#it is as if it restores a bit of my sanity

[garmrin]

Sometimes... Sometimes I think you just have to listen to christmas music in the middle of the summer.

[s-dei]

wife is gettin noms but i'm goin to sleep

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . violence, romantic tension, kissing, use of weapons, a bit of angst

CHAPTER SEVEN: CHRIS GOES CRAZY

read other parts here!

it all starts with a can of tuna.

well—technically, it starts with chris dropping said can while trying to climb over a broken fence with lieutenant whiskers zipped into his hoodie. the cat, being 75% attitude and 25% chaos, launches himself out of chris’s arms like a furry missile and disappears into the overgrown ruins of what used to be a backyard.

and chris?

he completely. loses. it.

“WHISKERS?! WHISKERRRSS???”

he’s screaming like the cat pays taxes or something. nick rubs his temples and mutters something about “how the hell is this our priority in the middle of an apocalypse.” matt’s eyes flick to you, and you just sigh. “this is gonna be a whole thing, isn’t it?”

“oh yeah,” matt says. “he’s already in stage four grief. stage five is building a shrine out of tuna cans.” chris runs in circles, looking under bushes, through broken fences, inside a tipped-over grill. “he’s tiny! what if he got stuck? what if he’s in a hole? what if—oh my god, what if a zombie got him?!” you step forward, reaching out a hand. “chris, he’s a demon in a fur coat. he’s probably hunting them.”

“you don’t know him like i do!”

nick sits on an old lawn chair like this is a reality show he didn’t sign up for. “okay but like, is he microchipped? tagged? gps on the tail? no? then i think we’re just gonna have to—”

growl.

it’s low.

wet.

close.

and coming from the treeline behind the house.

your blood freezes.

then they emerge—three of them. fast, jerky movements. hungry eyes. one is missing an arm. another is crawling with exposed ribs. the third is tall and foaming at the mouth, making a beeline straight for you. matt reacts instantly. pushes you back, raises his weapon. chris grabs a broken pipe, panic in his eyes. nick leaps up, swearing under his breath.

and that’s when a blur of gray fur and rage barrels out from under the porch and launches itself directly at the crawling zombie’s face.

“WHISKERS?!” chris gasps.

it’s like slow motion.

lieutenant whiskers clings to the zombie’s head like a pissed-off backpack, claws digging deep. it stumbles backward, thrashing. the distraction is just enough for you and matt to stab the other two, working in sync—his arm steady at your back, your knife landing clean.

nick finishes the third with a blow to the head and a very dramatic, “NOT TODAY, YOU CRUSTY BAG OF BONES.”

the yard goes silent.

lieutenant whiskers drops gracefully from his victim’s corpse, shakes off some gore, and walks back toward chris like nothing happened. chris drops to his knees, sobbing. “you brave, beautiful, bastard—i thought i lost you!” the cat meows and immediately starts licking his butt. emotional balance is restored.

you’re still panting. the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet. your hands are shaking a little, and matt notices. “you okay?” he asks, voice low.

you nod, but it’s not convincing.

not to him.

he steps in close, just like he did on the roof. this time, he doesn’t wait for a reason to touch you—his hands slide up your arms, steadying you, grounding you. “you saved my ass back there,” you say, trying to laugh. it comes out thin.

“we save each other,” he replies. “kind of a thing now.”

you’re too close.

not close enough.

your heart is doing that stuttery thing again, like it’s trying to beat its way to him. “i’m sorry,” you say suddenly. “for earlier. for… kissing you and then pretending it didn’t happen.”

he tilts his head. “you think i didn’t notice that?”

“i just—everything’s been insane and maybe i got caught up and i didn’t want to make it weird but i also—”

“hey,” he cuts you off gently. “you didn’t make it weird. okay?”

you blink. “i didn’t?”

“you made it… complicated. and impossible to stop thinking about. and kind of the only good thing that’s happened to me in months.” your heart flips. violently.

and then he kisses you. again.

it’s different this time. no blood. no panic. no almost-dying. just you and him and the heat you’ve been avoiding, pouring out in this kiss like it’s been waiting for permission. it’s needy. it’s desperate. it’s real. when he pulls back, you’re breathless. dizzy. and craving more. “we should probably… check on chris,” you whisper, voice unsteady.

matt smirks. “he’s having a moment with the cat. i think we’ve got a minute.”

“just one?”

“…maybe two.”

and this time, when you kiss him, it’s you who initiates.

and this time?

neither of you plans to pretend it didn’t happen.

not anymore.

not with everything on the line.

© delilahsturniolo

[nmoroder]

Sasha askblog post #3: Did you join Cassetti solely for power or because of his personality as well?

Askblog tag: #nmoroder sasha ask Please see pinned blog post before asking questions!

in which the topic of their survival continues, and somehow i've only noticed how much they resemble Don Quixote and Sancho after i've finished the whole thing... blood's thicker than water i guess. also i'm not really good at translating antique language into English (in my language i can at least try to imitate it) and Cassetti talks moreso like a guy really passionate about touching grass. who he probably would be once his sanity restores a bit after he eats well. the crazy curious tourist taking ten trips to the same place a day

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret Creator Reader Pt 2

warnings(s): slight angst, kinda? humanish wanderer (he can bleed, throw-up and cry), its unedited cause i’m spam posting my drafts <3

word count: nunya

First Part: Here

Wanderer never realized how much you affected his daily life until your absence began to sink in. He never noticed how much your smile and kind greetings made his heart flutter until his heart ached from the emptiness.

At first, he didn’t really think your absence was such a big deal til he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and the faint whisper of the name you had given him ringing in his ears. It was like you were haunting him. How could you name him with such care but disappear and not even think to visit? Did you really abandon him? Were you lying when you told him the meaning of his name?

Wanderer began traveling the world, following any reported sightings of the creator. Each time he’s left with a dead end, he feels his sanity wear thinner and thinner, a gentle touch away from snapping.

It isn’t until he hears of a parade being held to welcome and thank the creator for restoring the kingdom of Khaenri’ah. He drops everything he’s doing, and heads straight to your supposed location.

When he gets there, the streets were crowded with people watching as you give a speech high up on a balcony.

He ignores everything else, his focus entirely on you. It’s as everything melts into the background and his actions are on autopilot.

He flies over your position, not hearing any of the gasps erupt from the crowd nor noticing the guards that seem alert at his presence.

His are wide and blown out as he grips your wrists tightly.

“Wanderer…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT…” he says, tears lining his eyes. Your eyes furrow in confusion. He seems unstable, face full of desperation.

“What do you mean…”

“… my name,” he says quietly. “Say my name!” You pause for a bit, not understanding what he wants. Finally, you speak.

“__”

The voice he has been longing to hear… the name he dreamt of you saying reaches his ears.

He lets out a choked sob, all the emotions he held in finally spilling out as he grips your clothing. It’s like nothing else in the world matters but the two of you.

Even as there are whispers all around speaking of blasphemy.

Amidst his sobs, he asks you all the questions that had been plaguing his mind.

“Do you really see me as a gift… a blessing? Am I really that important to you…”

You’re silent, unsure what to say as all eyes watch you. He feels his heart break at your silence.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, hands trembling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been using it. I love it! I love what you named me, I really do!”

“I’m your blessing, right? Why aren’t you saying anything.” His movements grow desperate as he shakes you. “… you said so yourself, you can’t take it back. Why aren’t you speaking?!”

You notice the judging eyes staring at the man on the floor. You try to push him off of you but he lets out another heavy, choked out sob, his tears flowing harder. Your attempts to get him off you is seen as a form of rejection. “You-“ he suddenly doubles over, throwing up on the ground. ”…you can’t abandon me!” He screams.

The guards grow closer and he finally notices them. “Please…” he crumples to the floor, trembling hands clutching his chest. He gasps as he finds it hard to breathe. He feels a pressure in his head, and suddenly blood flows from his nose.

You begin to panic, seeing him cry so hard his nose begins to bleed. You bend over and bring him into your arms. Rubbing his back, you call out the name you’ve given him. “I’m not abandoning you. You’re a gift.”

He shakes his head, pushing himself further into your arms. “I’m yours! I’m your gift…” He needs to hear you say it. He needs you clear all the insecurities and doubts in his heart. He truly looks pitiful, his face covered in snot and tears.

The guards are unable to pull him away from you no matter how hard they try. His grip on you is like iron. The guards have no choice but to disperse the crowd. With a nod of your head, the guards allow the two of you some privacy.

Almost an hour passes of him crying into your arms, begging you not to abandon him and demanding you say his name over and over again.

Finally, his tears run out and he’s left sniffling with his eyes swollen shut from the salty tears.

“You love me, right?” he whispers, staring up at you from his position in your arms. You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, I love you ___.”

He smiles with his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

“I love you, too…” he whispers before he passes out, the exhaustion finally taking over. You try to move but even unconscious, his grip is tight and unrelenting.

You sigh and let him cling to you. You’re glad that he likes the name you’ve given him but you’re a bit concerned on how much importance he’s placed on it. As you relax in his hold, you fail to realize that simply typing in a cluster of letters into a game has set your fate in stone and that no matter how hard you try to deviate from it’s tracks, you’ll never be free from it’s grasp.

[recluserat]

A snippit of a Steter wip I have sitting in my files, as a little treat

That's how Peter knew he could never have him. He was incapable of "casual". His wolf whined for Stiles, but he knew that if he had even a taste he would lock his jaw and never let go. Just the idea of his fangs scraping up the pale column of Stiles throat had his wolf gnashing his teeth, imaging the trickles of blood that were sure to follow.

But therein lied the problem. Stiles was cunning, intelligent, strong, loyal, everything Peter's wolf craved for a mate. No, not just any mate.

Stiles was the perfect mate.

But Peter was not. His sanity may have been restored in death but Peter could recognize that something about him was… different. Whether that was due to the fire, his death, or his subsequent revival he wasn’t sure, but he was irreparably changed. It’s very likely the change is more obvious to someone like Derek who knew both the old and new versions of him, but even Peter himself can feel that his edges feel a bit rougher, his smiles were sharper, his eyes a bit more blue than before.

Someone like Stiles could have anybody they wanted, and though their staring seemed to indicate that they wanted Peter it would practically be sabotage if they were to mate him. Tying someone that intelligent and full of potential to a once-dead, practically feral werewolf with the bluest eyes on the West Coast who just so happened to be almost 15 years his senior was practically criminal. Peter wouldn’t do that to Stiles, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

[see-arcane]

"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, what is to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things that are thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to act now would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? [...] he may think that in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have killed her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint his dreams with horrors [...] He, poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to him; then we can act for good all round and send him peace.

Thinking about all of this in the context of Van Helsing recollecting and planning ahead at once.

He is thinking about what he saw with Jonathan here. He also is thinking about Dracula and his very wide and still unaddressed threat.

Jonathan was a proven wreck because he was left uncertain of his own senses, never knowing for sure whether the horrors he experienced were real or not until outside evidence confirmed it. Simply knowing that the nightmare was real restored his sanity, his clarity, his strength...and his will to aid Van Helsing in targeting the Count and his schemes.

Cut to this scene. Van Helsing does have good intentions here, and they are sensible. Arthur needs to know what's become of Lucy before they take any slaying action. He needs to know for his own sanity's sake--No, we did not accidentally "The Fall of the House of Usher" her, she was not buried alive, she's a vampire, see?--for closure's sake, and for practicality's sake. Emphasis on practicality.

"But then we may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this?"

Dr. Abe is already mentally blasting Victorian Avengers music in his head. He knows that numbers (and maybe a handy bit of bankrolling) are going to be necessary against a Vampire who's not just ambling around chomping kids, but actively planning some wider takeover of the country, possibly preceding a steady consumption of humanity itself. One professor, an asylum superintendent, a solicitor and a typist are a good start! But a moneyed and vengeful lord, give or take a spare badass cowboy, would also be nice to have on board. The reason he holds off on putting down the Bloofer Lady here is smart.

...while camping out on the following night completely alone in her territory to keep watch is less so. But also in character. And, I very, very, very grudgingly admit this, indicative of just how and why he will behave/lead the way he does in future dates once Mina and Jonathan come into the picture in Purfleet. Whenever it is feasible, Abraham van Helsing puts himself on the line first with the stalwart youths at his back in decreasing levels of 'I worry for your safety!'

Ironically, for the guy showing the most forethought and sense at the time, he's going to be the impetus for the most senseless part of the team's whole plan--and it'll be the exact same MO that should have stuck after learning from Lucy and Jonathan's cases.

[tekatonic]

WHAT IN THE NAME OF GAIA

Hello ????? Hi !! How did you even find this post this is like, literally my first actual tumblr art post, huh ??? I am SO honored, and also quite a bit embarrassed, this is old art from back when I couldn't draw Sonic characters for heck, so I just drew her like a normal furry...

I am however still very proud of the lighting, so thank you so much ;;;; I respect your work at Mizou so very much.

So ! I was gonna post this yesterday, but got too tired... I am finally posting actual art yayyy, and I have decided I really wanted to color this sketch I did a while ago of Tails from the Sonic Storm fangame ! I used THIS method for it and I honestly love how it turned out !! Thank you so much for the coloring method !

( You might be wondering why there's wings instead of fluffy tails. Well, I was just trying to make the fact that Tails can fly make sense. I mean how do you fly by spinning around two tails ? Fixing faulty physics with magic ftw haha ! )

As I thought, the only caveat is that since we're coloring on a multiply layer, all the colors are darker, but it does make it interesting to work with ! It's a different mood, and I like it !

I'll put the actual colors under the cut, to show you just how different it is. Ah and the original sketch while we're at it ! ( WARNING : BRIGHT COLORS !! )

Hope that didn't destroy your eyes too much haha ^^;

[bubooo]

↬ rock candy

prev | the sound of restored peace | next

cw: kys joke

✧ rocking facts :

iwa sure hopes either the reassurance on his part to yn and the pushing on noya’s part from the boys™️ will mean one of them will make a move and do it soon

yn is genuinely so terrified of losing noya even with constant assurance from her friends and even being partially sure herself noya feels the same she feels there’s still risks to telling him how she feels and possibly losing him

yn did, in fact, give yachi the biggest fattest wettest juiciest kiss on the cheek when she got back (hey look she and noya are matching lipstick marks!!)

yn and noya kissing all over each other face’s anywhere but the lips is pretty normal to them (throwback to when yachi said noya gives yn forehead kisses yeah jokes on her they be kissing all over each other’s faces- but it’s also not exactly out of the ordinary for yn because she kisses like everyone on the cheek all the time- just one of her things she does)

kuroo was sitting on the couch and recorded yn chasing noya around the apartment and was laughing his ass off when they went to the floor and started wrestling

noya can deny it all he wants everyone knows he was in paradise being kissed all over his face by yn (flushed ass face absolutely zero thoughts but pretending he hated it like ok mf) he didn’t wash the lipstick off for a while and took a lot more pictures than the one he posted (yn later sets the one he posted as her lockscreen)

iwa JUST left ten minutes ago from the apartment that had JUST been cleaned he was not about to let it get destroyed

kuroo did prevent any destruction and the apartment was in perfect condition when iwa eventually returned

man i sure wonder what happened between yn and noya in the past,,,

↬ a/n : soo,,, that happened!! sorry it took me a bit to get this part out but it is here and i suppose forcing myself to write it might have gotten me back in the swing of things? anyways! delving some more into yn’s past and some of the doubts and fears she hold,,, eheheh i’m so excited for the next part because there is some stupidity that will have you guys tearing your hair out (yn noya ily but i fear you are both DUMB)

# taglist : @eujoana89 @loveelylacey @walllflowerrrsss @le000xxgrd @punkhazardlaw @csbnova @jaynawayna @hyenagoated @lvtilzs @nbcvs @nyxlai @kazunish @dawnisatotalqueen @piapiaweee3 @kuroosmikasavolleyball @empress-pug-pug @eggyrocks @keelsforreals @spicana @mfcherry @myromanempiree @beckixwsm (send an ask to be added !! for my sanity LMAO)

[wineredsea]

really every time I talk to josephine in inquisition i feel a bit of my sanity being restored. thank you. one normal person here.

[dandelion-wings]

Oh shit I forgot WIP Wednesday and all I did today was edit. In lieu of actual WIP, since it's past my bedtime anyway, have a bit I cut from the end of the torture whump when I killed a sub-sub-plot (where some of the hilichurls-restored-to-sanity could put on human illusions c.f. Catepillar, except it was complicating everything and Catepillar is a unique case anyway). I almost didn't kill the sub-sub-plot just because I liked this scene, but it smoothed out the rest of the fic so much that I had to.

Then he goes home and talks to Adelinde, who in theory was supposed to leave a week ago but is instead determinedly coordinating his early move into a new apartment in a far better part of town. Kaeya has given up at this point on objections. There are advantages to living next door to the Goth Grand Hotel, at least as long as the Fatui delegation remains there. Even if he has the strong suspicion that his unchanged monthly rent is because the rest is being covered by the Winery.

"Do you remember," he asks her, when dinner is over and he's finished his bath and there's only the two of them and two glasses of wine, "what I was like when I first came to the Winery?"

She smiles at him, all warmth and fondness. "You were a very sweet child."

"*Before* Father dragged me back from Sumeru," he qualifies. Before he had been given clear and solid proof that these people wouldn't discard him merely for what he was or wasn't.

Her smile fades. "You were very afraid."

"I bit Diluc so deeply he needed Vision healing."

"*Very* afraid. Of all of us." Adelinde smiles a little again. "You tried to bite me too."

"You were less trusting. Or at least more wary." Kaeya salutes her with his glass. "I wasn't uncivilized by my own standards... but I didn't know any of yours. What advice would you give, if, for some reason, there was need to place more children like that? Like me. Quite possibly less civilized," he adds, because after all, even those that leave the Abyss Order's clutches with clear minds will still have been *born* as hilichurls.

Adelinde gives him another warm look, though with a certain sorrow that Kaeya doesn't understand. "I would advise that you send them to the Dawn Winery."

Which Kaeya hadn't expected, but really should have. He'd led up to the question all wrong to get any other response. "Haha, that would be up to the master of the Dawn Winery, wouldn't it? I doubt he'd want that." He waves a hand to dismiss whatever she's about to say next. "Let's assume that *isn't* an option. What would you advise then? Both for choosing good homes, and preparing potential parents."

"If those are your terms," Adelinde says, straightening a bit in her chair and smoothing down her skirts, "Then I can make some additional suggestions."

Two minutes in, Kaeya sets down his glass of wine and goes to get paper and a pen. Jean is going to be thrilled by his notes tomorrow. He's not sure how useful his own observations were, but *these* will certainly help.

***

Diluc passes him a folded scrap of paper across the bar as he's making change the next evening. Given the subtlety of the gesture, Kaeya tucks it into his jacket and waits until he's all the way home to open up the note.

> Don't be an idiot. I've dealt with the Abyss Order too. I know enough of what they're up to.

> It would have to be on a case-by-case basis, but if the staff is willing, so am I.

> - D.

Something knotted deep in Kaeya's chest unravels and flies loose so quickly that he's briefly breathless. He tucks the letter carefully back into his jacket for safekeeping, until he can find it a better home. Then he goes to pour two more glasses of wine, for him and Adelinde both.

[anneapocalypse]

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for the tag, @redwayfarers!

As is my tradition, writing self-indulgent smut is saving my sanity during the holiday season, and as this piece is currently back from beta and undergoing final edits before posting, I shall share just a small bit. :)

FFXIV, WoL/Urianger, spoilers for Shadowbringers. No actual smut in the snippet.

Tagging:

@farfromdaylight @dreadfutures @coldshrugs

@plounce @myreia @queenaeducan

and anyone else with something they'd like to share!

***

Thancred wore on his lapel a brilliant corsage of red cosmos, preserved with just the faintest shimmer of magic, imperceptible to the untrained eye. His gift from Ryne. In her work on the restoration of the Empty, she had become quite interested in plants, and though she had excellent tutors at the Crystarium far more versed in the flora of Norvrandt than Ariane, they had nonetheless had occasion for some lively botanical discussions. Ariane had also supposed that a few lessons in conjury wouldn't go amiss—especially with none of her strict Gridanian instructors about to disapprove. Though Starlight was not celebrated in the First, when Ryne had received Thancred's gift, she'd insisted upon sending something back. (Gaia, for her part, had initially declared the whole affair foolish, but her eyes had gotten quite large and glassy when presented with Ryne's gift to her, a spray of violas in the shade she favored. Ariane's gifts to the girls had been custom-made staves to serve them in their studies of magic.)

Ariane's eyes drifted to the blossoms, and Thancred's gaze followed with a wistful smile. "My thanks again for playing Saint of Nymeia for us."

Ariane grinned. "I don't know about Saint, but I've certainly served my tour of duty as a postwoman."

"And so hast thou served two realms," Urianger chimed in, with the self-satisfied smile that could only mean he was about to bear forth with some verbal jest, "not as Warrior of Light only, but as, shall we say, Courier of Light?"

Thancred groaned at this, while Ariane could only laugh, her heart swelling with affection. "Shall we, then, love?"

[mad-bird-writes]

Introduction and Current WIPs

Hiya! My name is Echo (@tousled-birdmad-girl is my main for those who care about such things) and I'm a writer. I've been writing in some form or another since I was about ten years old, but only recently plucked up the gumption and drive to attempt anything original, much less put it out for the world to see. Time will tell how this goes...

I love horror, tho I wouldn't consider myself a "genre" author, as I think horror, surrealism, fantasy and magic can be found everywhere if you know where to look, and the presence of fantasy elements does not necessarily mean you're writing a "fantasy" book. So, we'll call what I do "fiction" and leave it at that for now :D

Inspiration-wise, I draw from the works of Stephen King, everything Mike Flanagan ever put to Netflix and beyond, Paul Shapera and his ever-growing Shaperaverse, Guillermo Del Toro, Chuck Palahniuk, and the Cthulhu Mythos as a whole (with a particular liking for taking the worlds, entities and themes first created by Lovecraft and using them to create something that'd make him spin in his grave.)

Below the cut: a list of my current WIPs and some general housekeeping information. If you see something that sparks your interest, please come sit by my hearth and pour yourself a drink <3

Original Works:

The Lost Souls' Revival: After a series of personal crises, struggling creative Amari Walker stumbles across a flyer advertising a strange carnival, offering "a total restoration of spirit" for the cryptic asking price of "3Y". With nothing left to lose, she attends, quickly becoming enthralled by the Revival and its colourful cast of performers, in particular its eccentric, nameless ringmaster. When her night of fun and escapism is over, she finds herself wanting more, and embarks on a one-woman quest to follow the ever-moving carnival wherever it goes, a quest that will drive her to the edge of sanity, and possibly beyond the reach of reality itself. (vibes: steampunk, dark carnival, mythology/folklore mishmash, fantasy horror, the Fair Folk, whatever the goblins were selling in Rosetti's Goblin Market)

Better To Reign In Hell: It's 1897. The world is changing too fast. Pastor Nathaniel Lawrence is dying, for all that he's trying to hide it. His daughter, Susannah, too old for rebellion and too young for spinsterhood, is content to follow in her mother's footsteps as the town's herbalist, but a bombshell marriage proposal seems set to destroy those plans. A chance encounter with a badly wounded man may offer her the escape she seeks, but at a price: Merritt Caine is not all he appears to be, and his dark past has an unbreakable grip. (vibes: southern gothic HEAVY on the gothic, small town horror, witchcraft (fictitious and real), Satanism (fictitious and real), corruption but in a good way, religious horror, the cycle of abuse, eventual murder (of the good kind) )

The Order of The Pallid Mask: In the corpse of a city at the centre of a dying world, a benevolent cult is working to restore their world to its fabled former glory by appealing to its retreated god, The King in Yellow. Sariann, the cult's High Priestess, is willing to sacrifice whatever she must to ensure a brighter future for the city's refugees; her body, her soul, her mind. Virgil, a lower-ranking member of the Order, her confidant, attendant and trusted friend, is willing to defy the Order and his faith to keep her alive. And the Yellow King has plans and desires of his own... (vibes: Cosmic horror, Lovecraftian but make it romantic, the beauty of the unknown, rituals, creating a religion from the ashes of an old world, post-apocalypse, ancient civilization (not of Earth), Eldritch love triangle) ***

Fan Works/Other:

As far as fanfics go, I don't have any long-form WIPs on the stove, more like a series of short (well, short-ish) form drabbles, headcanons and other assorted bits, which I might as well post here when I have them as proof that I do have a creative output that extends beyond Spotify playlists and Pinterest boards.

Fandoms include:

Fallout (mainly New Vegas and the Prime series so far, but encompassing this universe as a whole)

Red Dead Redemption (particularly the second game as I haven't played the first one yet, £35 for a port of a PS2 game my *ass*)

the Flanaverse (Hill House, Bly Manor, TFOTHOU, Midnight Mass... basically everything bar The Midnight Club, which I have not watched)

the Cthulhu Mythos (if you can call that a fandom :D I was working on a queer retelling of Dreams in the Witch-House at one point, if I can *find* the notes I wrote I might bring that one out of retirement...)

plus one or two fandoms the content crucibles of which I would not subject myself to if you held me at gunpoint (iykyk)

I've also amassed a small collection of OCs from various TTRPGs I've been part of, a couple of whom still haunt my mind and may or may not be written about from time to time... (no DnD tho, I think it's safe to say we've reached saturation point with DnD-centric/derivative works) ;)

***

General housekeeping + other info: I am an adult and this is an adult writing blog by default. I will be writing smut/other sexual content and dealing with mature and dark themes throughout these listed works (and anything else I may write to post here.) I will tag for "main" triggers and give general content warnings where applicable, but I cannot guarantee to cover every single trigger a person may have, therefore, you read and interact here at your own risk. If requested, I will add more trigger warnings, but again, I can't fully guarantee to get everything.

I kindly ask that you refrain from reposting anything from this blog: excerpts, character profiles, moodboards (if I make them) etc. I also ask that you do not take anything for your personal use under any circumstances.

My inbox is open, so send me an ask if you have any questions or simply want to chat! But for now, I've rambled for quite long enough, so I'm gonna wrap this post here. See you! <3

(tagging @coffeexafterxmidnight and @dominaarts )

[chaifootsteps]

The quote retweets and replies on this mean spirited stoliz tweet really restored my faith in humanity 💖one of the top being “complex queer romance, doesn’t mean sexual abuse, Emma”

https://x.com/ladyemma91/status/1765019790060523979?s=46

Every bit of sanity helps!

[bestiarium]

The Weewillmekq [Algonquin mythology; Native American mythology]

This creature, which originates from myths of the Native American Algonquin people in Canada, is a bit of an enigma. It is usually described as a small worm – about 2 – 3 inches or 5 – 8 cm long – inhabiting forested areas and found on dry wood. Though sometimes a Weewillmekq resides in rivers, in which case the creature is about as large as an adult horse and has forked horns on its head (sometimes it also has burning eyes like flames). Often, however, they are said to be snails rather than worms and the Passamaquoddy people even associate them with alligators. Regardless of what form the creature takes, it is always a powerful and mysterious supernatural being wielding potent magic.

In one particular anecdote, the Weewillmekq have the ability to attract lightning. More importantly, they can take on the form of a human being and – presumably – walk among us.

An Algonquin legend called ‘the dance of old age’ tells of an attractive young Wabanaki man whose beauty was matched by his bravery and hunting skills. He caught the eye of a girl in the village, who asked him to marry her. Though she was a beautiful woman, the man was busy preparing for a great hunt and couldn’t resort to such emotional theatrics. And so he turned her down. Unbeknownst to him, the girl was experienced in magic and cursed him for wounding her pride. She spoke: “you may go now, but you shall never return like you went”. Nothing happened and the young man left, neither fearing nor caring about her curse. Time passed, and one day in mid-winter, when the boy was out in the forest with his brother, the girl’s magic struck him, breaking his mind and rendering him insane.

The young man’s older brother understood what had happened. Now desperate to save his brother, he went to find a river and started chanting a song to summon a Weewillmekq. “What do you want from me?” asked the monster. The man replied “I wish to restore my brother’s sanity”. “That which you ask of me, I shall grant you, provided you are not afraid.” But the man was incredibly brave and said “I am not scared of anything”. “Not even of me?” asked the horned creature. “No, not of you, not even of Mitche-hant.” (small note: Mitche-hant is a dangerous creature associated with evil. He is compared with the Christian devil). And so the creature agreed to grant the man his wish, but on one condition: he had to prove his bravery by grabbing the Weewillmekq by his horns and scrape residue off them with his knife. Though the monster was terrifying, the man complied and did as he was told. The Weewillmekq then gave him instructions to mix half of the horn scrapings in a cup of water and make his brother drink it. This would heal his mind. The other half should be mixed with the drink of the girl who cast the curse: this would be her punishment.

Again, the man did as instructed, and the mixture healed his brother. The two went back to their village, where they found that a large party was going on. People were dancing and having fun, and the spellcaster was among them. The younger brother sought her out and offered her the drink with the horn scrapings in it. She was merry and tired from dancing, and so did not notice who he was. Without thinking she took the cup and drank it.

The spell took effect immediately: with every turn the girl took while dancing, the aged one year. Starting out as a young girl, she soon became 50 when reaching the other end of the room. When she reached her starting point, she was 100 years old and dropped dead on the floor.

Source: Leland, C. G., 1884, The Algonquin Legends of New England: Myths and Folk Lore of the Micmac, Passamaquoddy and Penobscot Tribes, S. Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 379 pp, pages 324-333. (image source : ‘Oral Stories, Dreams and Experiences’ by Jeremy Dennis. You can support the artist or look at his other works on Native American mythology at jeremynative.com)

[jazzzzzzhands]

Ok FOR REAL Theory Time!!! Gonna be massive spoilers plus mention of bugs/fungus! So I'm calling this the Mold Theory And what is the Mold? It's the black stuff under Home! (Mold under a house is very suiting, right?) The Mold has contaminated Every single thing that the Restoration team has found! The team talks about the envelopes, the antiques, and the artwork found for Welcome Home and how it is alwasys Wet and covered in Grime. The stuff that is "Growing" all over the found items... Staff must wear gloves or they will get covered in it

You can see it all over the gloves, the Walls, and even the Website Itself! It's also been shown on the restored art prior to the update. But one unfortunate person seems to have touched it. and that is.. The Question Answerer! (The head person of the Restoration team is also most likely infected) Now what this Mold does is, It seems to have an effect of the person's mental state. Causing them to see and hear things, as well as having lucid nightmares and an overwhelming urge to draw spirals. From the very moment of contact, it seems to have effect "When I Unwrapped the first letter, I felt it. I heard it. Open Open Open. I want it out, I'm Going to get it Out" Instant Hallucinations and Obsession! Now I'm going to be Comparing this Mold to a Real fungus called Cordyceps, or the Zombie-Ant Fungus. It is a fungus that can control BUGS (familar themes right?) and take over their minds, forcing them to act unnaturally and wander far in order to spread itself! ~Similarily~ this Mold can take control of the Host's mind as well. The "Spores" that it is trying to spread are the drawings of the spirals/eyes. And the more eyes are Drawn, the more Wally can SEE. Wally has made it truly apparent that he can see us through any rendition of his eyes. "I've seen you every time you've looked into my eyes" "I have more eyes than I did before, you know how to draw eyes You draw mine, many times. I know it is thanks to you, Neighbor.. That I can see.. but it is still.. I can't see" He is giving us instructions.. "You have work to do" -Giving us instrustions on how to draw an eye... "Please Open, Let me In" Now I find this last instruction very funny He doesn't say "Let me Out" No... He says "Let me IN" Into What? What are we Opening? Our doors?Our EYES? our Mind? our Heart?? I think that could be exactly it!!! Letting him.... into You!!! (The collective You) Isn't that Funny? A Funny little thought?! The Puppet becoming the Puppeteer! ooh hee hee hoo hoo I think I'm very clever about that! But there are so many themes of Strings/Control/Scripts That I simply couldn't help myself! Now does that mean I think Wally is Evil? Absolutely NOT I LOVE Wally, and hey, what's a bit of mind control between Neighbors? <333 I'll borrow a cup of sugar and you can borrow my sanity! That's what Neighbors are for! <3 Jokes aside, No I Do NOT think Wally is Evil!! No, he might become a Puppeteer over the Real world... (and It might be for good reason, to save his friends and himself) but he is still very much a Puppet himself. Literally and Figuratively, And the Real Mastermind behind the strings is... Home!

Afterall? Isn't that where the Mold is coming from? From Down Below? Below Home?

This image gives me BIG TIME Obediance vibes Reporting/Worship/Subjugation I very much see Wally as the Lure of a very big Angler Fish.. The bait, the perfect little puppet that has captured our hearts and led us by the hand into Welcome Home. Isn't that very much how it has gone in real life? (Oh I KNOW I got the Mold BAD!!! ahahaha) (I can't stop drawing himmm!!! :3c ) But this is where my rambling stops, Until Next Time! I will just say that: The Relationship between Home and Wally (And by extension, YOU) Is a Strange one for sure! And I cant wait to see it further! And Just one more extra note on this whole Fungus thing.. Did you know that the BIGGEST Organism on the entire Earth.. Is a Mushroom? It is because they are connected through their Roots... (Down Below) and Houses kinda are shaped like musrooms... I will Leave it at That! Ahahahaha!