#my heart has been excavated

[just-a-little-bit-of-sugar]

Crowley thought they were on the same page, that they felt the same, that they loved each other for who they were. An angel and a demon. And Aziraphale... Aziraphale threw that in his face. "I could make you an angel again", voice so sincere, so hopeful. "Like it was before," as if they could ever go back to before, as if there was a before worth going back to. As if everything they'd done and all the millenia they'd lived together meant nothing in the face of an offer of arbitrary status. As if Aziraphale had forgotten about their lovely shades of grey, between the black and white. As if all of a sudden the demon who sauntered vaguely downwards wasn't enough. And still Crowley confessed his love, and waited by his car, and hoped that Aziraphale would turn around. Would make the choice to love him, right then and there, too.

[dio-niisio]

(English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistakes! :-))

Ok I've been imagining a scenario that for some reason Martha and Thomas Wayne are brought back from the dead...

One day they are dead and the other they are starting at their graves, reading their names and being very confused.

Alfred probably finds them first, he looks out the window and sees two people standing in the family cemetery, Wayne Manor had problems in the past with grave robbers, and he would be damned if he let that happen with their grave. So poor Alfred runs, grabbing some old shovel on the way (just to scare, not to harm!), ready to give an ear full on these people. That's when he sees. His friends.

He's surprised to say the least. They don't look young, the years they were gone caught up to them. Thomas has mostly grey hair and Martha had a white strip of hair right in the top of her head...

Alfred doesn't know what to do, so he brings them inside. And starts to prepare some tea while he tries to explain the past 30 something years.

The next person who sees them is Dick, he smelled the tea and was going to get a cup, then he saw the people in the painting on the top of the stairs. And he panicked. Cuz he knows what that implies, and he is worried for his dad.

He introduces himself as 'Bruce's son' which gets them to be a very happy set of grandparents, he tells them the story of when Bruce adopted him (cuz grandpa wanted to meet his mom, in the end he got a nice and tragic story of the flying Grayson's)! And how he always wanted to meet them! He also text Jason, telling him to get his ass downstairs and talk to his family.

Jason almost had a heart attack, he thought that Dick wanted him to talk to Bruce not grandpa and grandma, he's very happy of course, but he's worried for them, resurrection isn't something nice, but they assure him they are as good as they could be. And it is his turn to explain that he's also adopted (they laughed at the tire story, he told them it was one of Bruce's "fancy cars"). He comments that he and Martha have matching hair (both with a white stripe right in the middle).

Tim comes home around noon, he's been spending time with some school friends, and when he hears some commotion in the kitchen he goes to investigate, that's when he sees them and thinks he's hallucinating (again), but he's reassured by a very happy grandma. He tells them he's 'Tim Drake-Wayne', and is his time to explain that no Bruce didn't marry a Drake, he is his legal guardian (aka Dad) cuz when his parents died on a archaeological excavation his uncle was not fit to be his guardian so Bruce stepped up.

Thomas and Martha are so happy in a couple of hours they went from being dead to having 3 beautiful grandchildren! They are very proud of Bruce for making a difference in these boys lives!

That's when Damian walks in the kitchen he just wanted Alfred's help with something, he looks just like Bruce when he was that age (or what they think Bruce would look like), he doesn't look surprised or excited, he just says that he's Bruce's 'biological son', which gets one of his ears pinched by Dick with a very stern 'be nice'. Before they can ask anything they're being hugged by Damian who says that it is nice to have them in here.

When Bruce comes home he's very tired™, he had a day full of meetings on Wayne enterprises and he still gotta do Batman stuff. He passed through the kitchen and saw that his kids had guests over. He doesn't think much of it until he gives a good look at them.

"Mama? Papa?"

And the world stopped spinning. That's them! All he wanted to see since he was an 8 year old little boy. He just doesn't believe it.

He looks just like his dad. Probably a bit shorter (and not rocking the mustache), but he has his mama's eyes. And her smile. He missed her smile so much! He missed his papa's hugs, he missed the lullabies his mama used to sing, he missed playing pretend with his papa, he missed them.

And he can't say a word. He just cries. He hugs them and he cries. His mama and papa are really back! They are back home!

And now it's his turn to catch up! And boy he's got a lot to say!

As they move to the living room Thomas gives this look to Alfred, smiles and says "Thank you for caring for our little boy, old friend!"

"Little boy? I'm sorry Mister Wayne, but that's an understatement. He's almost taller than the cabinets!"

[getodrools]

𐙚 HARD HATS: TOJI FUSHIGURO!

IN WHICH, you spot a construction worker! toji who was working hard, and you think it'll be a good idea to bring some refreshments for him and his crew…

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. hcs and pov. modern au. public sex: he fucks reader in his big machinery/at night. size difference. riding (for like one sentence). cervix fucking. belly bulge. creampie. | WC –> 0.8k+ est ! !

NOTE. this is a repost from my old blog !! :p

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who hears a gentle voice calling out in his field; a soft call of, “any fresh lemonade, gentleman? you've all been working mighty hard.” and the delicate tone enveloping through each ear and strumming through his bones fluttered at his heart…

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who connects the sweet voice to a pretty face – jumping down from his heavy machinery and jogging over through trenches to greet himself; though dusted hands and muddy boots make your nose crinkle, you smile happily watching the exhausted men kindly take a cold glass of freshly made lemonade—especially one in particular…

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who lingers closely, waiting for the rest of his men say their thanks and get back to work—waiting for the chance to spark up some small talk with you...

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who mostly flirts. trying hard to see that pretty smile of yours spark up as he acted like flexing his muscles and stretching in the middle of a convo wasn't going to make your breathing hitch, ogling at fine muscles stacked and sweating, almost like a glazed donut…

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who just couldn't stop complimenting you until you were wrapped around his finger. the slick bastard knowing every way to make women more than impressed and shy out – using that grime and muck on his thick muscles as a distraction—even flaunting on about how much he has to work under the beaming sun, especially in such big equipment. but being blessed by such a kind soul truly makes his day refreshingly better…

⟡ | CONSTRUCTION WORKER! TOJI who notices the flush on your face as he points around what he works on and what heavy things he could carry around so effortlessly. though, the battered look in your eyes twinkling up at his machinery swarmed vigorous thoughts into his head, leading to making a sneaky, little promise to bring you up into it later that night—promising to teach you and let you ride it...

“oh! fuck!—” the wet rhythmic sounds of your hips bouncing against his was the only noise echoing off from heavy machinery in toji���s work field – and the pornographic squelch your pussy sucks him in at each tender roll, toji could've sworn he was still “working”; loud fleeting moans replacing the machinery, sweat dribbling down the nape of his neck to his chest as if the sun was still beaming down on him, and trying hard to keep up with your little needs like his ordering boss.

your knees dig into the buckle to the excavator till toji planted firm and barred hands to your sides. taking your body with ease and rolling you over onto your back a yelp dribbles out when playful hands land on the fogging windows as the other pulls his neck in, legs even spread wide and crossing over the dash and around the working man's waist.

being in such a small and tight position—being folded like some paper, creates an obvious belly bulge from toji’s thick cock barreling into your sopping cunt. it was prominent too. how it moves deeply with each snap of his hips – his flush tip even jabbing at your perk cervix.

“fuck-- i feel it—ah! s’ so d-deep.” the strong clutch you have on his forearms was enough to leave the skin red with an imprint, but toji didn't mind. the filthy man fancied this more than the lingering scrapes from fallen debris.

“yeah, right here? feel it-- right there.” that slick bastard.

you try hard to swallow the lump in your throat, feeling toji press a callused hand to your tummy—hard too, enough force to feel himself fucking you raw.

the foreign feel made the sauntering man audibly groan out, head to dip low between the sweet curvature of your neck; the sensation of his length stuffing you full ‘till his cock throbbed in your tight walls made toji’s muddy boots kick back into the leather seat.

settling himself to jackhammer even deeper.

your nails rake into his broad back—leaving raw trails of red lying in their wake as spews of babbles of improper sentences fall from your drool-filled mouth. incoherent, but toji could tell you were screaming for your high. and he swallows up your moans as he hits that soft spot till you shook beneath him—’till you spill over sloppy tongue kisses against his sharp jaw and milk a creamy ring around the base of his cock.

toji twitches inside of you. spongy walls spasm around him – practically sucking him in deeper that forces toji to press the rest of his heavy weight on top of you; pushing you further into the cushions of the earth-moving vehicle as he let out a final moan before snapping his hips hard into yours.

the vicious sound of the final clash; of skin-to-skin contact being rivaled by the feral snarls and bellows you both mewl out as he spurts ribbons of warm mess inside of you…

you both suck in deep breaths of air through teeth – trying rigidly to suck your souls back in through playful tongues twirling together.

with teeth almost clashing as you both let out a chuckle. you couldn't believe what you just did with a filthy man, and in his very own machinery in the middle of the night like some sneaky teens…

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

[dearsnow]

ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

[thiscoldheart]

some details that i loved in la chimera (spoiler heavy) :

i posted this on twitter as well but i wanted to include it here too. i love this little moment here where italia rests her head on arthur's shoulder and for a brief moment, he's anchored to the present by that touch, but him being the orpheus that he is, just HAD to turn back and find himself gravitating towards the tombs, the past and his eurydice.

the fact that italia's name is literally italy in italian and by the end of the movie she creates a community of her own where she's looking out for those that are outcasted by society, in an abandoned train station named riparbella which literally means "to start again".

arthur's eye always being blocked by shadow throughout the movie until he sees the light at the very end

according to wiki, the goddess the statue is based on is cybele, goddess of nature, animals, wild places and represents the "creative and destructive force of nature." her phrygian name matar (mother) alludes to the fact that she was a "mediator between the boundaries of the known and unknown, the civilized and the wild, the worlds of the living and the dead." i love that this goddess' presence in the movie symbolizes arthur traversing between the living and the dead worlds and getting closer to beniamina. i love that by the end of the movie, the statue itself becomes unknown to human eyes and returns to the wild, far away from civilization, which is arguably the same fate that arthur meets as he dies.

the red string that's following arthur around is very reminiscent of the red string ariadne gives theseus to find his way through the maze. it's beautiful how this red string seems to appear only in his dreams at first but slowly starts crossing the boundaries of dreams and reality as the movie goes on until he is able to tug at it by the end and cross over into beniamina's world.

arthur, at the beginning of the movie, says "so it's you. my last woman's face." how cool is it that beniamina's face resembles cybele's?

arthur goes back to flora's house after being injured and her daughter finds him in the bathroom. spooked, she says "i thought it was a ghost" which arthur might as well be considering how he's essentially been a walking corpse this entire movie.

also a special shout out from the bottom of my heart to the sped up sequences, didn't even realize how badly i needed them until i saw them. the chaos in these sequences is everything to me. this is REAL cinema!

in general, one of the themes that i've come to love about this movie is how objects can have different meanings to everyone. an object like the bell arthur found was just "a thing that rings" whereas italia interprets it as a gift until she comes to realize it's been excavated from a grave. the statue was part of a shrine back when it was made, but to the tombaroli and the sellers, this is only a means to make more money. the train station started off as a place that symbolizes movement of people from the city to the countryside but has now become a home for the outcasts of society. the apotropaic phallus would've have warded off evil and bad luck back in the day, but is now used as a means of escape from the law. a simple red string is the literal lifeline for arthur as he tries to find his way back to his lover.

also want to give another shout out to the inclusion of the italian troubadours (our greek chorus) who beautifully spell out the tragedy of our protagonist and his gang.

speaking of music, i really liked this particular song italia was singing as she was practicing. the lyrics go "i'd like to explain to you, o god/ where my suffering lies/ but fate condemns me to weep/ to weep" and that's exactly when arthur finds her crying son. at least italia finds a way for her suffering to end by the end of the movie. maybe we can say the same about arthur too?

i'll probably add more as i keep rewatching the movie lol and make a thread of this on twitter too (x) thanks for sticking around and let me know what other cool details y'all noticed!

[inthefallofasparrow]

Submitted by lone77

DIGGING CORPS - LOG 462/- Dispatch has officially confirmed I am now the single surviving member of Unit 77. Already knew, but whatever. Protocol states I am to join 76 or maybe those '9th Humboldt' hacks over at New Toiyabe. They better send a shuttle if they want me there. I'm not walking in this heat. For now, I'm just gonna don a ProxSuit and stare at the sun for a bit.

DIGGING CORPS - LOG 488/- Just been thinking about the last greenie we put through 'Seventh Trench'. With this Section of the unstate of Nevada being flatter than most between mountain ranges, the usual method of excavation, namely six parallel trenches in a row, is more pronounced and can be seen stretching way off across the desert to the horizon. The dig for this takes weeks to complete by several work teams within a unit. Whenever a new recruit arrives fresh from dispatch, by way of welcome, six of us take them to view the trenches, and claim we each individually dug one ourselves. Then we hand them a shovel and tell them they had until next morning to dig the seventh. Seems kinda cruel now, but as far as initiation rituals go it's pretty standard. Most of them give it their best to at least start on 'their' trench before the foreman inevitably chews them out for digging out of turn. We had a couple try to quit on the spot, which usually told us who we could trust. But the last recruit we had didn't say nothing. He just worked at it for hours. No technique about it, but he had heart, I guess. And when they do it in earnest, it's not nearly as funny. They found him collapsed from exhaustion around dawn. He was dead before they got him to the Mess tent. Don't think I ever knew his name. Didn't say a word. Pretty sure they still do it in other Sections, but that was the last greenie we put through 'Seventh Trench'.

DIGGING CORPS - LOG 491/- Spent some time at Canvas City. Traded out what I could to lighten the load. Got less than I would've liked for that amber earring I found at northern edge, but I guess it was only one of them, so I can't complain. Headed for New Toiyabe this evening. They said I could hitch a ride with Unit 79 as far as Iron Tank, but I'm on my own the rest. Just my shovel and yardstick for protection. ProxSuit's got a hole in the knee. Hoping I won't need it too much this time of year. They're made for digging, not hiking in. Wish I had a mirror. I hardly know myself.

[vilebird]

BOTH TOO MUCH AND NOT ENOUGH

1) "I have been found wanting, Natalie thought; I have made myself unacceptable and am not worthy." - hangsaman, by shirley jackson

2) text: "meat must be beaten brutal into tenderness, that any body softens with violence, she grinds salt into the carcass, like a wound, a memory". image: a carcass of beef, cleaned, with the ribs on prominent display, painted in oils and rendered in thick strokes of red, orange, tan and white, on a plain dark red background. the text is cutouts on top, dark red text on light tan. - Family Portrait as Unfinished Meal, by Torrin A. Greathouse and Le Bœuf by Chaim Soutine. collage put together by @invisiblemonstrosity

3) a pale hand crushing ripe red strawberries, green leaves still attached, on a plain white background. - apparently by ouiloved on flickr, but they seem to have deleted.

4) bust photo of a tan person with a spotlight on them outside in the dark, head turned down, shoulder length messy wet black hair obscuring their face. their hand is raised to their chest and they are wearing a white tank top. fake blood is splattered and wiped around their chest and mouth. - i can't actually find this one all my attempts lead back to unsourced tumblr posts if you know where its from. help me

5: "You have no one who has any sort of consideration for you. You have had patience and endurance, and what have they done for you? Half-killed you." - carlyle’s house and other sketches, by virginia woolf

6: "try your whole life to be righteous and be good, wind up on your own floor, choking on blood" - sept 15th 1983, by the mountain goats

7: "such a waste of a girl, such rumination. i am obsessive. i contain nothing but the replay. i am blood and blood and replay. i am please don't go." - i put the coffin out to sea, by lisa marie basile

8: an image of a partially bald baby bird begging for food, drawn in the desaturated greens and black of a trailcam, on top, the text reads "i am asking you for something i need", on bottom, the text reads "why is it so hard to give it to me?" - trailcam baby, by @quezify

9: "was i raised without love? / or was i born unloveable?" - @psychwarded

10: "I, in my corner, with my monstrous needs." - As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh, susan sontag

11: "oh, i know that i'm not whole, and sometimes feel the flies swarming, like much of me is rotten." - roadkill ode, chad abushanab

12: a photo of a cut tree where much of the centre is rotted from fungus, accompanied by the text: "heart rot in pine. heart rot is the softening of a pine trees resinous heartwood, caused by an in-dwelling fungus. not all pines have it, but those that do make the excavation of a tree-hole next cavity easier for the red-cockaded woodpecker."

13: "rot made a home inside my body." - i know it's from "bloat" but cant find the authors name again. i think it starts with a c?

14: photo of an abandoned house in shades of brown and beige and orange, the walls are wet and scuffed and the drywall has been torn open in places, exposing the old lath. - abandoned, by @jaggedplains

15: photo of a mouldy strawberry, fading from bright red to grey-green fluff - Strawberry Gray Mold disease stock photo, by MediaProduction on gettyimages

16: "you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they're gonna find out" - tumblr post by @twoheadedfawnn

17: "we are meat, we are potential carcasses,' he once said. 'if i go into a butcher's shop i always think it is surprising that i wasn't there instead of the animal." - francis bacon

18: "you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth." - speeches for dr frankenstein, by margaret atwood

19: photo of a python hanging off a roof coiled around a black and white bird, poised to eat it - i heard some noise on the roof this morning, by candycane7 on reddit

20: "all that matters is that you want to hurt me. all that matters is that you want me." - when rome falls, by yves olade

21: "god told me i was forgiven and then he split me open" - god is made of hunger and i am made of dreams, by katie maria

22: "but this is not about love. once a pig is hung and cut straight, cut from rectum to neck, step inside her death like it is a room: that is how to touch her now. the lord said, you must not eat their meat or touch their carcasses. then came the end of the rib." - oh let's just be hogs, by gregory emilio

23: photo of a strawberry cut in half with its leaves attached. it is bright red, steel knife wet. the background is bright white and plain. - cut strawberry by liz west on flickr

24: photo of a handmade cloth sculpture of a dead autopsied pigeon, red zipper like an incision opening to its empty red interior, small cloth and thread organs arranged around it. - pandora: city pigeon, by jessica bartram

25: '"u need a therapist" actually i need to be euthanized' - tumblr post by deactivated user @122mg

[hello-eeveev]

Now that Bells Hells know that Caleb is Essek’s partner, this seems like the perfect time to share the lists of things bh knew about Essek, Caleb, and Essek’s partner that I compiled in order to write Above All (and continued to compile afterwards). I focused pretty strictly on what was confirmed explicitly by the text, but there are a few notes outlining what I thought might be reasonable extrapolations for the Bells Hells to make that would lead to them linking Essek and Caleb in their minds. Enjoy!

What Bells Hells Know About Caleb Widogast:

- Chetney, Orym, Imogen, Laudna, and Ashton met him and Beau at the Tishtan Excavation Site

^ c3 names Caleb knows: Laudna, Chetney (wolf form only)

- He wears a deep purple scarf (that info is just for me tho)

- allied with planerider ryn

- friend to the grim verity

- has been following Ludinus for many years with the intent of taking him and his inner circle down

- was part of the team that damaged the shadowfell key

- has been up against other Cerberus Assembly membys

- he used the word dunamis, but they have no clue what that is. they ask, and he gives them a very basic rundown (note to self: compare to Essek’s?)

- Obscure reference to the beacon that aligns with what Essek says in 95, but there’s like, nooooo chance they could put that together. also not a defining characteristic.

- has “someone on the inside [of the assembly]” who had to back away

- seemed to know a lot about the Cerberus Assembly

- admitted thorn in Ludinus’s side for quite some time, to the point that Ludinus uses his first name and wanted to gloat about his victory to him (and Beau) specifically

- metagame knowledge that Beau is with the cobalt soul, thus aligning Caleb with them

- using context clues, they correctly assumed origin is Wildemount, Dwendalian Empire

- Allura is familiar with him. some of his and Beau’s allies have been in contact (Essek???) (probably cobalt soul let’s be real) (but Essek did say he was an ally to the exandrian accord, so it’s not impossible that he has made some contact with allura, whether she knows of Essek or not)

- Zemnian (presumed by accent, usage of “nein” and “ja”)

- Had Jester relay messages via Sending (either doesn’t have sending, doesn’t have it prepared, or no spell slots)

- sent an archivist of the cobalt soul to escort them to Aeor

^ extrapolating backwards: Keyleth said that she would contact someone who had researched in Aeor, and when this person was unavailable, she said they would send an archivist in their stead.

^^ this archivist was Seth Domade, who was announced as “sent by a Widogast.”

^ extrapolating forwards: Seth is revealed to be Essek. Therefore, Essek and Caleb know each other and have both researched Aeor.

- is Essek’s partner :)

What Bells Hells Know About Essek Thelyss’s Partner:

- Zemnian (presumed by “gesundheit. I learned that from my partner as well.”)

- has followed/is following the Cerberus Assembly’s machinations

- told Essek a bit about Predathos, implying that this partner is privy to information that is largely kept hidden away

- kind and smart and so strong (of heart)

- Essek talks to him before bed

^ could we make an extrapolation that Essek wanting to preserve spell slots to talk to his partner implies that this partner does not have access to Sending? It’s a bit of a stretch, and not one I think any of the bells hells would be able to make with their limited knowledge of the mechanics of magic beyond their own capabilities

- was with Essek in Aeor when Essek got wild magicked into a fish

- carried Essek while he was a fish

- is “one hell of a person” (paraphrase of Ashton, confirmed by Essek)

- has a tangled history with the Assembly

- is a man

- a powerful practitioner of the magical arts

- teaches on occasion

- his name is Bren (Essek what do you mean, I’m going to kill you)

- is very intelligent

- would have brought the Bells Hells to Aeor but he was busyyy

- is Caleb Widogast :)

What Bells Hells Know About Essek Thelyss

- sent by Caleb

^ whether or not they were paying attention to that fact is up for debate, but it’s possible, and the information was available to them

- disguised as a Cobalt Soul archivist

- fugitive

- formerly of the Kryn Dynasty

- is the reason Ludinus has access to as much dunamantic knowledge as he does

- reformed in his dubiousness

- first name basis with an assembly member, but doesn’t like the assembly

^ tbf Astrid doesn’t seem to like many members of the assembly either

^ Astrid only cooperated with the interrogation because of Essek’s connection to an old friend

- has been to Aeor, and the genesis ward specifically (we know why)

- defaced a bit of Aeor :)

- used to manage a dynasty outpost in Eiselcross

- turned into a fish in Aeor

- has a tangled history with the Assembly

Side note: Caleb, Allura, and Essek’s explanations of dunamis [50, 76, and 95, respectively] share a lot of similarities in structure and verbiage. And Allura mentioned that she has compatriots more knowledgeable about dunamis and the Dynasty [76], which just makes me fully believe that Allura knows Essek too, not just Caleb.

[blvckentropy]

WARNING LONG RANT!

Okay so I've been sitting on Drake so called "diss track" and I still declare it as the biggest CONTRADICTING ASS track ever. Like I get die hard Drake fans gone be like he won regardless but he hasn't because he made several deep holes in his argument. Granted you probably don't give a damn and that's fine. Overall, neither do I but some of you got so blinded and hyped by his one-liners and his flow that you ain't peep what he really said did you? Ngl, had me sitting here like a was crazy for a minute. Now correct me if I'm wrong cause I also had to fact check myself, but these are the lines that got me like now wait wait....

You said, "The ones that you're gettin' your stories from, they all clowns" just to say "We plotted for a week and then we fed you the information".... which one is it? Are you calling yourself a clown or the ppl you sent the info. to? I'm perplexed.

"What about the bones we dug up in that excavation? And why isn't Whitney denyin' all of the allegations? Why is she following Dave Free and not Mr. Morale? You haven't seen the kids in six months, the distance is wild Dave leaving heart emojis underneath pics of the child"

First and for most, what is your obsession with this woman? Also are we in high school? Why we worried about someone follow count and/or who following who? She a grown ass woman like she can't have male friends. Plus, if irl she with Kendrick every day, why does she need to? And if Kendrick aint worried about, why are you? You caught up in finding out if that's her real bd but where are your evidence? If Kendrick has to, you do too. Childish.

BUT THIS IS WHERE IT GOT DISRESPECTFUL!

"This Epstein angle was the shit I expected TikTok videos you collected and dissected Instead of being on some diss-direct shit You rather fucking grab your pen and misdirect shit My mom came over today and I was like, "Mother, I—, mother, I—, mother—" Ah, wait a second, that's that one record where you say you got molested"

"This about to get so depressin' This is trauma from your own confessions This when your father leave you home alone with no protection, so neglected That's why these pedophile raps and shit you so obsessed with, it's so excessive"

"Touch My Body" by Mariah Carey play, you probably start reflectin"

This whole verse was a misinterpretation of Kendrick's song "Mother I Sober" which I had to educate myself with. Long story short, the song is about his mom SA and how she thought he was by his cousin even when he told her "no" and it forms a bigger picture to his overall family trauma as a whole and so on. So not only did you Mr. " You gotta learn to fact check things and be less impatient" if that ain't the biggest pot calling the kettle black idk what is. You got it wrong (Kendrick pretty much explained it) then double down on borderline prob over the line atp disrespecting his mother and all and every victim of SA? We victim shaming now?

I never been with no one underage, but now I understand why this the angle that you really mess with Just for clarity, I feel disgusted, I'm too respected If I was fucking young girls, I promise I'd have been arrested I'm way too famous for this shit you just suggested

*Slow claps* Congratulations you played yourself. What in the fuckery? CURRENTLY....DIDDY DOODLE BOB HAS ALLEGATIONS RIGHT NOW AND HE'S MORE FAMOUS THAN U. And don't get me started on the list....umm...you literally just named one (If you still bumping R. Kelly, you could thank the Savior)

"Only fuckin' with Whitneys, not Millie Bobby Browns, I'd never look twice at no teenager" but you'll look once? Also, someone que up the video with him on stage w/ a 17-year-old. He and I quote "Why you look like that?" "You thick. look at all this" Then kiss her all over her face🤔 Sir a kiss on the cheek or forehead would suffice but I digress.

And correct me if I'm wrong, I believe the only reason Kendrick hasn't even the touch the "beating allegations" is because he covers all that in both Mr. Morale and Mother I sober? If I'm correct, then you basically didn't tell us nothing that hasn't been said on him. Plus you also not fact checking. Where's of your proof? I would think someone with the upper hand would have laid down evidence that you mastermind...oh wait...was Kendrick right along? Now you look like the goofy on defense. Like do Kendrick even have to say anything?

Bruh, but the funniest part on it all. You acting like YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS. YOU DROP A DISS first wanting him to response and now you trying to make it seem like you didn't? My guy, if your actions alone here isn't a manipulation master class. Chileeeeee

[aikoiya]

LoZ: LU - The Chain in the Depths

I just had a thought. How would the Links react to the Depths?

Like, my theory is that it's actually what remains of old Hyrule from before BotW/TotK.

By that, I mean that the Deku Tree did what he said that he would in WW by using trees to reconnect the islands, which is what makes it possible for the Era of the Wild to be at the end of all 3 timelines. This is supported by how there are so many massive roots all over the place. As well as the fact that the map inside the Forgotten Temple shows that there'd been more water in Central Hyrule during Rauru's time.

But, specifically, how would the rest of the Chain react to the sheer amount of Poe Souls, the Shadow Soldiers, whether they all can see the Poe Souls & Shadow Soldiers (because, remember, apparently not everyone can according to a Yiga journal & the only entities to really make mention of the Poe Souls are the Bargainers), the Bargainers themselves, seeing the Heart Island with the green poe & the pink poe, & the Blupee Burrow?

Not to mention the implication that at least some of the Poe Souls belonged to people who died during the Calamity based on the Ancient Underground Fortress in Akkala. Also, how the triple stone mounds seem to correlate with monuments meant to honor & remember soldiers who died fighting the Calamity. All being at what appeared to be places where great battles took place.

I remember a fic suggesting that the Poe Souls were the souls of people who'd died excavating the Zonaite for the Zonai. However, the thing is that while I could see that being the case for a few of them, I don't think that's the whole story.

I think that the Depths are something of a liminal space where the dead of Hyrule just gather before moving on & that it has become a reflection of the Surface. "As above, so below" & all that. This is supported by, as mentioned before, the state of the Ancient Underground Fortress in Akkala.

This liminality can be partially attributed to having been saturated with magical water for millennia before the Zonai drained it.

And the "as above, so below" phenomenon could be due to the fact that in the Downfall & Child Timelines, Hyrule was lower in elevation while the Hyrule that the Deku Tree would've recreated would obviously have been at a much higher elevation. And when whatever it was that supposedly merged the 3 timelines back together (*cough*War of Ages*cough*) took place, plus the land beneath being saturated with magic, could've intrinsically linked the Surface with the Depths in a way that one simply doesn't see anywhere else. (Not that this is the case, but it's a possibility, I believe.)

And if this is the case, then it'd still allow for landmarks from previous games to appear on the Surface.

It's also possible that what actually fasilitated the merge in the first place was that the War of Ages allowed for things from all 3 timelines to also exist in the other 2, which may have allowed them all to create an inevitable outcome: The Era of the Wild. And once all 3 had a major enough event in common, it allowed for the merge to solidify. (But that's honestly little more than hairbrained speculation on my part.)

However, if this is the case, then it's possible that Ganondorf returning in the Adult Timeline could've simply been a very convenient excuse to cause the Great Flood which would've been a linchpin in allowing for the merge to happen at all.

Hell, it's even possible that had this perceived merge not taken place, then perhaps there wouldn't have been an Era of the Wild. Or a Wild, for that matter.

Also something to note is that we don't know how the Depths looked before the Zonai arrived, nor do we know how they looked during Rauru's reign.

Either way, I'd very much like to see someone go into this. Possibly even with Spirit in the Chain.

There's theories that he'd have what amounts to the Mind's Eye unlocked from birth. And I personally hc that the Spirit Train is used to transport the souls of the dead to the afterlife in New Hyrule, so if no one else, I def think that he'd be able to see them all. Possibly even better than Wild.

May even be able to talk to them & the Shadow Soldiers. Or just hear their final wishes if nothing else.

Fudge... imagine Wild learning that one of those Shadow Soldiers was the shade of his father desperately trying to do whatever he can to help his son... Aaaangst...

I believe this is concept art of them.

And imagine the shame of still not remembering him or the sister he once had.

Or, if he does end up getting his memories of them back & breaks down at the realization that he'd failed them. Obviously, it wasn't his fault, but let's be real here. Wild would absolutely take it that way. And imagine how much Wind would try to sympathize with him, but Wild might not appreciate it because Wind, at the very least, had been able to save his sister. Wild had failed his. (I know that it's implied that Wild's family had lived in the Hateno House.

And imagine the shock & fragile hope of learning that last his father knew, his sister was still alive & that this meant Wild might have nieces & nephews.

And now suddenly he feels so very small & strangely desperate to have just one more connection to the life he once had. Because he might not have been the same man as he was & he may even be happier now, but that does not mean that his old life was bereft of joy & love.

Perhaps, he wants a little bit of that love back. Even if only in second-hand stories of the family he hadn't quite realized until this exact moment that he lost.

Just one more thing that the Calamity pilfered from his grasp.

Or perhaps she's still alive, just incredibly old & weak & unable to even get out of bed anymore.

I also hc that FD is the Hyrulean god of death (among other things) & that the Bargainer's Statues are basically very early depictions of him.

That he created the Sheikah, who were tasked with helping the dead to move on & were once the ones who brought the Poe Souls to the Bargainer Statues in the Depths, specifically those who've trained their mind's eye. However, that has obviously changed.

Something else that I'm not sure I've seen. Time & Wind interacting with Wild's Deku Tree.

If anyone has info on the timeline & the order of the Links, it'd be him.

LoZ Linked Universe Masterlist

[mollyringle]

Laughter in LOTR

My household has been rewatching the Extended Editions of The Lord of the Rings, and this has inspired me to excavate some of the LiveJournal (!) posts I wrote twenty (!!) years ago. In this one, I ran a search on all the times laughter is mentioned in the books, and listed them. It’s a long list—view the link only if you dare. My shorter sum-up is pasted below, however. The grim/bitter/nervous laughter section intrigues me now: I’d forgotten about Galadriel laughing upon being offered the Ring, or Pippin laughing about the palantír. Those moments were definitely not in the films!

Analysis from 2004:

I'd say we have at least three varieties of laughter: the genuinely happy, the grim/bitter/nervous, and the disturbing/evil.

The Genuinely Happy variety is what the hobbits do most of the time. It's also what the other good guys do when in the company of friends, old or new, when they are not currently under active attack from Mordor. Bombadil, the Elves, and the Ents engage in a lot of Genuinely Happy laughter, being pretty much without a care in the world. Gandalf engages in a lot of it too--and surprisingly so does Aragorn--despite both of them having plenty of cares. The sweetest and most touching instances of the Genuinely Happy laughter, in my opinion, are moments between Frodo and Sam: when Sam somehow makes Frodo laugh on the quest (e.g., see that passage about Samwise the Stout-hearted). Indeed, these tend to be the only times Frodo laughs on the quest, and it's good to see that they're genuine laughs and not laughs of our next variety.

The Grim/Bitter/Nervous/Ironic laughter encompasses those moments like Eowyn's laugh on the Pelennor Fields when she takes off her helmet, or Sam wondering what kind of spider made cobwebs like these. I would also count here the laughs I'm not sure what to make of. For instance, Galadriel laughing when Frodo offers her the One Ring? Is this really a funny moment to her? Maybe, but only if you consider it shocked/nervous laughter. Or Pippin laughing after the Palantir episode, saying he wants Gandalf to tell him everything there is to know. I can't imagine Pippin laughing at all that night, after getting psychologically knifed by Sauron, but if he did I suppose it would be to relieve the tension. We could probably put Gollum's cackling in this column too, since it comes of being mentally unstable. Ditto for Denethor and sometimes Saruman, though they're shading into the third category.

The Evil laughter is yet another beast. We find it in places where the movie also had it: Saruman, Orcs, Ringwraiths, and other evil creatures tend to laugh when contemplating the helplessness of their good-guy victims. That's standard fare for this type of tale. But Tolkien also includes laughter the characters fancy they hear in the wind howling off Caradhras, or in the depths of Moria, or from the roots of a nasty willow tree. Those instances are the laughter of the haunted house, the laughter we don't want to hear at night. Cruelest of all may be the Mouth of Sauron, who seemingly can't stop laughing when telling Frodo's friends that Mordor has caught him and the quest has failed and he'll likely die a painful death.

I think I've babbled enough now. You can easily compare it to the films, since we've all got the films memorized. One addition comes to mind that wasn't in the books: "It's the beards." Other things in the film were funny, but only the audience laughed; not the characters. ("In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took.")

Feel free to discuss.

[ashascoven]

☽ ✯ venture x witch! reader teaser! ✯ ☾

Sloan would roll over with that sweet, chipped grin of theirs, facing their lover and holding her face gently. 

Their thumb would run along the corner of your lips, eyes sparkling at how much they could just take you under the skies right now. 

“ah, mi cariño, you're so.. beautiful. no crystal in the world could ever compare to your beauty.”

You'd turn to face them, putting your hand above theirs with a blush on your face.

“oh, sloan! you're too kind, my charming agate..”

“anything for the gem that makes my heart race.”

The two lovers would giggle at their silly rock jokes, holding each other close under the night’s gentle breeze. 

Never wanting their time together to end, they'd lean into one another, eyes fluttering shut as their lips meet once again. 

The natural softness of your lips pressed against theirs sent shockwaves through their body, none that their drill could ever replicate on the battlefield. 

You made them feel so warm and loved inside, especially with the way your hands made it to their hair every time you two kissed.

It felt like the world had stopped, and all they could process was how needingly their hands moved all over your body in response, taking their time with each mark, crease, and even speckle of hair.

They loved everything about you after all.. each “flaw” of yours was just another spot that they had the honor of touching and kissing. <3

They'd pull back for a breath, but really it was just to take you in once more.

“you’re so special to me, mi vida, you know that?”

☆ ahHHH, as someone who practices witchcraft.. as someone whos mind has been HAPPILY ROTTING AWAY with venture... my minds been melting at this dynamic idea for like a week now!!!! idk if anyone else has thought of it yet BUT

☆ imagine, two rock lovers, one gets to tell the other about the spiritual properties of the rocks they find ?!??$?@ venture brings rocks for the reader to sell at a witchy crystal shop that they run together?!?!?? reader gets to go on excavations with sloan sometimes and they just bond over?!?!? how rocks are made?!?!????? and the energies they can hold?>!?!>foams atmouth

☆ the ritual smut is gonna go CRAZYYYY, link 2 borders!

[chaotic-archaeologist]

reid im halfway through my first ever dig and ive literally just been crying the whole morning even while digging cos my trench is just so confusing and overwhelming and i can barely tell contexts apart and i feel so dumb but i really can barely see any differences at this point idk how im gonna make it through the latter half of the season i dont even know why im telling you this i just dont know who else to go to

Okay, first things first, take a deep breath. You are learning. It is okay for you to be confused! You are not expected to know everything your first or even second time around.

I'll let you in on a little secret: I felt this way on my first dig. I still sometimes feel this way. I've participated in four excavations, I'm still relatively inexperienced.

The best advice I can give you is to ask questions. Don't be hesitate about it. If your supervisor points out something you don't understand, ask "what do you see?" or "what are you looking for?"

The vast majority of archaeological knowledge is built up through experience and amassed comparative knowledge. Your supervisor has years of fieldwork under their belt that they're drawing on when they make conclusions. You don't have this knowledge bank, and that's okay—this is your chance to build it!

I'm going to call on @archaeologistproblems and @archaeologysucks, both veteran CRM archaeologists who might have helpful insights. Anyone else with experience is also welcome to chime in.

You are not dumb, you're just inexperienced. That is not anything to be ashamed of.

Keep your trowel sharp and your heart hopeful, -Reid

[chuele]

Saezuru: Why You Need to Read it Twice (1) A single glance from above

Saezuru isn't a story that reveals its heart on the first pass. It's a series that unfolds in layers, demanding multiple readings to truly grasp its complexities. This series post serves as my personal excavation site, where I unearth the hidden gems and profound moments that resonate with me on each revisit.

Chap 1: A single glance from above

Y: As usual, you're looking down on me with those eyes. It excited me when you look down on me.

The reunion after four years was bittersweet. The way D looked down was exactly the gesture that fueled Y's desire; it's sweet, but the way D held Y's hair shows how bitter it is!

Y has been impotent for 4 years, but with that reunited glance, Y has almost recovered, can get hard again...

<to be continued>

[writingjourney]

His Body and Blood | Secondo x Reader

Get in fuckers, we’re bringing Secondo back. Or… at least we try.

Content: 2.6k words, gn!reader, angst, grief, gore/horror elements (there is a lot of blood), injuries, hurt/marginal comfort, 18+ please

This is my entry for the @petrifyingpapas challenge – this week's prompt was "resurrection". Please read with care and check the content warnings! ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Five human bones. A dead pig. Six liters of blood. Ten black wax candles. 

And, not to forget, Secondo’s embalmed body.

Already, you’re sweating, despite the bone-chilling cold in the Emeritus crypt. The howling of the wind outside startles you every few minutes, the rustling of leaves resembling the crunch of footsteps on the path leading into the cobwebbed, musty mausoleum. Painfully tight goosebumps spread out all over your body as the cold has your skin shrinking, hairs standing up almost statically. The subtle warmth of the candles barely penetrates your pores but their warm light grounds you as you mentally prepare yourself for what’s to come.

You tell yourself that it’s going to be fine. He can’t get any more dead than he already is. The worst possible result, you suppose, is the ritual backfiring and killing you in the process. But seeing your dead lover’s body spread out before you, his lifeless face, taut, pale skin stretched over hollow cheeks, narrow, bicolored eyes closed forever, you feel like you already died the moment the poison stopped his heart from beating.

The worst? This is supposed to be easy for you. Sure, resurrection requires elaborate rituals on any scale. It comes with many pitfalls and a high error potential, yes, but you’ve done it before.

You’ve done it before. Five years ago. On a mouse. 

But a mouse is a mammal and so is Secondo. Theoretically speaking, the difference is marginal.

With shaky fingers you use some of the blood to draw a pentagram around his body, the candles marking each intersection of its crimson lines. Fortunately, blood and the candles are easy enough to obtain in a Satanic Ministry that regularly practices all kinds of sacrilegious rites and rituals. The human bones hadn’t been as easy to find, considering that they need to be as fresh as possible. Estimating the levels of decay, using the dates of burial under consideration of humidity and temperature levels and consequently identifying a suitable body took you over a week. A nightly trip to the local graveyard right next to the town’s old church to excavate a corpse almost resulted in you being arrested for grave robbery. The pig, however? Well, if you pay the vastly under-funded farmers in your area enough, they’re surprisingly willing to sell you one.

A deep exhale and you struggle to your feet. The scene before you is almost grotesque. Secondo on the cold stone floor surrounded by the bloody lines of the pentagram and violently flickering candles, a dead pig right above his head, ready to be devoured, the rest of the blood filled into goblets for him to drink. You place the bones next to his limbs – two femora, two humeri, the last one, the twelfth thoracic vertebra, resting in the centre of his torso. All of those organic materials need to be absorbed into his body to help him regenerate and find the strength to house his lost soul, to once again become a home for the man you love.

You carefully move towards his face, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of him. Until now, you’ve had your focus on your strict instructions. A ghoul had to heave him out of his stone chamber earlier and you’ve consequently avoided looking at him too closely so you wouldn’t lose your mind. But now it’s getting serious and you’re scared, so fucking scared. The reality of the situation hits you with the force of a gut punch and you have to fight the urge to throw up.

 At the same time, a plethora of uninvited memories comes to flood your brain. Countless nights spent in each other’s embrace, stolen kisses in his office between clergy meetings, breakfast in bed every Sunday morning, his broad hand on your lower back guiding you into the shower so you don’t slip on the wet tiles  – all the little moments you only fully appreciate once they are lost to you.

A part of you wants to sit on the cold stone floor to gaze at him until you fall asleep. But there cannot be any delays, not tonight. You reach out to open his mouth and give his soul a channel to re-enter his body, but you flinch back when your fingers touch the icy skin of his jaw. It’s unresponsive, no resistance when you reach out again to push it open. His body is a weak sack of flesh and yet he looks so oddly alive in the candlelight. You half expect him to snap at you for waking him up so roughly, despite your touch being nothing but tentative and gentle. But of course nothing happens. Glancing down, you see that the tips of your thumb and index finger are black and white and you rub them together in thought as you force yourself to look at him one more time.

“I’m going to bring you back, my love,” you whisper. “I’m not giving up.”

You stand and take your place at the foot of your ensemble. It’s now or never, you realise, and a sudden determination takes hold of you that pushes any doubts or fears aside. 

Secondo taught you all that you know about ritualistic magic and even though at first you’d often cursed him for being stern, too strict with his students, too fastidious and mean, you now understand why. One mistake and it’s over, one mistake and you risk the life of everyone around you, including your own.

The latin words of your incantation flow out of you freely, the result of over a year of intense practice and rehearsals just for this, all while your Papa and his brothers had been carted around for display like animals in a zoo. The sudden burst of anger fuels you and you raise your voice, speaking louder and more clearly than ever before, the tone so distorted that you don’t even recognise yourself anymore. The air around you starts to crackle as the energies gather, invisible to your eyes until you spot the first few green sparks, accompanied by the sound of thunder, shadows dancing along the walls in unfamiliar shapes. The howling of the wind outside has returned as well but stronger this time, growing louder and louder until it reaches the intensity of a storm. You can feel the floor vibrating under your feet as you pass the halfway point.

A low buzzing inside your head makes you dizzy. Suddenly, the candles flicker out all at once. An earth-shattering explosion has the walls around you shaking and splashes of a warm liquid hit your face and chest, covering your whole front in wetness. It’s pitch-dark now so you can’t tell what caused it, but you know you can’t let up, no matter what happens. You opened Pandora's box and your only chance to push its horrors back inside is to finish your incantation, come what may.

More latin words, latin phrases. You’re properly chanting now, the last few verses leaving you in shaky clusters but still confident and rhythmic enough to let any spirit, any demon or otherworldly entity know that you mean them with all your heart. The shades are whispering back at you, deep voices, high voices, speaking in ancient languages you don’t understand. Opening a pathway between the world of the living and the dead is dangerous on any occasion, even more so if you’re trying to coax a single lonely soul back through the veil. You’re forced to ignore whatever is going on around you, have complete faith in yourself. 

As you near the end, the thunder is booming, almost drowning out your voice, and you have trouble breathing. The air pressure around you is too high, too intense, and after you finally speak your last words, you feel like you’re suffocating. Gasping for air, another wave of sticky liquid splatters against you, coating your mouth and nose and eyes. You can feel yourself getting light-headed until you can’t tell if the blackness surrounding you is caused by darkness or your slow loss of consciousness. Two more seconds and your knees finally buckle. You drop to the floor, violently panting, lungs burning from the air-loss, and roll onto your back to avoid toppling over.

That’s it, you realise, you did everything right and yet you’re going to die. A few painful attempts at breathing later you stop feeling your body. Floating in weightlessness the pain stops and suddenly you perceive a tickling sensation in your arm. You can’t see anything but you can feel the searching movements of a hand slotting into yours, fingers weaving together so familiarly. Against all reason you squeeze your eyes shut, then open them again. There’s a shadow above you now. No, not a shadow, a scheme, a specter, not dark but made of light. Like the fume of a cigar its edges move, morphing into vague human features until you can make out Secondo in the wafts of smoke. You can see him so clearly now, his hooked nose, severe features, mismatched eyes. He’s hovering above you, forcing your hand over your head. For a long moment all you do is stare at each other.

His head dips, then, and he leans in ever so slowly. You close your eyes, waiting for his kiss, waiting for that spark of recognition as his body joins yours to make it real. Finally, his lips graze yours ever so lightly but instead of the warmth you expect they feel like pure ice, wet and freezing. You startle awake, coming to in the all-encompassing darkness of the crypt. For a long moment, you lay there in utter shock and disorientation, but then it hits you. 

You’re breathing. You’re alive.

As soon as you regain the feeling in your limbs, you push yourself into the direction you assume leads to the exit and fish for your backpack. A minute of uselessly crawling over the cold, wet stone floor until your fingers get tangled in one of its straps and you manage to pull out the flashlight you used on your way here. It won’t immediately turn on and you almost start to cry in frustration but a good whack has it flickering to life. The first thing the light hits is a stone tile on the floor in front of you but you don’t take it in, blinded by the sudden brightness, just move the cone of light into the center of the room in hopeful expectation.

And it’s naive, it’s foolish and idiotic, but you truly expect Secondo to sit there, looking around in confusion, face lighting up as soon as he recognises you. You’re waiting to see his handsome face and fall into his arms, feel him breathing against you, alive and well and yours.

But of course none of that happens. 

He’s still lying there just like before, lifeless, static, but what changed is the room around you. The bones are cracked and splintered, pointy shards strewn across the floor. You have to thank Satan that none of the sharp pieces fatally injured you. But glancing down at yourself you notice that even so you look like Carrie did after prom – covered in deep red blood, drenched to the skin. The goblets have all tipped over and are now empty, the walls and floor covered in even more blood and gore, pieces of raw meat, bloody intestines and brains sticking to the stone as you realise that it had been the pig that exploded.

Carnage, there is no other word for it. You’re petrified by the scene until a loud, echoing sob breaks out of you. You run to Secondo and, uncaring of any splinters, drop to your knees by his side. He’s a mess as well, droplets of blood covering his face, but you hug him regardless, rolling half on top of him as your body gets wrecked by the violence of your breakdown. He’s still cold, still unmoving.

Still dead.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

There’s no reply. You stay there, weeping, shaking, apologising. Your body refuses to calm down, the grief fully taking hold of you, and what feels like hours pass until you’re gently pulled away from him. You open yours eyes to plain darkness at first but then another flashlight turns on and you can make out the silver mask of a ghoulette hovering above you.

“It’s okay, we’re going to clean this up,” she says. “We’ll put his body back. You go back home.”

“I-I should do it. I can’t leave him.”

She softly shakes her head. “You need to clean up and pull out those splinters, disinfect the wounds before they get infected. There’s always another try.”

You know what she truly means is that this is going to stay a secret, that they’re going to cover for you as long as it takes for you to either succeed… or give up. 

The ghoulette helps you stand, making sure you can walk before her claw-like hand leaves you. There is another ghoul waiting by the entrance, observing you, the same ghoul that helped you with his body earlier. The mask hides his expression but you’re pretty sure the only thing you’d see in his features right now would either be pity or indifference.

You glance back at Secondo before you leave, the pain stuck in your chest like a dagger, and you know that if you pull it out, there’s no way you won’t bleed out. So before you can crumble, you allow the ghoul to guid you outside into the eery silence of the abbey’s cemetery, a soothing hand on your shoulder, a steady presence in your back.

Still, the horror of what just happened clings to you like fog clings to a meadow, heavy and obscure. The reality of it is not hard to grasp: You failed. Something went wrong. One of the many pitfalls must have been your doom – perhaps the bones were too old, the blood too thick, the timing off by a few minutes. There is only one other reasonable explanation for a failed resurrection ritual – a soul that refuses to come back.

The thought has you stumbling, the ghoul’s hand reaching out for your shoulder to steady you. It’s entirely possible that Secondo has accepted his fate. You can’t help but wonder if your hallucination earlier was a hint that he’s reaching out to you – or a final goodbye.

“He would use any chance to get back to you,” the ghoul says as though he read your mind. “Try again until you get it right, little human.”

You nod. In tandem with the adrenaline in your blood slowly dwindling, you can feel the pain in your limbs increasing now, shards of bone stuck to your legs and forearms like tiny knives. Pulling them out under the shower is going to result in some significant blood loss but you can’t bring yourself to care. What is a little more blood on your soiled body? What is a little more pain for your lacerated soul?

After a few more deep inhales of the clear night air, you take a few more hesitant steps on the dirt path, barely any moonlight from above to guide you and your torch left somewhere down in the crypt. In the all-encompassing dark, the ghoul gives your shoulder one last squeeze. 

And then you’re alone.

I know this is way out of what I wrote over the past few months but I hope it was enjoyable (?) nonetheless. Thanks for reading, feedback as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[chuitu]

Entry 01; First time journaling

Written by: Hóng Hái'er

Uploaded: Sep 13 2XXX -- 15:34 PM

File Corruption: Null

It had been a couple of years or so since the incident, I haven't heard from Yeva in a while... I can already assume why that is,,

Anyways, I've been doing decent these days, practically found my father under a suspiciously abundant steep hill with the Monkey King's staff on top of it, just like the stories mother told me...

I devised a plan to create a gauntlet strong enough to pull it out, with the hopes of it freeing my father, mother has already bargained an excavation crew to assist on this-

(surely i could just make my own excavation crew to dig the rest of the unnecessary rubble out, though unfortunately i have an entry exam coming up, won't have time to even draw out a blueprint).

It had been, a week? or two, i can't remember... I've been so focused trying to fight despite the lack of firepower i have at the moment, no matter though! We managed to make just enough room for the power glove to pluck the key to my Father's prison, out of the way! All that was left was to lift it,,

Although to my misfortune i couldn't even lift the gauntlet properly to begin with, my body didn't have the same strength it had before... ugh.

Mother had to step in to assist me in pulling, actually no make that three, four, seven, twelve, fifteen... We yanked and we heaved, and we h-

I can't say the word without making it sound weird. Anyways we kept yanking for hours.. And hours, and hours, the sum of them gave up, but then we heard a click come from the very bottom of the hill. Everyone just climbed back in, we all just began yanking harder and even screaming to the top of our lungs, dramatic much?

We managed to pull the staff out, and it sure looked like the real deal, heavy, the rims decorated with chiseled gold, the rod itself looked bronze but dyed with red,, It looked so pretty... So i just buried it under all the rest of the rubble.

What? What do you mean i could just take it with us? What are we to do with it though, not like we were planning to plunge the world in eternal darkness with it, we let go of that plan years ago.

As for the rest of the details,, Let's just say the ground broke and the abyss shrieked from down below, Father just appears from the smoke, he looked...

He looked like he's been through shit.

Anyways he scared off the mortals before we could even pay them the full amount of their help, Mother tries to calm him down..

(It took her 8 tries, true story)

Father finally calms down, he wonders what happened to my hair...

Guess what i said; "It's a long story, Father."

It was Friday, 7pm to say the least,, Mother and I were doing everthing we can to tour Father on whatever the hell the world has going on in this economy.

(Thank the gods he listened through the whole thing)

And i also told him about Yeva, what happened, why my hair has reduced to a red low ombre,, He seems conflicted on her disappearing after all that... well, i can kind of relate on why but, i just can't find the heart to blame her for what happened...

It was not merely at short glance, yet couldn't understand what that look on her face meant..

And by fuck i forgot about the exam tomorrow-

While my parents had the chance to be all lovey wovey dovey and crap, i "quietly" bolted away to finalize a few things for the day... This opportunity only happens every 7 months, sometimes longer, i can't mess this up.

4am, I woke up 4am.. Packed everything i needed, left my parents to snuggle after how long they've been separated...

JUST FOR THE STUPID GATES TO NOT HAVE BEEN OPENED- WDYM YOU ONLY OPEN AROUND 7AM?! MMSCHEWW, FOOLISHNEES 👺👺💥💥

I waited until 7am percise for the gates to open... well, atleast i was still the first and earliest there. HAH. 🔥👺

Waited another few hours while warming up, this sly fox man really walked up to me and said i looked like a dehydrated donkey.

IS DAT SO??! IZZ DAT SO??

I was all, if you don't relocate your SHEENANEGANS away from my face, I was going to give him THE MOST FANTASTIC SLAP 🖐️💥💥 HE HAS EVER SEEN IN DIS DAINASTEE.

He left me alone after my remark. Good riddance.

The speakers announced the exams were starting soon, all of us were advised to head on down to the trial grounds.

(It's like a simulated deserted city where i assume is how you are given absolute free will to destroy your enemies without restriction).

We were given grey jumpsuits? well, they only fitted like jumpsuits, but i could see it has a sort of synthetic bio-armour on it, not to mention it looked like a battlesuit more than just your average jumpsuit.

And i could've sworn i heard someone blow a whistle, some cage gates lowering? some growling and hissing from the east side-

The exam started and some mortal already died wtf.

WHAT TJE F UC K THE SE THINGS ARE EVERYWHERE 👺💥💥💥💥

SCREAAAA A A A A A A AM 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

THEY'RE IN THE WALLS , Theyre IN THE fuCKING W ALLS- OH MY GOODNESS OF DUMPLING RICE

🥟🍚💥💥

Okay, i think i'm safe under this cave in for now... everyone is getting absolutely obliterated out there,,

Oh gods i think i just saw someone fly past me, but not in a consenting way.

Okay, relax... You are the son of The Demon Bull King, you can handle these pests.

Yeah. Yes, i am more than capable of-

IT's GO T M Y FUCK I NG EYES HP L Y S HIT JUTAAOUBK- 👺⁉️💥💥🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨💥💥💥💥💥

AAA ABA ABANAA NSJS KEGEVBJ F U CKB

ING ANTHROPOD- g eT O UT OF MY SKIN 👺���🚨🚨💥💥💥💥💥💥

It's been... 9 hours... or was it 12??? Thank the gods it's finally over.

I think i lost a part of my scalp-

There were about 18 of us left, some were disqualified and taken to the nearest hospital, the rest are just dead.

- End Log -