#ive image sourced it and nothings coming up

[fleepunte]

hes so little... three grams

[volfoss]

Hello my dears! I, Asmaa, are asking you to support my campaign to help me reach my goal.🙏 I am now in desperate need of your support to help me stay alive and safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place, both in terms of living standards and souls. I need your financial support so that I can obtain the basic needs of my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help a family survive through your small donations or through your shares to others. Thank you very much for standing by those in need. The campaign is going very slowly. Campaign link: 🙏🍉💔https://www.gofundme.com/f/8wewmz-help-asmaa-to-continue-school-outside-of-gaza

Hi Asmaa, I will share your campaign. I hope you will be able to meet your goal and escape to continue your education safely!Northgazaupdates shared their campaign here

They have only $1,186/$50,000 of their goal so please share or donate if you can!

[waywardsalt]

i made this a few months ago for a discord and i figured i might as well share it here too

[venusandsaturnsrings]

VENUS IM BACK!! LIKE A WEEK BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY (it's the 24th!!)

I present inceltaru with ANGEL GF <333

Incel childe how just things you're the cutest thing!! Ofc just because ur an angel doesn't mean you're free from his sinful thoughts<33 ugh he's such a little freak that he researches angels mating habits so he knows what signs to look for:((( definitely not so he can fuel his little fantasies in a more accurate way!! He would never!!! Imagine him reeling when you ask him to preen you're wings cause it's only something mate's do</33 he's SO hard at the thought of being your beloved mate that it hurts!!<33 the purrs you let out when he preens you're wings aren't helping either:(( all he can think about is just pushing you down and fucking you :((( ofc he wouldn't do that without you're permission, BUT!! Later when he's done with preening you're feathers and being the perfect little doting mate he's watching angels be fucked stupid on different sites <333 he likes imaging its you while pumping his cock while you sleep all curled up on his bed!!

Ugh bringing back his filthy panty stealing habit he just snatches them right out of your basket when you're distracted (they're all cute and frilly!! Ofc you don't know what it does to him </33) imagine him slipping in some aphrodisiacs into you're food cause angels don't rlly go into heat :(( he just thinks you look soooo cute all sobbing and needy <333 he can't help but playing and teasing you're pretty pussy for hours on end not letting you come until he sits your cute cubby body on his face for him to eat out!! When he's finally had enough of you're juices (he could never have enough but his cock is painfully hard, and he's cum once untouched!!) he starts to fuck ur fat pussy the right way, praising you for being such a good girl<333 he def creampies you cause he just wants you're cute little chubby belly full of his kids!! I forget to mention the amount of marks he leaves to show others you're HIS pretty little angel and no one elses!! He definitely messes with the base of you're wigs to get you all whiney from how sensitive they are on aphrodisiacs :(((

-chubby darling anon!!

WAHHHH OH HOW IVE MISSED YOU… omg!! birthday!! i love birthdays :3 i love festivities and balloons and cake and confetti and sprinkles!! you better have had a super duper awesome birthday OR ELSE!! happy one week belated birthday :3 but… my god… your brain is huge… angel girl and yucky inceltaru :((

any sort of creature or hybrid has the blood rushing lower in his body but, he admittedly has a soft (hard?) spot for pretty angels. put the prettiest little angel ever in front of him? he’s a goner. now, have that little angel be absolutely fascinated by him? double whammy, he’s done for.

the soft and nearly iridescent feathers of your wings called out to his mind and hands incessantly. with fluffy down at the base, it was difficult to repress his constant need to mess with the soft surface. Ajax eyed them up day and night while flicking through various adult videos or books divulging the mating habits of angels. if he became your mate, he’d get to care for you constantly which includes getting his dick wet AND petting your wings. what does he truly have to lose? so when you approach him shyly following your afternoon nap requesting he preen your wings, he thinks he’s died and finally gone to heaven alongside you. yet, he sits himself down and fixes up all your feathers. the little hums and whines you let out do nothing to settle the raging boner he’s developed yet he can't find himself wanting to stop; you're just too cute to resist.

later, you request his assistance nesting. with your fluttering lashes and doe eyes the idea of declining doesn't even cross his mind lest crystalline tears fall; that's something he looks forward to seeing when he finally splits you open for the first time. he brings you an infinite source of soft toys and blanks to cozy up in yet you still request some of his clothes to add to the pile under the pretense of wanting his smell to linger. cheeks thoroughly flushed, he hands you a couple hoodies and shirts to bury in the already large nest you've built. the satisfied noise you make upon deeming the nest complete has his heart about to burst from his chest. you're just too cute and you don't even seem to know it!! that said, since you've taken some of his favourite pieces of clothing, it's only fair he steals some of yours, right? sure, his plans are significantly more lewd but he's a man that regularly thinks with his dick more than his head. his favourite panties are always the ones in sweet pastel colours with pretty bows. your pussy most certainly would be a present so a bow suits the piece of clothing. Ajax always makes sure to aim right for the crotch, where your entrance would sit, when he finishes.

angels sure are interesting beings! being monogamous mates and sharing similar habits with other creatures that have heat and rut cycles, one would assume you'd have one as well, but angels are beings with a biological duty of sorts and consequently don't have any such cycles. Ajax isn't opposed to manipulating your body and needs to the slightest degree so if aphrodisiacs are what it takes to finally fully have you, he won't turn away at the idea. he justifies it as simply appealing to a biological process you sadly don't have!! it's no crime to finish what your body had already started.

every morning he lets you take care of the cooking while preparing a glass of juice for you. this particular morning, he had chosen orange juice due to the opaque nature disguising any cloudiness made by the drug; he does have brain cells. with eyes low over his glasses, he watches as you eagerly drink the beverage, feet lightly kicking underneath the table and a smile playing on your lips. you really are too sweet for your own good, he thinks. it takes mere minutes for the warmth to build up in your body and the slick to gather in your panties. your eyebrows are furrowed with short pants of breath leaving you mouth. Ajax plays the caring mate roll perfectly, asking if you're alright and gently touching your forehead with the back of his hand. even that slightest bit of contact has you keening and begging him to keep touching you exactly the way you both want. he's quick to scoop you up and place you back in the sweet nest of your own creation while murmuring promises of taking care of you. long fingers slide your panties off your hips and drool drops from his mouth onto your stomach at the sight of the spider web like strings of arousal clinging from your cunt to the flimsy cotton. thoughts and rationality left behind, he dives into your pussy slurping and sucking on every part he can. Ajax nibbles gently at your lips, clit, and thighs just to hear you sob more for him; these are the tears he wanted to see. he takes time easing you to orgasm after orgasm on his face until the wetness against the front of his boxers becomes unbearable to which he shucks them off in favour of slowly rubbing his tip back and forth between your folds. he soothes your watery cries with his own mouth as he sinks into you slowly. the aphrodisiac did its job in getting you needy but certainly couldn't bypass just how tight you are around him. he's, regretfully, anything but slow while he fucks you. it's your first time but he knows you need it hard. with fingers playing at the base of your wings, he fucks your velveteen hole with vigor only matched by agression you see in one of his big gaming matches. it's sloppy and harsh but enough to finish you both off quickly and oh, how you've fallen in love with the sensation of being bred so very full.

[mariathechosen1]

Feminine rage and envy:

Inspired by ‘Brutus’ by The Buttress.

[Image description: A collage consisting of 10 different photographs and quotes, all related to feminine rage. All of the images are in various shades of red. From top to bottom and left to right:

A lyrics excerpt in red text on a dark cyan background: "My name is Brutus and my name means heavy."

The painting 'Judith Beheading Holofernes' by Caravaggio: It depicts Judith, a serious-looking woman, in the process of beheading Holofernes. She is wearing a white blouse and a red skirt. In one hand she's holding a sword, cutting into Holofernes's neck, in the other hand she's holding Holofernes's hair. Holofernes looks terrified and is lying naked and sprawled out over a white bed. Blood is spraying out of his neck.

A lyrics excerpt in red text on a dark cyan background: "So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger / Into the heart of my enemy."

An excerpt from 'Much Ado About Nothing' by William Shakespeare: "Oh God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market place."

The painting 'Love Slowly Kills' by Adrian Borda: It depicts a pomegranate lying on small plate, placed on a wooden table. The pomegranate, which has been been divided into several pieces, is pierced by an arrow and its shape vaguely resembles an anatomical heart. Bits of pomegranate and pomegranate seeds are scattered on the table. Behind the pomegranate there is an empty crystal wineglass and a clear glass bottle filled with clear liquid.

A lyrics excerpt in red text on a dark cyan background: "What's more wrong, that I too wish to be great? / Or my mother wished she'd had a son?"

A photograph of a pomegranate split into two halves. A butter knife, covered in bright red pomegranate juice, lies next to the halves and there is a bright red stain on the floor.

The painting 'Within the Tent of Brutus: Enter the Ghost of Caesar, Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene III' by Edwin Austin Abbey. The painting depicts Brutus, clad in a bright red toga, cowering from the grey ghost of Julius Caesar. The ghost is splattered with blood stains.

A lyrics excerpt in red text on a dark cyan background: "Of humble and born of the cursed sex"

A lyrics excerpt spelled out with words cut out from paper: "My name is Brutus, but the people Will call me Rex". In contrary to the rest of the lyrics, the words 'Brutus' and 'Rex' are made up of individual letter cut outs instead of whole words, putting more emphasis on them. The background is the painting 'Still-life with bunches of grapes, figs and four pomegranates on a ledge' by Michelangelo Cerquozzi. The painting is dark and depicts fruits in different shades of red.

/end ID]

Sources and further explanation under the cut:

['Brutus' - The Buttress, 'Judith Beheading Holofernes' - Caravaggio, 'Much Ado About Nothing' - William Shakespeare, 'Love Slowly Kills' - Adrian Borda, 'Within the Tent of Brutus: Enter the Ghost of Caesar, Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene III' - Edwin Austin Abbey, 'Still-life with bunches of grapes, figs and four pomegranates on a ledge' - Michelangelo Cerquozzi]

There's already a lot of 'female rage' web weaves on this website, but i figured why not do one myself? I think a lot of these web weaves either 1) tend to focus too much on biology (which is why I chose to say 'feminine' rage and tried to avoid a lot of cis female imagery. Fuck off TERFS) or 2) Choose photos or quotes taken sorta out of context? Especially when it comes to myths (like Persephone) and classical literature. I've sorta based this entire thing on 'Brutus' by The Buttress which is honestly such a fucking fantastic song, but the interesting thing about it is that it paints Brutus as, not only a female, but as someone driven by envy. I was really considering adding a quote or two from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, but in that play Brutus is specifically one of the only ones NOT driven by envy, his motives are pure. Idk, there's just something fascinating (in a positive way) about the fact that that envy appears the moment the character is female. I've also included a lot of small references that probably only I find interesting: I looked for paintings with figs as a reference to Livia Drusilla (augustus's wife who was rumored to have covered figs with poison to kill him), Beatrice from much ado because she's the best ever and I just absolutely love this rant of hers, and, of course, the pomegranates. I'm very aware that they often symbolize fertility (which goes agaist my whole 'no biology' principles), but idk I just love how bloody they look. They're a fruit. They're sweet, they're elegant, they're pretty to look at. They're blood red and they stain like hell if you're not careful. I just love how gore-y they look.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Mortuarius - Chapter IV

The flame disappears before his eyes. Adler snaps his fingers quietly, the flame returning as soon as the movement is complete. The small void dances over his fingertip, devoid of the characteristic crackles of fire. He gets his other finger closer, and the flame smoothly passes on. Adler repeats that action time and time again, marveling at the feeling. It feels like silk gliding across skin. 

Or, at least, that's how he remembers the sensation. 

The important, yet dull monologues of his colleagues fall deaf on his ears. Divisions, emplacements, mine fields, assault groups… discoveries of the recent, so-called "war games" rouse the younger commanders, dressed in clean, pressed, black uniforms. Despite their positions, they seldom wear armor. He sighs at this image. Some of his fellows, as time-worn as him, call this the collapse. The collapse of tradition, the collapse of old morality. Even of the old world. Although he would disagree with this nihilistic perspective, the reality doesn't elude him. 

Old guard. Those words resonate within his soul ever since he first heard them. That's what the new bones call him and his peers. No longer do they look at him as a shining example, the main display of Umbra's military prowess. Now, they see him as a rather dated decoration, an old yet charming vase. He's still seen as a source of general knowledge, but he's not perceived as the leader he was before. Not anymore. 

Adler sighs. Where did he go wrong? Is it even his fault, or rather - the inevitable advance of warfare? 

"Lord General?" 

The voice brings him back to reality. He swiftly extinguishes the flame, and looks back at the table. Almost every skeleton is looking at him, their eyes flickering with excitement and expectation. The officer that asked the question, whose name Adler couldn't remember to save his unlife, is pointing at a set of intricate wooden carvings of Legionaries and Rankmen, placed over a bridge. 

"Lord General…?" The man asks him again, fully snapping him back. 

"Yes." Adler clears his throat. "I see your point, and I can get behind it."

The commandant, seemingly satisfied with the answer, turns back to the table. 

Although he can very well grasp and understand the idea of artillery and gunpowder weapons, he can't comprehend the change these two brought. Suddenly, large regiments of melee troops were "undesirable", "risky". Heavy cavalry, so favored by Adler, was labeled as "pointless" and "too expensive to remain effective". Seemingly overnight his entire concept of warfare has been flipped on its head. 

He still doesn't see anything wrong with a good shock cavalry charge. The roar of a hundred hooves, the clouds of dust brought up behind the terrifying echelon of bone, armor and pointed lances… Yes! He still remembers it vividly from his time commanding the troops in the War of Vengeance. There's no amount of divine help that can save a man impaled halfway on a three meter lance.

Adler smiles and the black flame on his fingertips shakes as memories of violence come back to him. He remembers his formation tearing into the line of armored infantry during the battle for the capital, lances punching through shields and the men wielding them as if they were nothing but paper. He recalls discarding his weapon and drawing the axe, cracking helmets and skulls from the top of his undead mount. 

The sounds of screams, the sight of bodies crushed underneath the stampede of skeletal horses and the enemies routing in panic fill his mind. Too immersed in thought, Adler pays no attention to either the officers slowly leaving the room, nor the servant cleaning the table. His running thoughts are interrupted when a familiar figure sits on the opposite side of the table. He raises his head to meet Watcher's gaze. The other undead smirks. 

"Reminiscing old times, are you?" The liche crosses his arms over his robed ribcage. 

"Hm." Adler hums in response, putting out the black flame with a flick of his wrist. "There's nothing wrong with going back to the better days."

"That's all you have been doing recently, hasn't it?" 

The general scoffs. Watcher glances at his watch, and quickly straightens his gowns. 

"At least try to look presentable. They should be here any second now." 

Adler fondles his armor piece by piece, making sure everything is properly attached. The proper meeting was about to begin - it was in his best interest to show himself from the best angle, especially due to the caliber of individuals that would attend the meeting. 

And, of course, only a fool would look sloppy in front of any of the Death Knights. Let alone three of them. 

Right as the door opened, both skeletons jumped to their feet, their ornate chair scraping the floor loudly as they stood up. 

Three figures emerged from behind the wooden barrier. Adler didn't have to see to recognise the first character - the stench of rotting flesh and decay was so strong that it transcended mortal senses, making his very soul shiver in disgust. Plague came in with his more formal attire - out of all of his fellow Death Knights he was the one that favored variety of the wardrobe the most. Instead of his armor, a black frock coat covered his figure, featuring golden buttons with intricate carvings on them. Despite tightly fitting his fairly unimpressive frame, the clothing lay on him as if there was actual flesh underneath. His skull was practically indistinguishable underneath the combination of a black top hat with a wide rim, and the white leather crow mask, contrasting fashionably with the rest of his outfit. His hands, clad in white leather gloves, rested on a hardwood gentleman's staff. As he entered, he tipped his hat slightly in a gesture of greeting. If not for the oppressive stench, Adler would find him quite unimposing. 

Suddenly, the now serious voice of Watcher sounds out in his mind. 

"Don't look at Sibtu. This is one case where ignorance will do you good, Adler."

His eyes immediately dart to the floor. As much as Watcher likes annoying him, he never threw around warnings haphazardly. Listening to his words of advice, especially spoken in such a stern tone, would do him only good. The only sight of Fear his eyes register are the ornate boots, dated in style even by his standards, decorated with square, iron buckles. 

Adler looks up at the last newcomer. The first thing that catches his attention - as it always does - is the uniform Adaru wears. It is a somber ensemble, tailored from a deep, lustrous black fabric that seems to absorb both light and attention from everything that surrounds him. The coat, adorned with intricate silver embellishments, hangs sharply on his frame, giving him an imposing silhouette. Despite his fairly narrow stature, Adaru stands at an unnatural height, casting an imposing shadow on those before him. The angular lapels and precise stitching hints at meticulous craftsmanship, while the black gloves, tight and sleek, add to the oppressive air of formality. As customary for the members of the Commission, Adaru's face was wrapped carefully in pristine, white bandages. His hat was not unlike that of the newer generation of officers, and of course - black. 

Black, black, black. Why is everything they want to wear black? Is this, perhaps, another characteristic of the new era? In his time, black was the color of commoners, not one suiting the top of the hierarchy. Nowadays it seems to be the cornerstone of order and elegance, but he just couldn't shake the association with grime and soot. Despite multiple offers and suggestions to do otherwise, he never ditched his old heraldry. In his opinion, most of his colleagues could use some color. 

His thoughts were suddenly halted when Adaru turned to him, stretching out his arm for a handshake. Carefully, the skeleton took it, cautious so as to match the strength of his superior.

"General Aldehan Adler. It is always a pleasure to see you." Even if his eyes were covered, Adler was sure they were focused somewhere else. He relaxed slightly, comfortable in the notion that he was too uninteresting for the Knight. Having his attention was never a good thing. 

Adler nodded, forcing a friendly note into his voice. "The pleasure is all mine, Lord Bearer."

Without another word, Adaru moved to stand at the head of the table, with Sunqu to his right and Sibtu to his left. Adler was seated on the other end of the table, with Watcher to his left. 

"Gentlemen!" The Bearer of Pain spoke, his voice smooth and fairly modest in tone. "I am pleased to see you here in full attendance. The meeting will now come to order."

With that signal, everyone took their seats. 

"It has recently come to my attention that the soul transplant procedure, at last, yielded results." The glance at Plague is enough of a suggestion, promoting him to reply. 

"Indeed. Thanks to some improvements in the process, methodology and, of course, the appropriate host - for which the credit goes to Sibtu - I have managed to keep the subject stable and alive." Sunqu turns to the former humans. "I have placed him in the care of two of my most trusted associates."

"It is our honor, Lord Adaru." Watcher responds, placing his hand over his chest. "We appreciate the trust placed in us."

"I applaud your selection of assistants, brother. General Adler is a fine choice when it comes to martial matters." Pain smiles at the skeleton in question, before dropping his voice slightly, gaze pointed directly at him. "Even if the means and strategies change as the ages go by, his mind remains sharp and his constitution noble. And so does his sense of fashion."

Adler feels his long-gone heart drop. The feeling of three pairs of eyes burning into his very soul freezes his vessel, rendering him speechless. With a considerable amount of effort, Adler makes the motion to clear his throat.

"Thank you, Lord Adaru. I serve the Great One with all my strength."

Adaru smiles, slightly clearing the air. Gazes drift away from Adler. "Anyhow. I have yet to see the results in person. Would you be so kind as to share any information regarding the subject? How can we be sure he is fit to survive?"

"I have found this human to be very resilient, very resilient indeed." A dry voice echoes from where Fear sits. It is dull, but constant. Every vowel is spoken with a different layer of the same, mechanical tone, varying in pitch and volume. "His grip on life is impressive, and his resistance to Necro is beyond anything we have encountered before."

“I see, and I trust your judgment. Now, we need to pose ourselves the question of what to do with our new acquisition. Has any Bearer voiced a particular interest in him?” 

“Sakurai Denki is yet uncontested.” Sunqu chimes in. “He is still an unsure investment. He appears to be stable, but his capabilities are still being tested.”

Adaru nods. “General? How is the subject’s performance during training? Are your perspectives positive regarding his future in the military?”

A trick question. Should his views be too optimistic, he might be considered a fool, but if he is too negative, his reputation as an objective authority will take a significant blow. He needs to find a middle ground. “The Sakurai is in good physical condition, but the Necro inside of him is quite unstable. It seems to fluctuate, although I can see no pattern in these changes-” 

“Denki is still unstable, as fresh undead tend to be.” Watcher interrupts, his eyes focusing on Adaru who listens on with interest. “But the changes have yet to cause any damage. I believe that with our assistance  - and Lord Sunqu will second me in this opinion - he will stabilize soon.” 

“... Even if he makes mistakes quite frequently, he does not suffer a shortage of determination within him.” Adler continues, throwing a bitter glance at his predecessor. “I have yet to see him yield, even under my most… invasive methods. In my opinion, Lord Adaru, Denki has potential with a strong base to build upon.”

“Thank you, General.” Adaru straightens up, and puts his hand to his chin. He remains quiet for a moment, immersed in thought. ”I will admit this, gentlemen - the Adarian State Commission suffers a shortage of reliable field agents. If Sakurai is indeed as promising as you make him out to be, then I could find use for him, provided that he isn’t needed elsewhere.”

“Ah, I see what kind of a use you have in mind. But that depends. An individual of unchallenged loyalty and unshaken resolve is needed here. I can assure the former, but does our subject have the latter?” Sunqu moves his hand, subtly signaling at Adler. 

The undead thinks for a moment, making sure to do so in images rather than words to make his considerations harder to read. Isn’t it too early? Denki is young to be a soldier, perhaps too young. And certainly he shouldn’t be made to…

“General?” Sunqu speaks again, his tone lacking malice, but the sting of his gaze is quite a telling signal. 

Adler stops himself, and speaks out without much hesitation. “I will do as you ask, but I am not willing to take responsibility for the results. Your proposition can influence him in significant ways, all of which may make his training… harder to complete.”

“Have some trust in my handiwork, General. But very well, I will humor you - the responsibility for this test will fall on me personally. On one, single condition.” Sunqu smiles, his polished teeth reflecting the light cast from the chandelier above. “You will test his mettle tonight. I want to see if this venture is worth my time.”

Adler looks down at his gloved hands, and sighs in quiet annoyance. 

“I shall do as you command, Lord Sunqu.”

—

Waltz eyes his guest as he uses the silver pincers to lift the blue crystal to his jaw. He promptly crushes it between his teeth and lets the shards fall through his mouth and down into the ornamental bowl below. The juicy, sweet taste of a cold strawberry (or rather the memory of it) pulses pleasantly from his core and throughout the rest of his skeletal body. 

What spoils the delightful taste in his soul, however, is the crude sight of Denki’s whole hand clenched around the fork’s handle as he shyly picks at the Coq au Vin on his plate, wielding the cutlery as if it was a dagger. Not even the rich, opulent decor of the private lounge he rented can distract him enough from the sorry sight in front. 

Waltz clears his throat, making sure to keep a steady expression against the odds. His right hand grips his wine glass, the other straightening out his collar. 

“I take it, Denki Sakurai, that you are not from here.” He starts out, and Denki looks up. Waltz’s white pinprick eyes meet the gray pupils of the human. “Your name is reason enough for a particular speculation, but it is not appropriate to make assumptions.”

“I’m Inazuman, sir.” Before he can elaborate, Waltz cuts in.

“I see! That explains your… unfamiliarity… with the cutlery. Allow me.”

Without hesitation, Waltz jumps up from his chair. The screech of the wood against the floor stings Denki’s ears. The skeleton starts moving over with decisive steps, circling around the long table. His heart drops as the realization hits it and with that, time seems to slow around him. 

Mistake. Mistake. He made a mistake. He made a mistake and there will be consequences.  

Denki’s heart is picking up the pace, and so is his breathing. Not yet. His hands adjust around the hilts of the silverware, his mind darting from memory to memory, searching for any reference. Every step Waltz takes feels like a painful eternity. 

He was told, wasn’t he? He was taught how to use these, but he forgot, and he knows what that means. Punishment, forgetting means punishment. He disappointed Waltz and forced him to waste his precious time to correct him. 

His thoughts overwhelm him like a river’s current. His eyes turn azure, setting loose memories. Instincts. Lessons from the past years and what followed, dealt by hands of the teachers. Waltz’s skeletal visage twists into a pale face wrapped in bandages before Denki’s eyes, his Vision twisting into a glimmering Delusion. 

Not yet. Not yet. The footsteps draw closer. Denki can still taste the blood on his gums from today’s earlier mistake, his jaw still aches dully, he can’t take one more.  It was going so well. He explained things to him, gave him food, treated him well, and this is how he repays Waltz?

There’s no time. Nothing comes to his mind. He wants to beg, plead for just a moment longer, promise that he will do better, but is unable to. Fear turns into terror, constricting his throat and silencing his voice. Desperation. But Denki knows better than to cry and be pathetic. Nothing will save him now. He lowers the cutlery with shaking hands and latches them to the table, seeking any comfort.

Waltz says something, but Denki can’t make it out. He stiffens, gaze obediently fixed on the plate before him, away from Waltz. The footsteps stop, and in a split second the man’s mind is flooded with their toolkit. Open palm. Fist. Kick. Whip. Cane. Baton. His body tenses in preparation for whatever torture is about to come. He knows better than to resist, it will only make things worse. 

Denki sees hands coming towards him. Too much. Too soon. He lets out a quiet gasp and it turns into a cry of pain as he feels something cutting the skin on his back. 

Suddenly, silence. No new pain, no slur, no laughter. 

Denki opens his eyes, preparing for a disciplinary blow. Instead of his teacher, however, he sees Waltz, frozen in his tracks with his arms still outstretched. Through the mist of his tears Denki can read an aura of concern emanating from the undead.  

There's a moment of silence. The skeleton lowers his arm, letting it drop limply against his side. The narrow points in the undead’s eyes shrink further, not larger than grains of sand. Waltz narrows his non-existent brows, and slowly moves closer to Denki, placing a skeletal hand on his shoulder.

“Are you unwell? Should I call a medic?” He asks with a stern, yet worried voice. Denki takes a deep, shaky breath and wipes his face with his sleeve.

A sense of shame overcomes him, the sort of shame that encourages him to scratch out his very eyes and flee to die in a dark corner. 

Denki swallows the embarrassment and tries to speak. “I’m sorry-”

“No-no. It's alright.” In response, the skeleton softly pats Denki on his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes with a sense of camaraderie and understanding. “The fault is all mine. With what I know about you, I should have been more careful. Now, Denki Sakurai, would you mind if I showed you how to use these?” He points to the tableware. 

Denki nods. With slow movements and a steady tone, the general showcases the proper method of handling the tableware and, before long, Denki operates them with more confidence, allowing Waltz to return to his seat. 

“Although I am unfamiliar with the exact details, I do know that your passing has been, shall I say, less than ideal.” He gestures towards Denki. “When you were startled, your eyes turned blue. May I know what that means?”

The young man remains silent for a moment, pondering the question. His thoughts are interrupted when the searing pain on his back catches his attention. He slides his hand behind his collar and traces his fingers down where the pain originates from. Suddenly, he feels the familiar warmth of blood and a large, fresh gash on his back. After retracting his arm and confirming his suspicions, Denki answers. 

“I’m not sure, sir.” The blood on his fingers is a deep crimson, contrasting with his nearly snow-white skin. “I wasn’t aware of it until now.”

Waltz nods. “It seems pointing it out to The Watcher might be a good idea. Anyhow, please, help yourself to the food. It won’t taste as delightful when cold.”

After discreetly using his sleeve to wipe the blood clean, Denki tastes the meat doused in brownish sauce and is immediately hit with a rich, intense and slightly alcoholic flavor unlike any he had experienced before. He closes his eyes, letting it dissipate pleasantly on his tongue. 

Waltz smirks at his companion's reaction. He chews another piece of candy, this time the taste of a freshly baked, buttered bun. His hand instinctively reaches for the wineglass, finding it filled to the brim with fine Clochette Terrestre, the memory of which has been meticulously formed into a dense, red mist. As he lifts the vessel to his jaw and tilts it upwards, the substance pours down his bones, latching onto the copper wires lining his spine, flowing down into his core and dissipating. Waltz revels in the rich, deep flavor of someone's finest memory of the drink. 

His eyes find their way back to Denki, who is picking the meal apart with his fork. 

“Is everything to your liking, Denki Sakurai?”

The man seems startled by the question as he freezes, but promptly clears his throat and relaxes. 

“Yes, general. It's a bit different, more intense than anything I had in the past. That's all. Also, if I may…” Waltz gestures encouragingly with his hand, and Denki continues. “In Inazuma, the family name is usually said before the first name.”

Waltz's irises flicker and he frowns. What a fool he made of himself! His mind scrambles for an explanation. He didn't know! Right, yes. 

“Forgive my ignorance, Sakurai Denki. My home nation, Fontaine, is everything but close to yours, and so is Umbra, in which I spent the last fifty three years, meaning my lack of knowledge is a somewhat natural result of my situation.”

Waltz sends Denki a courteous smile. His foot starts tapping on the marble tiles below with impatience. 

“It's no problem.”

Waltz deflates, the façade of his smile turning into a genuine expression of satisfaction. Crisis averted. 

“Speaking of, your lineage must be truly worthy of respect. After all, who else is there to honor for raising such a well-mannered young man?” 

The other shifts in his chair. He hesitantly tastes the next portion.

“Thank you. My parents made multiple contributions towards the safety of Inazuma, but they never received recognition from the public. Their occupation was a lot less flashy than that of other nobles.”

Waltz can't help the smile. “Ah! So you're of high birth… That would explain your eloquent speech and predispositions. I see why the Great One chose you.” Denki doesn't seem to think much of the praise. Instead, his face remains blank, but the wrinkles of exhaustion seemed to deepen. The undead clears his throat. “Although the way you speak of them encourages a certain conclusion. My condolences.”

A slight, dismissive nod comes as a reply. Denki chews quietly for some time, causing an awkward silence to envelop the table. Waltz lets out a nigh inaudible sigh as he takes another sip of his wine, waiting for an answer. 

“Forgive my bluntness, Sakurai Denki, but it seems that being a good conversation partner is not your forte.” Waltz leans forward in his chair, a note of annoyed disappointment in his voice. “Which is unusual considering your origin.”

Denki's eyes flicker with a purple tint. “General, I’m sorry that you find me uninteresting. My social skills might not be on a high level as I didn’t have the opportunity to learn everything. I… didn’t have enough time.” “Oh. Forgive me for my insensitivity. How old were you when you passed, if I may know?”

For a moment, the human tries to recall the last time he called Narukami Island his home. The memories are blurry, with many undated gaps between his departure and revival. “I think I was around seventeen, sir.”

Waltz takes a sip of his wine and nods. “I see. You are a proper young man it seems, but your intelligence is quite beyond your age. I’m sure you had an easy time making friends in your earlier years?”

A small smile starts to turn Denki’s lips as the first pleasant words in his recent memory warm his soul. He shakes his head slightly. “To be truthful with you, I wasn’t the type to enjoy outings or parties, neither formal nor informal. I spent most of my days with a book in my hands.” “That’s commendable, Sakurai Denki. Especially seeing as youth tends to dismiss education these days, no matter where they are in Teyvat. What I had seen in Fontaine seems to apply to Umbra as well.” The general’s skeletal head turns with interest. “Speaking of Umbra, what are your impressions?” “It’s very cold here. Whenever I look out the window of my room or train, it always seems to be snowing or raining. Inazuma isn’t a warm nation, and I had some…” Denki pauses, searching for the right words. “... experiences in Snezhnaya, but still I cannot see the climate as anything but… sorry.”

In response, Waltz lets out an echoing chuckle. “Then it seems our opinions are alike. I also miss the temperate weather of the continent. I miss the hot summers, the brightness of nature awoken by spring - I even long for a winter. It has been too long since I’ve seen clean, white snow instead of the brownish slog covering the city now and then.” After seeing his glass is empty, the general raises his hand. A living attendant comes shortly, dressed in a proper three piece suit, and refills Waltz’s cup. “I have always wondered why the only season here seems to be autumn.” “Maybe it’s the wind?” The same waiter comes to take Denki’s plate. When the man asks if he wants dessert, Denki shakes his head and places a hand on his heart in a universal gesture of gratitude, prompting him to leave. “I have read that, in some parts of Teyvat, Anemo is strong enough to form currents that can push and pull clouds over thousands of miles. Maybe Umbra is near one of them.” Waltz nods. “It’s plausible. The people here, however, seem to have their own theories.” “What do they believe?”

Denki stops himself from lifting his cup of green tea right before it touches his lips. He lowers it and looks inside. The tea is comfortably ordinary with nothing unexpected inside. Relieved, he takes a sip.  

“You see, Sakurai Denki, they believe it is a curse. A punishment from the Gods, to be precise. It is said that when the Cataclysm took place, a group of desperate survivors prayed for salvation to death itself, hoping to avoid punishment for their sins against the heavens. The Great One took pity on them and came to their aid, taking them in His care. With His power he tore out a piece of the ocean’s floor, carving out what is known as Umbra to this day as a safe haven for them. In return, they accepted Him as their leader and god, serving him both during their lives and beyond. However, Celestia loathed The Great One for harboring the unworthy. For his rejection of their rule, the Gods doomed Umbrians to life in this eternal, cold, hellish mudscape you see around you.”

Silence falls as Denki takes in the story. A question suddenly shines in his mind. “Why didn’t the Gods punish The Great One directly?” Waltz shrugs. “I don’t know. Perhaps for an immortal god, seeing their people suffer over a span of centuries is punishment enough?”

“Maybe you’re right, sir. At the end of the day, we might never know for certain. It is the gods we are talking about, after all. We aren’t in a position to understand them.”

“They are higher beings indeed. Even if we have transcended our mortality, our souls and minds are human still, and will likely remain so.”

Suddenly, a series of knocks on the wooden door sounds out. Both of the men turn their heads towards the noise. Waltz frowns. “Who goes there…” He whispers the phrase through his grit teeth, and changes his tone into a louder one. “Come in!”

The waiter opens the door and two skeletons, dressed in uniforms of similar fashion as Waltz’s enter the room. One stands near the door as the other marches up to the general. He leans in and whispers words into where the general’s ear once was. Although Denki can’t tell apart the words that are being spoken, their sounds suggest they are in Umbrian. Waltz listens intently, leaning towards the envoy with a pensive expression. 

After relaying his message, the skeleton steps back. Waltz turns back to Denki, and raises up. 

“I apologize, Sakurai Denki, but duty seems to call - in the most frustrating of moments, as usual. I’m afraid we will have to postpone our conversation until our next meeting.”

Denki stands up slowly. “I understand.”

He watches as Waltz draws a small block of white paper strips. Pulling out a black fountain pen with a golden tip, he makes several writings on the topmost one with just a few flicks of his wrist. Waltz tears it off and hands it to the waiter. 

The skeleton’s eyes find their way back to the human. Waltz stretches out his hand, flashing Denki a smile. The man approaches him and takes the gloved hand in his, shaking it gently. 

“Thank you, sir. The food was outstanding and it was an honor to be in your company.” As he speaks, Denki bows out of habit. Waltz doesn’t seem to mind, the feeling of a smile never escaping Denki’s mind. 

“Ah, nonsense! I should be the one thanking you for your time. Someone of such a reputation and unique situation as yourself surely measures his time in Ether.” Their hands part, and Waltz places his hand on Denki’s shoulder. “Besides, you must have trained hard today. You are surely exhausted.”

Their eyes meet, and Denki’s heart warms at the sympathy he finds in Waltz’s irises.

“I wish you a restful night, Sakurai Denki.”

-

But there was no rest to be had that night. 

Around midnight, when the pale light of the moon was the most prominent, Denki was shaken awake. Without a moment to question or even understand his situation, he was forced to spring out of bed and dress up amidst shouted orders. The skeletons that came for him wasted no time, shoving him out of his room and practically dragging him through multiple corridors and staircases. 

As he marched through the fortress, he could finally collect his thoughts. The most instinctual part of his mind raises alarms - it wasn’t the first time in his life when his privacy and rest was violated. But this time, it is the undead that ripped him out of the bed. What would surely scare the majority of people, however, brings him a sense of comfort in separating the memories from the present. 

He sneaks glances at the soldiers that are escorting him. Their weapons are absent from their sheaths, but the rest of their equipment is in place. Black, matte plates lined with similarly dark padding underneath effectively hide every bit of bone from the onlooker. The padding stretches from their heavy boots, over their rib cages and up to a high collar, tucked into their tight-fitting helmet on their skulls. In the front, the metal visage of an expressionless man covers their features, but Denki can still spot their glowing, white eyes within. He has seen their kind of armor before - he wore it during his training, learning how to put it on and getting comfortable with its weight. Without a doubt, they are Legionaries, the same that Denki saw Adler around many times before. 

Despite the exhaustion imprinted on his face, Denki smiles. Will he become one of them?

They lead him towards a side door that the human assumes to be, based on the lack of any windows, several layers beneath the ground level. Without knocking the soldiers push the door open, and motion for Denki to go inside. In the room stand two more Legionaries in full uniform, a skeleton in a flowing black robe and Adler himself.

The commander approaches Denki right away. 

“Ready?” He asks with a demanding voice. 

Denki nods, but his voice comes out slightly mumbled. “Yes, sir.”

Adler frowns, and turns his gaze left, where a large, open barrel stands. Several cloths are partially submerged in the water within, likely used in cleaning the soldiers’ equipment. Adler submerges his hand into the vessel, gathering water into his glove. Promptly, he turns back to Denki and splashes it across his face without warning. Denki recoils and gasps as the icy fluid instantly brings his senses back to working order. He coughs out the water that got into his mouth, and Adler crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Feeling awake yet? More confidence! You’re a man, not a teenage girl, Denki.”

“Yes sir!”

“Better.” He points to a rack with a complete set of equipment, polished and ready. “Get your armor on, pronto. Everybody is waiting for you.”

Denki wastes no time and rushes over. He starts with the leather jacket, draping it over his shirt and quickly buttoning it up. Despite being designed primarily for undead, the cotton reinforcement was left exposed from the inside, giving the wearer surprising comfort, along with plenty of warmth. Adler watches closely as Denki puts on the lower part of the fit, replacing his nightgown bottom with a thick, protective layer of dark leather and sliding heavy boots with studded soles on his feet. The armor plates are next - the most difficult part of the process. He quickly throws the top plate over his chest and starts clumsily buckling the straps, securing it tightly to his muscular chest. What comes after is easier - the greaves, braces and other limb protection doesn’t prove as challenging to fit. Soon his equipment is finished up with three belts - one for his waist, fitted with small pouches and two for his sides, with that for his right thigh holding a sizable knife, and the other an empty holster, with a secure strap on the top. Denki adds the helmet, tailor-made for his flesh-covered head, and reaches for the mask.

“You aren’t a skeleton, are you now? You don’t need that.” Adler says, and motions for Denki to come over.

The man obeys. Adler reaches down with his left hand, unbuckling his holster and drawing the weapon inside. He turns it so that the handle is pointed towards Denki, and the human takes it in his hand. 

The gun is unlike anything Denki ever saw in his life. A flintlock pistol from Fontaine is the closest item that it could be compared to, but it would still do no justice to how different the contraption was. Instead of wood, most of it was constructed from metal, this weapon’s being painted a dull gray with accordance to the nighttime camouflage pattern he was wearing. Instead of the multitude of parts one could see in a musket, this armament’s jaw was made up of a single element - a hammer-shaped piece of metal that would strike the unusual, box shaped part located right next to it when the trigger was pulled. It was shorter, yet heavier than a flintlock pistol. In spite of how often his mentor made Denki handle such a gun, he was still unsure every time he took it in his hands. The occasional tournaments in Inazuma were almost impossible to attend due to the noise, and firing such a device was all the more difficult than watching it in the hands of someone else. 

Still, he needed to swallow his worries. He won’t become what he is meant to be by being fearful.

“Reza Model 22. Rules.” Adler eyes Denki with expectation. The latter takes a deep breath, and begins reciting what he was made to remember.

“I keep the safety on until the mission begins. I only use it in an emergency. I never aim it at my teammates. I keep my finger off the… the…” His heart skips a beat as he sees the skeleton’s aura darken. “T-trigger.”

Adler nods. “Good. Now load it.” 

Denki takes the small cartridge box from Adler’s hand and cracks it open. The bullets within are as unique as the weapon itself. The outer layers of each are made exclusively out of brass, with the shell hiding what he was told to be the gunpowder, with the bullet, mounted at the tip and shaped like a dull spike of sorts being the only exposed part of the whole cartridge. 

He picks out five of them. Cocking a small lever on the side lets the barrel be moved. Denki carefully slides each round into a chamber, taking care not to use any force this time. His arms still ached from holding himself up as punishment for when his recklessness caused him to damage the barrel of his training pistol. After filling the chamber, he puts it back into place. 

“I need to put the safety on.” He says before Adler has a chance to instruct him again, a glimmer of approval shining in his eyes.

Denki uses his thumb to slide a small, wooden cap to the side. It shifts to rest between the hammer and the cylinder, preventing an accidental firing. He then slides it into place on the back of his left thigh. 

“Well done. It seems that you can follow simple commands.” Adler chuckles, turning around to face the rest of the skeletons. 

They stand near the undead in the robe, their backpacks on and crossbows in their hands. Denki slides on his gauntlets, made of thick, dark brown leather with small armor plates on the outside parts. They are painted, just like the rest of the metal - to prevent light from reflecting off of them and giving the wearer’s position away. Snatching the rectangular shield and his shortsword from the rack, Denki focuses his mind on the weapons, and soon enough, they glow a bright yellow. He marvels at them as they fall apart into small, shining dust before completely fading away. Despite their dematerialisation, he can still feel they are nearby. He flicks his hands as if attacking something with the sword, just like Adler taught him, and surely enough the sword reappears in his grip. Denki dismisses the weapon and eyes the final weapon on the rack - a heavy crossbow. He takes it in his hold, and at last he joins the rest of the group. 

The lich raises up from the floor, uncovering the complex chalk drawing on the tiles. Copper wires line every part of the symbol, connecting at the small red crystals placed on overlapping points of the icon. 

There’s a moment of silence. Adler talks to the mysterious skeleton in Umbrian, Denki being able to recognise just a select few of the words spoken. His shoulders are quite close to the heads of the skeletons around him. 

Was he this tall before? Suddenly, a violent screech fills the room, making Denki almost drop the crossbow. He looks up at the source of the noise, one hand over his ear, and sees… nothing. Where the wall was just moments before, there’s a tear - just as if someone outlined the area and painted it black. However, no light was reflected by as much as an inch of the surface. 

“Let’s move.” Adler says, and the skeletons step forward. 

Without hesitation, they just walk into the rift, their frames vanishing into the void beyond. Denki approaches from the side as his last comrade walks through. He finds that it is not, in fact, a crack in the wall, but rather a space floating in the air, directly above the chalk circle. As he moves his head to view it from the side, he finds it to be… invisible? He looks back at the front, and the black gash reappears. And yet, when he views it from behind, he can see only an impatient Adler-

Denki’s eyes widen, and he springs back to the front. He waits for a verbal correction, but none comes. 

“Fascinating, right? I wasn’t believing my eyes the first time I saw a portal, just as you are.” He walks towards the rift and places his heavy arm on Denki’s back. “I can tell you more about them, but later. For now, get a move on.”

A slight push forces Denki to step closer to the passage. No sound, wind or smell comes from within. He tightens his fingers around the stock of the crossbow in his hands, and runs into the rift.

For a brief moment, his vision goes completely dark. Then, a barrage of colors, some of them he would be unable to even name. They twist like worms, flowing into various, repeating patterns with spike-like protrusions. Overwhelmed, he feels his knees give out and he falls forward, plummeting face first into the ground. 

Denki's head throbs. Unable to see with fractal patterns dancing before his eyes, he feels the ground with his hands. 

Mud. Slick grass. He takes a breath. The air is cold, humid, but not frigid. Sounds of rain surround him. He feels the droplets sink into his clothing. 

Finally daring to open his eyes, he sees what he has nearly forgotten. Grass. Fresh, lush, slightly bluish in the moonlight. He drags his fingers over its blades, unable to feel it through his glove. Slowly, he raises up, snatching his crossbow from the ground. 

Rain pours down from the black sky above as he examines the area around him. Grasslands, barely visible in the dark, stretch in every direction, sprinkled with birch and oak trees here and there. The terrain houses many bushes, fallen trees and rocky irregularities, but remains mostly flat. 

His team is barely visible to him, but squinting his eyes reveals their silhouettes, even darker than the backdrop of the rocks they crouch behind. Denki wastes no time and scurries to a lone stone, hoping his small stumble didn't earn him a punishment. 

Adler stands several meters away from his position, looking around. Denki cannot help his curiosity, and looks behind the rock he is resting against and in the same direction Adler's gaze stopped on. 

Despite the fog raised by the rain, the city is clearly visible as the lights within pierce through the obstruction. It's walled and positioned on a small rock isle, a stone bridge lined with lanterns being its only connection to the mainland. On top of the towers, several, multi armed windmills draw his attention, completely still in the hostile weather. 

He sits back down. How did the opening carry them from Umbra up to here, a thousand kilometers away?

The commander raises his hand. A skeleton approaches him, and after a brief exchange takes off to the side. 

Minutes pass. Denki's shirt is soaked, the rain pouring through every opening in his armor without pause. He lets loose an involuntary shiver, his breath turning to fog in the night's cool. 

At last, Adler speaks, breaking the monotonous rustle of the rain. 

“On me.”

As one, the skeletons raise up and jog up to their commander, with Denki following suit. His boots sink into the muddy road, but he presses on, splashing it around with every hastened step he takes. Before Denki can even fully warm up, their units stop abruptly. His comrades part, letting Denki see Adler motioning for him to come closer. He complies. 

“Over there.” Adler points, Denki's eyes following his clue. Right away, he notices the warm, orange light of a campfire some distance away, accompanied by several rugged tents. “Hilichurls.”

Although it takes a moment, Denki notices a handful of lean figures through the rain. “Are they who we are looking for?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. Our target practice.”

Denki furrows his wet brows. He knew what they came here for, but hearing Adler's words, acknowledging their meaning and consequences makes him uneasy. 

Hilichurls are monsters, yes - just like slime, like Vishaps or Whooperflowers. But there's something exceptionally human about them that sets them apart from the rest. The way they can build, light fire, speak and form groups always seemed eerie for Denki. 

He grips his crossbow tighter, the weapon of fast approaching murder. 

It's just Hilichurls. Monsters. They are dangerous, he thinks. They need to be removed, else somebody might get hurt. He knows this, and yet, the idea doesn't spark excitement in him. 

“We're going to go to the right, over there. See?” The skeleton points again. “Near those bushes. We’ll get a clear shot.”

Just a few seconds are enough for the unit to change their position. Adler kneels down, Denki joining him before the undead’s armor could touch the ground. Denki knows what to do. 

“Five in the camp in total, three asleep. I don't see any noteworthy weapons in the tents.” He whispers, eyes darting from figure to figure. Despite how barbaric he knows them to be, they seem harmless. Peaceful even. 

“Very well. I want you to take out the one sitting on the log to the right. It should be an easy shot for you to take.” Adler switches his language, tone remaining firm but quiet. “Load.”

Denki understands the command and quickly lowers his crossbow. He slides the metal now underneath the sole of his shoe. After freeing the string, he pulls it upwards. Every muscle in his torso and arms tense as the heavy crossbow creaks quietly, but eventually he pushes the tip of the line into a dedicated slot. Opening a pouch on the back of his belt, he draws a short bolt and places it carefully on the track. 

“Aim.”

Denki raises the weapon, lining the tip of his bolt with the humanoid figure by the fire. His heart pounds. His right hand rests over the trigger, ready to push upwards in a split second. 

His arms wobble under both the weight of the weapon and the sinking feeling in his heart. Denki bites his lips and props his right elbow on his raised leg. His aim grows still. 

“Fire.”

Denki pushes the level upwards, setting the projectile loose. 

Simultaneously, five more bolts are released as the team fires with him. In a flash, Denki's arrow finds its mark. The missile sinks into the Hilichurl’s side with a full thud. It lets out a yelp and falls from the trunk. 

A second passes. Then the next. The only sounds are the droplets of rain plummeting from the sky. In the camp, there are no movements. The Hilichurls lie still on the mud and in their tents. Some of them never woke up. 

“Clear.” Adler says, raising his hand and waving it forward. “Let's go.”

The company moves as ordered, this time at a normal walking pace. As they approach the campsite, the fog clears enough for Denki to get a better look at the tents. Calling them makeshift would be an insult to all things provisional. The cloth is made up of various fabrics differing in color, stitched together with thick threads. The water weighs heavy on the covers, coming through the ever present holes in slow, steady streams. Despite that, as he enters the camp, he can tell the hay inside every single one is at least partially dry. 

“Search! Grab every valuable item you can find.” Adler orders, and the undead get to work. Denki picks out the shelter closest to him and goes in. 

There's no monster carcass inside. Instead, he finds it full of crooked pottery and rudimentary boxes with red paint chaotically splashed across them. Denki strikes the top with the butt of his crossbow. The lid proves tougher than he expected, but another more forceful blow shatters the shoddy construction. The man can't see its contents through the darkness. He reaches for the pouch on his belt and draws a crystal. He unwraps the wire, and right as it is untied it starts glowing a bright yellow light. Using the Electro crystal’s light, he examines the contents. Rotten fruit, bags of stolen grain and rusty weapons fill the box. 

Nothing interesting. But then again, what did he really expect from Hilichurls? 

He leaves the tent. The area is littered with broken planks, smashed pottery and various miscellaneous pieces of junk. Someone already stomped out the fire, leaving most of the site to be illuminated solely by the moon. A red glint in a nearby puddle catches his eye. 

Blood has long started pouring from the creature he killed, mixing with the rainwater on the ground. It lies on its side, facing away from him. Denki crouches down and gently turns it over, coming face to face with its white mask adorned with unintelligible symbols. Using his free hand, Denki tugs at the fur around its neck, but it doesn't budge.The hairs are wet and filthy, littered with mud and dried, yellowed remains of… something. Below the mask the mane is stained dark red with blood, prompting him to turn his attention to the bolt. Only the back end of it sticks out of the body, seemingly having either broken them or passed in-between, burying itself in the right lung of the creature. He trails down, noticing how, despite having a fragile appearance, muscles line its stomach. Its nails, placed on five fingered hands, are long and unkempt with dirt and blood underneath. There's a simple bracelet around its wrist, composed of sea shells and pieces of polished metals. 

“Admirable shot.” 

Denki jumps and nearly falls onto the body. He turns around and sees Adler, looking down on him with a smirk of approval. The man recovers and rises to his feet, wiping the mud off his thigh plates. 

“Have you found anything interesting?” 

Denki shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Happens. Not every expedition yields income. Now come, we're done here. Let's not waste time.” Adler walks away, but Denki doesn't follow. Instead, he turns back to the Hilichurl. As if reading his mind, Adler speaks over his shoulder. “I’d advise you to leave the mask on. It's there for a purpose.”

His hand, already reaching for the wooden veil, stops, and he raises up to rejoin his comrades. 

Under the cover of darkness, they move southwards, away from the city. The rain faded, shortly giving way to the chirping of crickets. As the soil absorbs water, the terrain becomes more traversable. 

In a low voice, Adler breaks the silence.

“Remember, boy, that everything you can get your hands on that is on or near the enemy is yours to keep - that is the conqueror's right.”

“To the victor go the spoils.” Denki speaks out, and quickly adds: “Sir.”

His mentor nods. “Aside from Mora. Mora has much more use than a mere currency. Alchemy, forging, necromancy, sciences - any practical art you can name makes use of its power. Regardless, you can exchange it for Ether, ten to one.”

“I understand, sir.” 

The unit reaches a small clearing. Someone draws a pair of binoculars, and examines some areas invisible to Denki. The Legionnaire turns around and signals to Adler with a small nod. The general hums, putting an arm around Denki's shoulders. 

“Now, Denki, we'll see if you have what it takes to become a man. We'll find out what you are made of.” Aldehan Adler takes the binoculars from the scout and passes them on to Denki. He takes the wooden instrument in his hands, bringing them closer to his eyes and turning them in the direction pointed to by Adler. 

His eyes instantly pick up the light coming from a small crevice in the terrain. During daytime, the camp within, adorned with triangular, green cloth to stop the rain would be nigh impossible to spot. Now, however, it's easy prey-

Prey…? 

He shakes off the thought. 

Unlike the camp of the Hilichurls, this one is far more organized. Denki spots a tent over the rocky elevation, partially obscuring his view. It's completely gray, clearly designed with care - the shape is perfectly triangular, and the ropes stretch from the pegs and under the fabric to ensure the construction is stable. Behind the shelter there's a small, makeshift fence on which various clothes rest, their every thread thoroughly soaked. 

“We separate into groups of three. Two and four go with you from the left, and the rest of us jump down from the right. We jump down after you kill the wachmann, and start the massacre. They will be panicked, disoriented, easy to kill.” Adler speaks quickly, likely impatient. 

Denki wants to say something against the plan. Anything, even for a nonsensical reason. Whoever is in there likely doesn't have good intentions - why else would they choose to camp out in the open? Even if they are Treasure Hoarders, criminals, low lives, the very scum of the earth… No.

He couldn't do it. 

He hands the binoculars back to the scout. Denki turns to his master, but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak his words die right in his throat. 

What would Adler do if he said no? 

Weak. That would be what he would hear. Pathetic wimp. Waste of time and space. He would have to hold himself up for hours on end, run in ankle ties of sharp wire, crawl over sharp rocks and mud until he would beg at Adler’s feet for forgiveness. He would mumble and cry, again. 

And yet, he didn’t want to do it. 

He didn’t want to obey, but was there really an alternative? Adler took him under his wing, The Great One offered him a new life. He was given a home, a place of safety. He was never hungry. He was never cold. All he is asked in return is a choice. A choice between weakness and… strength. Grit. Stoicism. He can show them that he can move on, be strong again. Achieve, mature. Become someone worthy of what he has received, a man deserving of respect, both feared and adored by those around him. 

He has to do it. 

“I’m ready, sir.” 

Without delay, Adler waves for two of the Legionaries to come with him. “I like that attitude, Denki. Get going.”

His group turns around. Denki follows their lead, careful to maintain his balance on the uneven, partially sunken road. The leading soldier quickly locates a smoother descent and slides down to the level of the camp, the other two following suit. Keeping a borderline crouch position, they wade through the trees and approach the entry to the base as close as the greenery will allow them to stay out of view. Denki sees his teammates load their crossbows, and so does he. One of them turns to him. 

“Do you see the man in that lean-to? Shoot at him with me. Wait for my signal, and remember to aim at the chest. It will be easy to hit.”

Denki takes aim, his hand tucked securely away from the trigger mechanism. His gray eyes pick up a flash of purple light from the rocky platform above the campsite. Illuminated by the signal are the other members of the team, their shields and swords at the ready. 

His eyes wander back to the human at the other end of his weapon. 

They sleep clothed, covered with ragged blankets. There’s a flask and a knife by his side, the candle that once illuminated them long burnt to the end of the wick. 

“Fire.”

The tension in his body is released as the bolt flies loose. The bandit opens his eyes, but before he can even react the projectile pierces his stomach, with the other planting itself directly in the middle of his chest. He curls and falls to the ground with a choked grunt. Behind him, the rudimentary roof collapses under the weight of the three armored undead as they jump down into the camp. A woman raises up from the ground, but her life is taken before she can make a sound. An axe leaves her skull split in half, painting the wight’s armor red with fresh blood. To the right, Adler stabs a startled human through the stomach, pinning him to the ground. With violent glee he turns the blade in his flesh, making his victim wail.

“Charge!” The command falls from the skeleton on Denki’s right. 

He slings his crossbow over the shoulder and dashes out of their hiding spot. As he enters the camp, his melee weapons are already resting in his hands. A quick glance over his surroundings reveals most of the work has already been done. Bodies lie strewn around the ground, amongst packs and chests splattered with blood. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Denki rips the front flaps of the tent to his left, revealing a lifeless body with a crossbow bolt lodged in its back, wrapped in bloody bed sheets. With his next breath, Denki takes in the nauseating scent of copper, causing him to back out and into fresh air. 

He lowers his weapons. It’s done. He turns to view the others. 

The subtle sound of a body being turned over escapes his ears.

In a flash, someone latches onto his back. Denki curls on reflex, making the assailant’s blade miss his throat by inches, sliding harmlessly off his armor. He struggles, trying to shake them off. The blade strikes again and again, each time meeting hard steel instead of vulnerable flesh. Fighting back, Denki dismisses his shield and uses his left elbow to strike at the attacker, causing them to let go. He darts around, coming face to face with a smaller figure clad in a brown cloak. 

She wastes no time and delivers a decisive kick to his knee, causing him to stumble. He raises his sword just in time to block her dagger arm, but his victory is short lived as he receives another kick, this time into his groin. He growls through the pain, and clumsily uses his whole weight to ram the bandit. They both fall through the tent, tripping over the dead body and plummeting to the ground. The woman pushes the disoriented Denki to the side, but he manages to get a fistful of her hood along with the hair. She yelps and kicks him in the face, using the initiative to flip around and stab at his eyes. Denki covers it with his iron-clad arm, rolling over to his stomach and tackling her again, sending both of them over to the edge. He pushes himself up to hover over her and grabs a hold on her neck. She attempts to retaliate with the knife pointed at his throat. Denki attempts to seize her wrist, yet is stopped by a knee right to his stomach. A glint of steel is all he sees before the very tip of the knife buries into his face and slices upward right through his left eye. 

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his wound but never letting off the girl. She kicks and punches to get herself free but his body is too heavy. Grabbing a hold of his shoulders and flipping him over. Denki strikes at her chaotically, knocking both of them through the stick fence and down into the sandy ditch below. The woman yelps as his armored body crushes her hand with its weight, her only weapon falling out of her grip. She lands on the ground with her opponent rolling just past her. 

She tries to scramble to her feet, but her damaged hand proves unable to provide any support. Sobbing, she grabs a handful of wet sand and throws it at Denki who is rising up, using his sword as a booster. He stumbles over, knuckles growing white from his grip on the weapon and teeth clenched tightly, adrenaline pulsing through his body. 

The woman whines, raising her good hand defensively, but instead of mercy she is met with a crude horizontal slice across her chest. She screams and is promptly silenced when Denki points the sword at her stomach and rests on the handle with his full weight, pushing it through her like through a pillow. 

He pants heavily as he stares into her green eyes, wide with shock and agony. His remaining iris glows deep purple while blood continuously drips from his destroyed eyeball and onto her clothing. 

Denki watches as life slowly leaves her eyes. At first she struggles, attempting to push the sword out of her wound but soon grows weak, her gasping for air replaced with slight twitching.

Before long, her body grows completely still. 

With a groan of extension, Denki withdraws his sword and falls back. He doesn’t even have the strength to look up when clapping sounds out through the night. “Well done!” Adler congratulates Denki with several slow claps, a wide smile on his absent lips. “Sloppily, barely, but well done!”

Followed by the team, Adler steps through the collapsed fence and down into the ditch. He looks over at the body, and then back to Denki, who by that time managed to sit up, his blade still stuck to his hand. He looks up at Adler. 

“Why didn’t you… help me?” His voice is hoarse from exhaustion and screaming. He feels as if someone had poured acid down his throat. 

Adler crouches down to meet the man on eye level. “Because I don’t want losers, dead weight, wimps. I want men. Men who can fight for their life and win. Those that can help themselves first. And it seems that you, Sakurai Denki, are one of them.”

Denki tries to stand up, but his knees feel weak. Adler grabs his arm and hoists him up against the nearest tree, allowing him a stable support to grab. 

“A-am I…?”

Nodding, Adler seems to smile even wider. “Yes! Your strength, the sharpness of your mind, the pure desperation for survival… And the lack of hesitation. My boy, you aren’t just a natural survivor, oh no. You’re a born killer.”

Adler’s words distort in Denki’s mind. His eye feels heavy. Adrenaline rapidly leaves his system, the pain in his eye growing to an agonizing level. He fails to support himself and slides down to the ground. 

He closes his eye. 

The rain picks up again. 

Thank you so much for reading!

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♥︎ Whump Dating Sim: Longing for Flight - Part 4 ♥︎

Current Heart Level: ♥︎♡♡♡♡ (1/5)

Last Poll | Masterlist | Image Source

Last week, we had a tie between two answers, so I chose, “Let him go. Tell him about the chip, that your people will protect him.” I also rolled a die (virtually) to determine whether Allister would be able to remove the tracking chip. I rolled on Allister’s behalf against a difficulty of 12. It was a 6, so he is not able to find and remove it. He’s also very happy with your decision! You get two more relationship points, for a total of six! That’s over five points, so you now have one heart with Allister. He considers you to be someone worthy of at least a small amount of trust – you’re a friendly acquaintance who has helped him. He feels safer with you around.

I'll post a "heart event" at some point!!

CW: hospital setting, walking with injuries

“Okay! Okay, we’ll let you go to this rendezvous point. Meet your handlers. Just please don’t hurt yourself.”

They stop struggling right away, although they're still dealing with the aftereffects of panic. They look a bit stunned. “…What? Really?”

“Yes. I’ll have to talk to my higher-ups, but I’m in charge of this project, and if I say you go, then you go. …And there’s something else I need you to know. “ You take a deep breath. He’s probably not going to like this, but you can’t stand to lie to him anymore. “During your treatment, our physicians embedded a tracking chip under your skin. We – “

“What!? Where is it?” He’s looking at his arms, but he won’t be able to find it. It’s on his back, where he hopefully can’t reach.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not ideal. But it does mean that we may be able to help you. We’re going to find out the information that you can’t safely tell us. We’ll see where you go, and we’ll be there to rescue you as soon as we can.” You try to sound more confident than you feel. The Operator is slippery – who knows what could happen. But it’s as solid a plan as you’re going to get.

That look of stunned disbelief only magnifies. They lean back against their pillow, just staring at you in wonder. “I haven’t…even considered that possibility in so long…” He shakes his head and seems to come back to himself. “No, you won’t be able to do it. Security is too tight.”

“I – “

“No. I’m not getting my hopes up. But…thank you. I’m glad we got the chance to talk. You don’t know how much peace you’ve given me. Sometimes I forget that there are decent people, on the outside. I’ll be surviving on that memory in the coming months.”

Months? You wonder about that choice of wording, but you don’t comment. All you say is, "You're welcome. I've done almost nothing, really."

He’s still jittery. “Can we get going? It’s already too late but the sooner I get there…well, let’s just say my punishment will fit the crime.”

You do your best to ignore that ominous phrasing. You’re coming for him. You’ll get to him before anything can happen, it’ll be fine. “Yeah, I’ll get the medics to unhook everything.”

So the IVs come out and he gets his clothes, his wallet. You hate to see him up and moving in this state. He's unsteady, trailing a hand against the wall on the way to the door but he refuses a crutch. “I’ve been in worse shape,” he says. You stay at his side in case he falls.

“Do you want us to drive you?” God it hurts to watch them limping like that, trying not to favor either the leg that was shot in the thigh, or the side that was shot through the abdomen.

“No. You can’t know where I’m going. Or at least…they can’t know that you know. Not right away. Once I'm out there, stay at a distance. Don’t come until you see that my tracker has stopped moving for a while, okay?”

“Okay.”

They comes to a rest against the double glass doors, a hand on the lever and their soft, golden hair glowing in the sunset. He’s panting from the exertion of just that short walk, and he's about to have to walk for probably miles more, but you have no doubt he’ll make it to wherever he’s going. “In case we don’t meet again…Thank you. So much. You shouldn’t have to be doing this.”

You scoff. “Hey, I’m not some civilian. This is my job, and facing off against The Operator was my choice. We’re gonna make sure you’re okay.”

But he won’t look at you. He’s scared, you can tell, and it’s as much for you as for himself. “You have to understand how badly I want him dead. It’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that keeps me going. There’s no normal life for me after…after all this. There’s only his death. If it weren’t for the possibility that you can give me an opening, that I can actually take him down… I’d tell everyone to stay the hell away. But this may be the best chance anyone’s had in years, and The Operator’s downfall is bigger than just you or me.” He shifts his weight against the pain automatically, hardly noticing it. You wonder how long it’s been since his own pain mattered to him.

You nod. “I don’t plan on fucking this up.” And, because you can’t let that slide without saying something more, you add…

Tagging: @bluelolblue

Please comment, ask, etc. to be added to a tag list for updates!

[wolfeyedwitch]

“ are you going to kill me? ”  Pariah Prisoner Bailey?

Pariah Prisoner, Part 6

Also for @amonthofwhump's Winter Whumperland day 8: revenge whump.

Have some complicated Emotions and Feelings.

CW: medical setting (including mention of IVs), Bailey's crappy headspace. I think that's it, though that list seems suspiciously short... If I missed anything, please let me know!

Masterlist

---

Luke looked up from his tablet and glared at the figure on the bed. Of all the people on the team, why was he the one tasked with watching the villain who nearly killed him?

Stupid question. He knew why. Maeve was sleeping off the efforts of keeping Poppet alive. Zera was banned from anything until they’d had a meal and a minimum of 4 hours of sleep, given the dissociation and freak-out session they’d had in the medbay earlier. Iris was combing through the data on how they’d been intercepted and captured in the first place, and Elijah was tackling the small mountain of paperwork the shitshow had generated. 

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t have anything pressing. The only injuries he’d gotten in their escape were some minor scrapes and cuts, nothing serious enough for Maeve to bother with, and he’d had his adrenaline crash nap already. So really, he wasn’t the best option so much as the only option.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

It didn’t make sense, was what bothered him the most. He’d had this mental image of who had attacked him. They were cold, impassive, ruthless. A sadist of the worst sort. They had no problem torturing him to the brink of death and leaving him to topple over that edge. 

And then it turns out his attacker was Poppet. A villain with no prior history (that they knew of, he reminded himself) of violent actions. Who he now had interacted with, and he didn’t know what to think anymore.

Save your sympathy for someone worthy of it, they’d said. They hadn’t played on Zera’s soft heart or Elijah’s stubborn insistence on seeing the potential in everyone. 

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it. They hadn’t denied that they’d hurt Luke. They even seemed genuine when they said they were sorry. 

You were right about me. I’m just Slipknot’s little toy, their stupid attack dog. He didn’t remember those words, meaning he must have said them during whatever encounter led to…

To an otherwise sane, empathetic-seeming kid beating him nearly to death.

He couldn’t make that sequence of events make sense. He was still missing something, and it nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. 

The only source for that missing information was Poppet themself. Meaning Luke would just have to wait.

---

The wait ended up being shorter than he expected. It was only a few hours into Luke’s guard duty bedside vigil that Poppet woke.

The signs were subtle at first. Their breathing, which had been regular and deep, hitched and stuttered. Their brows furrowed like they were in pain. Luke got up to double-check the IV drip.

Which meant that he had front-row seats to see Poppet open their eyes. 

They looked like a startled horse, their eyes wide enough to show a ring of white all the way around the iris. Their gaze darted around the room before finally landing on the IV in their arm. Poppet’s breath caught in their throat before coming out as a quiet whimper. They reached for the IV.

“Hey, don’t,” Luke said sharply. 

Poppet jumped. Apparently his presence hadn’t been important enough to register in their look around the room. 

“Whe—” they croaked out before their voice gave up on them.

“Hero HQ, medbay,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Our medic went to the trouble of patching you up, so don’t even think about undoing her work. The IV stays in.”

He saw Poppet’s throat work as they swallowed, then nodded. “It worked?” they asked.

Luke snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Your plan? More or less. We got out, despite the issues there at the end.”

Poppet closed their eyes. Their face smoothed out as they took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Good. That’s- that’s good.”

Luke didn’t bother replying. He let the silence stretch out between them as he studied the villain. He was torn. Part of him, the bitter part that couldn’t see past what had happened to him, said this was an act. This was fake, a way to get someone into the Hero HQ as a spy. Poppet was just a convincing actor, and would stab all of them in the back the first chance they got.

The more rational part of him, the part that could admit he was hasty in attacking Poppet back in Slipknot’s cell, said that that was ridiculous. A dislocated shoulder might be one thing to convince the heroes, but that batshit escape plan that somehow worked? Getting stabbed? Those were something else entirely. 

Poppet’s eyes flew open again, looking at Luke in a panic. “Are you okay? The others? Foxfire and Tempest?”

This villain had no damn right to look so earnest about their concern for his teammates! 

“They’re fine,” Luke bit out, harsher than he really meant. Poppet flinched at his tone, and he sighed. Softer, he added, “Foxfire wore themself out carrying you back here. They’re resting. Tempest is doing paperwork for all this shit. No one besides you got anything more than scrapes and bruises in the escape.”

“Good,” Poppet said, finally breaking that too-intense eye contact. “That’s… I’m glad.”

They closed their eyes, face scrunching like they were in pain. Luke checked their IV again. Everything was fine. 

Their next words were so quiet, he wouldn’t have heard them if he were any further away. “Are you going to kill me?”

Luke actually made himself dizzy with how fast his head snapped around to look at Poppet. “What.”

“I won’t fight you,” the villain said, voice barely audible. Their eyes were open now, but they wouldn’t look at him. They stared resolutely at the ceiling like they were trying to hold back tears. “Or I’ll try not to, anyway. I… I can’t guarantee I won’t use my telekinesis on instinct. But I’ll—”

“Stop,” Luke said.

Poppet’s mouth closed with an audible click. They squeezed their eyes shut.

Luke ran a hand over his face. What the fuck. What the actual, entire fuck. 

Okay. He gets it, okay? He fucked up. He attacked them back in the cell, and said some things that weren’t exactly all rainbows and sunshine. But that was the heat of the moment, alright? He has a temper, and this whole… thing, is kind of a big trigger for it. 

It was one thing to make threats (and… throw punches… yeah, he fucked up, he’s aware) in the heat of the moment. It’s an entirely different thing to talk about it so calmly and matter-of-fact. 

“I’m not,” he started, then broke off with a groan of frustration. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t this be a simple situation with a simple bad guy that he could simply rage at?

Because life is rarely simple, came a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Elijah, the even-tempered asshole.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.

He expected Poppet to be relieved. Instead, they looked more upset after hearing that. They opened tear-filled eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, still refusing to look at him.

“Right,” said Poppet. Their voice was thick with emotion. “I still owe you that list.” A tear escaped and rolled down their face.

List? What list? When had they… mentioned… 

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it.

Oh.

Fuck.

---

Dun dun dun!!!

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

[thisloveforyourmom]

SMITH COLLEGE GIRLS FOR ID MAGAZINE 2004 2003

OKAY SO.

the reason this took so long is because i'm compiling all info from previous posts into a masterpost, but tldr back in february i, being a smith alumn, set out on a quest to confirm the veracity of Smith College Girls for ID Magazine 2004. here's how it went:

- Image ID: anonymous user asks sun-bees 'hey, if it’s okay to ask, where did you find that pic of the Smith College girls?’ sun-bees responds 'it was posted a while ago on the instagram account junyawannabe, so I looked up the image and found a bigger version of it!'

this image is not on junyawannabe’s instagram. reverse image searching this image does not provide a bigger version of it, only the version spread initially by tumblr user sun-bees. searching 'smith college girls for ID magazine 2004’ does not provide any other versions of it, only the version spread initially by tumblr user sun-bees. neither junyawannabe nor sun-bees reply to queries about the topic. in fact it’s unclear if junyawannabe even is involved. I-D magazine’s media has no record of this photoshoot ever being done.

literally DAYS into my initial investigation, on february, richard kern posts the full (ETA: NOT FULL!) photoshoot on his instagram, confirming both the image’s veracity and source. junyawannabe comments “I have gotten multiple emails about this photo lmao” (no other information) (she did not reply to our email). comments are limited (randos can’t comment). there's still 0 information as to how sun-bees got this image considering the listed avenues Do Not Work. this allows us to get some info on the casting director eléonore hendricks, but her website lists nothing about this photoshoot or anything in that general date range. at this point i've also trawled editions of ID magazine from 2004 to try and find any that reference richard kern, smith college, eleonore, etc and come up utterly completely empty. i would have to buy all 12 copies from ebay to try and find it, and these are just too expensive for all that.

important: richard kern ALSO refers to it as 'smith college girls for id magazine 2004.' an insta comment also implies the existence of sarah lawrence girls for id magazine 2006, but that's neither here nor there

trail goes cold for a while. ive exhausted all my leads and am too broke for much more.

BUT THEN, IN AUGUST: i-d magazine ITSELF picks up the trend!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by i-D (@i_d)

This provides one EXTREMELY important piece of information that everyone up until now had excluded: the issue number! smith college girls for ID magazine was a photoshoot for their August 2003 issue, The Straight Up Issue. which means the reason the trail went so cold is because we were looking in the wrong spot!

Smith College Girls for ID Magazine 2004 is actually Smith College Girls for ID Magazine 2003!

and there was a copy on ebay for 30 GPB. So i bought it. while i was waiting, eleonore hendricks also posted it, tagging a few people involved in the shoot, but ultimately it's not much new info.

photoshoot here.

disclaimer: there's eight portraits in the photoshoot. only 7 have been revealed and i won't be posting number 8. i'm not trying to gatekeep, it's just a frontal photo of the casting director wearing only panties and yes it's artistic and pretty but i figure if that was the kind of thing she'd wanted to publicize heavily she or richard kern would have posted it themselves. you don't always agree with the choices you made at 21 and you don't always make them assuming in 20 years the photo will go a type of viral that doesn't exist yet.

also it goes against tumblr TOS. buy the magazine if you wanna see it that bad, i'll show you everything surrounding the photo itself. im not posting the titties.

[thesingingrevolution]

hi, could you tell me which photoshoot your dp comes from? ive been trying to find it but nothing comes up when i search "blonde winwin" etc. thank youu

hi!

first of all i’m so sorry it took me so long to get back to you. i had a really busy day on the 22nd of may as i was traveling internationally, but i did use my time on the planes and in airports to try and answer your question. but I don’t have a very satisfying answer 😭 when i saw your ask, i immediately went here, as this website is my go to whenever i want concept pics, and they usually have them all. but it wasn’t there, so i checked wayv social media, and nothing 😭😭 i thought it may have been a screenshot from an instagram story so i checked my screenshot folder and NOTHING 💀 and then i tried reverse image search and it yielded a link to reddit where the pic in question didn’t actually show up (???) and some people on tumblr who posted the pic, also unsourced so i have no clue. it sounds crazy but i literally have no idea where this image comes from, i checked sicheng’s personal instagram and didn’t see it either 🥲 i changed my layout back in october so my memory is foggy, but if i ever find the source/someone else does i’ll try to post it so you can see where it’s from! i’m so sorry i couldn’t be more helpful :(

here’s the pic though! 🩶

[ifwebefriends]

Happy Solar Eclipse day to the seven years woman and ONLY the seven years woman

Source

Content ID under cut

[Content ID: a 20-panel comic. It’s drawn in a simplistic stick-figure art style. The first 8 panels are more faded than the final 12

Panel 1: a woman and her boyfriend are sitting on a bed while the woman gets a call from a doctor. The boyfriend has one hand on her shoulder and another holding her unoccupied hand. She says “oh god”

Panel 2: the woman is sitting in a large chair, she has lost her hair and is receiving an IV infusion. The machine goes “…beeep…beeep…beeep” her boyfriend is sitting next to her. They’re both working on laptops.

Panel 3: the woman and boyfriend are canoeing on a lake. The woman is wearing a beanie. There’s lilypads in the lake and mountains in the background.

Panel 4: The woman and her boyfriend are sitting at a table. The woman is still bald. There’s a phone on the table and a clock on the wall. The woman says “how long can it take to read a scan!?”

Panel 5: the woman is receiving another IV infusion. Her boyfriend is with her and they’re playing scrabble. The boyfriend says “‘zarg’ isn’t a word.” The woman responds “but caaaancer.” The boyfriend relents “…ok, fine”

Panel 6: the woman and her boyfriend are talking to someone else. The woman is wearing a hat. The other person says “so next year you should come visit us up in the mountains and” the rest of his text is obscured. The woman and the boyfriend are both thinking “next year”

Panel 7: the woman and the boyfriend are getting married. The man is wearing a bow tie and the woman is wearing a white dress and veil. Her hair is short and a bit frizzy. There’s lots of other people there.

Panel 8: a caption at the top says “two years” the woman and her husband are at a coast watching a large bird swoop in and take a fish with a “fwoosh.” the girl is wearing a hat. This panel is the last of the faded ones.

Panel 9: the woman and her husband are walking through a forest full of tall trees. The woman seems to have grown back some of her hair.

Panel 10: the woman is sitting on the ground, her hair is down to the nape of her neck. Her husband is standing behind her. The woman says “my toe hurts. And I found a report of a case in which toe pain was an early sign of cancer spreading.” The husband responds “wait—didn’t you stub your toe yesterday?” The woman responds “yes, but what if this is unrelated?”

Panel 11: the woman and her husband are climbing into a dark cave while someone else guides them. The woman’s hair is down to her shoulders.

Panel 12: the woman is on a large rock taking a picture of a crocodile with a large camera. Her husband stands behind her on a platform with rails, he says “when they estimated your survival odds, I think they made some optimistic assumptions about your hobbies”

Panel 13: the woman is at a doctor’s appointment. Her hair is a little past her shoulders. The doctor says “this is probably nothing, but given your history, we should do a full scan. We’ll call with the results in a few days. Try not to worry about it until then!”

Panel 14: the woman and her husband are at a lake, their image is distorted by the water due to the angle of the picture. The woman is controlling a small submersible camera, she is looking at the lake floor.

Panel 15: the woman and her husband are standing next to each other. The woman’s hair has grown a bit past her shoulders. The woman says “hard to believe—six years ago, I was bald. But today, after a long struggle, I finally look like the little girl from The Ring.” Her husband responds “that’s, uhh…good?” The woman responds “hissssss”

Panel 16: the woman, her husband, and two other women and two other men are looking at a solar eclipse. The landscape is dark and you can see the corona behind the dark moon.

Panel 17: after the eclipse has passed, the world is bright again and everyone looks at each other. another blonde woman says “wow.” The woman says “yeah.”

Panel 18: the woman and her husband walk away hand in hand. The woman says “that was incredible. When’s the next one?” The husband responds “in seven years. Wanna go see it?”

Panel 19: the woman and her husband, still walking hand in hand, are both thinking of a timeline. The timeline has the years 2010, 2017, and 2024 marked with points. Before 2017, the timeline is a solid line, but after 2017, it’s a dashed line. There’s three question marks under the 2024 bullet point.

Panel 20: the woman says “yeah. I’ll do my best.” Her husband responds “it’s a date!”

End ID]

[tvxqscans]

hiii, do you know where this pic is from or/and the other pictures that come with it? by the hair i'm assuming it's from the way u are, but i've already looked at the jacket/2nd storybook and it's not there. i thought maybe since he's holding a mp3 player it could've been an ad (they did a LG ad at that time iirc) but it's also not there. i've looked all over the shinkipedia livejournal blog, and i've asked two other cassies but they also can't find the source. i've image searched as well but nothing shows up. do you happen to know where this is from?

sorry i don't know where this picture is from :( ive actually seen this pic before and thought it was from the way u are storybook or it was from a cf

ive checked two blogs (one was jyjshinki dreamland on wordpress because i knew they had their old cf pics posted) my laptop, my rising sun repackage photobook because it has the way u are era pics in it and even asked a cassie mutual on pinterest and they said they thought it was from the way u are storybook too i also have not seen any other pictures from this photoshoot either

if a tvxq pic is from a photobook i can usually tell which one it's from im assuming this is from a cf but i have no idea for what because ive seen their old commercials and their not wearing the way u are outfits in any of them 🤷

[deevotee]

does anyone know any tricks for tracking down artists using image search? ive been trying to find the artist for these two pinterest images all day yesterday and im coming up with nothing even using japanese words with the search 😭 i just want to see more sanji/zeff art

if anyone can find the artist even without tricks id be super grateful, i am going insane and cursing pinterest users methods of never including sources rn https://www.pinterest.com/pin/148829962678378259/ https://www.pinterest.com/pin/108579041009294297/

[spacedhead]

homestuck rereading post #3: hivebent part 2

(im adding this part when im done with this whole thing but most of my text is referring to the image under it unless stated otherwise. but i think you can tell based on the spacing when that isnt the case)

im beginning to think these titles are too long. anyway LETS FUCKING GOOOO I LOVE TAVROS NITRAM

one thing about him is that he loves fiduspawn. which as we all know is an allegory for pokemon. is allegory the right word? sources say: probably not

:) hes clappingggg

do not answer that message. keep looking at your posters. if you know whats good for you you wont even look at your computer . throw that shit away

whats her deal????

⬆️ okay well that was actually a pretty tame first interaction. she was just like haha tavros im gonna beat you at this game L and tavros was like uhhh i think we shouldnt talk . but you know him. he continued talking to her anyway. like a chump or something

what is her deal!!!!!!!!!!!!! why does the story keep framing kanaya as this bugger/meddler/fusser . she is so cool though and Normal.

tell me why this is so scary . what is this a horror story. relax

/ROLLS EYES

me on the overwatch grind every damn day

karkat wishes he had even an ounce of the swag and rizz nepeta has. you will never be her.

this is kinda funny. but he is lame its true

TAVROS GAHH YOU KILLED YOUR LUSUS. FUCK

foreshadowing.... this is like in dragon ball z when goku and piccolo are fighting raditz and goku is like "well strength isnt the only thing that matters in a fight!" and raditz is like "you are a fucking moron LMAO"

it actually isnt a real thing to say. so

oh man this is so fucked up

man he cannot catch a break right now

this interaction between karkat and vriska is interesting to me cause its karkat being like a really awful person to vriska and i would feel bad but i JUST watched her paralyze tavros while berating him and laughing at him. so its like damn. i dunno how to feel ...

okay well . this is a little bit rude but whatever

this is so awesome . you love to see a girlboss winning

what is she waffling about

i have nothing to say about the equius stuff. anyway check out this particular interaction. ⬇️

⬆️surely no more stabbing in the back between these two.

me when someone tells me vriska has w rizz. idk . this is crazy though

oh Wow

she is fuh reaking out right now . someone please get her some therapy. also all of them? all of them need it

tavros is on that no hate grindset i love to see it

i wonder if i had different color blood if my fans would turn on me. some fans they would be.... i actually have no idea what im talking about right now but i love to ramble on and on about inane bullshit so

handshakes all around to those who made it this far.

WOOOO RESIDENT LESBIAN INTRODUCED. the crowd goes fucking insane

ROSE MENTIONED!!! gosh it feels like its been so long since ive seen her.....i miss those damn kids....

im being forced to end this one here (i hit the image limit) but im coming back with a vengeance soon because we are just getting started with this DAMN SESSION

[kyanitegem]

👁️👁️❓

Hi hewwo hi you've activated the OC infodumping session!

Theres quite a few of them so I'll just throw the big deal ones at you as an introduction!

I will give a quick content warning for body horror and blood for some of the images. those are at the end when im showing off my favourite oc

First up are the main group from my original OC world, the very originals for my cast of many morons who run around in my head rent free 24/7 365

Aurora, Avry, Jessi, Lusikka, Amaris, and Wrath

Aurora was the first oc out of all of them! She started out as my fursona back when i was starting to be online regularly, now though im well past that since Arty borty here has well since become her own character rather than just me but furry

Aurora is a Fennec Lyotternx, otherwise known as a furred folk Chimera in the oc's world. It simply means both her parents were a mix of some form so she's roughly 1/3 fennec fox, 1/3 lynx and 1/3 otter. She come form a long line of furred folk who protect a large forested area outside of a small town called Cedar Creek. She's also a magic user! She uses Phytomancy - plant magic. Though she's not great at it.

Avry Rayne is in fact my daughter i love her so so so much she's great! one of The Big Three ocs who are constantly on my mind at any given moment (you'll see the other two soon). if I were to actually take the time to write anything out for this group of ocs she's probably the closest to a main character. In a setting full of furries, mythical creatures, modern day magic etc etc She got the short end of the stick. literally nothing magic or supernatural wise. She's just you're regular ol average person trying to survive fighting a literal demon of shadow taking over the world for her own amusement. She's got mommy issues and is head over heels for her best friend, Jessi.

Jessi is the resident shapeshifter which Ive done some worldbuilding on and posted about awhile back here and probably the most level headed of the three. She certainly has her head on straight more or less. She's strongly tied to dragons which are a critically endangered species in this world. Jess is part shapeshifter and part werecreature- specifically a weredragon. Due to the fact she can't control it, her shapechange on the fullmoon resembles more the wolfman style of werewolves than just a straight change to the animal itself. The fact she can't control it is one of her biggest fears and around the time of a full moon she'll run off deep into the forest to get as far away from humanity as possible, hoping to lessen the chance of the weredragon hunting anyone she cares about.

Amaris is the shadow demon who is causing problems on purpose for fun. She revels in chaos and wants to see the world turn to absolute madness. in this world she is the source of all your sleep paralysis demon stories. She's actually an entity from another dimension who was cast out for an attempted hostile takeover of her home realm. She has complete control over shadows, to the extent that she has her own sort of backrooms esque shadow passages she uses to get around quickly. So long as she can fit through a shadow she can essentially teleport through it. Its not that hard for her to fit through things though. the small stature of 4'9" helps a bit.

Wrath meanwhile is whats known as an Incarnate. Incarnates are the physical manifestation of concepts and ideas. So like how we imagine Death as a skeleton in black robes with a scythe would be considered an incarnate in this world. There's only one of Each emotion and as we can guess, Wrath is anger incarnate. She's found herself working with Amaris to help spread chaos and destruction around the world after the shadow demon broke her free of her confinement by the Emotion Manifestation Obtainment organization (E.M.O for short) Wrath is a living weapon essentially and can't die so long as something out there can experience anger. Her limbs can shapeshift into any melee weapon and she gets stronger the more things around her experience her emotion. This can backfire though and she can get overloaded with anger and quite literally explode, having to reform her physical body at a later point.

Lusikka is a petty thief who has a lot of issues. She's an orphan who took to shoplifting for attention and well turned out she got really good at it. She's the leader of a group known as the silverware trio and uses a giant spoon to fight with, as silly as that sounds. She and the other two (Forcella and Kiridashi) started as a team of supervillians in their own world where they had a rogues gallery of food themed heroes who kept trying to foil their plans. This is where Lusi's dislike for tacos comes from. Now its just because she can't handle spice at all. She gets better and ends up with a wife and kids and she loves them so very much.

She still can't stand Avry being obnoxious though. something something shortest temper imaginable.

moving on from that setting,

BLAIR! Blair Daniels-Anderson my beloved! Another one of The Big Three who are ever present. She's my far cry 5 player character and she has like the most stereotypically country song background story imaginable. its fitting for her and her terminal yeehaw brainworms.

Anyways, Blair's first wife divorces her, takes the house and the car and here she is planning to move back home to Calgary to pick up the pieces and then she gets stuck dealing with a religious cult and stuck in hope county Montana where she continues to have a bad time alongside @rainydaze-rhys 's OC Rook. (Rhys if you're reading this hi hewwo hi bestie!)

I Love the wives very much

and of course, we have the scifi setting thats also created with Rainydaze. while theres a spaceship crew of 12 and six of them are mine, you'll find that THE BLORBO of all time resides here.

Meet Colby! I love her, she has many much issues and is named after 3 different cheeses!

yes THIS is the one that has my brain in a chokehold. she is the one who's CONSTANTLY being rotated in the brain like a rotisserie chicken.

Colby grew up on Saturn's moon Titan dreaming of being able to see the universe. She joins the MIRA crewmate system and works on the Skeld ship as the ship's cook. They end up infected with a symbiotic alien parasite that shows up as all kinds of body horror on them. They're inspired by The Thing from the movie... well... The THING.

so like Colby gets their want to explore the universe but it comes at the cost of being permanently infested with an alien parasite that can and will do anything to make sure it and its host survive, which includes eating people. of course the crew has a medical scanner for respawning purposes so they're fine. but there sure do be a LOT of murdering from everyone on this ship.

She also ends up dating the ships medical AI who is an evil scientist and i love her very much also. incredibly normal about both Colby and their GF, Micah, who belongs to Rainydaze-Rhys.

heres more art of the blorbo of all time!!!

Your honour, She is stupidt

[shadethechangingman]

1-6 fourth world asks!!!!!!!!!!!

1. Favorite hero?

ORION OUUUUUGH rips and tears and bites and god. i love orion very dearly for so many reasons. he is a character w so much rich and fascinating lore, tragic history and future, at war w himself, he is also super sexy and i would have probably kinned him if i read new gods when i was 15 ala one of those very "goku wouldnt do that" situations

[Image ID: A drawing of the artist as a crying chibi surrounded by merchandise of Orion from DC. He has Orion’s backwards cap on and a tshirt with panels of him looking in the mirror. He is holding a picture of Orion in his hands and a flag with Orion’s comic logo on it. Next to him are two action figures, and behind him are two posters of Orion.]

2. Favorite villain?

TOUGH ONE. i think doctor bedlam's scenes in the original were probably my favourite for recurring villains.

3. Favorite artist or writer?

JACK KIRBY!!! truly is there any other answer......

4. What’s a line that sticks with you?

"Curiously enough, Fastbak is plagued by an incurably beautiful voice... and curiously enough, his roguish activities are, somehow, terminated in time for him to perform for Highfather!! Or is it the "Wonder-Staff" of Highfather that plagues Fastbak? For is it not said that there is nothing swifter than the invisible "force" of its summons!?"

i once wrote a 5 paragraph essay about fastbak based on this line but i got embarrassed and deleted it :( I always felt like there was something more to Fastbak's character that we never got to see bc of the end of Fourth World's publication

5. Who’s an artist or writer you’d like to see tackle Fourth World?

I love Mister Miracle: Source of Freedom and like to see more of Brandon Easton and Fico Ossio's Fourth World (esp their Orion!).

Michael Avon Oeming on art for anything I would LOVE to see also, I've got a million screenshots of his Shilo Norman from Future State, just beautiful. Id prefer to see him on New Gods or MM over forever people though I think.

6. If you were helming a Fourth World solo, what would you want to include?

would like to sit back and come up with ideas while someone else writes ^. id love to do SOMETHING w the forever people but ive just never been able to formulate ideas. id like to do some flashbacks of orion growing up on NG... not too much! but a glimpse or two. I dont care for how tommyT established his backstory but I would be interested in tackling Jog as a serious Fourth World character instead of a throwaway OC. more shilo and oberon for mister miracle. i wanted to reread fourth world before i posted a lot of opinions on it but i have a job :'(