#ichoriism

[fadinglights]

it  has  been  a  long,  exhausting  day  and  seojung  is  weary  to  his  very  bones.  the  sudden  sound  that  sets  itself  apart  from  the  quiet  stillness  of  the  space  startles  him,  causing  a  surge  of  unease  within  him.  however,  it  quickly  fades  when  he  turns  around  and  it’s  noah  that  he  finds.  “...  what  are  you  doing  here?” / @ichoriism

[r3dblccd]

: ̗̀➛ @ichoriism; continued from here

Jinkyong knew exactly which buttons to push to make Sera tick? After all, they had known each other for quite a long time. Even if both of them had changed, for better or for worse, some things stayed the same. She couldn't care less about the guy she was just talking to just now. She could have also talked to another woman instead, it probably wouldn't make a big difference in the outcome, but she preferred playing with one stupid guy over ruining the night of a girl she didn't know and probably just wanted to enjoy her time.

And she could see it in Sera's eyes, the displeased reaction she was trying to get out of her, even if the other tried to play it cool. Jinkyong wanted her to regret what she had lost, she wanted her in pain, even stronger than the one Sera made her feel after their breakup. "Why? It's not like you to care, am I right?" She deflected the question by turning it against her. "Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Let's get back to our topic. Did you find everything I asked you for?"

[pillowxtalk]

Closed starter for Jihyun: Play with fire @ichoriism​

It was rather late, but Jihyun was still at the dancing studio he and his members used to learn all their steps. The idol had created a choreography to a song he really liked and his label would film it as a surprise for dreamers. The filming would be soon and that was why he wanted to go through all the steps to perfect them. Jihyun wanted to blow people’s minds with his performance and show them how much he loved dancing and music. He wanted to talk to them through the way his body moved, wanted it to have lasting effect on them.

He was about to start the music as he saw someone enter the room through the mirror he was facing. Jihyun decided to give his new audience a good show to test his choreography out so to speak. So instead of greeting the figure that had entered he simply started the music. His eyes closed for a few heartbeats and he opened them again he had gotten himself lost in the song. His movements started on their own and his whole body was pretty much doing the talking for him, giving a performance that should have an impact on people.

[feedgarf]

BACK TO HUMAN DIMPLE POSTING. i have to ramble about this au. another time. just know that i am cooking... but the meal is sitting in a three hour crockpot.

[ask-de-writer]

About NIGHT WIND

@nyunjin-ichori READ, LIKED,

REBLOGGED and COMMENTED on

NIGHT WIND, a Classical Fantasy

Of NIGHT WIND they said :

Hey! Just wanted to ask you that is Night Wind only have 1 part? And also will there be part 2?

It does only have one part. Nobody ever asked about a second part. Let me think about that.

[kotoyin]

monster au? no. just chosen hero who failed at her mission and was warped into something awful.

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Page 64 Author Notes

Page 64

The main part of this scene originally took place about halfway through the chapter and in a different context. In the scene immediately prior, both of them had gotten careless with their powers in public. Imogen had overextended her telepathy trying to eavesdrop on someone and gotten psychically overwhelmed, causing Laudna to panic and clear out the onlooking busybodies with her Form of Dread:

The noise shifts over to screams of terror. Panel 5: Then a blessed silence. Laudna's spindly, elongated fingers, dripping ichory goo into her hair, gently pet her head and the hellish echoes of her voice whisper over her. Imogen: Laudna? Laudna: (echoing hellishly) It's all right, my love. I'm here. Panel 6: Imogen turns her head to see the full Form of Dread crouched over her protectively. Laudna scratches her back soothingly with her claws. Imogen: What . . . what did you do? Laudna: Just got rid of the gawkers, dear. Are you feeling better? Imogen: A little . . . can we go home? Laudna: Of course. Page 94 Panel 1: Back home, in their sleeping loft. Imogen is lying on the bed in her pajamas while Laudna sits next to her, tending to her headache. There's a folded towel over her eyes and Laudna is bathing the inside of her wrists with cold water. Imogen: Ugh. How'm I ever gonna manage in Jrusar if I can't even cope with the number of people in a small town? Laudna: We'll worry about that when we get there. Let's just take things one step at a time. Panel 2: Lifting the towel away from one eye she looks up at Laudna. Imogen: Can I . . . see that thing you did again? Panel 3: Laudna obliges with a crackling of bone and joints, until there's a monster in the bed next to her. Panel 4: She weaves her too-long fingers together self-consciously. Laudna: You don't find it disturbing? Imogen: It's you?  Panel 5: Taking her monstrous hand, Imogen runs her fingers curiously over her palm. Laudna: It's me. Panel 6: She sits up and peeks under the veil. Imogen: Then, no. Panel 7: Then leans up and kisses whatever she finds under there (we do not see it) on the cheek.

This was the incident that resulted in them having to leave the town they're settled near, but I thought a scene of them going home and going to bed in between slowed down the momentum so I ended up changing or taking out most of it. But I felt it was important to leave in this part at the end so we know that Imogen is a monsterkisser.

Since I first wrote this the nuance in Laudna’s response of “It’s me” has gotten A LOT MORE COMPLICATED in canon so there’s also that momentary ellipsis now.

[riverkaterina]

Another KOTW theory

There's a lot of references to how Wrath clawed his way to his throne, what he did to get there, why he's king, etc

And I know Kerri obvi isn't trying to be biblically accurate but it still gave me an idea

According to the Bible, a third of the angles fell with the devil. And there were way more than 21 folks. More than mere mortals can comprehend, yet the only fallen angels we see are the seven

Where did the others go? I think in a struggle for both power and balance, a massive battle broke out. And the seven princes were who were left standing. Wrath possibly defeated the other six but they were left alive, perhaps because they were the closest, perhaps because they needed to take up the mantels of sin to keep balance, I'm not completely sure on that.

But we can assume Wrath's path to the throne of the Wicked was bloody (ichory? Bloody? Ichory? Idk you get it)

[tex-da-phox]

Helluva Boss: Unchained

Chapter 1 - Broken Toy

[This story is a sequel to the short comic "Collared" by rhues. If you haven't read it, see the attached link at the bottom of the page]

[CW: self-harm, trauma, emotional abuse, blood]

"...Blitz..?" The quivering mass of terror that lay before Stolas was entirely alien to him. Blitzø had never cried in front of him before, let alone cowered in abject fear and anguish. Feeling responsible for this display of trauma, he reached out a shaking hand, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

Blitzø's expression of horror gradually shifted into grief, then shame, and rest upon apathy. His breathing slowed, and his blood-soaked hands carressed the self-inflicted wounds on his neck as they began to register the sensation of pain. Wiping his tears away, he stammered out. "I- I think I should... go."

A flurry of emotions welled up inside Stolas, bursting out in outraged tone. "Nonsense! Utter nonsense! You're clearly not alright. There's something you haven't told me, and I need at least an explanation before you-"

"Noooot gonna happen. I have to go." Quaking limbs and glazed eyes fumbled over to the bedside. The blood on his hands rubbed ichory black stains into the sheets as he shuffled.

"Dammit, Blitz!" His tears had begun to shed across his cheeks now, accumulating on the underside of his beak. Little droplets plopped silently onto the mattress beneath him. "This isn't something either of us can just ignore!"

Anger seemed to possess Blitzø for a moment as he shot back violently, "Why not? Why should you care?" His emotions fell fast again to despair, his ragged breath quickening slightly as he stepped onto the floor, turning his back to Stolas. "Your toy is broken. You'd be best off finding a new one."

Stolas was sobbing now, inconsolably like a widowed mother, the words slicing open his already heavy chest. All at once, his worst fears were realized; he had lost his first ever friend, and it was all his fault. "I... no... no, Blitz, please. You're not a toy, please."

"What else could I be? To you, to anyone?" His response was meek, terse, and genuine. Throwing on his garments, he continued moving away from Stolas, unable to look at him. His limp tail skittered slowly across the floor as he sank into hopelessness.

"No, please! Please understand! I don't want to- I just, I- *gasp* I need you. It kills me to see you in... so much pain." Without a response, his pleas increased in volume. "Blitz! Don't go! Please don't leave me like this, I beg you!"

Desperate cries fell upon deaf ears. It was all Blitzø could do to dissociate, resigning himself to a perpetual state of emotionlessness. Love, hate, sorrow, joy; these were all too good for him. He didn't deserve to feel.

Realizing that nothing he could say in this moment would help Blitzø or lead to an explanation of this catastrophe, Stolas collapsed defeatedly into his soiled blankets with a soft *thump*, devastated and perplexed. How could he not have seen that he was hurting his beloved so much? How could he have been so foolish to degrade him so casually, so frequently? Stolas screamed out in agony as Blitzø closed the door behind him.

The door reopened a few moments later, a panicked butler Impington rushing in. "Are you alright, your Highness?"

More miserable, mangled moans echoed from his sputtering vocal cords. His frenzied fingers grasped clumps of feathers atop his head, viciously pulling at them. A couple handfuls of matted blue plumes scattered into the air, gently swaying down onto the pillows around him.

"Your Highness..." Impington softly brushed a hand against Stolas' flailing arms. Seeing this gesture ignored, the enthralling spectacle of his Highness' breakdown became unbearable to witness; and yet, he couldn't look away. He stood by his bedside, waiting for Stolas to calm down.

Several hours later, Stolas began to resemble his lover's cold, dead expression. He had been wallowing in the filth of the earlier events of that night, unable to summon the energy to move or speak.

At last, Impington spoke up. "Shall I clean up this mess?"

Exasperation gave way to reluctant engagement. "Go ahead." He continued to lay there, his soul dissolving in most caustic woes.

"Your Highness, I will need for you to move if I am to clean the sheets for you."

A sigh escaped his tightened lungs, and he started to sit up. Sluggishly, he pushed his skinny legs out towards the ground and hoisted himself into an uncharacteristically slouched posture. Begrudgingly, he then trotted out of the room and over to the kitchen, where he sat at the table and draped his arms over it to bury his face into.

It was then that the phone started ringing, which shocked Stolas, as it was only six in the morning. After hesitating for a long moment, he answered. His face seemed to light up a bit as a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Hey, Dad. I know it's early, but I just can't bear to stay in this house for one more minute. Do you mind picking me up?" Octavia had spent the weekend at Stella's and was anxiously waiting to be back with Stolas.

"Uh- of course, Via. I'll be there momentarily." He hung up and walked back to his room to retrieve his grimoire, which Blitzø had forgotten to take with him in his hurried exit. He conjured a portal right next to Octavia, startling her.

"Whoa! That was fast. Wait, how come you still have the book?"

"It's complicated," he answered.

Stepping through the portal, Octavia pried further. "Complicated how? Was the deal broken?"

"I'm honestly not sure, my owlette." He was choking up and holding back tears so Octavia wouldn't worry about him. He quickly changed topics to avoid more questions. "What made your mother's house so unbearable?"

Octavia chuckled softly. "You of all people shouldn't need to ask to know why. She's a nightmare. Thanks for bailing me out."

Closing the book, the portal imploded with a quiet *pop*. "No need to thank me, Via. I'm just glad you're here right now." He hugged her tightly, feeling some weight float away from his heart. However, his body was still twitching, his breath still short, and his muscles tight. "You're doing okay?"

His puffy eyes and strained feathers caught her attention as she let out of the embrace to reply. "I should be asking you." He stared into her eyes, silence languoring in the air as she waited. Eventually, she repeated the question. "I'm alright, Dad. Are you?"

The tears returned without warning, flowing off of his face as he spoke. "N- No. I'm not. But I'm so glad that you are."

Seeing her father fall to his knees and cry ugly was a shock, to say the least. Still, she bent down and embraced him yet again. "I love you too, Dad."

[railroad-migraine]

Day 16. Grave offerings 🎃

-> Bell's Hells x GN!Reader

It's best to be prepared

~ Poet

"I have a confession to make."

The rest of the party look up from their food and drink (and in the heal bot's case, some copper pieces), and give you their full attention. With a heavy sigh, you set your knife and fork down on the table and shrug off your coat. You fold it in your lap, enough so that you have easy access to the large pockets.

"Ever since we lost Bertrand," you say mournfully, "I've kept something of his. I... If something happens and you lose me on our travels together, I wish to be buried with it."

Voices immediately raise in protest: Orym and Ashton refusing that such a thing will happen to you with them around to protect you; Imogen's hair sticks up slightly with untamed electricity while she scowls at the thought; Fearne restricts Little Mister in her lap, his arms reaching out to you while he howls miserably; Fresh Cut Grass quickly double checks their components for their resurrection spell; and Laudna - who is so comfortable with her un-death - wipes at the fresh, ichory tears at her water line.

You manage to hush them with a soft expression and a nod of your head, and they quieten in acceptance and ask you what your wish is.

You slip one hand into your coat pocket, rummage a little until your fingers curl around your future grave goods and set it on the table.

"You kidding me?" Chetney squawks, and reaches out and pops one of the Werther's Originals in his mouth - the others groan in annoyance. "I love this crap."

[seeliememorygarden]

All follows will be from @ananthologyofsouls

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Murata's (genderbent pyro Archon ) Bio

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Side blog for fandomless vampire OC and mage OC

Divider by saradika

[fadinglights]

“ the thought of you with him/her makes me sick ” { ' from Noah to Sj }

jealousy meme for @ichoriism / accepting!

in a perfect world, they would be entwined lovers, lost in the night's embrace. tangled in the aftermath of their affection, they would hold each other tight, drifting into a deep slumber, only to awaken to the warmth of the sun's gentle caress. their lazy morning would be spent savouring every moment in each other's presence, finding joy in the simplest of things.

but his world is far from perfect, even though he's been raised to make others believe it is.

seojung's weary eyes flutter, the drowsiness he can no longer resist suddenly disrupted by noah's whispered words. seojung's lips curve into a thin, contemplative line as he contemplates an answer. is an answer what noah truly wants? or is it a resolution – a promise to shatter the perfect life seojung has been compelled to maintain, in favour of embracing the desires of his heart?

"i know." seojung murmurs, his voice heavy with the burden of all he comprehends, and the vastness of what eludes him. "i make myself sick, too." the disgust he harbours for inflicting pain on the two he loves most, in such different ways, is etched upon his features, even in the shroud of darkness. how can he stop hurting the both of them? is it too late to ask when so much cruelty has already been committed?

"...i never knew i could feel this way for anyone, not until i met you." seojung confesses, his words raw with an honesty that normally evades him, stripped bare by the amalgam of pitch-black night, lingering intoxication, and bone-deep exhaustion. but it's too much, isn't it? the truth is too heavy for him to bear alone, yet revealing it could shatter the carefully constructed facade he's maintained. "you've wrecked all my plans without even trying, and i don't know what to do anymore."

[r3dblccd]

Got me thinking in the past Overthinking all your words Maybe they were all lies.

a lil something for Jinkyong x Sera ( @ichoriism ) full playlist here <3

[pillowxtalk]

[ SHELTER ] { ' from Nathan or Dao }

JEALOUS, FIERCLY PROTECTIVE & TERRITORIAL PROMPTS

[ SHELTER ] for one muse to lean into the other’s side or hug them to seek comfort from a crowd or individual while in public.

As Maru saw some of the trainee's that hadn't made it into the group come his way he acted without thinking and hugged the person next to him. "Please don't push me away... I just don't want them to see me." He whispered as he pretty much hid against the other. Those trainee's hadn't been very nice to him once the camera`s wasn't rolling and he didn't feel like handling them now.

Of course it was rather strange to hug someone to avoid a situation, but the young male had always his unique ways to do things. He just hoped he could stay in that hug until the other's were gone, without seeing it was him.

[spookydicks]

So, uhhh im really proud of this fic I wrote and its not really getting seen on a03 so im posting it here soooooo here ya goooooooooo

it isnt much, but it is enough for me

Matilda Bradbury, no, Laudna had been working on a special project for a couple of hours now. She was hard at work sewing bits of red thread into the body of a long-dead rat. She grabbed the bird skull, which she found on the floor one day, and sewed it to the body. To complete this creation, she took a piece of ribbon and tying it into a little bowtie around the creature’s neck, covering the thread. Once she was done, Laudna held the creation up to her, creating ichory strings from her fingers, and pondered to herself.

“Hello, little friend! I wonder what I should name you…. All good friends need a name, you know.” She thought for a while. ‘What about…”, she paused, Pate? Does that sound good?” Laudna tilted her head. “Oh, I have a better idea! What about Pate De Rolo? That sounds right for you. Alright, it is done!” She extended her arms while holding the newly named Pate De Rolo. “Your name will now be Pate De Rolo! How wonderful! We’re going to be such good friends; I can feel it now!”

She looked around her quiet hut. “You must be wondering where you are. Here, let me show you around”, she said melodically.

“This,” she started, “is where you were made, my little crafting spot! That’s rather obvious, I know. I like to call it my “Crafting Corner.” Isn’t that delightful?” The undead crafter showed off each little knickknack and trinket on the table: needles, thread, fabric scraps, scissors, ribbon, and other such materials. The needles, pins, and fabric scraps were their own homemade container. Each container was unique and made of wood. The buttons container was painted a dark blue with a little doll on it made of buttons. The pin container was painted silver with little bits of red coming out of a drawn-on hand. The fabric scraps container was painted blue with a drawn-on tree on it. The drawn-on dress looks as if it’s hanging from the tree. The table itself was made of wood, with lots of little holes in it, probably from many hours of crafting.

“Oh, don’t mind those. Nobody said crafting was fast, you know.”

Fabric scraps, ribbons, and needles surrounded the table floor.

The typical environment of a crafter.

“This” she pointed to an old mattress on an old, creaky bedframe that acts as her bed. The blanket is worn wool with what appears to be black stains on it. She likes the feeling of the wool on her skin at night. It reminds her of the blankets she used to have at her old home.

Before……..

That night……

That dreadful night….

“This is where I sleep. It may not seem much, but it’s comforting when I need it to be. Oh! That’s my pillow. It may not be the most comfortable but, it does its job. Since, you know, a pillow full of leaves isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in all of Exandria.” She chuckled. “You know, I’ve had many a dream on that pillow: good ones,” she paused, somberly, ‘bad ones.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Well,” her chipperness returned, “moving on!”

Laudna and her little newly made companion moved on to the kitchen area. “This is the kitchen! It’s a pretty sad excuse for a kitchen, isn’t it.” She motioned towards the small kitchen. It consisted of a small, rusted stove, a medium-sized sink, with a water basin and soap next to it, and wooden and rusted cupboards with miscellaneous ingredients and seasonings inside. “This is also where I do laundry. Oh! I apologize for the mess. I’m not used to having company!” She babbled, putting away the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Moving Ooon!” She sang.

“This,” she pointed out, is a common area of sorts.” She motioned to a space in the middle of the cottage where two chairs and a little carpet lay, surrounding a small fireplace. “Do you like that rug? I made it myself.” Laudna grinned. “I heard one day the town was having an outdoor market of sorts so I decided to go! I was wearing a cloak, of course. The townsfolk don’t really…’, she paused, playing with her elongated fingers, “like me. They think I’m the witch in the woods and are all like She’s scary! She’ll get your children! Get her out of here! Pitchforks! Blaugh! Soo………” She said, playfully, eyes widening with every word.

After a hesitation, she chirped back up.

“So, I met a delightful woman who was running her little…shop. She was human with quite a warm disposition. Her daughter, I noticed, was sitting on the floor crafting. “

     "Hello, little one!,” Laudna said calmly, kneeling down to the child’s level.

    “H-Hi” The girl hesitated, wide-eyed.

    "What are you making?”

    “Um….”, she paused, “a teddy bear.” “That looks quite adorable! I’m a bit of a crafter  myself, you know. I’m thinking of making a rug.“

     “C-cool.” The girl said. She gets up and goes to her mom.

    “Hello.” The woman said. “You need rug fabric?”

    “Yes.” Laudna replied.

    “Well, these,” she said, carrying a stack of various fabrics in various colors, “should be  good to use. Any of these would make a great rug.”

    “Thank you, madam. I’ll take all of them. You can never have enough materials for           creativity, you know.

     The woman chuckled. “I understand. You never know what you could make.”

The payment was made and the woman said “Thank you. Happy crafting!”

“Once I returned here, I immediately started designing! I sat in that chair and got to work. It was rather soothing. I made sure that the fluffy side was facing out. That is the proper way to make a rug, you know. I mean, who would like to have a rug with the non-fluffy side out?”

“I’m going on a bit of a tangent, I apologize, little friend.”

“You know, I don’t just use this space for crafting. When it gets cold, I sometimes read a book by the fire, bundled up all nice and cozy. It feels warm, ironically enough.

‘Well,”, she concluded, “that’s it! No, it’s not extravagant or fancy in the slightest. But it’s home. It has all the basics. But, I have something to tell you, little friend. What this little cottage in the woods doesn’t have, it makes up in comfort. It makes up in creativity. It makes up in heart.”

Home.

Laudna had heard that word many times when she was fully alive. Home was the cottage she lived in with her parents. Home was Whitestone.

But, home was also the other children in her village. The children that mocked and teased her relentlessly. The children that made her feel like the dirt that was thrown at her by Whitestone Andy. That jerk.

Home was also the Briarwoods Castle. Home was being told “You’ll feel at home here” at dinner. Home was being bruised and beaten. Home was being tossed on a cart and hung on a tree. As a warning no less. Home was having her very own murderer in her head.

Laudna never really knew the meaning of the word, really. This very cottage is one of many “homes” she’s made for herself. With every town, it’s the same thing. Move in, get discovered, gain a horrible reputation, get chased out of town by an angry mob. The cycle repeats.

It always repeats.

“Pateeee, would you like to hear a story?” She paused. “Alright then. Sit down and get comfortable.” Laudna took her blanket and wrapped it around herself and the dead rat as she opened up a book, and started to read.

Somehow, even with the screams and jeers of the people outside, even with the bright light of the torches outside her very door, Laudna feels home.

For now.

[oakstar519]

anyway. here's the render, albeit at a more reasonable size. from left to right: @ichorys's Madevko, @wyeth-draws's Okono, and my Shakka. (also T7. can't forget the best boy.)