#not nec died

[enchantedephiphany]

dream last night --

at some house with my sister, like a bnb or something -- there is a man there. he suddenly grabs me and I know what his intentions are. he holds me tight and I try to get away but can't. i grab the knife in my pocket and stab and stab him until he lets go. i stab him in the eye, chest-- takes a while for him to let go.

i feel guilty but i think, what choice did i have?

then i go to the closet where I would've hid if I could, and inside the closet it leads to a whole other part of the house, upstairs, to the rooms my great grandma lived in, which i never saw irl (mom told me about)

[little-mouse-adventures]

The Artemis Fowl series isn’t actually about a boy learning how to make friends and save the world with the help of fairies, it’s actually about a boy learning to become a fully-fledged necromancer.

[superhell]

jensen mcrae wants me DEAD (<- the song is adam's ribs and if you don't know it you should look up the lyrics. )

hello. HELLO???? HELLO??????? i looked up the lyrics i cant deal with this shit. why did you say this to me

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[pupsmailbox]

ZOMBIE ID PACK

NAMES︰ adrien. aj. altair. ambrosia. amy. angel. anomaly. antidote. arius. arrow. ash. asher. aspen. atticus. augusta. bane. banish. benny. bernadette. biter. blah. blood. bones. brain. brains. briar. brute. brutus. caden. canni. casper. chomp. ciaran. claud. claudia. clay. clementine. cobweb. coffin. corpse. corrose. cryptor. damion. deathesse. deb. decay. decompose. destroyed. doom. dredge. echo. ectoplasm. edward. elkridge. ellie. ember. everett. fang. flesh. fracture. frank. frankie. ghost. ghoul. ghoulia. gloome. grave. graves. grayson. griffin. grim. grimace. grimm. gutesse. gutz. havoc. hela. hex. horrell. horrelle. hunter. husk. jack. joel. john. junkyard. kade. kilian. klaus. labyrinth. lagoon. laverna. lee. lethe. liam. lilith. lily. lola. lurk. maggot. mangled. mara. marion. marionnette. medusse. mera. mira. mona. morella. morgan. morganna. morrigan. mortem. morticia. mortis. mortui. mourne. muerto. mura. muzzle. myra. myrtle. necro. necros. nekane. nick. nox. nyk. nyx. octavia. ominous. ophelia. organz. orpheus. osten. perish. perseus. plague. priscill. quille. rain. raine. rayne. red. rob. roman. rose. rosie. rot. rotten. rottie. saifu. sam. scar. scratch. sedna. shade. shadow. shamble. shaun. six. skull. slug. sour. taint. tank. theta. thorn. thorne. travis. trickie. tristan. undeadesse. valentine. vamp. vane. venom. vetus. vex. victor. violet. viro. virus. waila. wren. z. zack. zed. zeke. zob. zoe. zomb. zombz. zomi. zon.

PRONOUNS︰ axe/axe. beast/beast. bi/bite. bite/bite. bleed/bleed. bleugh/bleugh. blood/blood. bo/bone. bone/bone. br/brain. brain/brain. break/break. chain/chain. coff/coffin. coffin/coffin. con/contagiou. cor/corpse. corp/corp. corpse/corpse. corr/corrupt. corrode/corroded. craw/crawl. creepy/creepy. dark/dark. de/dead. dea/dead. death/dead. death/death. decay/decay. decay/decayed. di/dirt. die/dying. dir/dirt. dirt/dirty. eat/eat. empty/empty. end/end. fang/fang. fear/feared. fiend/fiend. fle/flesh. flesh/flesh. freak/freak. fu/fungi. ghou/ghoul. gloom/gloom. gore/gore. grave/grave. grim/grim. grim/grime. grr/growl. grue/gruesome. gun/gun. gut/gut. holy/holy. hu/hunger. hu/hunt. hx/hxm. hy/hym. inf/infect. infect/infected. it/it. ix/ix. ki/kill. kill/kill. li/lich. living/dead. mold/molded. monster/monster. monstrous/monstrosity. morbid/morbid. morg/morg. mortal/mortal. muck/muck. nec/necro. ni/night. pla/plague. prey/prey. rain/rain. reap/reaper. rib/rib. ro/rot. rot/rot. rot/rotten. scar/scar. shatter/shatter. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. skull/skull. slit/slit. spoil/spoil. spook/spook. teeth/tooth. ter/terror. thxy/thxm. thy/thy. thy/thym. to/toxic. un/dead. undead/undead. vir/viru. zo/zom. zom/zom. zomb/zomb. zomb/zombie. ⚠️. ⚰️. 🍖. 🎫. 👁. 👻. 💀. 🔍. 😱. 🥀. 🧟. 🧟‍♂️. 🧠. 🧪. 🩸. 🩹.

[buntress]

༒︎~☠︎︎°˖✧- ℤ𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕖 𝕀𝔻 ℙ𝕒𝕔𝕜 -˖°☠︎︎~༒︎

[PT: Zombie ID Pack]

Req By :: Anon

TW :: Death + Gore, FR slur (Rhymes with Leak)

༒︎~☠︎︎°˖✧- ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 -˖°☠︎︎~༒︎

[PT: Names]

Ash(er) // Arius // Bane // Brain // Clay // Corpse // Coffin // Doom // Echo // Frank(ie) // Ghost // Ghoul(ia) // Grave // Grim(m) // Hunter // Husk // Mona // Muerto // Necro(s) // Nyx // Rob // Rot // Saifu // Shade // Shadow // Shaun // Six // Skull // Slug // Tank // Thorne // Vex // Wren // Z // Zack // Zed // Zeke // Zob // Zon

Note :: As some of these names are from various cultures, please be mindful when picking a name for yourself! Do your research and such <3

༒︎~☠︎︎°˖✧- ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕤 -˖°☠︎︎~༒︎

[PT: Pronouns]

Blood / Bloods / Bloodself || Bo / Bones / Boneself || Coff / Coffin / Coffins / Coffinself || Cor / Corpse / Corpses / Corpseself || Corr / Corrupt / Corrupts / Corruptself || Craw / Crawl / Crawls / Crawlself || Dea / Dead / Deads / Deadself || Decay / Decayed / Decays / Decayself || Di / Dir / Dirt / Dirtself || Freak / Freaks / Freakself || Ghou / Ghoul / Ghouls / Ghoulself || Gore / Gores / Goreself || Grim / Grime / Grimeself || Gut / Guts / Gutself || It / Its / Itself || Li / Lich / Lichs / Lichself || Nec / Necro / Necrom / Necroself || Rot / Rots / Rotself || Un / Dead / Undeadself || Zomb / Zombie / Zombies / Zombieself || 🧟 / 🧟s / 🧟self || 🪦 / 🪦s / 🪦self || ⚰️ / ⚰️s / ⚰️self || 🧠 / 🧠s / 🧠self || 🍖 / 🍖s / 🍖self

༒︎~☠︎︎°˖✧- 𝕋𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕤 -˖°☠︎︎~༒︎

[PT: Titles]

The Undead // One With Rotted Flesh // Zomb Who Came From The Earth // It Who Craves Flesh // The Living Corpse // Living Dead Girl // He Of Grime and Death // The Decaying Ghoul // The Risen Dead // The Infected // Hy Who Is Bitten // The Living Dead // Thon Of Putrid Remains // The Scourged // The Walker // The Rotted Zombie // Kie Of Rotted Remains // It Who Craves Brains

Note :: All pronouns can be replaced w/ your preferred pronouns!

༒︎~☠︎︎°˖✧- 𝕃𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕤 -˖°☠︎︎~༒︎

[PT: Labels]

// Aldercormangic // Aldercorpse // Bloodzombic // Corpsegender (HQ Flag) // Cutezombigoran // Deadboygender // Deadthing // Deaissmic // Deathing // Decomgender // Draugrgender // Fouscizte // Fuzzetix // Genderanimate // Genderverval // Genderzombie // Ghoulexic // Ghoulfrilled // Gravedeux // Gravelexic // Incordycepic // Livingdeadboygender // Lovizomb // Malizomb // Mortemgender // Neu/Fem/Mascdead // Notzombie // Zombie Omninoun // Zombie4Zombie // Zombiecoric // Zombiecorngender // Zombiegender // Zombieic // Zombieish // Zombiespiderman // Zombiething // ZOMBiN // Zombmedix // Zombnurse // Zombun/pup/catgender // Zomflodernic // Zomidolic // Zomroyalty

Note :: The first letter of each term is a link to that term!

[legaltrashgoblin]

My review of Nona The Ninth

Spoilers below the cut

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Chewing on the bars of my cage for the next book.

Nona was such an intriguing character to read about, and, much like the quote on the front - "You will love Nona, and Nona loves you" - I truly did love Nona. She was inquisitive, charming and so brutally kiddish it hurt me to see her go, and to see her in pain, and to see her so eager to stop. She loved herself, thought she was beautiful, much like many little girls do, and her ending very nearly brought me to tears. I know, probably a few days from now it will finally sink in that Nona won't be entirely Nona anymore, but she'll be someone new after this, and it feels like a tribute to little girls growing up and realising that shit hurts, that you lose people you love and people give themselves up for you, people become new people, friends are lost, new friends are gained and you just have to love them for something.

Nona The Ninth was such an incredible switch from Gideon and Harrow, with the new environment, the new character dynamics, and the new absolutely fucking radical action.

Much like Nona, I loved everyone in this book. I loved Pyrrha (she and Gideon the First will be one [and some] of my favourite characters I've ever read about. I felt so much for Gideon the First in Harrow, and Pyrrha left behind in his body after he died. I loved Camilla, I loved Palamedes, I loved Camilla-and-Palamedes, and think I'm beginning to love Paul.

Plus, I love the complete disregard of gender and gendered terms: Prince Kiriona Gaia, Daughter of God; Prince Ianthe Naberius; The Angel being referred to as "Sir"; Pyrrha being a woman in a man's body, quite literally; Palamedes and Camilla sharing Camilla's body; and Nona's general acceptance that it's the conscience and the soul that matters, not the outside.

I need to get my hands on Alecto the Ninth right now, else I shall surely die.

P.S. I'd so love to be friends with Nona.

P.P.S. what was that with Nona kissing Kiriona?! The only griddlehark full fucking mouth to mouth nec-romance (see what I did there) kiss and one of them is dead and the other is not the right person?!? Scammer.

P.P.P.S. I love you, Tamsyn Muir, for Nona and Gideon and Harrow and every single page of these books that have now overcome my whole brain.

[gatheredfates]

Dividers! ✧˖°.

As to not flood the original post with reblogs, I'm making a new post of the ones I've done tonight with little lorem impsum descriptions! This means you can see how they will look when you use them. ♥ If you'd like your own, feel free to send me a dm!

For @riftdancing:

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ultrices bibendum ex, condimentum varius quam convallis eu. Proin a quam vel metus gravida gravida eget quis turpis. Praesent efficitur magna in egestas placerat.

Vestibulum auctor eu massa in tincidunt. Quisque luctus rhoncus ornare. Nam eu magna tristique, aliquet sapien nec, vehicula ligula. Etiam in lacus ullamcorper, tristique ex sed, dignissim leo.

Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Sed eget porttitor sapien, eget consectetur dui. Pellentesque nec metus sed purus pharetra ullamcorper. Nullam eget placerat magna.

For @arinaxiv:

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Aenean sit amet efficitur dolor. Aliquam interdum sit amet risus dictum feugiat. In placerat porttitor risus, sit amet blandit odio aliquam ac. Morbi ultrices, elit sed tincidunt scelerisque, felis nibh gravida sem, sit amet gravida ligula tortor eu enim.

Aliquam lacus tellus, porta vitae venenatis id, placerat non risus. Aliquam ac ultricies nibh, at blandit ante. Cras sit amet tortor convallis, mollis arcu nec, tempus ante.

For @irisopranta

Vestibulum commodo scelerisque odio. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut ultricies erat ut quam blandit rhoncus. Aliquam feugiat imperdiet ipsum tincidunt varius. Nunc blandit non felis sit amet lobortis.

For @cadrenebula

Vestibulum lacinia orci accumsan, posuere lacus vitae, tincidunt ligula. Suspendisse diam leo, maximus nec dolor id, porttitor sagittis ante. In et leo eu augue finibus facilisis nec id erat. Pellentesque eget velit ac nisl molestie venenatis et nec mi.

For @saeta

Nullam at enim a nisl molestie scelerisque ut eu odio. Integer feugiat nunc et mauris lacinia, eu porta nunc facilisis. Suspendisse euismod condimentum pulvinar. Sed fermentum odio id accumsan dictum. Curabitur vitae efficitur nibh.

Morbi sollicitudin tortor quis convallis imperdiet. Donec est purus, tincidunt vitae ex sit amet, hendrerit bibendum magna. Nulla consectetur augue et auctor finibus. Donec sodales dictum congue.

For @dragons-ire

Ut et pharetra tortor. Etiam id leo erat. Nulla rutrum luctus suscipit. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Vivamus blandit ex pellentesque, gravida nisi nec, vestibulum mauris.

For @isorawrites

[best viewed on light theme!]

Donec dictum magna et est sodales, nec maximus eros maximus. Nulla id lectus ut elit efficitur laoreet et gravida nulla. Proin rhoncus diam nec orci tristique, eget faucibus nulla dictum.

Vestibulum rutrum malesuada nulla, in rutrum ex congue sit amet. Nullam eu velit imperdiet, pretium lacus nec, dignissim massa. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Sed non consectetur libero.

[blog-against-ai]

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aenean commodo ligula eget dolor. Aenean massa. Cum sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Donec quam felis, ultricies nec, pellentesque eu, pretium quis, sem. Nulla consequat massa quis enim. Donec pede justo, fringilla vel, aliquet nec, vulputate eget, arcu. In enim justo, rhoncus ut, imperdiet a, venenatis vitae, justo. Nullam dictum felis eu pede mollis pretium. Integer tincidunt. Cras dapibus. Vivamus elementum semper nisi. Aenean vulputate eleifend tellus. Aenean leo ligula, porttitor eu, consequat vitae, eleifend ac, enim. Aliquam lorem ante, dapibus in, viverra quis, feugiat a, tellus. Phasellus viverra nulla ut metus varius laoreet.

[fartasticdurge]

Nec-romance

part 6/9

Join Bellara in this premiere serial as she recounts her companion's most thrilling and inspirational moments, adding her own artistic interpretation and revealing insider details directly from the characters.

Feel the allure of necromancy engulf you as you ascend from the cool, silent lower halls of the Necropolis to the windswept, Fade-drenched vista of the Lighthouse, mirroring the romantic journey of Rook and Emmrich.

“What’s this lichdom rite actually like?” Rook asked as they stood before the most enormous doors she had seen in the Necropolis, adorned with a half-man-half-skeleton on each side.

“I must pass through the gates and meet the oldest forces of the Necropolis. A final appraisal of my soul.”

The three pairs of amber-green glowing eyes announced the rite would commence.

“I’m afraid this is as far as you’re permitted. If anything should perchance go wrong…” Emmrich said as he looked her in the eyes. “My dearest heart. You are the most magnificent thing that has ever happened to me.”

Her hand instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist. She wanted to say something. Anything, really. She spent the few hours after they parted thinking of something to say, but nothing seemed good enough.

What if she said something stupid, and he died, and that would be the last thing she ever told him? Or worse, he would live and remember her stupidity forever?

Rook swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the knot in her throat as the only thing she could think of came to her lips. “I love you.”

It was silly saying that. She wanted to swallow the words as soon as she’d said them. Rook had never said that to someone before. Did she mean them? She didn’t know.

But the kind smile that spread on Emmrich’s lips dissolved all her fears. Of course, she loved him. How could she not? And because of that, the instinct to not let him go filled her with dread. What if she loved him, and he would never come back?

But as Emmrich pulled her into his arms and kissed her, the passion of the night before reignited in a searing kiss, melting her resistance away.

Rook watched him leave, the silence of the room heavy and suffocating as Myrna and Vorgoth joined him. The doors closed with a solid thud behind them.

And then she was alone.

The Grand Necropolis felt cold. It was as if all the warmth in the world had drained with him, and the cold had seeped into her very bones. She felt dwarfed by her surroundings, lost and insignificant, like an ant separated from its colony.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as Rook waited outside the doors until finally, they creaked open, revealing Vorgoth stepping out, then Myrna, and lastly, someone else. A shadowy figure emerged from behind the darkness, its amber-green eyes burning with an unnatural light. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in her chest.

Her mouth was agape as he came into the light. A crowned skeleton strolled towards her. She wasn’t sure if it was real.

“Emmrich?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I see so much more clearly now.” His voice–Emmrich’s voice said. ”The deeper eddies of the Fade. The pulse of the Necropolis.“

Rook simply stared. Took in the elaborate design and patterns of his armor. His crown, which covered his head all the way down his cheeks. Or where his cheeks used to be.

His exposed stomach–or at least the hollow space where it used to be.

“I have been through blood and darkness, and I have emerged into light.”

The more he spoke, the more her whole being warmed up, as if the sun had returned to the sky after a long, chilly night.

“You’ve come back to me.” Rook said, her arms enveloping him in a warm hug. It was strange and cold and very bony. Somehow, it just felt right.

“Always, my love.”

⁂

With little time to spare, they raced to locate the gods and prepare for the impending eclipse, as Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain saught to craft the dagger needed to breach the Fade. They thought they’d have weeks of preparation time before they had to act, but they didn’t know what was in store.

Time itself twisted and churned when the gods intervened, shrinking their weeks into fleeting hours, leaving them scrambling for precious moments. Tearstone Island was their target.

The urgency of the mission, coupled with her companions’ doubts, made Rook’s burdens feel more crushing than ever. She resolved to speak with Emmrich before their journey commenced. Just to be safe.

“Darling, I’s just finishing reviewing my bequeathments.” Emmrich said from behind his desk.

A smile spread across Rook’s face. It was a classic Emmrich move. Tranquility in the midst of a storm. Images of their past adventures on that desk also popped into her head, and she welcomed the distraction.

“It made me consider… a topic I must broach.” Emmrich rose from his desk, his chair scraping against the floor, and came to stand before her. It was a bit odd, not seeing his facial features revealing his emotions, just the rise and fall of his voice and the way he gestured with his hands, which always made him seem endearing. She wondered if she would ever get used to it.

“We face Ghilan’nain soon. When we do, there’s no reason you couldn’t… stay back a ways.”

Rook blinked, snapping out of her daydreams with a jolt. “What?”

“I’ll be far more difficult to kill. You needn’t face her head on.”

She felt her face flushed, her eyes blazing, and her fists clenched as she seethed with palpable outrage. “First: No. Second: What brought this on?”

“I can see the life course through you, my love. Like a thread of diamond flame. Yet… I will lose you to time, Rook. What if I can’t bear that for eternity?”

But the harshness inside her softened, and a wave of tenderness washed over her as she heard those words. “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What?”

“Remembering me forever?”

“I’m afraid I’ll mourn you forever!” Emmrich retorted, his tone escalating, laced with frustration.

“That’s ridiculous.” Rook’s teasing laughter resonated through the room.

“Do you think so little of what I feel for you?” Emmrich’s voice was tight with frustration, and his words came out in short, clipped bursts.

“No!”

His anger boiled over, and he snapped. “Then you could act accordingly!”

“I’m not going to be afraid of dying just because you are!” Rook’s response was quick and sharp, mirroring his own.

The air hung heavy, and she could feel the weight of the silence as time seemed to slow down to a crawl.

“Rook, I…”

It was too late to undo the damage, though, on both fronts. And they didn’t have the luxury to fix it.

“We should get ready. We have to leave soon.”

The sting of unshed tears burned her eyes as she turned and left the chamber. A sigh escaped her lips, filled with frustration. She didn’t have time for this. How did they manage to arrive at that point? She thought turning into a lich would fix his fear.

It didn’t help when Varric offered no considerable solution or advice either. It was up to her to plan and deliver a solution.

So, as always, Rook did what she did best: she prepared for a fight. However, this time, the enemies she faced were anything but ordinary.

⁂

Tearstone Island would have been a beautiful place to visit were it not overrun with Antaam armies and malevolent gods. The air crackled with anticipation as they prepared for the day they would finally stop the gods. No matter the cost.

Rook assigned Davrin to distract the Antaam, while she, Emmrich, and Lucanis raced to stop the gods from finishing their dagger.

She sought solace in the battles that unfolded on the island's shorelines. It was her strength. Her mind was quiet, her thoughts fading away as she fell deeper into a trance with each hit, each fallen enemy. She was lost in thought until she heard the rough murmur of Emmrich’s voice and felt his hand, as cold as ice, against her skin.

“Rook? Darling? I wanted to say–”

The sound of his voice alone, like a gentle breeze, was enough to break down her barriers. She pulled him in for a hug, the chill emanating from him a grounding presence, reminding her of everything she risked losing and the fierce resolve she had to protect it. “I know, Emmrich.”

He drew her in close, a sigh escaping his lips as their bodies met. “It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

“We’ll talk back home. I promise.”

It was woefully inadequate; so many things left unspoken. Yet, that was all the time they could afford. Rook’s thoughts were slightly less muddled after that, yet her conviction was much more unyielding.

As the group neared the top, Rook dispatched Bellara to break through the ward, protecting the gods, but their victory was short-lived as Elgar’nan swooped in and took her away.

Rook’s blood ran hot, her heart pounding with an insatiable thirst for the fight that was about to begin as she pushed forward, Bellara’s absence only stirring her further.

The true weight of the situation only dawned on her as she stood alone, battling Ghilan’nain. All her companions were bound by the blight and at the mercy of the gods. She was completely alone.

She pushed herself to the limit, running faster than she ever thought possible. Her knuckles were white, her arms ached, but she pushed herself to fight harder than she ever had. Hordes of darkspawn swarmed behind her, their guttural roars filling the air.  Her eyes burned, tears stinging her cheeks, her arms screamed with fatigue, and her mind was numb with exhaustion.  She pressed on through the putrid, blight-infested mire, each step a testament to her unwavering resolve,  desperately freeing her companions from their perilous entrapment, one by one.

She could sense the window of opportunity closing, and with a sudden surge of adrenaline, she knew it was now or never. Events unfolded with dizzying speed, leaving little time to react.

Ghilan’nain had captured her, and while Rook drew her attention, Lucanis and Davrin seized their opportunity to strike. But the sight of Ghilan’nain’s tendrils piercing Davrin’s flesh ignited Lucanis’ resolve, and with a surge of adrenaline, he plunged Solas’ dagger into the creature, ending its rampage.

The Tear brought on by the event of Ghilan’nain’s death as Rook broke the contact with her body was enough for Solas to issue his escape from the prison.

Rook found herself falling, dagger in hand, every voice she had ever failed calling back to her, all her fears and doubts whirling in her mind and her ears.

Solas revealed his plans and how he used her, delivering the final blow as he plucked the dagger from her fingers and traded places with her in his prison.

And then Rook was alone.

⁂

Rook floated in a void that stretched beyond sight, a bleak, infinite expanse of grey. The Fade twisted and churned at the edges of her vision, a ceaseless, swirling haze that offered no comfort, no sense of direction—only a cold, suffocating nothingness.

She wanted to fight, she wanted to run, she wanted to hide.

Fighting didn’t serve her anymore. Planning didn’t help her anymore. No one could help her anymore. Her mind drifted to Emmrich, her team, the Shadow Dragons, and her adopted family. She realized she had never been truly alone—except now. And she had no idea what to do. Who to ask for help.

Time slipped away there; minutes could have been days, or perhaps they were seconds. It didn’t matter. Her only tether to reality was the ache in her chest, the sharp weight of her regrets.

She was utterly alone. Except for the voices.

At first, they were faint whispers, distant and indistinct, like echoes bouncing off the edge of her mind. Then, louder, more familiar.

“You chose me. You knew what it would cost.”

Rook’s breath hitched. Bellara’s voice was unmistakable, sharp and cutting, as if it had been pulled directly from Rook’s memories. She turned, and there Bellara stood, her figure solid stone and unnervingly vivid against the shifting haze of the Fade. Her eyes burned with anger.

“You chose me to break the enchantments,” Bellara spat. “You knew. And now look at you.”

“I didn’t—” Rook faltered, taking a shaky step forward. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. We didn’t have time, Bellara. I made a choice.” Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “And I’ll live with it. I have to.”

Bellara’s phantom didn’t move, didn’t blink. The silence crushed her, but Rook kept speaking, her chest tight, her stomach a tangle of knots. “You’re my friend, Bellara. But we knew the risks. So did you.”

The figure blurred, softening at the edges, and then disappeared. Relief came, but it was fleeting. The air rippled, and another presence formed.

Davrin.

Rook froze, her hands curling into fists. His voice came low, steady, and laced with disappointment. “You asked too much of us, Rook. Always did.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “No… I didn’t ask that of you…”

His figure solidified, his eyes brimming with the weight of unspoken words. “You always told us to do whatever it takes,” he said softly. “And I did.”

Rook's chest ached with the force of it, but she held her ground. “I’m going to miss you, Davrin,” she said, her voice trembling. “But you knew the risks, too. You made your choice. But I swear to you—I’ll make it count. I’ll get out of here. I’ll stop Elgar’nan. I’ll make sure your sacrifice was worth it.

His figure wavered, then dissolved into the grey.

She didn’t even have time to catch her breath before another voice called out. “Great job, kid. What about mine?”

Her heart lurched. “Varric?” she whispered, spinning around. His voice was unmistakable, dry and familiar, pulling her forward as the endless grey began to twist and rearrange. The haze parted, and she stood at the edge of the ritual site, the memory etched in brutal clarity.

She saw him there, frozen in time, the dagger buried in his chest. She remembered reaching for him, pulling the blade free, her hands slick with his blood. The scene replayed, vivid and unrelenting.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, that’s not how it happened.”

Varric’s voice came again, gentler this time. “You already know it is.”

Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees. “You’ve been dead all along,” she whispered, the truth crashing over her like a wave. “I’ve been talking to you—your ghost. To myself.”

Her memories of the Lighthouse, the advice he’d given her—it hadn’t been real. A lump rose in her throat. “I took your choice from you, didn’t I?” she murmured. “You wanted to talk to him. To Solas. You thought you could reach him, and I—I took that from you.”

Varric’s phantom lingered for a moment, then vanished, leaving her alone once more in the grey expanse. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating.

But this time, it didn’t break her.

She took a deep breath, her voice steady. “I was wrong,” she said aloud, her words cutting through the emptiness. “But I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right. I’ll see it through—for all of you.”

The Fade began to ripple again, but this time, the voices that came weren’t angry or accusing. They were soft, steady, familiar. Lucanis, Taash, Neve, Harding. And then, cutting through them all, one voice above the rest.

“There! A light!” Emmrich’s voice was like going back home, resolute, grounding her.

She closed her eyes, letting their voices wash over her. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the void didn’t feel quite so empty.

And she knew she wasn’t truly alone as a hand reached through and pulled her home.

[jacksgreysays]

"like normal people do" - Sai/Shikako, cosmic horror under the guise of romance

Anonymous asked: "Memento Mori," Master of Death!Harry Potter/Shikabane-hime!Shikako, vows under the auspices (only shooting stars)-verse, because I really just want to see these two reluctant gods of death being sweet and earnest and soft with each other as the rest of the world watches in bemusement and/or wariness Anonymous asked: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit), Shikabane-Hime 🌌🌟🦌🖤🌠 damnsmartblueboxes asked: jic tumblr ate my counting corvids fake title asks: Would you ever write an Original? Fiction about accidental body cohabitation & platonic devotion? Like cyborg & ai, Venom-style, transmigration, however the temple that is a body is devoted to two gods :p

Because there are SO MANY prompts left in my inbox and I am RUNNING OUT OF DAYS and, also, these four resonated when I went through my inbox, I will be answering these prompts together, I hope you don’t mind anon(s) and @damnsmartblueboxes!

Let me start by saying: while I do look fondly on my fic vows under the auspices (only shooting stars) and consider it some of my best work as well as love how it endeared people to my genin OCs for jounin sensei!Shikako, I’d rather not further engage in the Harry Potter franchise for obvious reasons.

However, the concept of reluctant god of death still applies to Shikabane-hime!Shikako even without an equally reluctant god of death counterpart, and the premise of your prompt still applies, for the most part, especially in combination with the other anon prompt of cosmic horror under the guise of romance. The dynamic of affection from an eldritch being, whether romantic or, as in damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt, platonic.

And what turns these prompts from my darling, dearest ambiguous vibes of god nonsense into an actually plot is the latin phrase prompt: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit) which translates to “That a god not intervene, unless a knot show up that be worthy of such an untangler” or less literally “When the miraculous power of God is necessary, let it be resorted to: when it is not necessary, let the ordinary means be used.”

All of this mixes into the following:

Shikako’s post-Jashin coma is not JUST mental/spiritual backlash of surviving a hostile outer god’s attack. It is, in fact, a chrysalis for mortal!Shikako to turn into burgeoning eldritch god!Shikabane-hime.

UNFORTUNATELY, it gets interrupted by the entirely well-meaning, and necessarily intervention of Sai—who, even so early on, is so ready to defy Danzo on Shikako’s behalf that it’s not even funny.

The thing is—at least with butterflies—you can’t really stop the metamorphosis without, you know, killing the pupa, and if you, for example, poke a hole in the cocoon, the liquified goop that is on its way into becoming a butterfly just… spills out and dies. Uhoh

Thankfully, our girl is NOT a literal pupa. But her metamorphosis has been interrupted. What’s a devoted disciple of a burgeoning eldritch god to do?

Basically, Sai is the mortal/physical touchstone for evolving deity Shikabane-hime. I do also like playing with the idea that worship can look like dating from an outside POV—after all, whether to a partner or a god, devotion is devotion even if differently flavored.

In the damnsmartblueboxes’ vein of Original Fiction, I once wrote a script playing with the idea that the grieving process can look like a messy break up—it involved a ghost, also—so the above concept is the arguably more lighthearted version of that. I mean, it’s not entirely lighthearted, what with the eldritch god and the cosmic horror but, you know. It’s not sad, per se.

I also, keeping in line with damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt and also my own leanings in regard to canon!DoS Shikako and Sai’s relationship, would make this a platonic fic. Mostly because I think canon!DoS has SO MUCH power over Sai. Like. Again, that devotion. I didn’t make it up. That’s in there. Sai is so ready to defy Danzo’s orders to protect Shikako. The power imbalance is just too much.

I am a multishipper, so I do think there is a version of Sai and Shikako that COULD work romantically. There’s even a version of Sai and eldritch god!Shikako that could work romantically in an AU. But since the brainstorm we’re currently running along is more canon divergence than AU, I think this would work BEST as platonic. Especially to further contrast the cosmic horror under the guise of romance. Like, if it isn’t even at all romantic, just cosmic horror and platonic devotion, that makes the juxtaposition all the greater.

Anyway, as I was saying, the plot part of this is: mortal touchstone/devoted disciple!Sai is a very competent shinobi on his own, but even he can’t deal with [[insert divine level threat here]]. Everyone knows that Shikako has been teaching him fuinjutsu—that they have been getting closer/getting along more so than before—but everyone is surprised when he breaks out what looks to be the Shiki Fujin but instead of summoning the Shinigami it is instead the debut of the Shikabane-hime in full force.

What is the divine level threat? Maybe it’s Jashin again and this time, Shikabane-hime gets to go toe to toe with him rather than just slamming the door in his face. Or maybe it’s moon aliens O_O

[turangalila]

Pierre de Cambrai & Gérard de Saint-Quentin (?) Offices for Elizabeth of Hungary [Cambrai MS 38 (olim 40) Le Labo. Médiathèque d'agglomération. Cambrai]

– Sub Conrado Dei viro. Responsorium II – Nocturnus II.

R/ Sub Conrado dei viro quem timebat metu miro vovens castimoniam / acquisiti male cibi cum ancillis parca sibi horret alimoniam V/ Exsecrans illicitum solum quaerit licitum propter continentiam

– Ante dies exitus ejus collo. Responsorium V – Nocturnus II.

R/ Ante dies exitus ejus collo caelitus avis modulatur / a qua voce modula dulce cum avicula melos decantatur V/ Jam vicino transitu prophetali spiritu Elisabeth dona

– Cui nec apex neque iota. Responsorium VI – Nocturnus II.

R/ Cui nec apex neque iota mandatorum deperit / ut amica pulchra tota mortis horam comperit cui mox Christus aperit V/ Ecce inquit instat hora in qua vigor deperit meliorem sine mora migrans vitam reperit

– Tantae signa gloriae. Responsorium IX– Nocturnus II.

R/ Tantae signa gloriae venerentur hodie recreata cuncta / cujus vita recitat quod octonos suscitat mortuos defuncta V/ Post laborem operum ad quietem superum transit mater pauperum Marthae vice functa //

De convalle paupertatis ad aeternae quietem gloriae transit mater pietatis Elisabeth gemma Ungariae cujus membris unctionis liquor manat sub roris speciae quo diversae lesionis dolor omnis sanatur variae o mira vis virtutis hujus sanctae regalis vidue quae salutem caecis mutis surdis claudis confert assiduae defuncta.

_ Ossuaires – Office for Elizabeth of Hungary by Pierre de Cambrai - Villard de Honnecourt métier, memoires and travels of a 13th-century cathedral builder. Vol.1 Graindelavoix, Björn Schmelzer (2012, Glossa – GCD P32107)

[rannadylin]

dies Martis, non. Mai., A.U.C. 2777, Linguae Tuae Loquendae die:

longissimus fuit dies; nunc demum domum revenio, discipulis doctis, duobus conciliis (uno ante diem scholasticum, altero post diem scholasticum) adstatis. cum domum meum pervenissem, plurimi e vicinis extra domos stabant, caelum inspicientes, nam nubes ubique erant. domum intravi; portabile instrumentum radiotelephonicum adspexi; nuntium instantissimum legi: in regione nostra conspectum esse turbinem! salutem in balneo quaesivi, et fortuna mecum erat; brevi tempore, turbo in orientem praeteriit nec hanc regionem afflictavit. nondum e periculo venimus; tempestas adest; multum pluit. nihilominus pluvium sine turbine mihi satis placet!

[youwhooo]

Ole Romeny: Harapan Baru Timnas Indonesia Lewat Proses Naturalisasi

Nama Ole Romeny belakangan ini menjadi perbincangan hangat di kalangan pencinta sepak bola Indonesia. Penyerang muda berbakat yang saat ini bermain untuk FC Utrecht di Eredivisie Belanda ini sedang menjalani proses naturalisasi agar dapat membela Timnas Indonesia. Kehadiran Romeny diharapkan mampu membawa angin segar bagi skuad Garuda, khususnya di lini serang.

Garis Keturunan Indonesia dan Awal Karier

Ole terlahir dengan nama penuh Ole ter Haar Romeny pada 20 Juni 2000 di Nijmegen, Belanda. Meskipun besar di Belanda, ia memiliki darah Indonesia dari garis keturunan ibunya yang berasal dari Medan, Sumatera Utara. Hal ini membuatnya memenuhi syarat untuk menjadi Warga Negara Indonesia (WNI) melalui proses naturalisasi.

Karier sepak bolanya dimulai di akademi NEC Nijmegen, klub lokal di kotanya. Debut profesionalnya terjadi pada 2017 saat ia baru berusia 17 tahun. Bermain di Eerste Divisie (divisi kedua Belanda), Romeny dengan cepat menarik perhatian berkat gaya bermainnya yang agresif dan insting mencetak gol yang tajam.

Pada tahun 2023, Romeny pindah ke FC Utrecht untuk berlaga di Eredivisie, kasta tertinggi sepak bola Belanda. Di sana, ia terus menunjukkan perkembangan yang signifikan, terutama dalam aspek finishing dan pergerakan tanpa bola. Beberapa gol yang ia cetak untuk Utrecht membuktikan bahwa ia adalah penyerang serba bisa yang mampu menjadi ancaman di lini depan.

Proses Naturalisasi: Harapan dan Tantangan

Proses naturalisasi Ole Romeny mulai digaungkan sejak awal tahun 2024 oleh PSSI. Ketua Umum PSSI, Erick Thohir, menyatakan bahwa Romeny adalah salah satu dari beberapa pemain keturunan yang masuk dalam rencana strategis untuk memperkuat Timnas Indonesia di ajang internasional. Langkah ini sejalan dengan visi PSSI untuk meningkatkan kualitas tim nasional agar lebih kompetitif di level Asia dan dunia.

Menurut laporan, dokumen-dokumen administrasi terkait naturalisasi Romeny telah diajukan, dan ia juga sudah menunjukkan komitmennya untuk membela Indonesia. Kendati demikian, proses naturalisasi pemain keturunan seringkali memakan waktu yang cukup panjang, terutama karena berbagai persyaratan hukum dan birokrasi yang harus dipenuhi.

Jika semua berjalan lancar, Romeny diproyeksikan untuk tampil dalam pertandingan penting melawan Bahrain dan Australia pada Maret 2025. Kehadirannya diharapkan dapat memperkuat lini serang Timnas yang selama ini kerap menjadi sorotan.

Gaya Bermain dan Potensi di Timnas Indonesia

Sebagai seorang penyerang, Ole Romeny dikenal memiliki karakteristik yang cukup lengkap. Ia mampu bermain sebagai striker utama maupun penyerang sayap, tergantung kebutuhan tim. Postur tubuhnya yang ideal (187 cm) membuatnya unggul dalam duel udara, sementara kecepatannya menjadi nilai tambah saat melakukan serangan balik.

Selain itu, Romeny juga memiliki visi bermain yang baik dan kemampuan teknis di atas rata-rata. Hal ini membuatnya tidak hanya piawai dalam mencetak gol, tetapi juga mampu memberikan kontribusi melalui assist dan permainan kombinasi.

Bermain di liga Eropa memberinya pengalaman bertanding di level tinggi, melawan pemain-pemain dengan kualitas terbaik. Pengalaman ini tentu menjadi aset berharga jika ia resmi bergabung dengan Timnas Indonesia.

Ekspektasi dan Dukungan Penggemar

Kehadiran pemain naturalisasi seperti Ole Romeny selalu memunculkan harapan besar di kalangan masyarakat. Para penggemar sepak bola Indonesia melihatnya sebagai figur yang dapat membantu Timnas bersaing di turnamen besar, seperti Piala Asia dan kualifikasi Piala Dunia.

Namun, ekspektasi ini juga diiringi dengan tanggung jawab besar. Romeny tidak hanya dituntut untuk beradaptasi dengan gaya bermain tim, tetapi juga harus memahami budaya sepak bola Indonesia yang penuh semangat dan tekanan tinggi dari para pendukung.

PSSI juga perlu memastikan bahwa proses naturalisasi ini tidak hanya fokus pada aspek teknis, tetapi juga memperhatikan integrasi pemain dalam tim secara menyeluruh. Dukungan dari pelatih, pemain lain, dan para penggemar sangat dibutuhkan agar Romeny merasa diterima dan termotivasi untuk memberikan yang terbaik.

Optimisme Masa Depan

Ole Romeny adalah salah satu contoh bagaimana talenta diaspora Indonesia dapat menjadi kekuatan besar jika diberdayakan dengan baik. Kehadirannya diharapkan menjadi inspirasi bagi pemain muda lainnya, baik di dalam maupun luar negeri, untuk terus mengembangkan kemampuan mereka.

Jika proses naturalisasinya selesai tepat waktu, Ole Romeny dapat menjadi salah satu pemain kunci Timnas Indonesia dalam upaya mereka mencapai prestasi yang lebih tinggi. Para penggemar tentu berharap ia bisa segera bersinar bersama Merah Putih, membawa kebanggaan bagi bangsa di kancah internasional.

Untuk informasi lebih lanjut mengenai perkembangan proses naturalisasi Ole Romeny, Anda dapat menonton video berikut:

[archoneddzs15]

PC Engine - Forgotten Worlds

Title: Forgotten Worlds / フォゴットンワールド

Developer/Publisher: Capcom / NEC Avenue

Release date: 27 March 1992

Catalogue No.: NAPR-1025

Genre: Rotatory Horizontal Shooter

Format: Super CD-ROM2

A port of a Capcom arcade game designed to show off NEC Avenue's controller for the PC Engine - the NEC Avenue Pad 3.

The level of detail in Forgotten Worlds is impressive: when you're flying through the sections that are full of piping, for example, careless shooting will actually increase your peril because the pipes rupture and spew out flames when shot. Perhaps the most impressive stage that I reached in Forgotten Worlds was when I got to take on the God of War. Although the high-octane music is generally good, the "shop" screen has a really weird, almost childish tune. At first, I couldn't stand it, but then it started to grow on me, and now I kind of like it. Forgotten Worlds is fun, but there are a few issues. When you guy dies, he falls flat on thin air, which looks bad and seems like a programming oversight. Slow-down can get pretty rampant during certain stages. Finally, much of the dialogue will leave you scratching your head, like "You cannot stop me with paramecium alone!" Huh? Aren't paramecium microscopic organisms?

Despite its rough edges, however, Forgotten Worlds is still an engaging shooter you'll find yourself playing over and over again.

[gottawhump]

Discipline

Carlisle

CW/TW: vaguely implied noncon, pet whump, minor caretaking a grown whumpee, BBU/WRU, shock collar. Carlisle’s a bit older here. For BBU Community Day 3: Discipline. @bbu-on-the-side it’s three days late, but it’s done.

Ellis. His new Pet, from the Shelter, is named Ellis.

He helps Carlisle keep his room clean, brings him snacks while he studies, listens to him reading stories until he falls asleep in his cot at night.

Ellis is a constant in his life, more than his parents who are often away on business or the household Pets, whose faces change regularly. He is always there.

So when the boy comes home from visiting friends one day, he notices when Ellis is not there to greet him. He is not puttering around the big house, making himself busy and useful, helping out the Domestics at their chores.

Carlisle’s stomach drops out. Sent to a farm upstate, he thinks bitterly. But surely his parents wouldn’t do that to him, get rid of his Ellis without at least talking to him first? He’s not sure.

He finds the man in his clothes closet, curled up on the floor, tears silently streaming down his scarred face. When he sees him, Ellis smiles up at him. It looks as real as all his other smiles have been, but this time Carlisle sees how he puts it on over his pain.

He kneels down next to him, even as Ellis tries to rise to his knees.

“What happened, Ellis?”

“I-I disobeyed an order. Carlisle couldn’t believe his ears. Ellis never disobeyed. “I’m all right, young Sir. Dis-dis-discipline is a nec-necessary and, and humane part of maintaining a Pet’s training. It’s my fault. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“But what happened?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

it takes a while, as he settles Ellis onto his cot, taking off the hard black shock collar and gently replacing it with Ellis’ soft bright green leather collar, getting him a drink of water, before he gets the whole story out. Direct questions are useless; he has to ask around the topic, gleaning the truth from the Pet’s answers.

What he thinks happened enrages him.

He hides his rage behind a practiced smile. People-his parents-tend to dismiss angry teenagers. He keeps his voice calm and reasonable.

“I want Ellis.”

“He’s already yours.”

He ignores the mild condescension. “No, I mean, for real. I want him signed over to me.”

“You know you’ll inherit all of the Pets when we’re gone.”

“I know, but I want Ellis to be mine now.”

“Why the urgency?”

If he isn’t supposed to know, he can’t bring the real reason up. But Pets aren’t the only ones who can talk around an issue. “He’s useless today because of how someone disciplined him earlier. I don’t want that to happen again. If he’s mine, legally, then I’m in charge of how and when he’s disciplined.”

There’s hesitation, and he braces for more argument.

“Fine.” A few mouse clicks, a few keystrokes. “It’s done. He’s completely your responsibility now, Carlisle. I hope you’re ready.”

“I am.” Well, he thinks he is.

That night, Ellis wakes Carlisle up with his nightmares, something he hasn’t done since the first few months after bringing him home from the shelter. He goes back to sleep quickly, when he sees their familiar bedroom, once he apologizes.

“You’re a good boy, Ellis.”

Tagging for Old Friends: @painful-pooch @justplainwhump @redwingedwhump @maracujatangerine @honeycollectswhump