animal catchers would be here to get her soon. Maybe even those "hunters" Metzli and Emilio had talked about. What a joke. 

"Thank you." The words felt like bricks. It wasn't something she was used to saying. Thanking people. People didn't stick around long enough to be thanked. While this whole experience was leaving her confused and unsure of how to act, she figured that was the next step. "I am glad I could help with Hellen Richardson." As boxes got ready, Nora placed them in her pockets, like a little mouse eating all of its cheese before the scientist could take it away to begin whatever odd experiment she was part of. 

Part of Nora was ready to announce to Cetus that she could scare other people for them. Any place you needed her to go, she could do it. Easily. For fun. For enjoyment. For friendship. That voice was quickly shoved into a box of things to digest later. This was a trap. It had to be. A lie in its own right. Nora needed to be smarter than this game. The problem was, she couldn't see where this game was going. "I'll remember this, Cetus." That was probably the safest at this time. It wasn't an, I'll owe you, or I will give you my first child. It was an if something comes up in the future and we meet again and I can help, I'll do it. 

"I hope more people are rude to you." Boxes in her pockets, Nora was starting to back up slowly. "So you can have more fun." Nora bolted. Nora wasn't sure why she ran, but she felt like she had to. A stranger being too nice to her in a store. Maybe they knew who she was and were waiting for other people to show up so they could get the reward. What was a few million spent in a store when there were millions on the line. 

Before Teddy could do much of anything to ask about the girl’s real name, or anything about her she was off like a shot. Leaving the demon a little perplexed and snapping two finger guns in the direction of the swinging door. Well that was something. A neat little interaction. Wrapped up and packaged in a bow. Teddy was intensely curious about this girl, who she was, what she was (though they had an idea), and what had brought her to the store that day. Plenty of things could shatter a phone, less could lead you to have to steal its replacement. It was amusing, and a bit worrying. 

The demon couldn’t help but hold a little concern for her wellbeing. Something that would absolutely hold their attention more than anything else that could possibly happen in the phone store the rest of the day. Even the (expected) frantic call from Hellen about the ‘terrifying monster’ in the store, of which Teddy assured her there wasn’t one. Citing that the ‘Strange Wicked’s Rest’ nonsense had to be getting to the woman’s head, and that it was all fine. They checked the tapes and everything. Gave her a discount on her next visit anyway. She deserved that much for being such a good sport in Ted’s big plan. Even unknowingly. 

Ahh well. Maybe Ted would call up old grumpy pants and make this another case after the otter incident was resolved. Kind of felt like an invasion of privacy though. Mostly, they hoped, they’d get another chance to see her. Make sure she was alright. And hey, they had to check how the new phone was doing, right?

[pluraltism]

The Sunny System’s Blog! (NEW AND IMPROVED 🤯🤯)

Hello again, we’re the Sunny System! Our original blog (@sunny-system) wasn’t a primary blog, and so for the sake of organization, we decided to make a whole new account. :P

We go by Sunny System, or Sunny, and collectively use he/him pronouns. Some of our special interests include psychology, art, cats, vore (in a non-fetish sense) and a handful of fandoms: (The Stanley Parable, Minecraft + Mcyts, Bugsnax, Undertale…) (feel free to send asks about our special interests!! it’s very fun to rant on about them lol)

A lot of our headmates are fictives, meaning they come from a source/media/fiction. Our autism greatly affects the way alters form, so we have a larger percentage of fictives. Please be respectful and treat them as you would any other person!

“Old” Blogs

“Old” in quotations because we (may) still use them:

@sunny-system - General blog, mostly reblogs

@skullsnbruises - Mcyt/Dsmp vore & g/t art blog [SFW!]

@nomsnax - Bugsnax general + vore & g/t art blog [also SFW]

@midasduoo - Clementine (📀) and Deo’s (🍁) blog

@georgenpdfound - George’s (🍄) regression + NPD blog

Headmates 🧠

Not a finite list of everyone, only those who care enough to post ^^ (no particular order)

🦴 Catskull, he/cat/meow/purr/paw

🍄 George, he/him

👾 Tom, he/him (minor?)

⚛️ Dr. Fizzlebean, they/them

🥞 Crumb, he/him

🍁 Deo, he/him

📀 Clementine, disc/she/he/they (minor)

☣️ Centaur, he/it/xe

🌼 Honeysuckle, they/them (minor)

❄️ Sans, he/him

👑 Techno, he/it/blood

☢️ Tubbo/Ponyboy, he/they/it

🦝 London, he/him (minor)

🌗 Orion, he/kit/mew

🌌 Crypt, he/xyr

⏳ Var, he/love/bug

Tags 🏷️

Emoji tags are to keep track of which alter posted, fee free to ignore them, otherwise refer to the list above ^^

General Tags:

# sunny reblogs , sunny art , sunny textposts

Fandom Tags:

# the stanley parable , tsp , tspd

# bugsnax

# bluey

# dream smp

Tw/Cw Tags:

# cw vore

(I’ll finish this another time, but all in all, we may post vore related content, or triggering topics, or nsfw, so basically any potentially triggering tags as well as fandom tags will be listed here)

DNI ⚠️

(Not complete but) DNI:

Endogenic systems, endo supporters, tulpas, fakeclaimers [I will not be getting into arguements over this. Genuine DID cannot form without childhood trauma] racists, xenophobes, antisemites … ableists, anti-self diagnosis, anti-cluster B, those who believe in ‘narc abuse’, pro-ana transphobes, anti-MOGAI, anti-neoprouns, anti-xenogenders, people who kink shame, pro-censorship; and generally anyone with bad opinions lol

Side note thing: if you don’t like vore or don’t wanna see it plz just block the tag(s) and let me be 🥺