#or just then plain ignores the messengers

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two] [Part Three]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

~

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

[nikig6]

Was anyone going to tell me that Strange World is just the Disney version of the Mystery Flesh Pit or were y’all just gonna let me ignore this masterpiece?! Fuck yeah for LGBT representation, but it’s a GEOBIOLOGICAL ORGANISM, with creatures for lymphatic and immune systems, like, holy shit! An acid sea for a stomach, windy plains for lungs, Splat representing messenger cells directing an immune response and being able to communicate with the stomach cells? I’m in love. My science heart is very much satisfied

[eruden-writes]

Strictly Pleasure - Part 14 - (Jek x Heidi)

orc x human age gap

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn’t complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he’ll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi’s sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 (Coming Soon)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Anxiousness flitted through Heidi as she stepped out of her bathroom, dressed in only her purple bathrobe. As her feet padded over the worn carpet of her room, settling on her bed, she could barely contain her excitement. Even though it’d been a few hours since she got off work – having spent the bulk of that time waking Malachai up and taking him to school – nerves still tilted through her.

It was understandable, she figured as she picked up her phone from her nightstand. She and Jek were going to video chat while testing the Indulgent Horizons line of sex toys. Considering how busy their hands might be, they both had decided on the new form of communication. 

As such, Heidi had spent time doing her make-up and hair to a moderately attractive degree. Nothing too obvious, but enough so she wouldn’t feel like a schlub on camera.

Still, her nerves bit through her like a pack of wolves nipping at a skittish deer. She tried to ignore the anxiety as she decided how to set up her laptop and space. After a few minutes of trial and error, Heidi found a suitable set-up. Elevating her laptop on a pile of books, the camera caught a decent image of her on the bed when she checked.

With her set-up figured out, she turned to the other obstacle: the toy.

She had unpackaged and washed the phallic toy before heading into the shower. Now, it sat on her bedside table, exuding a strange mixture of innocence and salaciousness. Picking it up, Heidi pursed her lips. Smooth and without any bells and whistles, it was remarkably plain compared to her other toys. And it was a little on the small side, she thought.

However, she read about the Indulgent Horizons line. Each toy was imbued with some sort of magic or enchantment that made it grow and morph into an almost perfect facsimile of whatever equipment the counterpart possessed. Running a thumb along the tip of the dildo, Heidi considered just what that meant in Jek’s case.

Orcs were big, but she was used to that. It didn’t put her off. In fact, it excited her a little. What tickled her curiosity was if Jek had… other bells and whistles she couldn’t account for. Piercings or some sort of tattoo magic that made his dick vibrate or stars knew what else. He had been a huge rock star, so he probably had something slick up his sleeve.

When the messenger app rang through her laptop – the video chat popping up with a green Accept and red Ignore button – Heidi jumped. Embarrassment colored her cheeks, half-wondering if Jek could sense when someone thought of him and his equipment. Could a tattoo be enchanted with such magic?

Shaking the silly thought away, she hit Accept and took a seat in a chair in front of her laptop. She didn’t need to start on the bed, surely. Heidi’s lips curled with amusement when his image flickered over the screen. “You’re still wearing a button up?”

On the screen, part of Jek’s upper half was on display. Heidi had to bite back disappointment, even though it made sense he wouldn’t just be full-frontal nude as soon as he signed on. He didn’t wear a shirt under the button-up, at least, and her eyes took the chance to roam over the expanse of his bare chest.

Her fingers twitched, wanting to trace over the new tattoo she spotted. A large yellow and blue butterfly took up the expanse of his left pec, a small corner of a wing layering over the tattooed scales that took up Jek’s shoulder and arm. Beneath one of the flaps of his button-up, she could make out an inked tentacle, as well. Whether it was something eldritch or mundane, she wasn’t sure.

“It felt weird to be completely naked on here.” Jek reached up to rub the back of his neck, trying his level best to not feel awkward. She’d agreed to this. Hell, it was Heidi’s idea!

It took a lot of effort on his part to sit naked – mostly naked, he amended to himself – in front of his desktop computer without catastrophizing. After all, she was his employee. He really shouldn’t be doing this, even at her suggestion. He knew better. He knew better.

Seeing the amused curve of her lips and the mischief dancing in her eyes, he was finding it harder to regret giving in to temptation. Plus the scanty silky kimono-style floral robe Heidi wore, cinched tight just under her bust, needled into his thoughts. He doubted she wore anything underneath.

“I understand that feeling,” Heidi laughed as she tore her gaze from his form. She pointedly tugged the edges of her robe tighter over her chest to illustrate her own awkwardness.

 “We don’t have to do this, either. I can just read some reviews or test the merch myself.” Jek swallowed, keeping his eyes from dropping to her cleavage on display. The familiar imaginary feeling of how soft she’d feel beneath his fingers bit at his fingertips.

 “I think you’re more nervous than me.” She smiled after considering his tense form, the darkening of his cheeks, his inability to look at her. Part of her thought maybe he didn’t even want to be there. Or that he was just willing to have some good ole adult fun at her suggestion. But if that were true, he wouldn’t seem so nervous, would he?

Before either one of them lost their nerve, she stood and scooted her computer chair out of the way. She tried not to smile, believing she heard a sharp intake of breath when Jek noticed her bed.

When Heidi moved to climb on the bed, Jek’s eyes dropped from the screen, heat climbing up from his center. His suspicions that she wore nothing under the robe were confirmed when the hem nudged high enough to flash her rear. That hungry sensation pulsed through him.

In an attempt to subvert her accusation of his nervousness, Jek tried to carry on the conversation, “Well, it’s not every day an employee offers to help with quality control to such a– “

He cut off in a grunt, his body jerking forward in shock when wet heat suddenly squeezed around his nethers.

He had prepped the cock sleeve before turning on the video chat. It had been at his cock head, loosely held in place with his hand. Now it swallowed his whole dick, a telltale wet heat sinking in from the toy. Nothing had ever felt so real, besides the genuine thing. Breathing through his nose, Jek peeked at the screen. “Heidi, did you just–“

All thought skidded to a halt. Heidi was lounging back on a number of pillows, her legs splayed and her hand between her legs. Possibly obscuring the very toy she was ‘testing.’ Jek’s eyes drank in the bare details he had yet to see of her. The gentle slopes of her calves to her thighs, the curves of her hips and her stomach. Her breasts remained tucked beneath the kimono, but the way they laid fed into his hunger for her softness.

Despite his unfinished question, she smiled and made a sound of confirmation.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Want more? Part 15 is available on Patreon right now!

[ternfic]

The Atlantis Expedition

Prologue: In Which New Babysitters Are Found

Finn sat slumped on the sofa watching cartoons, half listening to his Mom and Dad discussing the latest in a long string of babysitters. It had been roughly two years since his longest running babysitter, Mrs. Morgan, had passed away. She reminded him a lot of his Grandma, a sweet, kindly old lady who always had fresh, warm cookies for him when she looked after him. She’d lived right next door, which was super convenient. After she died, though, there just didn’t seem to be anyone else to look after him in a satisfactory manner when both of his parents were working late, or just wanted a night to themselves. There had been a long string of teenage girls who never watched him and Bianca more than twice, more interested in whatever was on their phones than looking after a pair of young children- though Finn would argue he was capable enough of looking after himself.

This newest sitter sounded like she worked with his Dad though, so she wasn’t going to be some disinterested teen. Finn was somewhat curious; his Dad certainly seemed convinced they might get along. He certainly hoped so, he didn’t want to deal with one more person who would ignore him in favor of their social life for a week straight while his Dad was away on business (and he nearly laughed out loud at his own joke, catching himself just in time) and his Mom had to work nights. Both his parents were annoyed at this arrangement, but there wasn’t much they could do.

He slumped down further into the cushions when his Dad stepped back into the living room and sat down next to him, trying not to look like he was pouting. It wasn’t the first time his dad had gone away on business, but now his dad was actually interested in playing with him. They’d been having so much fun, and now he would be gone for a whole week. “Excited to meet your new sitter?” his Dad asked, and Finn shrugged.

“I guess so.”

“That doesn’t sound very confident.”

“I didn’t like any of the others.”

His Dad sighed. “I know Finn, I didn’t really either. But I really think you’ll like Amy. She has a book published, you know.”

That piqued the boy’s curiosity. “Then how come she’s working in your office?”

“I think she just writes as a hobby, rather than to try to make a living. She says it’s a very difficult market to get into.” Finn looked considerate of that. “She’ll be coming around six every night, just before your mom has to leave for work.”

“Okay.” Finn climbed into his father’s lap, snuggling close. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too buddy, I always do.” Finn smiled when he felt a kiss pressed to his head. “You help Miss Amy look after Bianca, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t give her any grief about your homework.”

“Okay…”

“Off to bed with you, Mom will come tuck you in when she’s got Bianca down.” Finn scooted onto the floor and made his way up to his room, mind starting to buzz with ideas of what his new babysitter would be like.

When Miss Amy came at five forty-five the next day, Finn had hyped himself up so much that she honestly fell a little short of his expectations. She seemed so… normal. Plain, even. The only really notable thing about her was that she carried a beat-up old canvas messenger bag, rather than a nice purse. That intrigued him a little. She smiled warmly at him. “You must be Finn,” she said, and held a hand out to him. “Your dad’s told me a bit about you. I’m Amy.”

Finn took her hand, giving it an uncertain shake. “Hi Amy,” he greeted.

“Alright sweetie, I’m off to work,” his Mom said, giving him a goodbye hug. “Bianca’s watching tv and coloring in the living room, that usually keeps her pretty well occupied. She shouldn’t be too much trouble tonight.”

“She won’t be a problem,” Amy promised, and waved as his Mom left. Finn turned his attention back to Amy. “So I hear you like Legos?” she asked, and he nodded. “Your dad says you make up some pretty good stories to play out.”

“He did?”

Amy nodded. “He didn’t really go into detail about it though. Can you tell me the story?” Finn shuffled a bit, embarrassed, but related to her the tale of Lord Business and the Master Builders. He was pleased to note how much she was actually paying attention, rather than dismissing it as childish nonsense the way his Dad first had. She really seemed interested. “That was a very good story, Finn,” she complimented when he ended it, “and you told it very well.” He blushed, looking down at his sneakers. “So what’s going to happen next?”

“Well, Batman has to go back to Gotham cause Joker’s up to no good again, but everyone else is still cleaning up Bricksburg…”

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLtNgUGe/

thoughts on this video?

For those of you who don't want to open the link, the first part argues that it's in character for HoTD Daemon, and after that the creator says that although it's in character, he doesn't like the way HotD has made Alicent and Rhaenyra victims of horrible men. And anon, for the most part I do agree, but with a few caveats.

It is not at all out of character from what they've shown us of Daemon in S1. It's not character assassination, it's not "he would never," in fact it's a perfectly reasonable and even natural progression from the choking scene in S1. While we can argue about book!Daemon, show!Daemon is a violent man who often takes his frustrations out on those less powerful than him. We've seen this from him-- he "cleans up" King's Landing by personally administering violent justice without trial, he bashes the messenger when he gets an unwelcome message from Viserys, he kills his first wife, he makes a plan to take Rhaenyra's virginity so she will be forced to marry him, and later, as her husband, he chokes her. I think that if Rhaenyra isn't doing war the way Daemon wants to do war, he's not going to be particularly patient about it, instead he's going to lash out. Remember what was driving Daemon in S1-- the desire to be needed by his brother. He sought that out in Rhaenyra instead, and probably assumed that as a woman, Rhaenyra would need him the way Viserys never had. I mean, she told him as much, "I need you uncle, I can't face the greens without you." But when she turns out not to be as easily led or willing to let him take the lead as he might have expected, he gets pissed off. This was not what he signed up for! And a pissed off Daemon is a violent Daemon. So this is entirely in character for the Daemon HotD is portraying.

Was it a good idea to go in this direction? I'm of two minds. I admit I'm not a fan of "the women want peace but the men ruin everything," as a trope, but whether or not they're actually going in that direction is hard to say from previews and a few clips. What I will say is that having introduced the domestic violence element in season one, I think the show almost had to follow up on it. To treat it as a one-off that didn't count, or to ignore it completely, would be wildly irresponsible, inconsistent, and just plain poor storytelling. One thing that almost everyone who has criticized HotD has pointed out is inconsistent characterization, and while some fans might disagree with HotD introducing that element, and I think that's fair, introduce it they did and I think at this point fans have to make their peace with it because Daemon is clearly never going to be presented as a good or healthy partner for Rhaenyra.

[rita-rae-siller]

A Matter of Allegiance

A stiff wind buffeted Mara as she perched on the windowsill to Alura's room. Twice already, it had nearly succeeded in pulling her off the stone ledge. Dark storm clouds were gathering in the north, tinted a deep, rusty red from the sands of the badlands being swept into the air. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and lightning illuminated the sky. A sandstorm was about to hit the city. Soon, she would have to seek shelter. Ideally inside the embassy.

With renewed vigor, she pecked at the glass with her beak. She knew Alura was inside, and she wasn't leaving until she was acknowledged. It had been two weeks since Mara had given her the letter offering her asylum with the U.M.A. Since then, Alura had shut her out entirely. They hadn't spoken, and any messengers she'd sent to check on Alura had been dismissed on sight. She was beginning to fear the worst:

Alura wasn't interested in leaving the empire.

Furious, she changed her shape from that of a sparrow to that of a golden eagle. With sharp talons, she scratched and beat at the glass. She'd worked too hard to let Alura choose this option. There was a better life calling her name, but she would dare to turn her nose up at it? Out of fear? No. Mara couldn't--wouldn't--allow it.

From somewhere inside the room, she heard the feet of a chair screech against stone flooring, and stomping feet coming toward the window. The red velvet curtains pulled back, and Alura glared at her with a venomous squint. Mara shuffled her wings and pecked hard on the glass twice, hoping the point would be clear. Let me in or else.

They stood staring at each other for a minute. Alura's jaw worked back and forth as she looked Mara over. Even as the wind picked up again, nearly pulling Mara from the windowsill, she held Alura's gaze. Just when it seemed Alura was about to walk away, she rolled her eyes and unlatched the lock on the window, opening them just enough to speak.

"What, Sparrow?" Alura scowled.

"You've been ignoring me," Mara replied. "Let me in before I get blown halfway to Eredahl in this storm."

"Maybe I'd prefer if you did."

"We both know that's a lie, Goldie. Now let me in." Mara stamped her feet, clicking her talons against the stone indignantly. "You're worrying me."

Alura sighed heavily and stepped aside, gesturing stiffly for her to enter with one hand. Gladly, Mara hopped inside, shaking the sand from her feathers as she landed on the floor. It felt good to finally be out of the wind. With one talon, she scratched an itch on the top of her head, blinking away the sand that continued to fall from her feathers.

"Thank you for making such a mess," Alura glowered as she fought to close the window and drew the curtains. She stalked over to her door and locked it before taking a seat on the chest at the foot of her bed. "Speak."

"Did you consider the offer?" Mara took her human form once more, taking a face she'd never shown Alura before.

"This face is new. Who did you kill to get this one?" Alura's words dripped with malice. Clearly, she was still upset about the whole affair. Mara couldn't blame her. She could see how it may have been taken as a backstabbing. But hopefully that didn't also mean she was going to refuse. If she had to, she would take Alura back to Aqara by force. She just had to learn to shapeshift into a dragon first.

"I was born with this one," Mara said. Not even her fellow sisters in the Shadows had seen her true face before. In a group where everyone wore the faces of those they killed, knowing someone's true identity was a display of deep intimacy and trust. It was a secret all Shadows--and Silent Sisters--were expected to take to their graves. "I figured since I know yours, you should know mine."

"Mmh," Alura grunted, seeming unconvinced.

"Goldie...." Mara sat beside her on the chest without invitation. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the silver ring on her left hand. It was a very plain thing--a crude, twisting serpent with wings. But it made her whole body ache and yearn for home. Family. For so long, she'd taken these things for granted. Now that she'd met Alura, she realized just how lucky she was to have people that loved her, wanted to keep her safe. Alura needed someone to do the same. "Do you know why I want this for you? Why I risked being arrested and tried for treason to get that offer for you?"

"Because you're a terribly nosy and pushy little terror." There was a pause as Alura considered the question more. The words that followed were spoken barely above a whisper. "And... you're possibly the only real friend I've ever had."

This brought a smile to Mara's face. Perhaps things weren't so hopeless between them. She scooted closer to Alura to rest her head against her shoulder. "Damned right. Don't you ever forget it, you big lummox."

"Will you have to kill me if I refuse this offer?"

"No, and I wouldn't do it even if they asked me to. I'd sooner defect to the empire. Have you at least considered your answer? The Council is getting impatient, but they really want you alive."

"I want more specific terms. What do they want from me? Where will I be going if I choose to accept? And how do I know they will not simply kill me after they get what they want? If I am just going to get my throat slit at the end, I may as well just stay with Dioclaetus."

"That's more than doable." A weight fell from Mara's shoulders. It wasn't a yes, but a maybe was better than nothing. "I can send a letter out after the storm passes. We can draft it together, even. You're stuck with me until it clears anyway. There's no way I can fly out of here now."

"Since I am a captive audience, we may as well. We can go to my private study. Aalvor should hopefully be asleep at this hour." Alura stood up and walked toward the door. "But you're a bird for the majority of your stay, understand? And you'll be confined to this room unless I'm with you."

Mara happily took to the air and landed on Alura's shoulder in the form of a sparrow once more. "As long as you remember that I don't eat like one. I'll need real food still. And the occasional bath. And--"

"--Birds don't speak," Alura tutted. "Hush now, Sparrow. Before your chattiness gets me executed for treason."

WIP Master Post

Tag List: (ask to be added or removed)

@gabeorelse

[theastralassist]

Hey Yami!

I plan to go back to play HSR and tbh with you i didn’t play that far in the game and only still in first chapter of the game so i am basically playing as a new player lol.

What I wanna ask is what type of relics I should get as a new player and what best team I should use?

I know seeing my character levels is a pain but in my defence I never really played the game sooo~ any advice and tips when I play the game again?

zero points! /ref

anyways, hii klai! your relics will heavily depend upon what characters you're using in your team, so we'll create a team and THEN go through what relics to use on them! For the sake of simplicity, we'll go with one team and expand on relics from there.

I shall refrain from my... Dr. Ratio team propaganda (Dr. Ratio, Pela, Tingyun, and Natasha in this case! ... oops I did it again.) and give you. a different option! I introduce to you... the ✨Qingque team✨fun team to play, silly unit to build, my girl is just a DELIGHT to play tbh.

The Qingque team consists of the following: Qingque, Gepard, Pela/Tingyun and Natasha! Gepard will be your sustain, responsible for keeping you alive, Qingque will be your DPS, Pela/Tingyun will be your support character, providing buffs/debuffs, and Natasha will be your healer!

Depending on if you play this team on auto or manual depends on how skill-point-heavy this team will be, unfortunately. For the most part, you can get away with not using Pela, Natasha, and Gepard's skills, thus obtaining skill points for Qingque to use in her next turn. What is the most important for those three are their ultimates, which give DEF down, healing, and shield!

As for relics, here are my suggestions! Since you're still in Belebog, your options will be limited, unfortunately! So, I'll be giving you two relic sets, one you can work with now, and the ideal set once you get to the proper places in the story!

Qingque - For Qingque, I would suggest the Genius of Brilliant Stars set, which boosts quantum damage and ignores enemy defense! You'll find this set in Belebog at the Cavern of Corrosion: Path of Providence in the snow plains! As for what to use on Qingque later on... honestly you could just stick with GoBS since it is technically her best in slot set. Alternatively, you can also use Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters on her and still get decent damage. It boosts damage dealt to enemies with debuffs and increases crit rate and crit damage.

Natasha - For Natasha, I would suggest the Passerby of Wandering Cloud set, which increases outgoing healing (meaning Natasha will heal everyone for more HP) and recovers a skill point at the beginning of the battle! Which, with Qingque, you will NEED that skill point. You'll get some of these pieces as you travel through the game, so no need to specifically grind for them! But, once you get past the Silvermane Guard Restricted Zone, you'll be able to find the Cavern of Corrosion: Path of Drifting if you want to grind for better pieces. As for later on, I would suggest Messenger Traversing Hackerspace if your team is having issues with speed and attacking before the enemy! This set boosts speed and grants the entire bonus speed when they use their ultimate.

Pela - For Pela, I would suggest the Guard of Wuthering Snow set, which you can find in the same domain as GoBS! So, I would start here for artifacts here since that's two characters in one shot! It reduces the damage Pela will take and restores HP and energy when she falls below 50% hp. Honestly, I would continue to roll with this set in late game, since there is not really a better set for Pela since she's kind of a broken set kind of girlie? What she needs is effect hit rate, but there's no set out yet that boosts that specifically... If you do end up wanting to change her, I would suggest Messenger Traversing Hackerspace once again! But, just be aware if you have two MTH users in a team, the teamwise SPD boost on ultimate will not stack.

Gepard - For him, right now, you'll want to run him on the same set as Pela, Guard of Wuthering Snow, since his best-in-slot set is not available until you start the Xianzhou Luofu. This set is the Knight of Purity Place set, which increases defense and the maximum damage a shield Gepard makes with his ultimate can absorb. You'll find this set at the Cavern of Corrosion: Path of Holy Hymm and it's Gepard's best set.

I hope this was useful information to you, Klai! If you need any more information like how this team would play on manual mode or anything else, just send me another ask!

Oh yeah.

And build your Dr. Ratio when you get to his stuff. Trust me, having him as an option makes life so much easier and so much funnier. Will hearing "Knowledge is the measure of all things. It reveals truth... and falsehood" and "zero points... next" a million times in an hour's time drive you up the wall? Yes. Will he absolutely kill everything in a 20 mile radius? Also yes.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Crabs Gone Wild | Group Thread

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f), Marcus (@thenavysealkie), Van (@vanoincidence), & Dīs (@disinfernus) SUMMARY: After a disruption on the beach, Marcus finds himself with company on the shore close to the lighthouse. Crabs are everywhere! While the four discuss amongst themselves on what to do with the crabs (get rid of them, or leave them alone entirely) something lurks beneath the surface as they figure out a way to get them to scatter: coffee!

Wicked’s Rest. The little town with an equal measure of college kids and apparent secrets. Today was a beautiful day in early June, the sun shining overhead as several families, groups of friends and lone bathers took advantage of the lovely weather by frequenting the beach. The sand was layered in swathes of technicolored towels, picnic blankets and punctured by bright umbrellas. The smell of something cooking was wafting through the salty sea breeze and the sound of the waves lapping the shore was drowned out by laughter and discussion, shouting because someone let the ball drift too far out to sea, dogs barking as they brought back that disgusting, seaweed-covered stick back when they have so many toys they could’ve fetched instead. Gael wasn’t quite in the middle of the hubbub as he probably would’ve been. Instead, today, he was sitting on an old wooden bench by himself at the foot of a staircase that led from the sandy ground to the paths above, the walkway that overlooked that particular section of beach. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to any one thing as he sat there, slightly hunched and wearing plain clothes. His back hurt and he couldn’t recall getting much (if any) sleep the night before but what he COULD remember was being incredibly sore, that familiar sensation of his skeleton being rearranged by whatever he did when he sleepwalked. He wasn’t going to complain about it, though, instead finding solace in his existence at that moment as he sipped hot black coffee from one of his trusty old mugs. The messenger bag he took almost everywhere with him was loosely strung over his shoulder, resting on one side of him while a tall thermos stood upright on the other. His half-lidded eyes with the dark circles under them looked ahead, catching glimpses of activity here and there before it faded back into the haze of motion and color. Yep, today was going to be just– Then Gael heard a scream. It was distant and he was exhausted but even with those two factors considered, he instinctively raised his head, squaring his shoulders as was put on alert, turning in the direction he heard the scream coming from. In a swirl of activity, he saw people standing about, the joy largely gone from them as a collective as they gazed upon a mass of something moving on the shore near the lighthouse. Black, chittering, hundreds of��� what were those? Gael forced himself to stand, gathering his few belongings, finishing his cup of coffee and he hastily made his way up the staircase to get a better look, ignoring the humming and nervous chatter of beachgoers and passersby. Once he was at the top, he looked out over the railing at the glittering, swaying collection of what appeared to be hundreds of crabs, their shells oily black and their movements highly irregular, never mind that Gael had never seen so many in one place before. “Well THAT doesn’t look good,” He murmured to himself, cleaning the mug with the hem of his shirt before stuffing it into his bag.

The sun poked through Marcus’s window and woke him far earlier than he would have liked. Granted, it was mid morning already, but his recent bout of insomnia meant he had only fallen asleep at about 5am. He silently cursed being woken up so early after finally being able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Regardless, he figured it was best to get up and start his day. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be falling back asleep. 

After getting dressed, he walked outside and the typical sounds of the town that usually greeted him were replaced with a sharp scream followed by quiet murmuring. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a large group of people huddled around the shore, nervously whispering amongst themselves. What the hell was going on?

He moved towards the shore, trying to peek over the mass of people to figure what had them all so concerned. And then he saw it. A mass of crabs, all huddled together like it was some sort of crab family reunion. On second thought, this seemed far sinister. They were all completely black and shiny as if they were covered in oil. This difference and their strange movements made it seem almost like a cult scene. Of course, the idea of a crab cult was a ridiculous one. 

Still, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. Marcus sighed to himself and started to move towards the shoreline to get a closer look.

As the body of crabs ebbed and flowed, moving as one grand unit like an oozing black wave of dangerous pincers (and definitely too strange for Gael to assume was natural), he found himself glancing around at the crowd of onlookers. Most of them started generally retreating, which made sense but he was looking specifically for anyone who was moving towards the mass. Scanning, scanning, then his eyes fell upon a fit man who seemed to be making his way in the opposite direction of the general movement of the crowd. That was the one he wanted to talk to - his mind was already perceiving this as a challenge and while he had no idea how to fix anything yet, finding solidarity in someone else who was at least curious to see what was happening was a plus in his book. Shakily, he descended the staircase once more, keeping his sharp eyes on where he last saw the man, weaving his way through the crowd with as much polite urgency as he could until he locked his vision on the man. “Hey–” he called to get the man’s attention. “Hey, sorry to bother you but…” He trailed off and looked over at the crab rave, which was considerably more intimidating now that he was closer. “The hell’s going on?"

God, there were so many of them. All huddled together as one black mass and… were they dancing? To say this was unusual would be a massive understatement, something was seriously wrong with these crabs. And if the crabs were affected this way, he could only imagine how this would affect the rest of the wildlife along the shore and in the water. He didn’t like the idea of getting closer, but he needed to figure this out. 

Suddenly he heard a man’s voice call out behind him. Why was he asking him what was happening? How should he know? 

“Somethings up with the crabs” he said, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. “I’m gonna try to figure out what’s going on so I can fix them. Care to join me?” 

He looked like a practically minded and logical man, maybe he could offer some useful insight?

If they weren’t staring down an army of crabs, Gael might’ve replied with sarcasm at the response but this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag with a nod. “Yeah, I was hoping you would say that.” His eyes danced over the other man’s stern features as though searching for something he wasn’t sure he was looking for. “Okay, so…” He gulped and nodded his head. “Bunch of crabs. I don’t know much about crabs but I don’t think they usually… move in unison like that,” It was his turn to state the obvious and the hand that had his thermos looped around a couple of his fingers was placed on his hip, the other tapping his chin in thought. “Gael, by the way.” He introduced as he started to make his way closer to the mass slowly, not waiting for the other man to follow as he assumed he would naturally since he was going that direction anyway.

The man wasn’t quite as insightful as he had hoped, but that was alright. At least two heads were better than one when it came to situations like this. “I don’t know much either, but I spend a lot of time by the water. These little guys usually keep to themselves and look a lot less…slimy”.

He heard the man introduce himself as Gael. “Marcus” he answered back. “We’ll get each other’s life stories later, for now let’s get in there and take a closer look”. With that, Marcus and Gael trudged forwards towards the crab rave. 

It was almost as if something was controlling them all, as if they were puppets being piloted in some strange performance. Of course, that idea was ridiculous. Then again, dancing crabs were also ridiculous. If something really was controlling these crabs, Marcus really wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of coming face to face with it. Yet, on the other hand, whatever it was also needed to be stopped. He hoped it was just some sort of chemical leak and there was no supernatural force at play. He knew the fae could be very tricky and even compel humans to an extent, but not animals and not on this scale. At least, not that he knew of. Marcus. Gael made a note of it along with putting a pin in getting to know his temporary puzzle-solving partner as the duo got closer to the pseudo-swarm… Or was it just a regular swarm? How many bodies of something constituted a swarm– Okay, not now. He continued to tap on his chin as he kept his dark eyes on the darker shells of the crab rave - if that wasn’t what it was called, that’s what he was going to call it. As they walked, he tried to think of some of the bits of information his sister gave him pertaining to crabs but among those tips, he couldn’t recall particular weaknesses or ways to deter them, especially in a group this large. They got closer and he watched the mesmerizing movements of the crabs, pausing on the edge of the horde uncertainly. “Well… damn.” He breathed; it was much more intimidating now that they were so close and he felt his sore body on edge, ready to react if something happened.

Marcus felt an odd sense of calm being so near to the swarm of crabs. If they were going to be hostile towards them, they’d have attacked by now. Instead, they were just doing their own thing, vibing. Not that it made their behavior any more acceptable, it didn’t. But at least he knew they’d have time to think instead of having to focus on defending themselves. He looked to his unexpected partner who seemed to be much more nervous than he was. 

“They’re not going to hurt us”, he said matter of factly. “If they wanted to they would have by now. We have time to watch them a little bit more closely. But still be on your guard, we don’t know if there’s anything else waiting to strike. Something scarier than some crabs.” He examined them more closely. Crabs were really like an advanced form of insect, so could their minds even be manipulated? Did they even have free will to begin with, or were they simply driven by instinct? Surely there was something they could do to break them up. 

“This might sound stupid, but I want to see how deep in their trance they are. I don’t want to touch them and get any of that black gunk all over me, and I doubt you do either. Do you have anything we can throw at them to spook them off?” he asked Gael, looking at the man expectantly.

The good news was that Marcus seemed more I'm control of himself than Gael felt… the latter contributed his emotions to a handful of things, not to mention that Marcus looked more like he belonged there for some reason. Maybe it was just that the professor had never seen so many crabs in one place before in his life, especially ones that were moving as some sort of hive mind.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when Marcus asked him a question directly and he thought briefly before rummaging through his messenger bag. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to carry a bunch of inherently useless things with him so after muttering to himself, he pulled out half of a very chewed wooden pencil and his mug, still smelling of the coffee from his thermos. "Will either of these work?" He asked. While he liked that mug, he had many more at home and sometimes science required sacrifices.

Vicker’s Beach, for the most part, had been a source of comfort for Van. It was a little odd, considering the memories that congregated there, but she wasn’t going to argue with something that kept her calm. If she focused on the good, then the bad wouldn’t be so worrisome, right? Van had every intention of arriving early, but she hadn’t woken up in time. Deciding that the beach would be too busy, she opted for something close to it instead. The lighthouse wasn’t her first choice, but she had spent some time there during high school in her I’m going to be a photographer phase. It hadn’t lasted very long. 

Except, when she eventually arrived at the end of the path, her coffee in hand, she was faced with something else entirely. There were tons of crabs. And – Gael? “Gael?” Van stared at the man she only knew in passing from when he had visited Sly Slice, and then she looked to the other person. She didn’t recognize them. “Why…” She felt grossed out watching the crabs fall over each other. she didn’t know anything about the crabs, not really, just that they were plaguing the town. “Why are there so many crabs? What are they doing?” She didn’t think this was how they mated. She was entranced by the horde, not completely realizing that Gael and the unknown stranger had been deep in their own conversation. 

Still holding the items aloft, Gael heard his name being called somehow through the buzzing people and skittering crabs and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Van!” He gave her a tired but genuine smile, his expression softening as he regarded the young woman. “Hola señorita, what brings you to crab-infested beaches on this otherwise lovely day?” He asked. 

Marcus examined the chewed wooden pencil, he could still see teeth marks in it. He definitely wasn’t going to touch that, plus it was probably too small to really make enough of a commotion. Now the mug, on the other hand, would be perfect to see if the crabs follow their instincts and scatter. 

He was about to ask Gael to hand over the mug when he heard another voice call out. He turned and saw a woman in the distance, apparently trying to get the other man’s attention. He almost couldn’t believe it when he turned around and called out loudly to the woman as if they had ran into each other at the supermarket and not in front of an obsidian crab cult. He felt a bit annoyed, but still turned around and kept track of the conversation. He sensed there was more to the woman than met the eye, but he couldn’t place his finger on anything in particular. He’d have to watch her a bit more closely once this crab situation was figured out. 

“Let’s have a reunion later, right now how about you hand me that mug? We can throw it into the mob and see if they scatter.”

Van was still disgusted by the way the crabs moved over one another. She felt her stomach begin to turn at the sight, so she forced her gaze away to the other person standing next to Gael. “The other beach was full.” The disappointment in her voice was not hard to miss. The crabs skittering ahead of her were the reason she never left her house, and for good reason. What were they even doing? She could hear the clacking of their claws and legs as they ran over each other and it made Van’s skin crawl. 

“I don’t know if it was a reunion, we barely know each other.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked at Gael. “Oh, you have coffee too?” She knew she wasn’t helping the situation, that much was obvious. What she could really do, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they’d ask her for good crab recipes? Her grandma had one in a book somewhere. “Don’t they live here?” She knew the obsidian crabs were a new thing, but still. “Like, this is where they live, why do you want them to leave? Do they eat people?” She didn’t think she heard about them eating people. 

Gael offered a small nod of solemn condolence at Van’s mentioning that the ‘other beach was full’ though he wasn’t sure how serious she was about it. He also looked back at Marcus when the latter spoke up and nodded. “Oh, for sure,” He said, holding the mug out to the man. “I do have coffee,” He hummed absently, tossing the pencil back into his messenger back and holding the thermos aloft. “Helps me function.” The professor regarded the crabs this time, raising an eyebrow. “I think if they ate people, they’d have started eating people by now.” He mused aloud. “And I think the problem is the sheer number we have. And I can’t speak for anyone else but the way they’re moving is just… uncanny.” He frowned.

Dīs had taken up refuge at the base of the lighthouse, mainly to people watch, but on this particular day there seemed to be much more activity than the usual beach goer. They shouldn’t have bothered, they really should have stayed, but curiosity got the better of them so they folded their newspaper neatly and set it onto the plastic chair they’d rested on not moments before.

They looked amazingly out of place with their black robe and circular sunglasses as they strode closer to the goings on. They’d noticed the crab mass earlier and paid it no mind, but with human interruption added to the mix, their curiosity was piqued.

“I agree with her,” Dīs said once they’d reached the group. They kept their distance, but it was close enough to see the undulating mass of crabs. They found themselves fixated on the swirling pattern and how the obsidian captured glints of light across the irregularities in form. “Why do you want them to scatter?” From where they stood, it didn’t look like the crabs were bothering anyone.

Why did he want them to scatter? Because something was very clearly not right with the crabs, and they could be sick or dying for all Marcus knew. He also couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something perhaps a bit more sinister at play. After all, crabs weren’t exactly known for convening in large organized groups like this. He’d seen this behavior in humans many times, primarily in religious settings. As far as he knew, crabs tended not to have a religion. 

He was becoming a bit frustrated at being interrupted by yet another stranger butting into the situation. He should have just handled this situation by himself, he thought. He turned to the stranger and replied “I want them to scatter because this isn’t normal behavior. Usually crabs scuttle along independently from each other, not… whatever this is. It isn’t natural. I don’t want them to leave, just to not be all creepy and hive minded” He then turned to Gael and said “But if you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears buddy”, and then slapped the man on the back. He had meant the gesture as a form of encouragement, but had used a bit more force than he intended to.

With his mug surrendered to Marcus and another party introducing themselves to their merry band of wondering ideas, Gael figured that his role in this prospective play was either coming to an end or he was realizing with weariness that he wasn’t a main character. And that was fine, his body hurt. Using the lid of the thermos as a cup, he poured himself some of the hot coffee that swirled around in the container. “Mass gatherings of any animal tends to be worrying,” He agreed with Marcus. “And these ones are moving weird.” Picking up on some unresolved tension, probably due to the fact that nothing was happening, Gael was content to sip his coffee and brainstorm but he didn’t have much of a chance to when he felt a clap on his back, sending a spike of pain coursing through his body. Before he could stop himself, he grunted from the pulse and dropped his thermos lid, the contents of it splashing the sand and a couple of crabs. …And curiously, they broke from the swaying dance they participated in and did everything in their power to scurry away from the caffeinated beverage, the coffee painting the sand that previously had crab legs on it. “Wait a second,” Gael said slowly, reaching up to massage one of his shoulders and he raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward slightly, holding the thermos aloft, he tilted it just slightly enough that a little stream of coffee drizzled out of the opening. Sure enough, as it landed, the crabs hissed and scrambled, like oil to water. Tilting his head, Gael turned to regard his temporary companions. “Well?” He asked, holding the thermos for anyone else to take. “Call me crazy but I don’t think they like coffee.”

Nobody knew if the crabs ate people. That was a little worrying. But about their habits being abnormal, that was interesting to Van. Not because she cared about crabs, but because it meant that she wasn’t the only weird thing in town. Something else could take the front seat and she could watch from far, far away. Or in this case, too close. The appearance of a fourth person made her nearly jump out of her skin. He was tall and had on dark glasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes. As she opened her mouth to compliment his shades, Gael was spilling his coffee. 

Van winced in solidarity, holding her own cup close to her chest. She was distracted by the potential for a bad burn mark that she hadn’t noticed the crabs scatter at first— not until Gael had commented on it. She looked over and sure enough, they’d split into different directions. Van watched as he tested his theory once more, eyes widening as they began to venture further from where the group stood. “Who doesn’t like coffee?” The crabs, that was who. 

She didn’t necessarily want to lose her coffee to a greater purpose, but if what the men said was true— that crabs congregating as they were was wrong, then they should make it right… right? Van didn’t want to be responsible for assisting in removing the crabs from their home, a small amount of guilt bubbling in her chest already, and she held her own plastic cup out to Gael. “This one is iced so you won’t hurt yourself with it.” 

Dīs looked to the supposed leader of this crab break-up party and arched a brow. No, they weren’t impressed whatsoever. Why couldn’t people leave nature alone? What did it matter if the crabs wanted to circle walk themselves to death? Or mosh, or whatever it is they were doing. Perhaps they should have stayed at home.

“What is with you people and butting into things that may not pertain to you?” Dīs questioned, largely to the group, but to really anyone who bothered to listen. “First the mines,” their jaw clenched with that word and the memories that came with it, “and we all know what came from that. Now this? Whatever happened to observation?” Rhetorical questions, they were sure, but the fact that these strangers wanted to break up something that could be harmless was irritating at best. 

They watched as the circus only elevated in annoyance when one of their thermos lids fell into the sand. The crabs scurried from the beads of coffee that splashed across their brilliantly dark shells, seemingly in pain. Dīs scrunched up their nose with disapproval.

Marcus didn’t mean for Gael to spill his coffee onto the sand or onto the crabs, but it yielded the results he had hoped for regardless. They still had a startle and flight response, so it wasn’t as if they were completely under control of something else. He was relieved to confirm that but also felt a bit guilty that he had startled them. Still, it had to be done for science, otherwise they wouldn’t have much info to go off of. 

He was expecting a few things might make them fearful, but coffee? He theorized maybe it was the strong odor that came off of it. Was their sense of smell sensitive? He didn’t remember reading about crabs having a heightened sense of smell, but he also hadn’t read about them in quite a long time. He was more of a nature enthusiast and less of a marine biologist. In spite of this, he still saw himself as the de facto expert of the group. 

The goth stranger chastised him and the group for causing the crabs to scatter, stating that they were butting in where they didn’t belong and causing harm. Marcus knew all too well that this was one of the more unsavory traits of humanity, investigation too often leading to destruction. But, that wasn’t what they had done, right? A few crabs got spooked and broken out of what looked to be a trance, was that so bad? “It may seem a bit unnecessary, but it was in their best interests,” Marcus now turned to them. “They weren’t acting normal and we needed to investigate. Any conservationist or researcher would have done the same. I mean, you have to admit, that is NOT normal crab behavior. Besides, I didn’t mean for the coffee to spill on them”. 

He didn’t feel as though his apology went over well, but it was hard to tell behind their dark shades they were wearing. Fashionable, and also very effective in concealing your emotions. 

“Do you have an alternative, tall, dark and judgmental?” Gael turned to regard the newest member of the troupe of clowns he felt like they were all turning out to be. As he asked, he took the iced coffee from Van and his expression softened. “I’ll buy you another one, señorita,” He nodded and he glanced at the party. “Speak now or forever hold your coffee,” He announced, holding both containers out in front of him and taking a step as though to sacrifice himself to the crab gods in the hopes that it would work. 

The tall one was obviously annoyed, even Van who wasn’t all that observant could see it a mile away. She looked over at him apprehensively before averting her gaze, looking down as a lone crab began to go in the opposite direction of the others. Van didn’t know anything about the mines. Well, the only thing she did know was to stay the hell away from them. 

“Yeah, fine.” Van watched Gael approach the swarm of crabs, brows lifting in anticipation for what was to come. 

Only, instead, a distant rumbling from beneath of them sounded. She looked towards the group, brows pulled together in confusion. “Are one of you like, really hungry?”

Dīs had a bad feeling about this. Between the crabs dispersing from the coffee spill to the sudden and slow rumble that started from under their feet, none of it felt right. They’d already warned them once, now it was only a matter of time before something went belly up as it tended to do. 

They didn’t care for the apology, only the creeping feeling that crawled over their skin as they watched the coffee disperse more of the crabs once it was washed over them. The sound only grew, a feeling first before it became more of just a simple stomach gurgle. 

Dīs shook their head, “I told you to leave them alone.” They assumed the sound was connected; how could it not be? It felt like a call, a response to the crab’s circling interruption.

Marcus glanced over again at the darkly dressed stranger. They did have a point, they were told to leave the crabs alone. But it was too late now, what was done was done. The rumbling beneath them definitely couldn’t have been a good sign. Was there something underground?

He wondered if it was related to the mine at all, but thought better about suggesting another investigation. After all, this towns residents don’t have a good track record with mines. Besides, he remembered his promise to Cass not to go into any other caves, and he wasn’t sure if a mine counted as a cave. He didn’t feel like taking the gamble.

“If i didn’t know any better, id say we pissed something off. Just no idea what yet. And while I’d love to investigate, that sort of got us into this mess in the first place. Any ideas?” he asked the group vaguely.

When no one objected, Gael gave a small, sore half-shrug and moved forward, carefully stepping around the crabs and splashing the coffee to land on as few of them as possible. However, he also came to a stop when he heard (and felt) something, the something other people no doubt also heard and acknowledged. Gael rolled his eyes to himself but took a step back, turning to look over his shoulder with his brow furrowed. “I’m taking suggestions but standing around not doing anything is a hazard to a lot of people.” He motioned out to the crabs (noting that there were indeed fewer of them since his spraying the beach with the coffee), then over to the collection of beachgoers that still gathered around idly though some of them started to look at the ground themselves. “So if you’d like to actually contribute then you’re more than welcome to instead of standing there telling people what to do.”

Van stood awkwardly to the side as the men bickered amongst themselves. She should have just kept going, she decided. It was dumb to stop. She could be at home watching something by now if she hadn’t let her curiosity get the better of her. 

She still had no idea what was happening, or where the noise had come from. Part of Van thought she had imagined it altogether. She paused momentarily, listening to Gael as he spoke. ”What are we supposed to do? Shouldn’t we call animal control for something like this?” That made the most sense. What would four totally normal people need to do with mass amounts of crabs skittering around? It wasn’t their job to do anything. “They’re just crabs,” Van repeated, mirroring her earlier sentiment. 

Dīs did their best to keep everything under wraps. There was too much of a crowd to lose their cool there, despite this interjection into wildlife’s path feeling much like an injustice. They felt for the crabs, but what could they do then and there? Their faces were kept in remembrance for future gleanings. Dīs crossed their arms. “It certainly sounds like it,” they agreed, glad that at least one of them seemed to understand even if it was too late. The other man, on the other hand, grated on their nerves.

“I did contribute and you chose to ignore my warning. I told you to leave them alone and now there’s something else going on. But if you want another suggestion, I agree with her,” Dīs pointed to the young woman, again agreeing with her sentiment. “One of you should call animal control, since you want to do something so badly about the crabs.” They weren’t just crabs, but nothing good ever came out of snooping where one shouldn’t snoop. Upset, Dīs was ready to leave the brainless on the beach with their crabs. They didn’t want to bicker anymore about something so stupid.

Marcus wasn’t really sure animal control was going to go wrangling up a bunch of loose crabs on the beach, nor did he think it would really do any good. His main concern, at this point, was now on the rumbling underground. He could hear it getting louder. It was to the point where he began to feel vibrations in his feet and couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something was very wrong here, and it extended beyond a weird crab cult. 

“I think the crabs are the least of our concern now. After all, like you said, they weren’t hurting anybody. But the last time I checked, Maine isn’t anywhere near any fault lines. So I think my biggest concern right now is whatever’s causing this rumbling sound. We should probably evacuate the people standing nearby, and then get out of here ourselves. I don’t want to end up becoming one with the earth just yet”. 

Tired, sore and finding himself starting to get frustrated by being told what to do by some goth stranger standing on the sidelines, Gael took a deep inhale, muttered under his breath in Spanish (something about “dumb” and “bossy”) and abandoned his endeavor, handing Van her cup that still had a little bit of coffee in it and closing up his own thermos. Normally he wasn’t like this… he attributed his sour behavior to the lack of caffeine and the fact that he felt like he got hit by a truck the night before. Despite being tired and sore, however, something different seeped into Gael’s bones and thumped into his ears as well as he regarded the crabs that, for all intents and purposes, no longer seemed to be moving in unison - now it was the rumbling that traced up his nerves. “It’s probably just tectonic shifts in the ocean,” He shrugged, casually playing off that he didn’t like the sensation either; fortunately, science tended to have his back on these, even if bigger earthquakes weren’t common up north. No use worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet though and he stowed the thermos in his bag, irritated and wanting to go back to bed. And to think this had started as such a lovely day on the beach. “A better plan then saying what everyone else should do without doing anything yourself.” Gael said pointedly, placing a hand on his shoulder and popping his neck. “I’ll start with that group,” He pointed to a chunk of people and without waiting for permission, started to motion with his hands in a general gesture, calling something to them along the lines of “let’s go, it’s a good idea to leave”.

Van looked over as the man spoke about evacuating. Dumbstruck, she took the cup back from Gael as he handed it over. There was barely any left– not enough to give her a caffeine buzz, at least. She’d need to pick up a redbull later to stay awake fully. Despite her confusion, she was glad that the string bean goth guy was agreeing with her. At least somebody was taking her word for it was and wasn’t treating her like a complete kid. 

However, Van’s confusion dissipated as the rumbling got louder. She was sure it wasn’t anybody’s stomach this time. Gael said something scienc-y, which was totally like him, and she held onto the fact that might not be a fact, but an assumption as if it were a lifeline. It made sense. Of course it did. “So we are… asking people to leave?” Van looked over at Gael for confirmation before looking between the other two, her stomach doing somersaults at what an earthquake could potentially mean for Wicked’s Rest. “I’ll go with you,” Van pointed at Gael, quickly heading to his side. 

Fault lines, tectonic plates — it all sounded wrong, but even they didn’t know what could be making that ever growing rumbling. Dīs didn’t feel like arguing anymore, especially not with a new curiosity. They were certainly going to explore the copious caverns later. Right now, though, they supposed they needed to vacate the beach.

And to think, it all started with some crabs.

Dīs turned from the Three Stooges and came face to face with a lingering crowd, whom, despite the growing growl from beneath the grown, stayed around to see what lasting spectacle they could find. Dīs grimaced and slithered their way through the group, refusing to acknowledge any of their wandering stares or help them vacate in any way, shape, or form. They all made their beds, for all they cared.

[bravewolfvesperia]

GETTING TO KNOW YOU.

respond to the following prompts out of character. then, tag others that you'd like to get to know a little bit better!

tagged by: @altosk tagging: @mistralxsoul, @ourvoids, @ervaurem if you haven't done this, @pclitesse if you do these!

ROLEPLAYER NAME: Shi (ShiShi is fine but I tend to go with Shi. if you're thinking Shinon from a ninth and tenth entry in a particular franchise, your brain is in the right place. namesakes and beloveds, friends)

ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: she/her

MUSE NAME: Yuri Lowell (and assorted others on my Tales multimuse)

PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: depends how often we talk. Tumblr DMs is easiest if we have brief conversation/plotting. Discord is preferred if we're starting to have regular conversations/lengthy conversations. I'm open to talking to people more though if they're interested, so if you do want to talk or gush about our muses or games, feel free to ask for my Discord! we don't have to already be talking a whole lot if you do want to move to Discord.

EXPERIENCE: I've been RPing for like, idk, as long as I can remember, but I started on Tumblr specifically around 2012. Before that it was things like ye wee old forums, messengers, etc. Tales experience is the same thing because I used to RP Tales on forums LOL.

PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: a mix of everything more or less. I like fluff and happy things mixed into angst, and if there's no room for happiness in a specific thread/situation, I like to have gentle/soft/emotional aspects littered around. I also try to just follow my muse's whims, so if anything suddenly spikes his rage meter, that's what we're goin' with folks.

PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS:

(this isn't as scary as it looks I'm sorry LOL)

ignoring my rules and asking to ship with me when your character's name is not in my ship list (yes, this includes OCs. if OCs aren't mentioned it's very likely because my muse has a very specific romantic inclination and chemistry won't trump that the muse is already leaning toward someone/other people by default. should be obvious but I literally recently on another blog had someone completely ignore that muse's ship list and still send me an anon to ask to ship with me (and the whole thing was indicative that they only wanted to write with me to ship and didn't really see my muse as their own muse but just as another tool in the shed). my ship list tends to be very tiny for any muse and I prefer it that way anyway because it wards off the idea that people are only writing with me to ship. I love shipping with certain pairs, but I don't write explicitly for that and am much more comfortable with the idea that people aren't following me to ship with me/going into things assuming they will be able to convince me into it when they would have presumably read my rules and know their character is not on that list. again, as in my rules, one-sided your-muse-likes-mine is totally fine - just don't get mad when it remains one-sided because you were warned. if your muse is on the list (for any of my muses), yes, it means I'm open to discussing it/writing it./being receptive of it.

disrespecting other writers plain for everyone to see on their dashboards. this includes saying vague shit like "there are no good (character name) muses out there". that is very much not the same as "there are no writers for this character/I can't find any of this character". that's a very intentional dig at certain character writers and implies they're not good enough for you because nobody writes that character the way you want them to (versus simply expressing a desire to write with a certain character but not finding anyone who writes them).

using my muse as a blank slate who is just a base directly off the game you probably played if you're here. if any of you have paid attention to my threads with a specific Flynn (hi Natty!), you are probably aware my muse is heavily influenced by canon side material. that stuff is a core part of my muse. my muse is not just a rip taken right out of game-only canon. the more I write, the more formed he becomes as his own individual muse. if you cannot respect that and will consider it "ooc" for my muse not to be a blank slate direct rip from canon every time I write with a new muse, that's a hard dealbreaker. (on that above note, for any Flynn writers who are unfamiliar with the canon side material that Flynn is a primary part of (i.e. very directly relative to things that affect my muse), I do not hold that against you and am completely willing to work things out with you! that shit is hard to find and is JP media only. there's a slew of side content for Vesperia that the west never got so I know many if not most people won't even know a lot of it exists)

PLOTS OR MEMES: I do both, but I'm more likely to be able to work out plots with characters either in my muse's canon(s) or muses from other Tales games ("canons" is things such as canon side material, Tales gachas Yuri is in, etc). if I don't know your character well (canon or OC), memes tend to work better. I find it difficult to plot specific things out when I don't know a particular series well or at all. that said, I'll write with people who know my character and are okay with using one of his verses even if I don't know your character/series. I love memes for writing, but I will definitely struggle to actually plot if I don't know the franchise. I also love randomly sent memes just for the sake of writing things!

LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: long. short for me is like three paragraphs and I just physically can't find myself doing less. things like one-liners might pop up in dash commentary and such, but for actual threads, I write long replies because that's what comes to me. sometimes motivation really hits me with muses my muse feels close to and you might end up with a ten+ paragraph reply, so uhhh... sorry about that in advance (and my paragraphs can get bulky so doubly sorry in advance!). typically this stuff happens in more emotion-driven threads though.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: NIGHT! NIGHT! NIGHT! I'm a night owl in general, but my writing energy tends to go yeehaw on me at night.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: uhhhh uh uh for legal reasons i probably should not answer that. :)

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Nineteen: Scarborough Fair Pt. 1

Everything was perfect, wonderfully perfect and all going to plan in Dante’s mangled up little world as she privately celebrated the upcoming eternal youth and immortality with a glass of expensive champagne. With her treacherous offspring sent off to wreck a biblical level of destruction upon Resembool, it should be easy enough for Sloth to pick up that miracle girl to give Dante a fix of that amaranthine blood. Nothing could possibly go wrong with such a wonderful plan in place and in action as the sound of the sirens reached her little lavish cottage villa household. There was a momentary pause in her celebratory drinking before going back to it as the Capitol wouldn’t matter much once Dante received what she wanted. The humans can fend for themselves a little while longer with the murderous Pride on the loose. The bonus was that Pride could never, EVER want to harm Dante, she was clearly just so perfect and superior to everyone else. It was about an hour or so when the door opened and closed, Dante looking up eagerly for Sloth to deliver the stone and the girl.

 “You got me that stone and girl, right!?” Dante barked as she frantically looked to see where those two requested items were when Sloth came into the room.

 “Unfortunately, no one had the courtesy to tell me that the girl could teleport.” Sloth began as she looked a little worse for wear after having to take the shortcut through the misery of the toxic underground city.

 “...She can do what now?” Dante was thrown for a bit of a loop, her brain scrambling on how to get this to work.

 “Exactly, the girl teleported the entire hearse with the traitors and the Elrics on board before I could collect her and the stone. We honestly should consider evacuating the villa for somewhere else until Pride has been exterminated.” Sloth gave Dante a very done with life look and the bullshit that came with working for the queen of decay. 

 “We can still make this work to our advantage, Sloth! That girl was attached to my wretched child, right? We can lure that girl over with the promise of the safe return of that brat if she delivers with the stone and blood. I’ll get what I want first and then you get to be human as I promised. Simple and plain as that.” Dante said as a clump of hair fell off of her skull with a piece of Dante’s scalp still attached. 

 “And how exactly are we going to locate the girl for that ransom?” Sloth was starting to have thoughts of tossing Dante into an acid bath the moment Dante recommended that plan.

“I’m surprised you didn’t realize this yet, Sloth. They’re working with Greed, right? Just send the ransom over to his business. He’ll be our little messenger pigeon for this.” Dante ignored that her skull was now exposed to the world as she went to penning that ransom.

 “Okay, that’s fair, but how do we know for sure that Greed would return?” Sloth took in a breath as she decided to humor this awful employer named Dante a little while longer.

“Simple, the man was never creative with names should he reopen a tavern elsewhere along with his namesake, he’s Greed the Avaricious. He simply cannot go long without making money or crime, that’s not in Greed’s nature. Sooner or later, Greed will be back at his rundown tavern.” Dante dismissed as she handed Sloth the ransom letter, ready for her eternal youth and immortality without the rot.

 “That is completely fair if that’s the case. Now about moving out to a safer location?” Sloth wasn’t looking forward to staying too long in the villa if it should fall under fire from the battle closeby.

“I have everything here, I cannot leave this place. Besides, Pride wouldn’t even dream of harming me, I made him you know. Besides, Kimblee has Pride’s skull in hand, so he’s as good as dead anyway.” Dante was clearly in denial about the Cottage Villa ever being destroyed in the crossfire as well as the dubious state of Pride at the moment.

“....As you wish then Dante. I’ll go deliver that letter, I know the one in Resembool Greed currently owns.” Sloth decided to just let Dante die on her own terms as she started to make her way back to the door as the infant started to cry.

 “Remind me once I’m in my new body to start training the infant to go quiet on command, its sound is nauseating to me.” Dante rubbed the still-haired part of her head from the noise of the crying infant as more scalp and hair fell from the skull in clumps.

 “Will do, Dante, will do.” Sloth had resigned herself that Dante was very much done for as she ran the last task for the rotted monster.

 Dante huffed upon her cushioned throne, needing to get herself dolled up once more and hunt down a wig that’ll work to cover that flaking skull of hers. Getting up, something tumbled from the seat of her couch, catching Dante’s attention. On the ground was a small, white stick looking thing as Dante gingerly picked it up for examination. It was a pinky bone, Pride’s pinky bone that she had originally thought had been given to Wrath. Concerned, Dante did a brisk look over in her closet of Homunculi remains as she realized that not only had the wrong pinky bone had been given to Wrath, it was the wrong skull as well that was given to Kimblee. Had Dante been sabotaged? No, couldn’t be, Sloth would never think of betraying her trust like that. It must have been the rot, clearly that was the case, the brain rot was messing with her memory. There was a problem though, a massive problem. Dante, having used a big chunk of her own alchemical skills for punishing Envy had drained her a bit and her rotting had sped up further. Dante wouldn’t be able to kill off Pride should he show up at the cottage villa, even with the remains in hand. With Dante’s rotting brain turning against her, it looked like a brilliant idea to descend to the absolutely toxic underground with Rose and the baby, health concerns be damned.

=======================================================================

 It was all over the morning papers the next day in Resembool, not just the Capitol being under fire from the rampaging Fuhrer, but also the overnight destruction and disappearances in Resembool. Gluttony had been absolutely correct about checking the newspaper to pinpoint the whereabouts of Envy, just not to this degree of destruction that had been implemented. The Elrics had a look of fear as well as worry for Winry and her grandmother as the brothers debated about getting them to the hideout for rather good reasons. Lust, having decided to go for coffee this time around after the events of last night, had a very strong feeling there would be a push to locate Envy right now. It was clear to Lust that Dolly hadn’t fully recovered from the massive teleporting from yesterday as she was still unable to get up glamor. Despite being low on energy, there was a strong chance Dolly would fully be on board with locating Envy right away now that there was a strong chance they were here in Resembool. There was also the fact that once the Elrics had gathered Winry and her Grandmother, they too would be on Dolly’s side for locating Envy at once, though for more of the reason of less people dying rather than saving Envy’s ass. The only one Lust was unsure of was Greed’s stances on the entire situation. Lust knew Greed was incredibly self serving, it was a simple fact of life and there was clearly an angle to be had with either side. The only one Lust unfortunately knew who would be on her side about not pursuing Envy was the ever so troublesome Freddy who wasn’t too friendly about being a human sacrifice.

 “Lust, Al and I need to go to make sure that Winry as well Granny is alright. We may even have to take them here.” Edward began, not thrilled with the fact Envy was using his hometown as an all you can eat buffet. 

 “You will have fifteen minutes, but if you’re not back by then, I will have to track you both down myself.” Lust stated as she patted Gluttony on the head gently, reminding the boys that she could in fact track them down if needed.

 “Right, let’s go Al, we have a time limit to how long we’re gone apparently.” Edward carefully got up from the table, not thrilled that they would have only fifteen minutes to convince that childhood friend with her Grandmother about staying in some cabin in the woods with weirdos. 

 “Hold up yah pissant, I’ll give you a ride over in the party hearse, it’ll make it quicker.” Greed immediately offered, annoying Lust further that their only mode of transportation would be unavailable for a while.

 “Greed, don't you dare..” Lust glared at Greed as he took the hearse keys, giving Lust a shit eating smirk. “Oh but I do dare, you should take this time to talk things over with the lady over there before her terrible monsters dress Freddy up for sacrificial reasons.” Greed pointed out to the scene of Ernest and Dorian raiding the fridge as though they were preparing to craft a massive hot fudge sundae.

 “Damn it…Ernest, Dorian, we’re not going to dress up Freddy yet for the bait role! Put those items back into the fridge at once.” Lust turned her attention to the pair of clay based horrors, giving Greed enough time to run off with the Elrics for that Party Hearse.

 Lust, upon noticing that Greed had gotten away with the hearse and Elrics, face planted on the table, wishing everything would just slow down for just one moment. Everything, Lust’s life, the daily rituals she had grown used to, that original goal of becoming human, everything Lust had ever known, gone, just like that. The kicker was that Lust couldn’t even vent, let alone have a private time to cry to herself. No, everything would have to wait until things were back into order and regain some semblance of normalcy in this new chapter. Slowly shifting the side of her face, Lust looked at Dolly who was looking ready to leave to fetch Envy. It was clear that was what the topic would be about without the Elrics’ input on the matter. What didn’t help things out either was that Freddy was attempting to hide in the closet to avoid being used for luring a horribly monstrous Envy out of hiding. Slowly getting up from her slumped over position at the table, Lust figured she might as well get this conversation over with before the Elrics return from their check in.

 “Dolly, you still haven’t recovered your energy just yet. We cannot go looking for Envy, not without causing a massive panic if you went out without the glamor.” Lust decided to be as swift and quick with ending the possible hours long argument.

 “Envy is suffering, we now know where they are and we’re just sitting here.” Dolly pointed out, feeling like the longer they waited, the more harm was likely to come to Envy. “Damn it, Envy’s stubbornness has rubbed off on you, that I can say for a fact. Then again, so are the Elric brothers, which I’m glad right now that they’re not here to voice their opinions.” Lust sighed as she took a long deep sip of the warm coffee to survive this day.

 “I know that I’m not operational right now, it’s a problem, however, we still cannot sit around doing nothing. What if a mob forms and tries to hunt Envy down like some kind of dangerous animal?” Dolly pointed out, not happy with that idea that Envy would possibly be hunted down like a monster from a story.

 “To be fair, Envy is kind’ve a dangerous animal at the moment from what Greed had said. With that said, I don’t want a mob forming either, that would be too much of a mess to deal with. I’m worried about Envy too, but there really isn’t a lot we can do other than plan things better rather than pulling what Envy did before and going solo.” Lust reasoned as the thought of Envy being hunted down was a fear she was concerned about as well. 

 “Okay, that is fair, this isn’t a solo thing we should pull, that’s really what caused this current situation. What exactly is the plan going to be other than the fact we’ll be dressing Freddy up like a hot fudge sundae after tying him up to the roof of the hearse?” Dolly lowered her head a bit as she recalled that very key detail of why everything went to hell in a handbasket. 

 “There we go, now we’re being rational. I honestly think that the best route once your powers are back will be teleporting the hearse just a bit to keep Envy from inadvertently eating the whole vehicle. Another, but not so pleasant part of the plan would be to figure out how to stun Envy long enough for either Freddy or one of the Elrics to undo Dante’s punishment.” Lust could finally breathe a sigh of relief as genuine planning could commence. 

 “I think we’re better off with one of the Elrics in this case, Envy still doesn’t like Freddy let alone allow him to even touch them. I’m not sure how we could even stun Envy long enough to help them. I know I can hold Envy’s head down easily, but I would need Envy to be still while the repair goes on.” Dolly pointed out as Freddy could be heard making happy sounds upon not having to handle that terrible reptile that enjoyed tormenting him so much.

 “I hate to suggest it, but we may have to consider using electricity to temporarily stun Envy, that would have the strength we would need to get that job done. I don’t think guns would work on Envy, they’d be way too massive to do anything.” Lust reluctantly suggested as she too had some second thoughts about basically frying Envy with electricity. 

 “I don’t know, I feel like that is way too harmful. Couldn’t we see if one of the Elrics could use their Alchemy to make the earth sticky? That could do the trick with holding Envy still without harming them.” Dolly threw in a less harmful idea in hopes that would work in holding Envy down right away.

 “True, that is a better option than zapping the daylights out of Envy. I’ll bring this plan up to the others then and we can see how the others feel about it. In the meantime, how about we fix up a recovery room for Envy to be in? They’ll be needing a lot of the red stones incase of intense mercury poisoning.” Lust felt this was a good conversation for a change without having Envy being a turbo turd to derail everything.

 “Sure, I feel like I’ll be doing something worthwhile then. I’m sort’ve surprised with how many bedrooms there are here in this cabin.” Dolly perked up at getting at least one thing done for an awful situation.

 “Then it's settled, let’s fix up a recovery room for Envy to stay in. It’ll give me a good chance to check on the red stone supply we have at the moment, I didn’t get a good chance to check them out after having to make our escape.” Lust started to get up from the table with Dolly coming to follow. 

 For a moment, things had calmed down. Lust and Dolly went to pick out a good room to care for Envy before going to work on making it a proper recovery room. The bed was an excellent size and soft to boot, the bed stand could expand should meals need to be brought in for Envy, everything one could hope for in a recovery room. It was going great so far…until it came to checking on how much red stones were there. It was low, very, very low, all too low to help Envy recover from their brush with intense mercury poisoning. This also brought up another problem that Lust didn’t even think about just yet, how exactly were they going to feed Gluttony? There wasn’t a frozen body for Gluttony to eat and Lust certainly couldn’t now order in a corpse to be delivered considering they’re all now hiding from a deranged benefactor who’s pissed at them. There was the option of grave robbing to feed Gluttony with, but that would run the risk of running into Envy unprepared at night along with the meat being possibly rotten. 

[fandomsoda]

The following is just a bit of somewhat creative writing regarding recent developments on the current situation. Too long to call it a poem but,, yeah. Feel free to ignore unless it matters to you.//

A heart is warm, beating, bleeding, absolutely throbbing with warmth and love and pain and emotion. Even in this state, it is often surrounded by friends. A friend stands beside it. Only one at the moment. The friend agreed to be a messenger for the heart, to send a message to the one they’re worrying about.

That friend returns with a letter from that person. The note’s author speaks cryptically. All about protecting itself. This doesn’t necessarily surprise the heart, it knows the author is like that, always trying to shelter and keep its own peace out of some sort of fear or need. But it still hurts.

The heart only sobs harder, bleeds more, beats harder, gets warmer, spilling out conflictions of confusion and platonic love. Until the friend points something out. Speaks of mayhaps dark intentions in the writer. The friend points out what else the author wrote. 

“been having thoughts”… “waiting for [the heart] to realize something”… “the something will blow up in [the author’s] face”… “[the author] will be ostracized”…. talk of there being a metaphorical “bear” to poke… “distance is a saving grace”… all ominous and strange phrasings and signs. 

The heart had noticed these, of course, but initially had been so adamant in helping and caring for the author. Desperate to know what the author wanted from it, it cried, begging to know what they wanted the heart to realize. The heart promised to the author, who could not hear them, that no matter what it was they would love and help… But what that friend said… what they suggested… rocked everything in an instant. 

Suddenly, the heart stopped. And within moments it froze over with a feeling of deep, cold, piercing fear, their vision was nothing but black and purple as their whole world turned to ice. Absolutely shellshocked by the realization. A million dark, horrid scenarios flooded their mind. It did not know of what it was afraid, but it was afraid of something. 

It did not know that something. Not like the author seemed to want. No matter how many times it looked back and examined the warm memories that it could, the memories now frost-covered and numbed by their fear, it couldn’t piece together what the author wanted it to realize. But whatever it was, the heart feared it. Instead of a need and want to aid and heal and understand and protect the author, the heart, for the first time in its life, was afraid of the author, of what they hid. 

It was like a mortal witnessing an eldritch creature’s disguise slip, for just one maddening moment. A million scenarios of malicious intent, manipulation, horrific things to hide… pure, unfeeling terror. Like their soul had been voided from their body. A dearest friend of theirs gained a whole new incomprehensible and gruesome face. But at the same time… it’s not like any of those horrific possibilities made any sense. 

For every terrible idea of manipulation, abuse, mal-intent, monstrous secrets… there was a memory, an interaction, a quote, a promise, a behavior to contradict them. Every wrongdoing or evil plan or deep dark secret that could be suggested or thought up sounded less and less like the author. The puzzle pieces do not fit. The logical part of the heart’s thoughts had to go “wait wait wait… this is the author we’re talking about”. Everyone has skeletons in the closet. The authors mistakes are probably plain and human. 

The author even treats them being accepted as not being an entirely unlikely possibility. They’re just not taking any chances being close enough to the explosion if it does blow up in their face. They said it themselves, they’re protecting themself. But it still makes the heart question what reaction the author is looking for. They already don’t know what the author is hiding and can’t figure it out, how are they supposed to respond appropriately? Does the author want things to go bad? Or do they merely expect it? 

Upon this spark of vague understanding and sympathy, the heart begins to melt and thaw. It is not nearly as warm as it used to be. It is still somewhat numb and still very scared. But it is warmer, and the panging uncertainty and anxiety from when it bled is replaced with a vague, mutable unease. For now it has only one plan. Wait. 

Not wait as it was waiting before. It is not waiting on the author. It’s waiting simply for results. For words. It doesn’t really know, to be honest. It’s not waiting out of a need for the author to return and embrace them again. It’s waiting for the truth. Whatever the hell it is.

The heart cannot for the life of them figure out the something. And they don’t think they will alone. And it’s frustrating knowing that that’s what the author is waiting for, as the heart is clueless. But it will wait. It will shift the puzzle pieces around and see if anything fits. Even then it will have no idea how to make it known that they realized without being able to speak to the author. But regardless, it will wait. Pick at the puzzle and wait. 

And if the author finally comes back… the heart’s arms will not be open as wide as they used to be. They will be fair, they will give them the time, they will hear them out, but the heart will be guarded. Because if the author does come baring a dagger behind their back or a metal stake to take to their world of ice, the heart cannot already be bleeding, lest they die from the wounds they will next gain. 

They are afraid, but not avoidant. And they just hope that their fears are wrong. They hope the author’s secrets and things to hide are forgivable and won’t hurt them directly. And that in the end the brittle bones of it and the author’s friendship can soak in calcium and become strong again.

[dawn-of-worlds]

Love Herds

(Turn 15; Haebarik has 4+3+2d6->9=16 power)

Slowly, over time, the Tarbra bold enough to venture into the southeastern mountains of Haebrach discover passes and goat paths, guided by a desire for new grazing grounds and lands free from ohmlings. Eventually, passage is found, and migrants stream south, bringing what animals they can, and taming those they find.

As they spread out over the continent's southern peninsula, they find something else entirely.

A mark, perhaps the last mark, left upon this world by an ancient slumbering god. A great region of the plains, dozens of miles in length, where the grass is purple-hued, the wind is always still, the stars above seem off. The first herders avoided this land, which they thought to be terribly cursed. But purple grass can be grazed still, and so ever bolder Tarbra led their beasts through these lands, until at last it became just another odd landmark.

Over generations, changes begin to take hold.

Their beasts grow more docile, less fearsome, their tusks and claws shrinking and dulling. Some grow blisters of soft flesh, which can be harvested like one picks fruit without harm to the animal. Some retain their umbilical, which toughens and strengthens until they may move it as a Gegant its trunk. Some are born dead, or too deformed to live; these the herders bury without further thought. The eldritch influence that lingers in their bodies leaks out, over time, and spreads the change-marked zone ever further.

The Tarbra, too, have their changes, but theirs are more subtle. Many develop purple eyes or lose their fingernails; some find the taste of meat now repulses them. A rare mutation sees their back-arm split fractally at the three joints, so that eight hands all grow from a single point.

The Tarbra tendencies towards communal labor and pack-bonding are strongly intensified in these beings, which universally tend towards altruism, empathy, and nonviolence. Some claim that all these new Tarbra, who call themselves Mera, love all life as they love themselves; a ridiculous notion that seems frightfully true.

Individual clans swiftly fuse, sharing herds and lands. Old institutions fade, a pseudo-eusocial system arises in its place, centered around a grand stone city at the magenta heart of the plains, where wandering herds come and go with their many docile beasts to provide the citizens with milk and flesh-blisters. Here in Lach Lero, the place of love, are born most new Mera, who grow ever more distant from the Tarbra, who feel a love ever more universal.

The Mera are prosperous: their herds are not ravaged by conflict, their people know they may all trust each other, and each is possessed by a drive to improve the lives of their fellows. Their civilization sends out scouts and missionaries, preaching compassion across the mountains: some travel south in search of utopia, but most ignore the messengers and continue to raid upon each other. It would be wrong to ascribe this to malice: each year some herds suffer more than others, and the divided northern people have no way of correcting the balance but warfare. A few even try to strike at the Mera, who are torn between their aversion to violence and their concern for their fellows, and at last tearfully repel the invasion.

Some, after those events, come to believe that only the transformation they underwent can bring about true peace. But others suggest that the right rulers, the right laws, they too can foster peace and love. Both groups research and theorize, and Lach Lero's knowledge of eldritch energies and psychology grow side by side.

In time, those skilled in both arts find ways to channel the power of long-gone Zaag. This mind-magic, in the local language called Psyk, is employed to create great crystal pillars that link the thoughts of Lach Lero's denizens, to tame and command beasts without a word, and to reform that rare Mera born without the endless compassion they all share.

(those that resist, that hide their condition and flee, that are born outside Lach Lero's reach; they often find refuge amidst other tarbra, and though some in time find their own path to a more human kind of love, some wield great psychic power unmarred by compassion, and so become the terrifying potentates of northern tribes)

For now, this power is restricted to the Mera and those subject to their meddling. But that meddling extends ever further north, and already some dare hope of 'civilizing' the whole continent, of establishing One Great Herd that all life might flourish by, of abolishing disease and death, of joining all minds in one and ending the cruelty of separation!

Perhaps the love of gods is too great for a mortal mind to hold?

(Create Subrace 10 points, Advance Civilization 6 points, 0 points left)

(Obviously, Zaag-Ghvaash can command these as if they were her own)

[theeclecticwitchblog240]

Persephone’s Abduction (Hekate Liminal Rites)

This is an extract from the book Hekate Liminal Rites by the authors Sorita d’Este and David Rankine, published by Avalonia in 2009.

The Homeric Hymn to Demeter was effectively the canon of the Eleusinian mystery told through the tale of the Abduction of Persephone. So let us recount that tale to make the light of Hekate clearer.

Hades was lonely in his role as underworld god, and made an agreement with his brother, Zeus, the ruler of the gods. Hades would abduct his daughter Persephone and make her his bride. To do this he created the beautiful narcissus flower as a lure for her, and the earth goddess Ge grew it as a favour to him. When Persephone was out picking flowers with some of the other maiden goddesses including Athena and Artemis on the Plain of Nysa, she spotted the narcissus and wandered off to pick it. Seizing the moment, Hades came out of the earth in his chariot and abducted Persephone, taking her back into the underworld. The only witnesses were Hekate, who heard the struggle from her cave, and Helios the sun god, who saw it all from the sky.

Persephone called out to her mother from the underworld, and Demeter searched the earth unsuccessfully for nine days looking for her daughter. On the tenth day Hekate approached her and told her what she had heard of the struggle, and suggested they speak to Helios. Helios recounted the whole scene, including informing her that Zeus was responsible for the abduction, but tried to persuade Demeter it was a good match for her daughter. Demeter was inconsolable and wandered the earth, ending up at Eleusis, where she took the role of nursemaid to Queen Metaneira’s son Demophon, disguised as an old woman.

Demeter would not eat or drink until princess Iambê made her laugh by telling her obscene jokes, and Metaneira offered her honeyed wine, but she refused it. Instead she told Metaneira to mix barley, water and pennyroyal and make the drink kykeon, which she drank. Demeter nourished the baby prince Demophon, feeding him on ambrosia and placing him in the flames of the fire every night to make him immortal. One night Queen Metaneira saw this and shrieked in horror, disturbing Demeter. Demeter revealed her divinity and chastised her, saying that Demophon would now be mortal like any other human. She instructed the queen to build a temple to her and that her rites (the Eleusinian mysteries) would be celebrated there. When the temple was built Demeter took up residence in it, and prevented anything from growing for the year, so there were no crops and humanity suffered terribly.

From Olympus, Zeus saw the suffering of humanity, and sent Iris, the messenger of the gods, to summon Demeter. Demeter ignored the summons and all the other gods who came to her offering her gifts to return to Olympus, saying she would not move until she had her daughter back, and neither would the crops grow again.

Zeus then sent Hermes to negotiate with Hades for the return of Persephone. However Hades persuaded Persephone to eat a few pomegranate seeds, binding her to the underworld. Persephone was reunited with her mother and they rejoiced. Hekate joined them and welcomed Persephone back, and from that time she became her guide (Propolos) on her annual journey to and from the underworld. For Zeus ordered that due to the pomegranate seeds she had eaten she now was constrained to spend one third of the year in the underworld with her husband Hades, and the other two thirds with her mother Demeter. That is why the earth was barren for one third of the year, as Demeter mourned the time her daughter was in the underworld away from her.

Further reading:

Hekate Liminal Rites, Sorita d’Este & David Rankine (Avalonia, 2009)

Hekate Her Sacred Fires, various contributors, edited by Sorita d’Este (Avalonia, 2010)

Just sharing the knowledge. I am not the author.

Blessed be!

[johannwolfgangvongoethe]

Umineko....

episode 1, part 4

(content warning: i will be talking about a child getting hit by her mother)

battler you are so damn late to the party. everyone else has tried to solve the gold riddle for two years now and got bored with it but its new and fresh to battler!!!!!

hes a little moe sometimes

I LAUGHED ABOUT THERE BEING A GOLD CHASE RIDDLE but its pretty engaging now that im here.

THERES A SWEETFISH RIVER RIGHT THERE!!!!

^ serious remark by the way. i think this is meaningful and could genuinely be the mentioned river.

anyway, the riddle calls for eleven "sacrifices" in total. whether those are living beings or or objects or what have you.

thank you maria. i am not disturbed.

FUNNY how there are twelve family members in total. this could perhaps develope into some sort of battle royal scenario. then again, the servants and doctor are playing too, at least in theory. i am included in the riddle, too. maybe ill die as well!

if anything happens to maria. i dont know what ill do. cry maybe. i entirely cant judge how cruel/tasteless this novel could be in the future. if you Gotta harm a little guy, at least be clever and meaningful and tragic about it, you know? at the very least she seems to know enough about witches to defend herself. idk man, i trust her knowledge. she has her grandfather genes. somehow. LISTEN WOULD SHE RECEIVE SO MUCH ATTENTION FROM THE NARRATIVE IF SHE WASNT CORRECT.... maybe its all red herrings though.

i wonder if kinzo went through all these riddle steps before. i wonder if the earthquake was related, if he had been betting on a wonder that would make him the head of the family.

battler you are the realest person ever

btw rosa hits her child!!!! but not as badly as her father probably hit her!!!!! there is definitely a history of intergenerational violence here, emotionally but physically as well. very striking about the scene are two things: 1. no one explained to maria why her mother wants her to change her behaviour and every hit enforces it, makes it worse, its a downward spiral. 2. the enviroment accepts it and does not intefere, save for battler who is still an outsider of sorts, and he is quickly taught to not involve himself. george, who was usually kind and soft and amazing around maria, says it will be a kindness to act like this never happened, as to not embarrass her. this means purposeful ignorance and therefore acceptance.

anyway, irreparable damage. and now maria is beatrices messenger. thats what happens.

so here she is. apparently. the narrative REALLY wants to built up anticipation to a point where its overdoing it and ruining what tension it created. but i trust it to be satisfying in the end. so far i really enjoyed the interpersonal intrigue and pacing of conversations after all. but i yet struggle to make out how mysterious the storytelling is trying to be and how much thinking i am supposed to do.

BATTLER IS SO NOT TAKING IT SERIOUSLY THOUGH... its so funny. he really doesnt give a fuck. beatrice is a funny troll to him, hired by his grandfather, or perhaps a scam artist. she has also clarified that the contract she has with kinzo, which would allow her to collect everything he owns, is off, should someone find the gold. so suddenly everyone is friends again!!!!! YAY kyries working theory is that beatrice is the friends we made along the way (one of the people in plain view, just under a pseudonym) which is really solid. thats the most plausible explanation for them right now. its very cool that she gets to do a whole detective monologue on it.

this is just a little game to them. heart emoji

at the very least, there is a new 'furniture' development: it might also just refer to the fact that the servants are to be passed along to the whoever solves the riddes, alongside the mansion, as if they are simply furniture pieces within it. tools at disposal. the only reason i cling to this is bc how often this specific phrasing it brought up.....

everything is about to go to shit so i am ending this post here. but my god. its about to happen, i think. kill rend maim

[psychicpinenut]

here's the opening scene. i deleted a bunch of stuff from it since i first wrote it in 2019 because it was plot heavy. i was getting tangled in exposition (wink). it kind of sucks but there's a vision here.

Chapter 1 – Sweet dreams

Despite the hot summer weather, the man was sitting in a full black suit on the café terrace. His untouched black coffee was waiting in front of him on the table, next to it the stock market page in the newspaper. The man picked up the paper, lowered his black framed glasses from his forehead, and pretended that the dollar exchange rate was the most interesting thing in the world. The realest thing about him, was his emerald ring that he wore on his index finger. Everything else is a lie, an appearance.

The man hates black coffee, he would rather drink a latte with extra cream.

He’s wearing glasses, although he doesn’t need it, he has perfect eye-sight.

His very expensive black suit, that fit him like a glove was making his skin crawl and made him want to tear it off of himself.

He couldn’t care less about the stock market, worrying about money is a petty, human thing to do.

At the same time, this way the man could perfectly hide in plain sight while waiting for his target to appear. Eli Black knew his target would come, like she does every day, he just has to wait for the right moment and not lose her.

While he was sitting around, he liked to observe the people around him. Everybody was running about, going to work, drinking their afternoon coffee, ignorant to the fact that death is much closer to them than they think. In fact, he was sitting among them, pretending to be one of them, stirring his black coffee, trying to seem honest and fit in.

He’s been living on Earth for the past couple of centuries, so he got pretty good at blending in. One could even say he was already one of the humans. But that wouldn’t be entirely true. He would never be one of them, because everyone around him one way or another, is destined to die.

A long dark haired woman in a long coat walked past the café. As Black spotted her, he changed his glasses to dark sunglasses and non-chalantly stood up from his table and started to follow the woman. He was keeping a safe distance, all the while not losing sight of her. They slalommed through the sea of people, she was ahead, Black closely behind. She was talking on her phone. Probably for work. She worked at a law office, was divorced, had a house by the beach and she was just about to die.

Black marked her 2 months ago and now it was time to collect her soul and escort her to the other side.

The woman stopped by a crosswalk, and Black stopped a few meters away from her as well. He put his hands in his pant pockets and watched the events unfold.

The light turned green and she had started to walk across the street, still busy talking on her phone.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a car appeared and crashed into the woman’s body with high speed. Her body rolled up the hood, breaking the windshield, she then proceeded to roll over the top of the car to fall to the pavement, blood oozing out of her skull. The phone screen was cracked, her shoes were not on her feet anymore and she had several broken bones. The bystanders all gasped in unison, then a shocked silence befell the street before people started to scream for help. The car drove away without stopping, and it was nowhere to be seen anymore.

Black slowly walked up to her, and looked down at her broken body. Blood was coming out of her mouth and she was making a gurgling sound. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. Black squatted down next to her with an apologetic look on his face. He felt sorry for the woman. It’s a horrible way to die, all alone, frozen in your own blood, but it’s not his business to determine how humans die. He’s just a messenger.

He softly touched the woman’s face, and wiped away a bloody tear from her cheek.

„Shh…It’s okay now” The woman slowly closed her eyes and let out her final breath. Everything is okay now.

i've been trying to write this fucking story since i was probably like 19 and by writing i mean i forget about it for a year then i remember and i add a little to it then i realize i have no talent for writing and i stop. I'll be 80 when i finish it at this rate.

anyways it's about a grim reaper who lives amongst humans in a mortal form and works as a CSI investigator and wants to become human. very telling of my tastes in fiction

[sweetteaanddragons]

Bad Timing AU

A snippet of an AU that I will hopefully get enough inspiration to actually finish.

. . .

He let out a cry of exultation when the walls of Himring at last loomed through the clouds of smoke and ash.

The hoarse cry was muffled by the sweat soaked cloth that he had in desperation wrapped around his mouth, but even with his throat stinging with blood, his voice retained enough of its strength for what remained of his men to hear and ride forward with one last burst of renewed strength.

The gates were already creaking open, his brother’s warriors spilling out to guard their retreat from the tangled line of horrors chasing after them. Maglor pushed through; his news for Maedhros would bring no cheer, but that was all the more reason to bring it quickly.

The courtyard’s air was faintly clearer than the smog filled plains, but smoke still stung his eyes and blurred the hurried archers running for the walls and the even more hurried healers rushing for Maglor’s calvary as they slid half dead off their horses.

For his own part, Maglor waved off the healer and only accepted the flask of water someone shoved into his hand. He yanked the cloth off his face and half drained it in one pull before forcing himself to take more measured sips as he shoved his way through the chaos to find his brother.

He realized belatedly that the liquid staining his makeshift mask was too dark to be sweat alone.

The next sip of water would make it easier to ignore the tackiness in his throat. Nothing else mattered.

It was hard to find anyone in the smoky chaos, but his movements grew steadily quicker, despite his exhaustion, as he failed to find Maedhros in his proper place directing it. Even in helmeted armor, a glimpse of Maedhros’s copper hair was nearly always visible, but every flash of red he spun to look at proved to be blood.

A hand caught his elbow and tugged. His sword was halfway out of its sheath again before he remembered himself and turned.

“Captain,” he greeted her, his muddled brain struggling past the adrenaline to remember the silver haired woman’s name as well as her rank.

Thalin. That was it.

The sharp angles of her face were all but gleaming at her relief to see him. Dark premonition sent dread pooling into his gut.

“‘My lord! Command has been meeting at the western tower. Anufin will be relieved to have you take charge of the battle - “

There was no reason Maglor should be taking charge of this battle. Not when he had just ridden in, loyal horse trembling in its death throes; not when he was desperately draining the last few drops of the water that had been shoved into his hands; not when he was swaying in his efforts to remain upright after a three day hard ride through fire.

Not when what he had been riding toward was his brother.

For a moment, he was not in a soot stained courtyard trying to breathe through ash.

He was in a bright green field staring at a messenger who had knelt before him and cried, with as much desperate hope as loyal fervor, “Long live the king!”

He gasped in a breath of superheated air and gripped his sword.

He was here. He was now.

And for the next few seconds, until Thalin explained herself, it was better to be here than in that field.

“Where is your prince?” he demanded.

Where is my brother?

The last time he had demanded answers to that question, he had -

Here. Now.

He clung to the taste of blood in his mouth.

The captain’s face did not quite fall. It only turned - uncertain.

“He lives,” she assured him. “He’s here. Only - indisposed.”

“Take me to him,” he ordered, and he grabbed another pitcher of water from faceless hands. “Tell me of the state of the battle on the way.”

. . .

He expected to be led to the healer’s halls. If Maedhros had yielded control of the battle, he was either too injured to talk or after three days of battle someone had finally drugged him into a stupor so he would catch a moment’s sleep.

Maglor would desperately like a moment’s sleep. Unfortunately, the only drugs someone had slipped into his water was something that was forcing his already frantic heart to beat faster in what was presumably an effort to keep soldiers awake.

It made his temples throb in time to the beat. He was grateful.

Better to focus on that than on -

But it wasn’t the healing halls Thalin led him to. It was his brother’s chambers.

He pushed the thick wooden door open. Inside, a servant was crouched on the floor, holding out a plate of food in desperate appeal to -

To -

“Maitimo,” he choked out as he stared at his oldest and tallest brother.

Who, at the moment, was stubbornly hiding under the bed, two slightly chubby hands wrapped as firm anchors around the bed posts, and who, if he stood, would probably not quite come up to Maglor’s waist.

. . .

Maitimo did not want to come out from under the bed. Maglor didn’t blame him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure why everyone was so set on getting him out from under there in the first place; under the circumstances, it struck him as the current safest alternative to - to, well, anywhere else.

On the other hand, he did see how it would be awkward for him to command the battle while kneeling beside the four poster, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave Maitimo alone, so -

“It really is me,” he said helplessly. He had to concede he did not look very much like the infant Maitimo would remember.

“No.”

“It - “

”No. Want real Kano.”

If he stayed there much longer, the adrenaline would fade, and his muscles would stiffen. “Alright,” he said, “alright, you’re right. I’m not your brother. I was just - being silly.”

A round cheeked face slowly peeked out from under the bed.

“I’m Maglor,” he said, the Sindarin name awkward amongst the Quenya he had had automatically switched to upon seeing his brother so young. “I’m going to be looking after you for a while. How would you like to have something to eat?”

. . .

The most remarkable thing about Maitimo at that age was his useful tendency to fall asleep immediately after a meal. Or, when he was exhausted from crying, in the middle of one. In this case with a piece of lembas still wedged between fist and mouth.

The small, warm weight of him in Maglor’s arms was almost familiar and all the more uncanny for the almost. He had carried his other brothers this way, but never Maedhros, for obvious reasons. It felt wrong to carry him now.

But at least this way, he knew his brother was safe, and not running into battle, or regressing even further, or whatever else he might do.

Taking Maitimo onto the battlements would have been an obvious act of insanity, but frankly, so had been positioning command there in the first place. This battle would be measured in days, not hours, and the air was too poisonous for such a position on the wall to be long sustained. Instead, he had called them all to the war room, helpfully positioned in a tower from which the hills around Himring could be clearly seen through the iron barred window slits.

The men and women gathering there were streaked with soot and sweat, and more than one was coughing. None, however, were looking at the water being hastily laid out.

All eyes were locked on him.

Or, rather, his brother.

It belatedly occurred to him that his brother’s condition had probably not been common knowledge and perhaps should have remained that way.

It was a slip that was perhaps forgivable in a mind half choked with fumes and its own fatigue.

It was not a slip Maedhros would have made.

But it was done, so he smiled and hoped there was just enough orcish blood left on his teeth to make the right sort of statement.

Either there was or they had grown a little too used to following without question, because no one interrogated him now. Instead, Anufin jumped to fill him in on the current state of the siege (they had gained some breathing room, thankfully), Elariel jumped in with the state of supplies (with rationing there would be enough to give plenty of other things ample opportunity to kill them first), and Nirnath jumped in with the state of the casualties (bleak).

He gave his instructions and the obligatory morale boosting speech, and everyone looked serious and inspired and as if they were genuinely thrilled to have him there, sitting in his brother’s seat, getting slowly drooled on.

“Dismissed,” he said and then paused for a moment and looked down at the small figure still peacefully sleeping in his lap. “Except for whichever of you can tell me what in Arda is going on.”