#i genuinely don't know how to tag like usual
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
mullermilkshake · 1 day ago
Text
Kento makes his own way home
The clan meeting
Yakuza!Nanami x Hostess!reader
MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, pretty much stalking.
After leaving Ino to his own devices, despite learning the news of the latest Yakuza group going head on with the Ryomen clan, Kento had more confidence than he knew what to do with.
And that confidence drove him to make his way to your club, just to see a glimpse of you and maybe even to introduce himself.
"Welcome, Sir," The club host bowed and allowed Kento inside. "Do you have any requests for who you might like to accompany you?"
You. He wanted you and that confidence he had almost let him blurt out your name.
Almost.
"I'll sit at the bar for now, I'll decide later,” that confidence went flying out the window faster than smoke, and he couldn’t chase it.
Maybe next time.
There was a benefit to being cooped up watching the computer screens on the network, Kento took at every convenience. There was no fuss or worry and therefore no attention.
Even if it was a Ryomen clan owned club. One of the smaller ones in Shinjuku.
God forbid there was too much commotion and you turn to see him for the first time being doted on. That would have been the worst first impression ever.
Kento left the host and planted himself on the edge of the bar, ordering top shelf whiskey and reading the room.
His stomach flipped when he saw you, in the flesh and smiling with some old man throwing hand signals up to the waiters for more drinks and ice.
It should have been Kento at that table, but he still couldn't face the music to how you'd react in his presence. He knew you far more than you realised.
You however, didn't know he existed and it was far too much of a knock to Kento's existing confidence if you were impassive or indifferent to him.
Just looking at you in person, watching you smile and casually touch the old man's arm every now and then made him envious at best. How would you react to him? Just like that, working your job as you were supposed to in order to collect that tip at the end?
Or would it all be genuine?
He couldn't think, because right now, you stood up and offered your hand to the man with the most warming smile and allowed his lips to touch the back of your hand.
How could you let him touch you like that? Kento was aware it was part of the job and he was certain that the trip would be a big one because of the bottles of champagne he was ordering.
Yet the man was so old and grey, not that Kento was a young spring chicken himself either, the age gap from him wasn't anything to brag about and it was concerning that you would see straight through it.
But he had a chance though, right?
Kento must have zoned out, you were walking right towards him. Straight and no beeline, soft smile in tow and aiming for the bar.
Had you noticed him?
"Hey! Can you put this behind the bar?" you looked straight past Kento and handed over a load of yen bills to the bartender.
"Sure," he said with a warm smile and moved to pour you a drink. "Good night tonight?"
You nodded and Kento listened, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, though I have just one more client until my break."
"Nice," he slid the glass of what looked like whiskey towards you. "How was old Tanaka tonight? Just as creepy as usual?"
"Shh! Don't be so loud... It's rude," Kento could have sworn you looked over at him in his periphery and if he moved an inch, his flight response may have kicked in. "He's very... ardent."
"That's one way of putting it, take care," the bartender winked and moved on to another customer.
"Thanks."
For a moment, your smile faded. If Kento had blinked he would have missed it. You were far too intelligent for the likes of these old men, just by your vocabulary he had heard at times. Not to mention how beautiful you were.
You weren't happy, that much was clear.
At some point, Kento would find the courage to interact with you. Though for now, he'd continue to watch from afar until he knew more about you and that his chance to be with you was as high as possible.
He'd ensure you would never have to work in a place like this again.
Because you were far too good for a place like this.
30 notes · View notes
shady-tavern · 2 years ago
Text
Vampire’s Lullaby
Warnings ahead for a child getting injured and threatened with more bodily harm and death, blood and gore, though not overly descriptive. Please take care of yourselves.
This is part one of a dark vampire story folks. I hope I could do it at least some justice. If you are concerned about the contents, drop me a message and I’ll answer you.
***
'Never look them in the eye, child,' the priests always cautioned. 'You'll only find the loss of your mind and virtue there, if they don't take your life immediately.'
There was no love left in the creatures of the night, in those ever hungry for blood and flesh, in the terrors of the dark. The sunlit hours were spent scurrying about, getting work done before the sun set and the monsters crawled out of wherever they hid.
Annabelle had been taught early on to ignore the luring calls and songs of some of the night creature, to keep the curtains drawn and to stay inside, no matter how frightening or pleading something sounded outside. She and all others could flinch and cry all they liked, so long as they remained in their homes.
Those who could afford it kept their homes safe, buying all that was necessary to ward off any and all night creature, while professional hunters prowled along the property. Those less rich could still often enough convince a less reputable hunter to guard their home, by offering them food and lodging and a bit of a salary.
Young, inexperienced hunters or older ones with lasting injuries usually took those less well-paid guarding jobs. Those families who could bear to have a set of working hands missing sent one of their children to get a basic education in hunting, hoping it was enough to protect their home.
Annabelle knew people less fortunate considered her one of the reasonably lucky ones. She had three older brothers and her parents had reliable merchants buying their wares. Her mother sold iron tools she made in the smithy, while her father sold his weaving. Her two oldest brothers had learned the craft of their parents, while her third brother, the youngest of the three, had gone and become a hunter. 
Dion was the one keeping their home safe and she hated it. She hated the howls and screams and snarls of the monsters that hunted. She loathed the crooning singing that wanted to lure her towards the barred windows, cruel in its sweetness. The shadows she could sometimes see creep past during a full moon frightened her, before Dion chased them off. 
She hated that he was out there, fighting, coming home injured and bleeding. She knew, deep down, there would be a day when he wouldn't return. None of them were lucky enough to avoid that misfortune forever. Not when it had killed her grandfather and later her uncle, while guarding the house.
Sometimes, when she came back from work, she saw her brother standing outside, hand shaking as he held his weapons. But every time he hesitated, he would look at the house, through the windows where she knew her parents and older brothers sat, still either at work or taking care of the house. 
Then he'd look at her, walking briskly towards him in the setting sun. He'd nod at her and remain where he was, unflinching and with a straight back. In front of the house, guarding it.
The thick wooden door would close behind her when she stepped inside, lined with iron and dusted with silver shavings, expensive protective measures that had cost her grandmother and grandfather all their savings when they settled down in the city.
Dion would lock it with a hard noise before his steps faded. Annabelle hated those noises, hated how final and grim they sounded. Hated that she didn't know if he'd come back at dawn to unlock the door again.
They weren't truly locked in, she knew where the spare key was after all, they all did, but her parents wanted him to be the one to unlock it every morning. They wanted to give him every reason to come back alive.
She wished she could tell Dion to just stay inside with them. To sit in front of the fire and cover his ears when some beast howled, like he had done as a little boy. Annabelle was barely a year younger than him and she remembered helping him, clapping her hands on top of his to muffle the sounds extra hard.
No matter how much the noise had scared her as well, she had put on a brave face. When her parents had decided he should go and apprentice with a hunter, she had fought with them, for the first time in her life actually shouting and screaming while her parents grew just as loud. 
They had been just as desperate and scared and helpless in their arguments as she had been, but that hadn't gentled her fearful fury one bit.
When she had offered to go in Dion's stead, they had waved her off with scoffs. She wasn't big and sturdy enough, they had said. She wasn't strong enough, not fast enough, no hunter would teach her. She'd be dead within her first night outside.
She couldn't bring herself to say it to Dion's face, but she thought he shouldn't have become a hunter. Then again, none of her brothers were suited for the task. Rudi, the eldest, was currently courting a young woman, hoping to marry her and have a family of his own. He always got up at dawn along with Annabelle, peering out the windows to check if Dion was alright.
Gerard, her second-oldest brother, kept on weaving late into the night, the sound of the loom by now a welcome background noise as they all settled down. She knew the reason he stayed up late was so he could listen for his little brother, to try and hear if anything happened to him. Even if he couldn't help, he still stayed up.
Since the two oldest were meant to inherit the business, continuing the craft of their parents, the horrid task of protecting the house fell on Dion's shoulders. 
Annabelle had gotten an apprenticeship with their neighbor Mr. Bell, an older scholar and bookbinder, who had taught her everything and then hired her at his printing and book selling store.
Mr. Bell had recently started talking about letting her take over when he retired, since he was most pleased with her work. He wouldn't hand the business to her entirely right away, but he spoke about working less over the next year or two and letting her handle things more in his stead.
It filled her with fierce hope, that once he let her take over, she could earn enough money to hire a hunter. So Dion could stop reaching for cold steel and second-hand armor made of leather and rusty iron. So he could allow his hands to do something soft and gentle.
She once or twice heard him have nightmares through the wall during her free day and he barely smiled anymore and his humor had grown dark. Sometimes he managed to make her laugh, startled and a little horrified all at once, when he joked about death with other hunters in the evening, while she stopped by them to wish them a good night.
Not every night was bad, thankfully, there were even a week or two where it was utterly quiet, but it always got rough around the new and full moon.
Her brother got injured at times, coming home with a limp or a bleeding arm that got tended to swiftly so he could return outside the next night. How her mother scrubbed blood from their worn floorboards with tears in her eyes.
One day, she had promised herself therefore, he could rest. Which was why she was working from sunrise til sunset and why she stayed sweet and polite, no matter how rude a client was. Why she made sure Mr. Bell wanted her to take over his business one day and not someone else.
Her family worried about her, since she often barely made it back home in time, the sun almost gone when she arrived. Dion always looked relieved whenever he saw her hurrying down the street, his hunter garb making him look dark and foreboding.
She left early every day ever since she had figured out at what minute the sun crested the city wall enough to shine a weak, pale light along the main road. The path of the sun was always unobstructed, for across from them, on the other side of the road, was nothing but a drop down to the lowest level of the city.
That part of the city was built at the bottom of the hill that bordered on being a mountain, made up of homesteads and farmland. Scholars still argued that the hill should be classified a mountain, while others said it only looked that big because of the ostentatious, large castle built at the very top.
The fancy castle was surrounded by high walls and equally fancy manors and smoothly cobbled streets that wound down steadily. Their part of the city was always lit and very, very well protected
Annabelle usually didn't pay the upper crust much mind, she was far too busy for that, but sometimes as she walked to work, she wondered what it must be like to live without fear. To know the night creatures could not touch her.
By the time she reached the big crossroads where Mr. Bell had his business, the sunlight touched the shop and she'd unlock the door. Slipping inside, she would set everything up for the day in peaceful, soft quiet. She got the books they were selling ready in the shop and got started on their orders, mixing inks and selecting the requested paper.
Mr. Bell certainly was delighted about that, arriving with a spring in his step and all he had to do was sit down and get started.
Of course, leaving this early meant there were still some night creatures around at this hour. The last stragglers who wanted to pick off early risers who either thought they could slip by unnoticed or who had to risk their life for their income. 
The hunters were counting on that, however. They said the monsters still out and about when the sun rose were the really stupid or inexperienced ones and usually made for easy pickings. 
Sometimes Annabelle heard the gurgling cries as something died in an alley and she made sure not to look when she passed by. Since the night creatures avoided the sun like the plague, Annabelle was safe enough so long as she stayed on the main road. 
Besides, she wasn't the only one with early working hours, the baker down the street got to work even earlier, risking her life every day to earn just enough coin to pay an older, banged up hunter to guard her and her children.
Dion unlocked the door for her after the fifth bell of the clock tower struck and today she saw that his eyes were dark and there was tension all throughout his frame. It must've been a rough night, for he barely said anything to her. Even the other hunters she passed by were quiet and grim, curtly nodding at her in greeting.
She wrapped her shawl tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the morning hour, warily glancing around. It was quiet enough and she only realized she had walked too fast, that the sun hadn't risen far enough yet, until she turned around the corner, one street away from the crossroads and found it lying in dark shadows. 
The surrounding houses stood empty as of last month, which usually meant there were no hunters immediately nearby. Only, the street lying in shadow wasn't empty, like she had expected. 
A howling snarl was cut short into a high-pitched yowl by the echoing shot of a blunderbuss. She barely got a glimpse of something big and furred crumpling to the ground, before she was nearly bowled over by a hunter running past her.
The man dragged a screaming, crying child into the sun, where it hissed and tried to cringe back, only to get gripped tighter. The hunter held the kid by their curly hair and Annabelle was about to shout at him in alarm, when she saw movement in the lingering dark.
She saw a second hunter further down the shadowed street barely dodge a beast that leapt down from above. Leathery wings nearly knocked him over as the massively oversized bat scooped up what could only be a bleeding, panting werewolf. 
Only the bat didn't quite look like a bat either, it was far uglier for one and had arms along with wings and a body that tended a bit more towards the humanoid, leaving it looking like it had jumped straight out of a nightmare.
The werewolf reached a clawed hand for the crying child with a pained groan, while the bat skittered up the side of the building, too fast for anyone to catch up, until it was safely out of range of the blunderbuss. Then both night creatures suddenly fell still, staring past Annabelle.
Annabelle turned around, only to become still and unmoving herself. The first hunter held a silver dagger to the child's throat, a thin trickle of red blood dripping down, while black veins started to slowly appear along its skin, caused by the blade's touch. 
The child was whimpering softly, a horrible, helpless sound that cut straight through her heart. Tears fell out of big, dark eyes and the boy was breathing fast and shallow in panic and he looked frozen in place, not daring to move even the tiniest bit.
For a long, heavy second, all Annabelle saw was Dion as a little boy, curly haired and terrified as he hid beneath the table, hands clasped over his ears as he sniffled. How she had crawled under the table to join him, pressing her own hands over his and how he had curled into himself with relief.
The kid didn't look too much like him when she blinked the memory away, the hair was the wrong shade, the eyes far too dark. But it was similar enough, along with the small button nose and chubby cheeks, to remind her of her brother when he had been little. It left her reeling for a moment.
"Move on," the hunter growled at her. "This doesn't concern you."
It didn't. It really didn't concern her. Annabelle held no love for night creatures, not when Dion carried scars from their claws and teeth. Not when she had nightmares about them and her parents had cried themselves to sleep for weeks after sending her brother out to guard them. But she couldn't bring herself to move, feet feeling frozen to the floor.
The child's gaze met hers and it was painfully clear the he wasn't human. He had fangs and claws and pointy ears, but in that moment he just looked like a helpless kid. The boy, six years at most, looked terrified, trembling all over and trying his hardest to reign in his panicked little gasps to keep the blade from digging in deeper.
The werewolf keened, a desperate, pleading call and the massive bat, the vampire, hissed, low and threatening.
"What are you doing?" Annabelle's voice sounded strange to her own ears. "That's a child."
"It's a monster," the hunter snapped back, keeping his eyes on the two night creatures high up on the wall that stared back at him. His friend was pacing down below, clearly trying to figure out how to kill them while they were distracted. Considering his sharp, loud cussing, he wasn't successful.
"Stab it or something," the pacing hunter shouted. "Lure them down, I don't want them to run or the sun to take my kill!"
The hunter pulled the dagger away in a fast, smooth motion, flipping it and Annabelle was moving before she was fully aware of it – because this was a child, no matter the pointy teeth and tiny claws. This was a child looking scared for its life, crying and trembling and she felt sick down to her core.
Pain burned bright and intensely sharp as the dagger sliced past the back of her hand, stretched in front of the kid protectively. The fingers of her other hand gripped the boy's collar tight, wrenching him away from the hunter's grasp.
The hunter's eyes were wide in startled, baffled surprise as she pushed the boy behind her, her own eyes wide and her breathing harsh and fast. She had half a second to watch fury take over, before the sound of crunching, crushing stone broke through the air like a miniature thunderstorm.
The hunter whirled around and Annabelle felt a scream getting caught in her throat as a large chunk of wall came flying, too fast to dodge, slamming into him and leaving a smear of blood and broken bones behind.
Everything became a little fuzzy and blurry around the edges, as she turned to see the vampire rip out another chunk of wall, tossing it after the now fleeing hunter below it, crushing the man into a pulp of red, wet flesh, broken pieces of bone poking out.
She heaved in a breath to avoid throwing up, gaze darting back to land on the vampire and the still injured werewolf it carried beneath one arm, braced against its gray, fuzzy shoulder. 
The boy's heaving, suddenly loud wail made her flinch, jolting back into her body. She took a step back until she could see him without losing sight of the monsters up on the wall.
"You're alright," she found herself whispering with a trembling voice. Hesitantly she reached out, fingers shaking as badly as the kid did and nausea was still roiling through her gut.
The moment she lightly touched his shoulder, he tipped forward, knees buckling. Annabelle just barely managed to catch him, awkwardly holding him for a second, before she took a deep breath and picked him up. He weighed as much as a regular kid did, largely looked like one too, if one discarded the obvious signs where he was not.
And yet, as she watched, the longer the sun shone on him, the more those signs faded. His ears became round and the fingers that curled into her shawl were now normal, his nails short and blunt.
The scrape of claws on stone made her flinch and when she looked up, the vampire was right there, standing where the dark ended and light began. It clearly couldn't cross over and Annabelle felt her breath caught in her lungs as she stared up.
For the first time in her life, she felt tiny and flimsy and utterly mortal. The werewolf was reaching out towards the boy, breathing labored and it clearly couldn't stand on its own two legs. The vampire's arm still around its middle was the only thing holding it up.
The boy lifted his head and sobbed, reaching back towards the werewolf. The cut on his throat wasn't bleeding anymore, but there were still black veins, even if they were slowly growing fainter. Silver poisoning, Annabelle thought faintly, remembering the books Dion had been given while training and that she had peeked at.
Annabelle carefully set the boy on his feet without looking away from the big vampire, its large ears flicking as it listened. The boy stumbled forward the moment she let him go and the second he crossed into the dark, the vampire swept him up too and after a last glance at her, took flight.
It clearly wasn't dumb enough to wing up into the sky, not with the rising sun, but it was still startling to see something so big move so swiftly and quietly down the street, maneuvering smoothly around the corner and then it was gone.
Annabelle stared after them, unmoving. She didn't dare look towards the crushed hunters, her heart racing painfully fast in her chest and her stomach still roiling. Her hand was bleeding, pulsing with pain and she reached up to numbly wrap the end of her shawl around it.
Two minutes later, the sun had risen far enough for her to walk on, stumbling away from the bodies. No one had been around to see her or what had happened, not that she had noticed at least. No one had come to check either, not when the houses along this part of the street were empty.
By the time she stood in front of the shop, she was still shaking and it took her two tries to get the door open. As soon as the door fell closed behind her with a click and the familiar scent of her workplace surrounded her, she broke down into tears.
Mr. Bell, when he arrived, made her sit down, cleaned and bandaged her hand properly and handed her a sip of brandy that burned going down.
"You will take it easy," he said in a voice that allowed no arguments and he muttered under his breath, "I should've known leaving home that early was too dangerous."
She didn't correct him, because then she didn't have to explain how she had gotten injured. Instead, she was quiet and worked as much as he let her, while trying to ignore any remarks their clients made regarding her subdued spirits. 
She was sorely tempted to throw something, however, when a particularly arrogant man told her to smile, for it made her look prettier than her current, glum expression.
When the evening bell rang, the one warning everyone to get home now or it would be too late, she felt a fierce jolt of fear race down her spine.
She was suddenly terrified to go out there, to see the night creatures again or to run into someone who had known the dead hunters. Who asked around if anyone had seen anything. Or even someone who might have seen her after all, but had been too far away and preoccupied to do anything.
But she couldn't hide here, the crossroads were filled sorely with businesses and hunters didn't protect areas where people didn't live, at least they didn't if the owners weren't rich enough. 
The rich and powerful were about the only ones who had stopped fearing the night. They had the coin to pay for all the protection they could ask for and sometimes, during particularly quiet, calm nights, Annabelle could faintly hear the music of their parties.
She knew she couldn't stay here unless she wanted to die. So she grabbed her things, wound the shawl around her neck and locked up the shop. Mr. Bell had left an hour ago after making sure she would be alright, making her promise that she would go straight home. 
The spreading shadows looked darker and more frightening than ever before and her steps grew faster and faster until she was nearly running.
No one stopped her, no one even looked at her more than usual and no monsters appeared. Not yet. 
Dion was chatting with another hunter, the woman's gear looking as banged up as his did, when Annabelle arrived at home. He glanced at her, only to pause and frown.
"Did something happen?" he asked and Annabelle plastered a smile on her face, hoping it looked convincing.
"Just a little accident at work," she answered, waving her bandaged hand around and tucking it against her side before he could get a proper look at it. "Nothing serious, but I'm tired."
His frown smoothed over a bit, even if he still looked worried. "I'll unlock the door."
He accompanied her to the front step and as she stepped inside, she couldn't help but turn around. "Please be careful."
"I always am," he answered, but she must've looked scared, as scared as she felt, because his face softened a bit. "I promise."
He never promised to come back in the morning, because they both knew there was a chance that he wouldn't. Annabelle suddenly felt fiercely angry and tired and there was a sting of self-loathing.
She had gotten two hunters killed and monsters had gotten away alive. What if those night creatures were the ones to murder her brother? What if that little boy grew up to become someone else's nightmare? 
She couldn't bring herself to regret saving him, not when she remembered that gut-wrenching fear on his face. But she couldn't help wishing the hunters had remained unharmed, no matter how nonsensical it was. Someone had to die when night creatures and hunters clashed.
She never again wanted a hand in deciding whose fate it was to be killed.
Dion locked the door and Annabelle managed to wave off the concern of her parents and older brothers and retreated to her room. She wasn't hungry and when she sat down on her bed, she could see the sinking sun.
Her room felt stuffy, so she opened the window, knowing she still had a few minutes to air out the room. Iron bars protected her window and she could still see Dion from here, waving at a hunter further down the street.
The memories of this morning resurfaced once again and would not let go. Annabelle started to tug at the bandage on her hand until a sharp pain made her wince. Glancing down she saw a bit of blood bleeding through and she took a couple of deep breaths.
What was done, was done, she reminded herself. Short of walking to the city guard and getting arrested and executed for mingling with the night creatures, there was nothing she could do.
Glancing up, she noticed that the sun had disappeared behind the city walls and while the sky wasn't entirely dark yet, she saw something big fly past. Flinching back, her heart suddenly hammering, she fumbled to slam the window closed.
She yanked the curtains shut as well, almost ripping them off, her fingers trembling as she clung to the thick fabric. It wasn't the same massive vampire bat, she told herself, there were many night creatures after all. Surely it was something else.
But Dion was out there and if he died because she hadn't been able to harden her stupid, soft heart against the face of a crying, terrified child, she'd never forgive herself.
It took a few deep breaths for her to calm herself and after long minutes of standing there while nothing happened, she got ready for bed. Tonight seemed to be a quiet night tonight and she laid in bed, listening carefully for anything horrible. When she heard Dion's rough, muffled laughter drifting up, she finally let herself relax.
Her eyes started to slip closed when a scratching sound on stone made her jolt upright so fast she briefly got dizzy. Heart racing once again she felt froze in place as a large shadow covered her window. She couldn't see anything through the curtains, but this size let her know what exactly was outside.
She didn't dare make a noise. She heard a muffled clack a moment later and then the shadow vanished with another quiet scratch of claws.
Annabelle sat in the silent darkness of her room, her breathing a little funny and when, at last, she managed to make herself move, her heart finally calmed down a little.
Pulling the curtains apart just enough to peek through, she blinked in surprise when she saw a folded page of thick paper on her windowsill, weighed down with a rock. She stared at it for a moment, then let go of the curtains again.
Annabelle wasn't dumb enough to go and open the window right now. So she backed up and sat down and stared. She didn't think herself capable of falling asleep again that night, but between one blink and the next, the sun was rising and she was lying crookedly on her bed.
Getting up and groaning at the crick in her neck, she approached the window once again. The sun was just peeking over the wall when she opened it and plucked the paper from beneath the rock. It was slightly damp from being outside and the move sent the rock tumbling down to the ground.
Unfolding the page, she blinked in surprise when the clumsy handwriting of a child greeted her first. The letters were clearly written with great care and as she read, it felt like a big hand was squeezing her heart. 
The kid was thanking her for saving his life and that of his mother and auntie. He said that he had been so scared, that he thought all humans were cruel and evil, but she clearly wasn't. He had added a sketch of her, childish and simple and cheerful.
Below that, in a neat and elegant hand, one of the night creatures had written that they owed her and she could ask for one favor. All she had to do was leave a note outside her window and if possible, it would be fulfilled.
Sitting down on the chair in front of her desk, Annabelle found herself reading the letter again. Then she slowly folded it and didn't know what to think or feel or do. In the end she hid the letter and got ready for work, mind still spinning in circles.
Dion looked tired but unharmed and he even smiled at her when he let her out of the house, going so far as to twirl the key around his finger. "Have fun," he called after her when she left with a little wave.
Nothing happened on her way to work and Mr. Bell looked happy to see that she was doing better today. He left halfway through the day, citing that he needed to take care of something, though Annabelle got the sneaking suspicion that he was looking for excuses to leave the shop in her hands for a while. To get her used to running it in his absence.
It was all going well and fine, until she heard the tinkle of the front door and when she stepped out of the backroom, she stilled mid-step. A curly haired kid with dark eyes was peeking over the counter, clearly on his very tip-toes.
A smile broke out over his face. "Hello," he said with a small lisp, as if it was entirely normal that a night creature was out and about in the middle of the day. Looking utterly human.
Oh. A cold realization washed over her. Of course night creatures looked human during the day. The hunters would have found a way to eradicate them all otherwise. There were only so many places they could hide before being found.
Then she frowned. Did that mean they could walk out into the sun too? Or only some of them?
"Did you get my letter?" the boy asked. "Mama said I shouldn't come here, but I wanted to make sure."
"Yes," she managed to answer. "I got it."
His face lit up. "Good." Then his face fell and he sank down a bit, eyes barely peeking over the counter. "Thank you. That was...that was really scary."
"I bet it was." In all honesty, his situation had probably been far scarier than having a large monster show up in front of her window for a second. She couldn't stop herself from adding, "You need to be more careful."
The kid shuffled a bit in place, looking chastised. "I wasn't supposed to go outside," he told her, fingertips tapping against the edge of the counter he clung to. "But Mama was gone longer than usual and I got worried."
"I bet she's worried now," Annabelle said and suddenly she couldn't get rid of the thought that another night creature was going to show up. A grown, dangerous one. "Unless you told her where you are?"
The kid looked caught. "Um..."
She couldn't help but huff and made a shooing motion. "Go home before she worries."
The kid was about to push away, when he suddenly looked worried. "You won't tell anyone, right?"
Annabelle knew the moment she gave a description of the kid to the hunters, they'd comb the surrounding area for him and his mother. It was forbidden to get tangled with the night creatures, always had been.
Though, now that she looked at the kid, she couldn't help but think that the hunters were just as ruthless. And they could be just as cruel as the monsters.
"I won't," she said at last. "Now off you go."
The kid stepped away with a relieved smile and hurried towards the door, only to pause. "If we can help you, we will," he said. "Mama says we owe you one."
With those words he slipped out, the bell tinkling merrily. Annabelle exhaled in a rush and leaned against the counter, watching the kid through the shop window as he left with quick steps. Rubbing a hand over her face, she shook her head and returned to work.
She didn't have time to think about the difference between monsters and hunters, not when it left her mind in a messy state. There was too much work to do.
Mr. Bell came back later than he had said, whistling when he saw how much she had gotten done. It helped keep her distracted and by the time she wrapped up the last order of the day and got a head start on the next one, the final bell was ringing.
To her misfortune, she found her usual way back home blocked by a tipped over carriage. Horses were panicking and people were shouting and crowding around, trying to fix the situation as quickly as possible. 
There was no way to get past and a nervous glance at the sky told her she couldn't wait until the situation got resolved, even if taking any other path meant a detour. Already the frazzled travelers were shouting how late it was and that they needed to get going now.
Tugging her shawl more firmly around herself, she turned to eye the nearby alley. It laid in shadow, but there was nothing else she could do. Even if she now knew that night creatures could look like ordinary humans, she was willing to risk the alley rather than stay on the main road until the sun had disappeared entirely.
Still, her heart was racing a bit and she was nervously glancing around. It got quiet as she left the hectic road behind and soon the only sounds were her shoes on rough cobblestone and occasionally voices drifting out of still open windows.
Some of the houses back here stood empty, broken windows and destroyed doors showing where night creatures had gotten through. Claw marks were visible where the monsters had crawled in and she saw bloody drag marks in front of one door, where someone or something had been hauled away.
It was dark by the time she emerged from the alley and the sight of the sun beyond the city wall made her breath catch. Home wasn't too far, however, surely she'd be fine.
She was about to rush ahead, when she heard the sound of claws on stone. For a moment she was about to just blindly start running, heart pounding, before she made herself look up. There it was, the nightmarish bat, crouched at the corner of the roof, wings folded primly.
They stared at each other for a long moment, until one of the vampire's ears flicked and it slowly moved one arm to point down the street. Towards her home. When she didn't move right away, it made a shooing motion, wings twitching.
Slowly taking a step and then another while not looking away, Annabelle started walking. The vampire followed her slowly, not even needing to leap across the alley onto the next roof. It just needed to stretch in order to reach.
Forcing herself to look away when she stumbled and nearly fell, Annabelle found herself walking faster and faster. When Dion came into view, waiting outside, visibly tense and worried, she looked up again.
The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but she heard the faint scratch of claws and realized that the night creature wanted her to hear it. She hadn't heard a damn thing until it had crouched above her, after all. It allowed her to track it.
"You're late," Dion said in greeting, checking her over for injuries while ushering her towards the house. "Get in, now."
She was pushed through the door before she could say anything and the lock clicked into place. Annabelle found herself swarmed by her family, all worried and scolding.
She ate dinner while barely tasting anything and retreated to her room as quickly as possible. The curtains were still open and when she reached for them, she saw the vampire, a few roofs away, out of view of the hunters down below.
She saw its dark eyes glint in the moonlight when it turned its head towards her, large ears perked. She found herself staring for a long moment, before she startled, remembering the warnings about getting thralled and lured outside.
But she felt fine, she realized as she was about to yank the curtains closed. Her mind was still her own. Surely she'd notice if it wasn't? She didn't feel compelled to go towards it – quite the opposite in fact. If anything, she wanted to stay right where she was, thank you very much.
Then the vampire's ears flicked and it was gone between one moment and the next, moving far, far too fast for a creature that size. Annabelle closed the curtains and took a deep breath.
She really needed to get some rest and hope that tomorrow made more sense again.
.*.*.*.
Over the next couple of days things made no more sense than previously and Annabelle resolved to just not think about it anymore. She had ended up saving a night creature child, they were grateful, no one had killed her in the process and now she'd continue living as she always did.
Sometimes she spotted the vampire, flying by or peering across the roofs towards her window. At first it frightened her worse, until she realized that it must be checking for any notes she might leave. In case she wanted to cash in that favor she was now apparently owed.
This, too, she resolved to not think about. There was nothing a night creature could give her, after all.
Right up until she waited at the door in the morning and Dion didn't open it. Her worry grew and she fidgeted, exchanging a glance with Rudi, who was peering outside the windows anxiously.
"I don't see him," her oldest brother murmured, shifting restlessly in place. After another moment he decided, "I'll go get the key."
He left and returned just as swiftly and the moment she had the door unlocked, Annabelle rushed outside. "Dion?" she called out.
"Over here," the voice of one of the other hunters answered and she ran, Rudi right behind her. Skidding to a stop at the small alley three houses down, she sucked in a sharp gasp.
Dion was lying in a pool of blood, breathing shallowly and two hunters were kneeling grimly at his side, doing their best to staunch the bleeding. 
"Get a doctor, now," one of the hunters snapped out and Annabelle was moving again, running past a worried Mr. Bell, who poked his head out of the window, looking sleep-ruffled.
Everyone knew where the nearest doctor was and how long it took to get to their clinic. Thankfully, the doctors all got up early, knowing the first thing they usually did was stitch up an injured hunter.
Dr. Under was a seasoned, experienced woman with incredibly steady hands and a cool composure and she was the doctor everyone on the street and the next ones went to. With her guidance they got Dion into her clinic and then all they could do was wait. Annabelle stared down at the blood on her hands and sleeves from where she had held Dion's legs beneath the knees.
Rudi had left reluctantly, promising to tell Mr. Bell that she wouldn't be in and to inform the rest of their family. Soon they all sat in the waiting room, silent and scared. Annabelle had to bite down on the accusations that crawled over her tongue like brambles. Her parents looked horrified and guilty enough as it was.
"He'll make it," Dr. Under said the moment she stepped out of the treatment room. "He's going to be out of commission for a couple of weeks, however. I'd recommend letting him rest and recover for a couple of months even, but he could work again sooner."
Meaning she knew their family didn't have the money to pay a hunter to replace him. Before Dion had protected them, her uncle had, who had died a few weeks before her brother had taken over.
They wouldn't be entirely unprotected, the other hunters looked out for the surrounding buildings since not everyone had a protector. Five hunters, Dion included, regularly protected the entirety of their street.
But if they had to choose between protecting their own home or Annabelle's, the hunters would choose their own families or employees. It was risky, not paying for or having someone guard the house. 
Her parents did not have the funds to pay for help, they all knew it. They would have to risk having no one and then Dion would have to go out the moment he was well enough, instead of healing up fully.
As she found herself ushered outside, Dr. Under promising that Dion would remain safe here until he could go home, she stared at her cold hands, finger knotted into her bunched up shawl.
She returned home with her family, swallowing down anger and fear with nearly every step. She hated all of this. Hated that night creatures wanted them dead, hated that her brother had to suffer, hated that they were never, ever safe when it was dark.
She had heard that the countryside was less dangerous, that night creatures preferred to flock to cities. They liked the amount of humans that lived there. She had heard rumors that someone had angered night creatures so much once upon a time, that they still sought retribution to this day. 
She just wanted it all to be over.
As soon as she was back in her room, blood cleaned off, she pulled out the letter the little boy had sent her. She hesitated for a long moment, then she pulled out a piece of paper and dipped her quill into her inkpot.
It took her a few tries to get it right, crossing out words and staring out the window to the spot where the vampire usually sat shortly before it left again. She wrangled with her thoughts, her distrust and fear.
Night creatures were dangerous, everyone knew that. They held no love for humans and most of the time not even for each other. It was foolish to trust one, to put her hopes in one.
And yet, as the sun set, she left a folded piece of paper on her windowsill, weighed down with the same rock the night creature had used previously. It had still lain where it had gotten dropped a couple of days ago.
She stared at it for a long while, then she took a deep breath and kept the window open, the curtains pulled back. If she was going to do this, she had to look the vampire in the eye. If she gave a night creature the information that their house would be unguarded, ready for reaping, she had to try to spot any possible deception before it got them all killed.
She saw the vampire appear a few minutes after sundown and how it paused, obviously spotting her and her note. It tipped its head a bit to the side and it remained still for a long moment. Then it moved. 
It arrived far too fast, nearly making her flinch back, hanging upside down from her roof. Hands the size of her head braced themselves left and right of her window and Annabelle had to force herself to not look away.
She had made precautions of course in case the vampire tried to thrall her. Her room was locked and the key dropped behind her big, heavy dresser, which would make a racket if she tried to move it. The bars in front of the window held shavings of silver and even if the vampire hypnotized her, it wouldn't get to kill anyone but her.
If that was the grim price for foolishly hoping she could trust a night creature, she'd pay it. But the vampire didn't do anything. At last it shifted its weight and pulled the note free with its clawed fingertips, thumbing it open to read it.
"Can you do it?" Annabelle found herself whispering, voice cracking and throat dry.
The vampire pulled itself up out of view and she saw its shadow on the roof across from her window, the house not built as high. She saw it change, turning from hulking and winged to something that looked human, crouching above her. She saw long hair move in the strong night breeze.
"I accept," the voice of a woman answered. "Consider it done."
Her breath escaped her in a big exhale and she had to grip the windowsill, knees suddenly trembling. "Thank you." Her voice shook a little.
The vampire hummed, then it asked, "Why did you not tell your city guards about my godson when he visited you?"
Annabelle knew what her family would have done, what Mr. Bell would have done. What the entire city would have done. But she hadn't been able to and she didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.
"He's just a kid," she found herself answering honestly, watching the vampire's shadow. "It didn't seem...fair. To hurt him just because he's not human. Or to rob him of his family."
Nothing about this was fair. Not little boys nearly getting their throats slit open or her brother, brave and bloody, lying on dirty cobblestone. After what she had seen the hunters do to the boy, she couldn't even say anymore that only the night creatures were cruel.
"I see. You're a brave one, you know," the vampire said. "I've yet to meet a human who dared to look me in the eye when they knew what I was, not even your hunters do it."
Annabelle pressed her lips together, then she lifted her chin. She was sick and tired of being scared. She was sick and tired of fearing for her life and begging a god who might or might not be listening for her brother's safety. If a monster could do the job instead, she'd gratefully accept the help.
"You're not all that scary," she made herself say with more confidence than she felt. "You actually look kind of fluffy as a bat." And very frightening.
The vampire laughed, sounding surprised and darkly amused. "I think I like you," she said, a grin audible in her voice. "Brave, smart and sweet, you are quite something, I believe." 
The shadow shifted and it looked as though the vampire had sat down on the roof and Annabelle had no idea what to say.
"Sleep," the vampire told her, voice gentler than before. "I will not let anything happen to you and yours."
Annabelle walked away from the window on slightly unsteady legs, leaving it open. She wanted to hear it, if something happened. Even if she knew, rationally, that she couldn't do anything, she still wanted to know if the vampire would abuse her trust.
She dropped onto her bed, watching the bit of the vampire's shadow she could still see. Slowly, her pounding heart calmed down and she slipped beneath the covers, watching her curtains shift gently in the breeze.
That breeze actually felt pretty nice, even if every stray sound made her jerk upright. She only realized the vampire had started to sing softly when her eyes fell closed, lulled to sleep by a monster's soft voice.
.*.*.*.
Part Two and Three are up.
215 notes · View notes
bunnyboy-juice · 5 months ago
Text
NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???
#personal#i am emotional yes#over the years ive had this blog I've made a few posts abt being femme#nd whether they're serious or jokey..... inevitably someone in the tags goes “ohhh yeah bc pink”#or in the case of what inspired this post: someone going “what about the pink ones” on my praying mantis post#and im just.#sick of it. im sick of femme being equated to pink and frilly girlie behaviors.#im sick of femme being equated to skirts and heels. to makeup. to skincare. to pristine nails exactly almond shaped.#im sick of ppl acting like All femmes aspire to this shit. im sick of femms being reduced to this shit.#and i love pink! i love pink! my phone theme is quite literally just black and pink all over.#im just. so tired of any expression of Femme identity being shoehorned into being a Specific type of femininity#especially as someone who DOES get dysphoric wearing skirts. wearing dresses. embodying the femme aesthetic yall are so set on making#if u guys wanna rb this i truly dont care#i just needed to scream#and this is one small thing#but the 2nd largest category of anon hate i have gotten since making this blog is str8 up homophobia from other “queer” folks#saying i cant be femme bc of how i present. calling me slurs (and using them as such) bc they cant understand femme as anything but that#my wife and i have our users in our personal discord server set as 2 different things of anon hate ive gotten#i have had OTHER FEMMES tell me i am not femme. femmes who Know im femme who still call me butch. femmes who ive corrected and been blocked#-by bc of it. the number 1 largest demographic of queerfolk who have me blocked rn is TME femmes who embody pink also#and i dont think its a coincidence at all. (and i know this bc i go to try and follow these ppl bc they get rbed on my dash & i cant)#and ik their blogs arent deleted bc some of them don't block my wife (tall. white. butch) and it cant be politics cause her and i rb#a lot of the same political shit (fuck. i think she rbs More than i do even. this is genuinely mainly a nsft blog)#and usually i don't say anything but im having a bad day so i get to be angry about this and if anyone fucking tries me i will block u#idc if we've been mutuals 4ever. im judt so tired of feeling like i am not Enough as a femme bc i dont embody this shit#im sick of this lameass lip service to he/him gnc femmes etc when the thin white 50s housewife femme is still what is preferred and loved#im sick of this lamesss lip service when y'all feel entitled to theorizing on other femmes genders bc u cant conceptualize a femme who does#wanna be hypetfeminine. im sick of it. im sick of it. im sick of it.#celebrity bun
456 notes · View notes
ducktracy · 3 months ago
Text
i've been in a very "nostalgic for SpongeBob" mood lately and that's warranted a lot of reflecting on Baby Me being a Sponge fanatic and thinking of what she'd think of now. and i have to say that one of my favorite parts of doing what i do--and also the most stupidly niche--is that one of my first online hyperfixations i recall having was SpongeBob production music. i remember animating magical girl transformations in Flipnote to SPONGEBOB MUSIC. i remember feeling so smart researching all the songs and getting to hear them without any dialogue on top. very gratifying to 11 year old me. i was and am still very fixated on production music, and so i always get very excited when seeing uploads of these songs and spotting a screenshot of a scene i worked on among them. one of my favorite aspects of watching episodes premiere is seeing what music they added on top of scenes i touched. it's just neat how many facets my thankfulness for Doing What I'm Doing gets to reach. i'm never not thinking of how grateful i am to be doing what i'm doing
29 notes · View notes
peridots-pixiwolf · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
[Start ID. A digital drawing of Minos Prime from Ultrakill, who's wearing a strapless slit dress and sandals of the same deep purple. He faces towards and slightly to the right of the camera, his head is tilted further right. With one hand he gestures in a vague pointing motion, his arm folded and held close to his body. There is nothing in the background, but bracing himself on one arm, Minos is implied to be leaning against something about the height of a countertop. The background is a blank purplish black, save for three diagonal stripes in the colors of the bisexual flag. End ID]
Shading study that quite literally came to me in a dream two weeks ago, after this post apparently beamed itself into my mind
(also a few edits below the cut! they're very slight but whatever :])
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[Start ID. Three different versions of the previous drawing. The first changes the tone of the lighting from blue to pink, and similarly the shading from pink to blue. The second replaces the faint black border with pink, purple and blue, syncing with the stripes in the background. The third combines both these changes. End ID]
#the tags got NERFED so let's try this again.#peridots-art#minos prime ultrakill#ultrakill#ask to tag#organs#...? gore maybe? for the whole ''transparent chest/visible cardiovascular system'' thing. not very detailed/realistic though so#i don't think this has all of the same charm as i usually find in my posts. but i tried my best to make it work so i don't think it matters#also ''not too happy with how this turned out'' is something i've seen tacked onto posts worthy of being preserved in museums#i heard someone say his snakes should be ball pythons. i'm not autistic about snakes so i decided to listen to the masters#i still have seven levels to p-rank before i can meet this guy!! halfway there (lust/greed and 1-3 remaining) i've only had my own copy#of ultrakill for a week and i already have 33 hours in. anyway he's grown on me i think. absolute bi king and only monarch i respect <3#i think it's interesting how i now define my queerness by being gray-ace and trans when i first only identified with bisexual. it's still#an important part of me even if sometimes i forget. sorry that sounds completely unrelated but it's related to my feelings on this piece#anyway (i wonder how many ''anyway''s i've slapped on so far) i also find it interesting how often people draw him with this body type.#i think it's cool there's variety in how people draw the uk characters. it just kinda feels right here? i know i unfortunately don't draw#fat characters often at all (partially due to being a primarily fandom blog who likes to stick to canon designs. i wouldn't say i have#trouble with drawing a realistic amount of fat even on rather thin people though lol) but i try! also genuinely unsure what counts as like.#fat vs chubby? or whatever? i don't know exactly how the terminology works and a fair amount of minos' bulk is muscle anyway but. yeah 👍#men are pretty in dresses my final message. goodbye
198 notes · View notes
rouge-fauna · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
I think you’re talking about these posts [here & here], I don’t know if there have been others.
I'm not gonna say what I did was right, you are correct I should probably just not respond to asks getting me to talk about other people. I will say for these two posts those people had already blocked me I’m pretty sure, so it’s kinda hard to talk directly to them in that case. And I was not doing so anonymously and had not blocked them so I wasn’t hiding what I was saying. I did not follow them, I am not part of the innitor community, and not that that makes it right but I do think it is kinda different. Though you make a good point, perhaps we should stop this pattern of responding to asks about other blogs and such.
Still, the biggest thing to me I realized, back in elementary school when I first dealt with this, was that honestly all the time we talk about people behind their back. Talking about people when they aren’t always in the room is kinda just inevitable and part of socializing, however I think the important part is how you are talking about other people. It’s when you are insulting them, talking negatively about them to people they know, spreading false information and so on that it becomes not okay. Hopefully that makes sense.
In these cases I merely focused on the lore. I didn’t insult them or talk shit about them, as a person, as a blog or say their takes were stupid or they are stupid or speculate about their trauma or mental history. I just talked about reasons why I disagreed, or saw things differently and why we might see things differently. They were also not the only ones I saw to say similar things so I think in my mind I was making more of a general discussion, not trying to target them specifically. I didn’t post beyond that about them. But you are right, regardless it was probably not the right way to go about things.
But just to be clear, if I am a hypocrite it is not my intention. I haven’t vague blogged anyone or meant to vague reblog anyone. I think this week is pretty much the first time I’ve ever been not naming, passive aggressively talking about blogs, and even then I’m not trying to insult them, trying to cancel them. I’m just expressing that before you go off about how I’m stupid and unable to have a discussion about it, the very least you could’ve done was give me an opportunity to try.
#I’m not going to say I’ve handled everything like I should. I feel like usually I try to tag people and include context and pictures so I’m#not trying to be passive aggressive or talk about people behind their back.#I’m not hiding. I haven’t even used the Tommy neg tag and I feel like I always leave things open and - here is my opinion it is not the onl#one or maybe even the right one or - here are my thoughts at the moment of 1am or here is the lore…#I made my alt name and image very clearly still me. I’m not trying to be sneaky or backhanded or insult You for an opinion or call You dumb#and if I have insulted or hurt someone I’m genuinely sorry and didn’t mean to. Something I try to reiterate#as my tone can come across as aggressive#crumbs#hello there#but see how we can have a discussion of -hey flora maybe you shouldn’t be talking about other people without tagging them or going directly#to them and I can be like - yea you have a good point. your right that’s not being respectful to them.#clarifications#thats what I'm really asking for. the respect to see if I am going to be as bad as you assume. give me the benefit of the doubt#I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know all the internet etiquette or slang. this is my first time participating in a fandom#my first time on tumblr. on ao3. the first time I've gotten actual like interactions on things beside like graduation pics#not to plead ignorance as innocence#but I know I don't know everything & am not claiming to thats why I try to leave safe space for people to come respectfully to me#after feeling aggressive backlash and seeing it happen I have since tried to make sure I try to respect other people's opinions#now that doesnt mean that if you just leave an anon in my inbox Im going to respond to it if I have already talked about it.#- okay you disagree. I stated my opinion you've stated yours and if there is no further point to discuss then I might not respond#though I did make this blog to perhaps respond more to things like that since you did take the time to say it the least I can do it respond#(and I cant just send you a direct message if you go anon <3)#uh... anyways didn't mean to leave an essay here oops... hope im making sense to someone :)
7 notes · View notes
ominous-feychild · 5 months ago
Text
✦ OC Questionnaire Tag 3 ✦
Following tag from @honeybewrites !
Featuring characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, Daleira, Valyarus, Soren, and Grimnir! As well as a surprise visit from someone else...
Notes: Valyarus is Daleira's adopted dad, Lynsmouth nobility, and a faerie; Soren is Freya's dad, strongly hinted to be ageless, and worked as a sailor; and Grimnir is Crow's dad, the famous criminal detective of Lynsmouth, and known to work under an alias and masks to hide his identity.
Featured Questions (not all characters will answer): - "Sun or moon?" - "Would you rather drown or be buried alive?" - "How many people have you killed?" from @the-golden-comet - "Do you believe in fate?" kidnapped from the-golden-comet's post
Tumblr media
"Sun or moon?"
Freya, the MC of Sun and Shadow who's explicitly sun-coded: Freya: Well... even before I found out about the whole "my dad gave me a magic restraint from a really young age without telling me and I actually have magic" thing... I'd always liked being out in the sun. I'd feel more refreshed, energized. I thought it was just normal, yknow? Like, who doesn't like being out in the sun? But apparently it's A Normal Magic Thing™ to feel better in your element? Even though I felt awful for a while without the restraint... apparently that's something called "magical sickness" from having too much uncontrolled essence? That's what Daleira said at least... I don't know. Regardless, um, sun, obviously, haha. 😅
Crow, the "shadow" of Sun and Shadow: Crow: Moon. The daytime is too bright and it's a lot harder to blend in. I mean--(*pointedly wiggles the sunglasses they're always wearing*)--I need these to be able to actually see thanks to my damned curse and how bright everything is. Then, like, I need to stick to the shadows at day because I just feel worse under sunlight, you know? So, yeah. Moon, easily.
Daleira, the OTHER, secret "shadow": Daleira: Sun! (gotcha 😉) It's thanks to the sun's energy that our world goes round--well, metaphorically speaking--and it would be almost unrecognizable if the sun didn't exist! 😊 Well, I mean, now that I say that... I guess the same applies to the moon, huh? Like, it's thanks to it that we have the tides and-- (*continues rambling about Science*) --wait what was the question again? Oh, right! "Sun or moon?" I would probably still pick sun, haha! 😊
Valyarus: This is an odd question. I would dare to say sun. Nights tend to be much more dangerous, both in the Faewildes and in this world. Criminals adoring the darkness and all, yes? Besides that, I am also weaker at night. So that should be an easy answer for me, no?
Soren: I'm brought back from the dead and/or a potentially disastrous situation in order to answer arbitrary questions? (*heavy sarcasm*) Interesting. How kind of our all-powerful gods to give me this opportunity. (Look do you want this break or not?) ... fine. Yes. (*Clears throat*) My wife and children all had sun- and light-allegiances. I feel that should speak for itself. However... as a seaman, the stars have always been my best friend, and it would be a nightmare to navigate without them. In spite of that, if you told me to choose between my daughter and the night, I would choose my daughter in a heartbeat. Happy? (*he asks, glaring at the camerawoman* Very, great job, Soren! 😉 *he scoffs*)
"Would you rather drown or be buried alive?"
Freya, who in the first chapter of SaS got traumatized by nearly dying in a shipwreck: Freya: Be buried alive. Next question, please and thank you.
Crow: Easy! I'd choose to be buried alive! Being encased in a coffin--or even just dirt--would surround me in shadows and I could just teleport out through them, ha! Daleira: Crow, you're supposed to take this at face value. There's no way getting out. If you had to die either way, which would you pick? Crow: (*scowling*) But that doesn't make sense! I could just teleport out! Daleira: Yeah, well that's not the point! It's supposed to, like, find out your personality and stuff! Which you'd, uh... consider to be the least painful death?... hm, that's actually really dark when you think about it... Crow: Exactly! Besides, it doesn't say I have to die through it! Just drown or "be buried alive"--not that I die in the process! (*smug birb.png*) Daleira: Um... actually, "drown" does imply death. Crow: Wait, what? Daleira: It's in the definition! "Drown: verb; to die through submersion in and inhalation of water!" Crow: ... and why do you have the exact definition of "drown" memorized? And where did you get it??? Do you have a dictionary lying around somewhere in your workshop??? Daleira: (*flushed*) Just--answer the question! Crow: I still pick being buried alive. It doesn't mean I can't escape alive, sweetheart. 😘 Daleira: (*groans and puts her face in her hands*)
Daleira: Unlike Crow, I'm actually going to answer this question as intended. 😒 While both are deeply unpleasant ways to die, I'd probably choose to drown just because it's quicker than suffocating in a coffin... or loose dirt. (*shudders*)
Valyarus: (*pleasantly; if not a bit smugly*) I could and would do neither. As a faerie, I could simply teleport out of either situation. Daleira: 😒😒😒 Daleira: (*takes a slow, deep breath... unlike someone in the situations posed in this question!*) Dad, the point of the question is "imagine you don't have any other choice". Like, if you had to pick one, which would you pick? Valyarus: (*quizzical look*) Well that's just incredibly dark, isn't it? Who would pose such a question? Daleira: (*exasperated, throws up her hands*) I don't know! Could you please just answer it, Dad??? Valyarus: (*gives a long, drawn-out sigh... also unlike someone in the situations posed in this question!*) If you insist, dear. I suppose... I would choose being buried alive. In your hypothetical situation, unaware that I was completely doomed, I would likely choose it knowing it took longer and spend a majority of the time I had trying to figure out a way out... only to die. Valyarus: But, Dally, you are aware that even if our bodies die, we do not, yes? Daleira: 😃 (*internal screaming*)
Soren: (*completely unaware of the events of the first chapter of SaS in this case--*) I would choose the sea--or, drowning, that is. I was born by the ocean, was made by the ocean, and lived through the ocean. I see no better way to die. Or a more fitting one.
Grimnir: In those cases, I'd assume I'd be being assassinated by some of my enemies... and so they're planning for it to be as painful as possible. In which case, it would likely look like this: my to-be killers choose to drown me. They repeatedly dunk and pull my head out at intervals maximized for suffering, but just barely below the time my body would force me to inhale. Ideally, none of them would have control over water magic, or they could simply let me breathe it in and draw it from my lungs. Which would likely be doubly as unpleasant as traditional water inhalation. Regardless--they would repeat this process until I finally suffocated or they got bored. And then they would kill me. Alternatively, my captors could've chosen to kill me through burying me alive. In that case, they'd do so without a coffin. That way, I'd be suffocating, buried within whatever material they thought would make me suffer most. Due to the phrasing of this question, I would assume it could not be anything inherently dangerous, otherwise I would die of exsanguination, poisoning, or whatever else. No, instead, I'd suffocate. In this case, it's unlikely my captors could interrupt or pace out my murder--unless they periodically buried, unearthed, and re-buried me, which simply seems like more effort than it's worth and comes with risk of a coma instead. Between the two situations, I would choose to be buried alive. Though, I hope you aren't intending on trying anything... I may be a detective, but I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.
"How many people have you killed?"
Freya: Nobody??? What???
Crow: What do you mean? I'm a detective, not a murderer! Obviously I haven't killed anyone!
Daleira: (*voice uncharacteristically quiet*) It... depends on what you count as a "person." And... whether you're counting accidents... which you probably are. Regardless?... a lot.
Valyarus: I have killed very, very few people. If they even counted as "people" by the time I killed them is a better question. But... if you consider the fact that I, myself, am not human, and that those of us in my position call all of us sentient beings "people"... then I have killed very, very many people. That's why I'm in the position I am today. I am very powerful. And, sometimes, death is necessary to protect those looking up to you as a leader.
It's been a bit since Elvalen has joined Lynsmouth, though. I think I've gotten a bit rusty. 😄
(note: Valyarus has accidentally killed a lot more people in a similar manner to Daleira, but is not counting them due to it being "part of a faerie's nature", unintentional, and frankly unavoidable to an extent. Up his perceived creepiness/danger level as you deem necessary.)
Soren: Depends who's asking. If this has any possibility of reaching my daughter, none whatsoever. Otherwise... more than I wish. But being what I am, death is sometimes inevitable. Other times, it's simply the only correct choice. Would you rather leave a monster alive, or kill it where it stands to save its victims, both present and future? I think there's only one right answer there, and I have a number of people who'd thank me for it. ... even if my daughter would not.
Grimnir: Depends on what you mean by "killed". Does it count to put them in prison, knowing people can and might target them there? If so: I don't know. Definitely more than I can count. Otherwise... only a few. And only when necessary, in self-defense.
"Do you believe in fate?"
Freya: You mean the idea that our lives are predetermined from the beginning, that our decisions are set in stone before we're born, and that nothing we can do will ever change that? Of course not. And even if it did, I'd assume magic itself would interfere with how Fate wanted to make things.
Crow: I'm... not sure. I've never thought of it before to be honest. I'd guess there's probably some god out there capable of it?... though if you think of it that way, wouldn't all gods be Fate in one way or another? Like, they're all always just... sitting in their godly domains or something, watching us, seeing everything and making decisions off of it right? So from our point of view, wouldn't that make them the puppeteers of our fates? So I'd say it depends on what you consider "fate" to be. Is it an active force keeping things to a certain "timeline" or set of events? In which case I'd say no. Or is it a set of actions carried out by beings that can see so much more than we do, that are capable of comprehending things that we can't, and actively try enforcing their wills on us? In which case... I'd say yes.
Daleira: Fate? Like "things are destined to happen a certain way"? I wouldn't know! Haha, there's so many things in this world that it's impossible to know! Like, there's billions of lifeforms breathing, existing!, making decisions all at once! Could there possibly be a reason behind it, some sort of consciousness pulling everything in a certain direction to make sure different events come true? Possibly!
... what do I think of that?... hm. That's a great question. I... don't know honestly. I like the concept of free will, would like to think we all have complete control of our lives and where they go... but that just isn't realistic! Even if fate didn't exist, our lives are all still pushed and pulled in every direction by those of the people around us. And by nature! The world constantly throws things at us, and all we're able to do is react to it! Even if we make our own decisions, they're based on our life experiences and the examples we've seen of others... so it's impossible to say "free will" truly exists, either.
Valyarus: Fate? (*snickers*) Which kind of "Fate", the idea that Grand Destinies follow people, that some people are destined to come together and "complete" one another", or something... Or the cold and merciless goddess known for doing whatever it takes to achieve her goals?
Don't misunderstand me--most gods are "cold, cruel, merciless" and all those good things. But I've heard special things of Fate. She sees everything that has happened, everything that is happening, and everything that will happen at all times. She's able to make decisions with more information than anyone else. She's been able to plan out her actions and puppeteer everyone else from the very beginning of time. She's known for acting irrationally, having her son carry out the most out of place things... for what? What cause? What purpose? We don't know. We can't. What we do know is that she's willing to do anything. She and her son--acting on her behalf as all avatars do--have done some things even the other gods wouldn't dare do. Although, I don't think it's for a lack of willingness so much as it would otherwise get in the way of their goals to actively commit atrocities.
Regardless, oh--I do believe Fate exists. It's very hard not to when you've spoken to her son firsthand and he responds to you before you can even speak. I wouldn't recommend it, by the way. I've met some very disturbing creatures before, but he was... different.
Quinn: Well, that's just rude. Valyarus: Quinn: After I helped you and everything. Valyarus: How... how did you get in here? Quinn: Not telling. 😉 Want to apologize? Valyarus: Valyarus: (*indignant!*) I see no reason to. Quinn: Of course. No problem, then. Just... be careful around birds. Valyarus: (*silent, confused panic???*)
Soren: I believe Fate exists, yes. Whether or not that's a good thing depends on the day... and if you're in her way. Thankfully, it does not seem like I've done anything to cross her... at least, not for a very long time.
Grimnir: (*deadpan*) I would assume so. Otherwise, I'd worry who I gave my eyes to.
Tumblr media
Your questions: - What would you do if you watched a starving child steal something expensive without anyone else noticing? - If you could go back in time and say anything to your younger self, what would you say? - What would you sell your soul for? (Metaphorically speaking, doesn't have to be literal. In other words: "What is the most important thing to you, that you would do anything for?")
Tagging (with no pressure) @darkandstormydolls @yourpenpaldee @.honeybewrites @fantasy-things-and-such @themboty @the-letterbox-archives and whoever else wants to join!
Divider from @cafekitsune
#Crow's over here just giving the DEEPEST answer to the fate question I'm ngl.#Like I was just including it for the memes of Grimnir asking who else he gave his eyes to 🤣🤣🤣#But then Crow had to come in and give an actually well-thought-out answer.#I'm ngl I was NOT expecting it#I was actually expecting them to turn it into a joke like usual.#But like... it's not actually that Crow isn't smart btw.#Or is incapable of taking anything seriously.#They just choose not to 99% of the time haha. 😅#Btw Grimnir actually wasn't kidding about giving up his eyes to “Fate” btw.#At the very least#as far as he's aware#he traded his sight to an entity claiming to be the goddess of fate.#Won't tell you whether it actually WAS or not 😉#or what he traded it for#but I feel like the fact that he traded his SIGHT to “Fate” should give some hints. 😉😉😉#Addendum:#I wrote all those tags after writing Freya's/Crow's/Grimnir's in that order#I'm actually quite surprised at how Quality the answers to that question all are haha.#Valyarus over there is giving HELLA worldbuilding and foreshadowing 🤣😉#and ironically showing that Crow was actually right (in-universe) about their theories oops.#Genuinely I wasn't PLANNING on confirming Crow's “theories" haha.#But Valyarus knows quite a bit about the gods for a number of reasons and that's just how he'd answer. 😅😂#Fate in-universe is highly feared due to everything Valyar mentioned if you couldn't imagine.#Though some of his information is false actually.#What?#This is CHARACTER asks#not “author asks”#You ask the characters and you get misinformation misunderstandings and lies 🤣#That's how a majority of those who know of Fate (the goddess)'s existence see her though.#There's a handful of people who like/don't see her as evil tho.
17 notes · View notes
izzy-b-hands · 9 days ago
Text
I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs
(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)
That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)
#text post#not going to get into the other painful smack of this morning#suffice to say that medicaid does not in fact fully cover vocal therapy/training for trans ppl#even if ur docs feel incredibly certain it is#if i was making a decent bit over minimum wage at consistent hours and already had my current debts paid off mostly#then I'd happily consider paying the chunk Medicaid won't cover but as of now#it would literally be basically two paychecks if not three to cover the estimate for this first visit#and that's only if the poll would have us polling every week like we did before the election#otherwise we're guesstimating it would be upwards of 4 paychecks to cover it#I'm actually gonna get into in here bc nobody reads all my tag essays (fair valid and correct)#im really sad abt this. my voice gets me clocked a lot and while i can mostly handle like. visually being clocked#my voice giving me away genuinely makes me feel a pain in my chest. i can't get my customer service voice to go lower yet#and even if it's my usual voice I've made minimal progress on my own self done vocal study stuff#so like. no one knows how high it was compared to how it is now tho so no one actually hears it as anything near deep#which it isn't but like. there's been a slightly barely there drop of it per at least a couple ppl in my life#i was probably going to be able to learn how to sing again and find my new range. I'd fix my customer service voice#even if it would only ever be a teeny bit lower than how it is now. it would be lovely#im not gonna get too down tho bc someday hopefully I'll be able to make it happen/afford it#and for now...im doing the bad thing of not cancelling the appt yet#i will bc they're booking out for months and it isn't right of me to take a spot i know i can't keep#but. let me pretend i can for another day or two. maybe until monday. then I'll call or msg them on mychart#and let them know i just don't have the funds rn tho i do deeply appreciate that Medicaid at least pays part of it#im just not at a point where i can cover the rest but that I'll reschedule/have a new referral sent whenever that changes#...and hopefully things in this country will be of such a state that such care is still available to ppl like me.#but that's all we're saying on that bc im already having a pathetic little cry over this#(im fine the med side effects have me crying over everything lol i see a sad commercial and Instant Tears like someone died lmaooo)
2 notes · View notes
maddy-ferguson · 18 days ago
Text
i had been meaning to check on my one mutual who liked bucktommy but i couldn't remember her url and i couldn't see her in the people i follow and it's because she blocked me...my bad
2 notes · View notes
ellenthefox · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Bruuuuh not specifically telling Jaiden's chat y'know the Asian one to CHOKE ON RICE????
18 notes · View notes
edelorion · 7 months ago
Text
#edel vents#disclaimer: really personal issues in the tags. also wishes of death upon others. this is PROBABLY too much information tbh...#so if you're not up for it scroll down fast!!!! the deluge is coming!!!#today was... eventful. bad. also very bad. grandma's birthday celebration was today#and while she... definitely has Old People Issues (racist) shes also very lonely since the death of my grandfather so i can't really not go#i'm the only one who really visits her regularly to begin with#aside from the... very serious racism issue... she's “alright”. i guess. but that's besides the point. there's family there#and among those... my parents. which i don't like to talk to#discovered they threw more of my old stuff away. typical. wanted to strangle them. as usual.#had to “talk” with my mother (read: spend approximately ten seconds reciting exactly why i *don't* talk to her anymore)#so that whole ordeal completely soured my mood.#went home tired. can't really do anything right now.#at least the food was good i guess. but i also really want to cry... which i can't. which sucks.#...i really like to think i've improved as a person. i used to be really hateful of everything and everyone#worst of all myself. still kinda do but i'm... getting better..?#i like to think i've grown past most of it but every time i see my parents i feel this gripping at my heart. as if i haven't really changed#as if instead i'm still the hateful person i “always was” deep down... bc there's this visceral joy that i feel whenever i'm mad at them.#when i looked at my mother and told her how much i despise her i felt a shiver of happiness. righteousness.#to be clear: i do NOT care for her. at all. she's the worst person on this earth#and the only person whom my philosophy of “nobody deserves to die” does NOT apply to. i'm not scared of hating her.#she genuinely deserves this. but...every time i see my parents - and thus her... i feel as if i'm slipping back into that mindset of hatred#i don't want that. not anymore. it consumed me whole. i was a horrible person back then and i've caused so much grief for so many#i can't let go of this hatred. i can't forgive them. they don't deserve my forgiveness anyway. but i'm tired of hating.#i'm tired of letting that hatred define me. i'm tired of letting that hatred direct me. i'm tired of letting it bring me to ruin.#i'm tired of being who i was. i'm no longer “that”. i'm edel now and i'm happy for people now. if i don't like something i just walk out.#i can just leave. “if it sucks hit the bricks” right?.. but i didn't. i had to say it. i had to tell them. her. and i liked it.#and... i'm scared of that. because it tells me i haven't improved.#i'm not sure what i'm expecting out of posting this i guess. maybe help. maybe i wanna be told that this is normal or something.#maybe i just want to get my thoughts in order. i don't know. i'm gonna stop writing now.#sorry for making you read all this. thanks for doing it anyway. tags were cut off on this one btw so it may look like a mess. but. yeah.
6 notes · View notes
mildly-omniscient · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Decided to make a Garak sketch from ref with more than 15 seconds (referring to a post I just reblogged) he is my blorbo
This calmed me down from a fucking anger breakdown so,,, thanks @my-dear-dr for reblogging the post that helped me focus and relax lmao
7 notes · View notes
dontstandmedown · 1 year ago
Text
Just started watching hannibal and i dont see what this guy is doing wrong. as far as i can tell he's just a gay man who loves to cook fancy meals for his friends
#Im enjoying it so far suprisingly! Im not big on crime shows usually bc all of the#A) intense copaganda#B) repetitive/boring narratives#C) graphic & often fetishistic depictions of violent crimes against women#And i mean hannibal does hit A and C-ish but the story is sooo so fascinating esp the dynamic btwn hannibal/will/abigail#They are sick and twisted#Will is interesting autistic rep as well im glad they leaned into the hyperempathy thing bc that shit SUCKS#and no one ever talks about it bc if you call yourself highly empathetic you sound like such an asshole.#but like it can genuinely be dangerous esp. for women bc it makes us more trusting & therefore more vulnerable to manipulation/abuse#I don't know how to judge the copaganda yet since ive only watched s1. So far its like.#The fbi is generally accepted as a force of good. criminals are all those regular people! And the fbi agents lock the bad guys up!#We'll add a throwaway line abt how law enforcement are among the most likely to be serial killers#And we'll have one of our FBI agents be framed for murder#but dont worry hes still one of the good guys. He works for the fbi how could he not be?!#Im oversimplifying things ofc. the characters are portrayed as flawed human beings and thus the bureau is shown to make mistakes#But as of right now the show had not explored the systemic issues w/ law enforcement#I hope this will change bc i think that would elevate the story so much#And from where I'm at in the story there's definitely a way for the story to move forward with this perspective (mostly with will's arc)#But this is american network television so. i have my doubts#Regardless it is super interesting to analyze this show (if you could not tell by my tag essay that barely scratches the surface)#lots to chew on for sure#<- im sorry i couldnt resist#hannibal
4 notes · View notes
kanameows · 3 months ago
Text
got to love how the bees and undead had such polarising normal polls while jun easily swept eden's poll with an 83~%
#speaking tag#anyway. since none of these characters are normal at all i've been voting on who i thinkhas kind of earned it#like with kohaku#i can confidently say that he is in the top 3 characters in terms of insane backstory. maybe even no.1#but he has genuinely been striving for a sense of normalcy in a way that the other members haven't#big part of his motivation is that he wants to be free !!!! he wants to live a '''''normal''''' life !!!!!!!#it's. not going so well but he's doing his best. i think.#honestly i do feel that a lot of the stuff that makes niki so ''weird'' is just his disability disabling him#and you really can't separate niki from his illness because that would honestly just be stupid#so i do get where people are coming from i guess ??? especially when backstory is taken into account#but he is way more than your local chill guy !!!!#happyele does usually treat him as comedic relief so i can't really blame people for not understanding how deeply concerning niki is#i am. getting off-topic.#anyway i voted for jun and kaoru for the same reasons why i voted for kohaku#they all have so many problems but they're ultimately striving for some level normalcy and i'm acknowledging that#tbh i do understand the people that voted rinne#you know kids that don't get much wiggle room in their childhood so they grow up and just Cause Problems ? yeah that's rinne to me#it's sad and he's weird but it's not an uncommon phenomenon#i just didn't vote for him because he's a little too strange to make the cut but i do think that's intentional#he's actively playing the part of a freak#and i love him#OH YEAH THIS GOES FOR AIRA TOO#all of alk are weird as hell but aira is ''chronically online'' weird which is pretty standard to ''teenage martyr'' kind of weird#maybe this post was just an excuse to ramble about my lukewarm takes in the tags#ooooh you want to discuss enst characters with me sooooo bad
1 note · View note
veiledfox · 1 year ago
Text
} The past couple weeks have been odd for me
0 notes
kerosene-saint · 1 year ago
Text
I do not feel good
0 notes