#dust will gather here

[shhh-secret-time]

Are you people proud of yourselves? I cracked under the, not so hard to crack, pressure! I wrote a whole damn thing for Stan and now I'm gonna go work on Kyle! And I'm gonna love every minute of it!

How dare you all let me be this monster! /hj

[franeridart]

op sketching backlog

[monstrousfemale]

found footage

Grainy film, static-y audio. There's a date at top right, and the screen is black, then a blurry motion reveals Steve Harrington standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner. He's focused, his hair is pulled back from his face with mismatched hair clips, there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The camera zooms in, in, in, until we're almost uncomfortably close. There's a little frown between Steve's eyebrows, just a small crease really. A voice asks "what you up to, big boy?"

Steve's eyes dart up, beyond the camera, then straight at it.

"Are you wasting another tape over me cooking?"

"It's never a waste, I like having a record of how you spoil me."

"Turn it off, Eddie," Steve says, turns away from the camera. There's unintelligible mumbling, a snicker.

The image changes.

Steve is writing carefully, handwriting coming out perfectly round, he dots his Is and crosses his Ts with utmost respect.

"Watcha doing?" Eddie asks, out of shot. He sounds like he already knows.

"I'm writing a thank you card," Steve answers distractedly.

"What for?"

"You know what for."

"Tell me again," Eddie insists, and the camera goes crooked, the angle is all wrong, following a foot tapping a shin below the desk.

"I'm thanking Joyce and Hopper," Steve says, defeated. The camera rights itself, and the light streaming in from the kitchen window to their left causes dust particles to dance on the screen, glares up Steve's impatient face.

"Why are you thanking Joyce and Hopper?" Eddie asks, and his smile can be heard in his voice, even though he's still behind the camera.

"I'm thanking them for co-signing our lease," Steve says, and finally smiles like he can't help it. "We're getting a bigger place next week."

"Damn right we are, baby," Eddie says, and the camera is turned to the side, filming out the window where a breeze is causing trees to sway gently. The mic pics up a loud smack, laughter. The camera is set down on the table, films the kitchen wall only.

"You're gonna use up the tape, Eds," Steve can be heard saying, right before the footage stops.

The camera pans over Eddie's body, from his shoes to his frizzy hair. He's sitting down, holding his guitar with usual nerves. He plucks sound out of her, and it comes off uneven.

"Turn that off," he says, looking only at his own fingers moving over the frets.

"No, play it again."

"Turn it off, and I will."

"Play it again and I'll turn it off."

Eddie sighs. Rolls his eyes, and then plasters on a large smile.

"Hey future Steve, you're in for a treat. Present you is forcing me to propose twice, just so he gets it on tape."

The camera is set down, not too carefully, and Eddie is not quite as centered anymore, his hand holding up the guitar's neck is fully off shot. Steve shows up on the footage, covers any view of Eddie.

He places both hands on each side of Eddie's face, kisses him. Not that the camera catches much of it except for the smacking of lips, telltale sighs.

"I already said yes," Steve says, the camera's shitty mic barely catches it. "Just sing it again, please?"

Eddie is nodding when Steve disappears behind the camera, the shot centered again.

He sings something he wrote himself. There's soft sniffling from behind the camera, betraying Steve's emotions. Eddie's eyes never move to the camera, always focused on some point behind it.

The last thing that can be heard is Steve's strangled "I love you," before the image goes dark.

[thevioletcaptain]

the day he died, john who was both a father and a god to the boy he'd raised in his image, told dean he might have to kill the brother he'd raised as his own son, who he'd protected his whole life, whose health and wellbeing he'd placed above his own since he was barely old enough to reach the kitchen counters.

and for the next fifteen years dean went to such extremes to avoid ever having to see sam die at his own hand or someone else's that he sold his own soul and helped an angel trick sam into saying yes to possession and killed death itself.

and then.

and then.

dean faced god.

and he told god, "the whole cain-and-abel thing. us dead. whatever. i'll kill sam. sam will kill me. we'll kill each other. okay? you pick. but, first, you got to put everything back the way it was. the people, the birds. cas. you've gotta bring him back."

and honestly i still feel very calm and normal about that after thinking about it for the past three and a half years

[commandertartarsmoocher]

rip bozo

⚠️[volume warning for the attached link] ⚠️

[genericpuff]

i have nothing to say about the newest episodes of LO

so I'll let past me from the year 2022 say it instead

because everything they said a year and a half ago ironically still applies today and i don't even know how that's possible but it's where we are 💀😭

[luccorvus]

Just bought the most ADHD piece of exercise equipment, in another attempt to find something the fickle goblin that lives inside my head will actually stick to

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Reaper Pov)

Heads up to everyone, this has a big chunk of exposition/notes at the start, so if you want to skip that, I'd reccommend it :,) I'll make the first line of the actual story bits a different color, probably purple, just to make it easier for everyone!

Also! @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens Hello! Hopefully the energy here is fun for y'all!

No edits, fuck it we ball!

   Reminder to self: Reaper has been ruling over his kingdom for decades. He's rule at least 2 generations prior to Nim's reign. His kingdom is on the edge of an ocean strait, enough that he can just barely make out the towers of rival castles across the water (like. Very American example here, but standing on the Michigan portion if Lake Michigan, sometimes you can see the Chicago Skyline across the lake, just barely. That kinda thing.) The only thing connecting him to those smaller cluster of kingdoms is a land bridge that connects the two closest points of the land. Several fishing villages live along it and it's stable, but it's a great funnel to cut off approaching armies. Reaper's kingdom has a powerful port, mountains bordering its land-border and seas on the others. A perfectly isolated paradise. (Also I think he inherited the throne from Life, who loves safely in the mountains among Nature)

   So, Reaper has been able to maintain peace for himself for ages, while the kingdoms on the other continent with less geographical advantages hadn't been as lucky. Conflicts, wars, usurpings, it all kept them at a disadvantage. Kept them *behind*. 

   Reaper was already a grown adult when he recieved the crown. It really shouldn't have fallen to him, but when Life 'died' she left in her will that Reaper (one of her advisors) was to take the throne. Of course, he did just that, and became insanely successful. (A lot of the other characters from his AU either aren't there or established their own kingdoms past the mountains.) 

   He's been able to watch the kingdoms apart from his own grow, listen in on their rumors and new problems. 

   For instance, he knew of the tradition of having a Court Wizard, their last one grew old and passed, and Reaper decided to write to the folks at magic academies across the several other kingdoms, saying he would visit to look for candidates. 

   He rarely left his kingdom, but considering he could dust people at will (well, if he removed his gloves) he wasn't exactly afraid of dying. So he left, abd he searched, and he met Geno at one of the academies. 

   Geno was a top student (set to become a new professor, if not for taking on the chance to be a Royal Wizard) and by then certainly an adult. He was making income for his brothers, and he was sure a Royal Wizard job would be cushy enough to send back Gokd for his brothers until he coukd move them in. Magic was natural to Geno, (inspired by Anchas AU here) a destructive sort, which could bend reality as it was. He often disguised it as other magic types, but he showed off to Reaper, admittedly. Reaper was the king of a prosperous kingdom. He needed this. 

   Reaper was impressed by Geno's control over magic, and he was certain he wouldn't find another wizard so skilled, nor so spirited. (Reaper attempted to say something and Geno rapidly started explaining his magic, completely absorbed in making sure Reaper got it right. He was bold.) But also. Reaper was a simple man. He thought Geno was the most handsome monster he'd ever seen in his years and years of rule. He liked the way Geno's voice sounded when he talked, he liked that squinting that his one socket did when he talked, he liked how fluidly Geno's hands moved when he summoned his magic, he liked it all. He was enamored. Down bad. 

   So, it hardly took a day before Reaper returned to the school to talk to Geno and offer him the position. Reaper was happy to agree to Geno's terms (the pay was to support his family, he'd said. Reaper ensured tye money would be delivered safely) and only after the contract was signed did Geno get to be excited. Openly excited. Because while he didn't hate the idea of teaching, being a Royal Wizard was thrilling. New. And Reaper liked to see that. 

   Geno had joined Reaper about a month later, coming by Ship and arriving with a new energy and passion. He was happy and so Reaper was happy. 

   And then, of course, Geno got word of Error being missing. Having gone missing in the center of Nightmare's Kingdom. 

   Reaper knew of Nightmare vaguely. One of a pair of twins, the sibling always pushed to the side and out of the limelight. Reaper had seen that ritual play out every generation, and he wasn't surprised to hear Nim planned to continue it. Though, he'd been shocked to hear that Nightmare had stolen the apple from his brother and taken the throne by force. What happened to the other twin was vague, none of his spies ever seemed to find much trace. Reaper kind of assumed he was dead. 

   And from there all he heard were bad things. That kingdom had been rough to start with, black markets and blood sacrifice and poor tax prices and poverty run amok, false religions preying on people, crime. It was horrible. So when Nightmare began to build his elite force openly, and fill it with criminals and gypsies (Reaper gets... skewed info sometimes, this I'd referring to Cross and Horror) he was amused by the boldness, and expected the kingdom to crumble in months. 

   But years passed, and things had... honestly gone silent. Sure there were rumors, but there was less harmful action directly from the crown. So Reaper had kinda let the news fade to the background. Until Geno brought up the kingdom to him. 

   Reaper agreed to send spies to search, but ultimately settled on devising a treaty, to see if he could get his people safe entry to do a more thorough search of the land for his missing sibling. 

.

.

.

.

.

   Reaper had sent out his letter a month ago. Something in his gut had told him that, whatever Nightmare was scheming during his absence, it would be much better to establish a basic treaty before he acted. 

   He hadn't been optimistic, of course. Despite the years of relative silence, his spies had been reporting odd movements og Nightmare's elite knights. It spelled trouble. 

   That was why, upon recieving the response from King Nightmare, he'd retired to his personal quarters, asking one of his men to stay outside his door. If Geno came asking, he could not enter. 

   Geno had been looking a bit better since Reaper had sent his first correspondence, but he found that his Wizard was nowhere near the fiery man he'd hired. Part of Reaper urged him to take up a supportive role, let Geno lean on his shoulder, to tell him his brother was likely already dead. Keep him all to hinself. 

   But. No. Taking advantage of Geno was not what he wanted, he wanted to help him, and to see the weight lifted off his shoulders. So for now, it was best to keep these letters private. If Nightmare was volatile, if he declared war or refused, Reaper couldn't bare to see the look on Geno's face. If he read this alone, there would be a chance at damage control. 

   So, he held the letter in his hands, sat at a heavy, dark wood desk that had been carved with flowers and animals. A remnant of when Life claimed this room as her own, Reaper couldn't bear to see it removed, so he kept it around. He liked running his fingers along the carvings of the snakes and the squirrels. 

   The letter. It was originally carried in a simple box, wooden and falling apart. The inside, however, had been lined with nice cloth. Clever. Easier to keep it from being noticed and stolen. The paper was thick, and folded over onto itself. A deep black wax seal held it shut. 

   Tilting it against the candlelight, Reaper could just barely decipher the Royal crest of Nightmare's kingdom. A curling branch of an apple tree, tucked away inside the shape of a sword. Two unknowable bird-like shapes on either side of the blade, wings open. 

   He took his letter-opener to the wax, slicing it away from the thick paper with a clean swipe. Unfolding it, the first thing he noticed was the handwriting. 

   It was swooping, elegant, and had several embellishments on certain letters, as though the writing itself was a sort of art. Reaper was shocked by the careful spacing and clean document. Most kingdoms had a scribe scribble a response, then packaged it in a gold-guilded box that got the messengers killed. This was refreshing. 

   His eyes skimmed the page, and what he understood was that, yes, the king would be interested in such a treaty. He asked for more details, for another letter to be sent, and offered that, perhaps he had something to offer as well to make their deal more robust. 

   It was signed at the bottom, in an ink that Reaper had to double-take to notice was tinted a slight purple compared to the others. Nightmare's signature, completed at the end with what he thought might've been the abstract face of an owl. Did he do that for all his signatures? 

   Reaper lingered, and read it, and re-read it, and then called in one if his spies to see if they spotted any codes or hidden writing. Only when he was positive he had not missed a single bit of trickery, did he draft a reply, decide on terms, and send it out to the other King. 

   Something about it was strange. Reaper had never known anyone from that kingdom to send their own letters, let alone hold their own quill. There were rituals, rites, certain rules to every little action. Honestly, he was pleased to see it hadn't been written in blood asking for a pact. (Yes, Life once recieved a letter of that nature.) It was a bit jarring. 

   But, he was doing this for Geno. He would stop at nothing to help his Wizard return that smile to his face, and to perhaps get worry from his mind long enough to resume spoiling him in gifts and gestures so be mind notice how deeply enthralled he was. 

   .

.

   .

   The letters, once Reaper sent his reply, came in more frequently, and with a certain vigor. 

   Reaper had only asked for a few things. A trade deal (purposefully vague) support if his kingdom ever went to conflict (unlikely, Reaper was very secure), and free passage of his people and soldiers to visit without prosecution. He had been honest in sharing that someone of importance had gone missing within Nightmare's borders, and he wanted to seek them out.

   Nightmare had sent his reply in the form of a fully detailed plan. What exports and imports each kingdom would benefit from, the best routes to take, which crops and productions were in cycle this season, and more. He admitted he was sure Reaper could handle himself, but magical weapons might be arranged for shipment, and he offered up his kingdom whole-heartedly for a search. His tone was almost remorseful as he explained he couldn't spare his own men to assist, but he agreed search parties would be welcome so long as they did not disrupt the flow of life in the kingdom. 

   It had been full of effort, Reaper had been unable to suss out any loopholes. No tricks. And, shockingly, there was a lack of the mention of any pacts or bonds that must be made between them for the treaty to progress. 

   In honesty, the plan detailed by this supposedly evil tyrant seemed to be tame. And... helpful.

   Reaper, in his next letter, had expressed gratitude, and had then carefully broached the topic of binding the contract. How Nightmare planned to proceed. 

   Nightmare, to Reaper's utter shock, denounced the old ways of his kingdom. Of his mother. The writing was a bit less neat, but Reaper could practically feel the frustration oozing off the page through the extra dots of ink that had no-doubt been flung from his quill in his furious writing. 

   He was polite, but reassured Reaper that he was not intending to complete any of the old peace-making practices, and instead would be following Reaper's customs for a treaty. A simple signed contract. Two copies, each the same, each signed by both of them. 

   Again, it almost felt too good to be true. 

   Over the course of several more letters, Reaper learned to begin taking this seriously. Nightmare seemed to be powerful, and skilled, biding his time to make major changes. 

   Nightmare added no clauses preventing Reaper from acting against him, or sheltering his enemies. No talk of war at all aside from a mention of defensive weaponry which was being produced by his own Royal Wizard. The King seemed entirely interested in truly growing a bond.

   And then he asked to meet in person. 

   Invited Reaper to his kingdom, as a show of good will and trust. To prove that things were different now. And Reaper, against his better judgement, agreed. He would bring himself, and Geno, and a few of his men. To sign the treaty, to arrange searches, to begin establishing the trade routes. 

   To see Nightmare, the tyrant his people feared, in the flesh. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

   Reaper arrived to the border in the dark of night. He had been delayed by duties for a few hours, and had sent a messenger ahead to inform whoever would be waiting to intercept his caravan. He and Geno were tucked together in the carriage towards the front, comfortable, but still weary. At least, Geno was. He was on-edge. Worried about his brother more deeply than usual. 

   He could see through the window as a pair of men approached on horseback. They only spoke to the front of the caravan, but Reaper knew who they were merely through the rumors his spies had delivered to him. 

   By the moonlight and a few torches, Reaper could see them. 

   One sat atop a beautifully white mare, his armor a similarly gleaming off white and dark steel, his face was covered by a mask, a snow leopard, with intricate spots adorning the gleaming surface. 

   By his side was another, riding a significantly sturdier horse, it might've been a mottled grey. He was draped in a cloak, but wore the Visage of a lion. It seemed to be stuck in a silent glower, the red eyrlight beyond the eye-holes giving it an air of warning. 

   Reaper had always wondered about the tradition of masks. They had been seen elsewhere, but they originated from this very kingdom. No other location took them quite as seriously or held them with such a high regard. Supposedly, the idea of a masquerade originated from here, though it would be seen as sacrilege from its people. 

   It was obvious that Nightmare had sent some of his elite soldiers to guide them. The presence of those four had been felt across the continent, Reaper had little doubt he and Geno would arrive safely to their destination. 

   And so the carriage rolled onwards. Several times, Reaper and Geno drew the curtains over their windows, but even Geno's anxieties weren't strong enough to keep him from admiring the views of the countryside from the carriage, or from letting Reaper joke with him about a few things. From speaking optimistically about finding his sibling. Of meeting the king. Of things being okay. 

   The castle was imposing, just as Reaper had heard in the rumors. 

   Much of it's walls and gates, and even the building itself, was carved. Stone slabs erected, then chiseled into the weaving lines of tree bark and intertwined branches. A few fences even appeared as petrified hedges, carved in such a way Reaper wasn't sure the gods hadn't created a plant made of stone, specifically fir this land. 

   The towers resembled twisting trunks, rooves resembling canopy. It was almost unsettling how glorious it was, just from the outside as they rolled forward. 

   When the caravan finally stopped, Reaper and Geno had composed themselves, and the door opened just as Reaper had experienced hundreds of times. His steward announced him, and he floated easily out of his ride. His feet did not touch the floor, merely hovered a few inches above it, but he didn't miss that even the path seemed to writhe with smoothed stone roots, overlapping into a beautiful pattern of grey. 

   Geno followed him, and only when they were stood side by side were they finally approached. 

On either side of the grand entrance door, guards stood at attention, but their greeting came from where the lead of the caravan had parked. 

   The two masked figures who had guided them here rounded before Reaper and bowed deeply. The snow leopard-masked knight was fad more stiff and formal. The lion had the guts to meet Reaper's eyes. 

   "King Reaper, we are two of King Nightmare's Royal Knights. It is an honor to be your escort," Spoke the snow leopard. Cross if his sources were correct. "If you would follow us, our King awaits you and your companion in the grand hall." 

   They both rose from their bows, and Reaper chuckled lowly as his caravan slowly dispersed from behind them, servants helping to guide the others who arrived with them. 

   "By all means, please lead the way, good knight." He agreed. 

   Cross set off at an even pace, Reaper and Geno remaining at eachother's sides. The lion-mask, Horror his mind supplied him, followed behind them at a lumber, not yet having spoken a word.

   Sometimes (often) Reaper found it hard not to keep his eyes on Geno. From what he knew, Geno was raised without a family, practically raising two little brothers while also raising himself. He had no formal training in politics, or ettiquitte, and certainly no experience beyond his magic academy, and yet in moments like these, among the wonders of the world, being treated as one of the important people, he managed to keep such composure. He was stoic, and so handsome. 

   He had to draw his dark sockets forward again. Focus on the task at hand. In just a few minutes you're facing the monster of negativity and darkness himself. He told himself. He was not afraid, but he didn't know what to expect. It couldn't hurt to be cautious. 

   And so in silence they walked, down halls that felt more like a forest stroll steeped in morning grey, before they came to an open arch. 

   Beyond it, stood a large hall. At the farthest point sat thrones. Two large ones, two small ones, the usual amount, though Reaper imagined it must be lonely when he others are so woefully empty. 

   As they approached, Reaper could spot the figures there. Three, stood just before the thrones, at the base of a few steps which separated floor from seat. 

   One, was a skeleton who was clearly a servant. They stood with an empty silver platter tucked under their arm. Soft white eyelights turned to the approaching party, before they disappeared as the servant bowed. This drew the attention of the other two figures, before the servant was dismissed without a word. 

   The other two were... quite small. Reaper likely towered at least a head over both of them even without floating. The one wore the mask of a black panther, the only details striking from beneath his shawl being striking white eyelights. They were bright, and focused on Reaper without fear. Dust no doubt, one of the criminals, murderer and smuggler.

   Then the last. He held a cane in one hand, and was draped in wonderfully tailored fabric. A cloak perhaps two sizes too large for him trailed on the ground, and one simple Cyan eyelight protruded from behind an owlish mask as he turned to observe their approach. 

   It was only as they were a few paces away, as Dust bowed and as Reaper thought of who this might be, that the pieces lined up. 

   An owl mask, Cyan magic, dark clothes. This was the King of this kingdom. 

   As they came to a hault, Cross circled around to stand with Horror, neither of them giving a second glance to, who Reaper could only assume was, their King. 

   "The King Reaper, delivered as promised. It's a pleasure." Dust practically mumbled, his voice not bothering to show so much as an inflection at the words. 

   He raised from his bow naturally, and remained still as a statue as Nightmare, small, small Nightmare, closed the distance. 

   "Reaper. It is a pleasure to see your trip was smooth. It's truly an honor to have your presence here today." Nightmare did not bow fully, but it was enough to show respect. "As well as your Royal Wizard. I do hope that you will be able to locate that who went missing." He then said, directly addressing Geno, who stood silent at Reaper's side. No doubt just as taken aback.

   He took only a moment to ponder just how young the king sounded. His voice was not deep, nor imposing, nothing he had expected from the rumors and allegations. It was bordering on the type of uncertain pitch developed by acne-ridden teenagers, though he did well to control its tilt. 

   He hoped his surprise didn't show through in his empty sockets. That his mouth hadn't twitched in confusion upon his realization. 

   "It's an honor to be invited, Nightmare. I have been eager to meet you and finalize our discussions." Reaper replied easily, "Not to mention, in all my years I've never had the pleasure of visiting your land, let alone your castle." 

   I'd didn't need to be said. It hovered in the air between them, clear as day. Clear as the sun that rose over the castle hours ago. That no one had visited this land on purpose in decades. That they'd isolated themselves besides a few strenuous allies. Reaper never had reason to visit before now. 

   "Well, I imagined that we might finalize our contracts tomorrow after breakfast. For now, I'd like to offer you a tour of the castle and have you see I intend to be true to my word." Nightmare offered, extending a hand outwards. For a shake. 

   Reaper, after not a moment of hesitation, took Nightmare's outstretched hand. His hand, buried beneath a dark glove not unlike Reaper's own, felt small. His shake was firm and confident, and their eye-contact didn't waver, but Reaper couldn't help but feel that something was deeply wrong. 

   Those bones were frail. Thin. He imagined if he even squeezes his fist a bit more they might snap between his fingers. 

   They couldn't have been the same bones of the king who the public had known. A tall, dark, imposing figure with tendrils of darkness and an aura of doom dripping in his wake. The king who could hold off crowds of people at a time, who was given the powerful magic of the ritual. 

   And just like that he took his hand back, and he grinned loosely. Nightmare watched him, before nodding. Almost to himself. 

   Nightmare steadied himself with his cane, before turning to a door off to the side, which seemed to be opened now. 

   "We'd better be off, then. The castle is large." He prompted, letting Dust take the lead as he fell into step beside where Reaper floated. Horror and Cross trailed them as they exited. "I hope you will excuse the escort. My elite knights, Dust, Horror, and Cross. I've asked them to keep a close eye on the lot of us during your stay, to ensure nothing goes awry." Nightmare supplied. 

   Reaper gazed ahead at Dust for a moment, never letting his easy grin fall from his face. "No harm in a little extra security, I can see the appeal." He reassured the king, and noticed, just barely, and Night's shoulders relaxed. They'd been tense beneath the cloak. That big, heavy cloak. 

   Something was wrong here, he was sure of it, but whoever this was, this was who he'd been speaking to over letters all this time. He was sure of it. 

.

   The day to follow consisted of Nightmare and his knights leisurely guiding Reaper and Geno from place to place. The site where the Royal Guard trained, the library, the armory, the Court and the extensive advisors (who were, very notably, largely peasants), back to the library, and in and out of the dining room to eat meals. 

   Over the course of these visits, Reaper noticed quite a bit on his own. 

   He noticed the way that Nightmare always had one of his knights to his back. Not on purpose, he imagined, they seemed to seamlessly slide into position if they noticed he had a blindspot. And speaking of his knights, Reaper noticed he was one short. Killer. The first. His mind had informed him. Serial killer, the most violent and unpredictable of the four. Missing. It was unsettling. 

   He also noticed the servants. Nightmare seemed to know every person who served him. By name. And absurdly, he thanked them. Summoned them that way. Monsters and humans alike, Nightmare spoke to them amicably. Last Reaper knew, servants might as well have doubled as sacrifices in this place. 

   Along that same thought, he noticed a very specific servant. One who seemed to tend to Nightmare directly. The knights, Reaper, and Geno all seemed to have servants at random. Nightmare was cared for specifically by that same servant who'd been in the throne room. Food, it was at every meal. Strange. 

   At at meals, the others removed their masks, each revealing their skulls without hesitancy. Nightmare only lifted his enough to take a bite. Reaper only caught a glimpse of pearly white bone. 

   Nightmare did not share this sentimentality with his guards. At least, not as far as Reaper could tell. His men, aside from the Knights, seemed contented to stay far from their King. 

   This was their King, though. He was certain now. 

   After dinner, Nightmare said he had better retire early, and informed them that they were welcome to roam as they pleased, and that Horror would watch over their quarters whenever they chose to turn in. 

   Nightmare had exited, leaning heavily on that cane of his. Reaper wondered to himself, then to Geno, whether the dark king had been injured. It seemed likely. Perhaps he had taken the treaty as a claim to secure power even as his health declined... but no, he seemed so young. Younger than should have been possible. With how he had been so enthusiastic about his vast collection of books, or as he described the trade routes overtop a large updated map of the continents. 

   They had the night, and Reaper knew he would not be breaking this treaty, no matter how... underwhelming Nightmare was in size and power. He seemed to be making headway for change. No sigils, no rituals, no blood pacts. Nightmare had ambition that not many had anymore. He respected it fully. 

   It was after breakfast that they would sign the treaty, and lock Nightmare's copy safely away. Then, Reaper would work to send out his first search party. After, of course, Nightmare introduced the two to his Royal Wizard. 

   The man had come up in many of their letters as a fire-power expert, and Nightmare seemed to take pride in him. Reaper only hoped Geno would get along with him. Maybe it would get his mind off of the impending search. 

[rpsourcedmemes]

Send one of the following to visit my muse after they;

💥- were shot

⚡️- were struck by lighting/a spell

☠️- were poisoned

🥊- were in a fight

🚨- were arrested

🏝- were stranded

💰- were burgled

🔪- were stabbed

🌡- were sick

💔- had their heart broken

👽- were abducted

[jaegonsmoon]

Daeron coming back from the Reach and him and Jace surprisingly getting along, as Viserys always wanted. Just for Aegon to become all jealous and possessive

I always forget poor Daeron exists.

I love me some jealous Aegon, it has such a good flavour.

Jacaerys is a pretty boy, he’s handsome and cocky in a way that doesn’t make wanna you punch him, but fuck him—because he knows what he does, and he knows he’s good looking and he embraces and takes advantage of that. And Aegon’s jaw aches with all the clenching he does on a daily basis. For all that Aegon is a brazen individual, always going for what he wants, Jacaerys makes him pause, hesitate; he makes him, lord have mercy, nervous. Every time he approaches him in a flirty manner, Jacaerys either matches his energy too well or rolls his eyes at him. The boy is infuriating, and confusing at times.

So when little Daeron, who hasn’t even been here most of their lives, comes to visit and clicks right away with the nephew he’s been trying to make a move on for months, Aegon is losing.it.

Aemond is sick and tired of Aegon bursting into his rooms rambling about his nephew, he threatens to tie them both up by their feet on Vhagar’s tail if he doesn’t shut up. Aegon swears revenge for later when Aemond finds someone he likes (coughs). The day will come, that’s for sure. So, sweet Helaena is now stuck with listening to him, she’s better help, though. Sometimes she says cryptic shit, but others she just sighs and tells him, “Maybe if you’d let him know…” to which Aegon laughs hysterically and shakes his head and leaves.

One day, Daeron and Jace are sparring in the training yard and they get a little too close for Aegon’s liking, Jace is grinning at Daeron who lends him a hand to help him up and then—Jace gives him one of those cheeky grins he sometimes gives Aegon and says “Well done, uncle” and that does it, his blood boils because how dare his other brothers exist and be Jace’s uncles as well, that’s his job, that’s his line. He stands up from where he’s sitting with Aemond and Luke, the two looking at him with raised eyebrows before sharing a look between them (that’s new).

“My turn, little brother.” He says. He ends up beating poor Daeron’s ass a little too harshly. But he doesn’t miss the look Jace gives him before he lets go of his younger brother and licks at his newly split lip. There’s something he recognises there, something… hot. However, he’s still too angry and his pile of bottled up feelings is starting to overflow.

He ends up glaring at the boy and everyone who there’s spare him a look, even when they’re only praising him, and takes off. He’s tired of this game. A game that for all he knows it might be one-sided. He needs a drink and perhaps—for the first time in many moons, ever since his big sister and his nephews returned to King’s Landing—some company. Anything that takes his mind off over the fact that he wishes it was his eldest nephew’s beautiful, toned legs he was burying himself between…

[quinttyz]

dealing with gods

[dead-lights]

deadcanon || zhu-vatore names

I asked myself why sisters who were apparently close enough for their similarly-aged children to become besties wound up with daughters named Lily and Lilith, and came up with "lmao what if they named their babies after each other but their names were really similar" and ran with that.

Caleb/Lilith's parents: Lila and Philip. Lily's parents: Leila and Charles. Lila and Leila Rossi were identical twins. Philip Vatore and Charles Zhu were besties.

Lilith Vatore

born: Leia Carlotta Vatore

namesake: Lily's parents, Leila and Charles

nickname: Lilith's mother had hyperemesis gravidarum during her pregnancy. When asked about baby names, she always said Lucifer for a boy or Lilith for a girl, because clearly only a devil or demoness could make her so ill. Nobody except Leila realized she was serious. When the baby was born, Lila made it clear that Leia was to be her name only on paper, and no one was ever to call her that. The family was used to Lila being an overall pretty weird person and it seemed really important to her, so they went along with it, and Lilith she was.

Lily Zhu

born: Lily Felipa Zhu

namesake: Caleb & Lilith's parents, Lila and Philip

nickname: Her family called her Pip. It was really confusing with Lily, Lilith, Leila, and Lila all together, so at some point when the girls were babies the parents started calling her Pip, short for Felipa/Philip. Unlike Lilith, Pip was always considered a nickname that wasn't used outside of her family. These days nobody is allowed to call her Pip except Caleb and Lilith. At the moment even they aren't allowed to call her that.

Caleb Vatore

born: Caleb Benjamin Vatore

namesake: Benjamin was his father's favorite brother. Caleb Vatore was the name of his great-great-grandfather's half-brother. His mother saw the name on a headstone and thought it had a nice ring to it. Nobody knows anything about him except where his bones were laid to rest. Sidenote: I don’t like the middle name Benjamin for Caleb. However, I’d decided a while back that his middle name was his father’s favorite brother without having a name in mind. Then I ended up developing Caleb's six Vatore aunts/uncles (plus six more aunts/uncles by marriage, I am a lunatic) and wouldn’t you know it, but Benjamin was the favorite. He owned an art gallery in Roaring Heights and married a politician’s daughter (Sally). As I said, I am a lunatic.

nicknames: Lily and her parents called him Cal. Nobody else called him that, including Lilith and their parents. When they're on good terms, Lily frequently uses the nickname.

[standcom]

been watching dandadan & getting my shit together

[zukkaoru]

🔪 poison paradise 🔪

“Let’s play just one more time,” Fyodor suggests, voice gentle and silky. They reach forward, brushing Dazai’s bangs out of his eyes. Blood sticks in his hair. “Do we have to?” Fyodor raises one eyebrow. Dazai’s expression sours. He huffs, then sits back up, flashing a look of what might be sympathy towards Sigma. Except Dazai is rarely sympathetic towards anyone, and Sigma knows better than to believe his passing expressions. He has an assortment of them pre-programmed, ready to be called forward at any given moment, and sometimes he mixes them up. Rarely is anything displayed on his face entirely genuine. Fyodor shuffles. Dazai cuts the deck. Nikolai arranges the knives.

or: the meursault gang as a toxic codependent homoerotic teen friend group. what could go wrong?

🩸 6.2k words || sigma, dazai, fyodor, & nikolai 🩸 rated t but please read the tags/warnings

[ghoulification]

fic description accurate mirilori shots

[lileiv]

Realised I never posted this rough thing from when I was reading The Last Continent earlier in the year