#pan seered

[simply-beautiful-world]

[carelessapples]

pride month art challenge day 19: seer

masterpost

[hummelimhimmel]

Some characters that people from VK told me to draw //I know everyone well except Otto, but its kinda a gift for my Bro//

[your-blorbos-are-queer]

seer from apex legends is pansexual (canon)

submitted by @shark-with-16-eyes

[anemonequeen]

hey lookie here https://www.erininthemorning.com/p/national-anti-trans-bans-loom-will

do you see where infighting gets us? they're literally looming genocide over our heads, and some of yall can't seem to accept that we need to work together to defeat shit like this. the rights of queer people you dont agree with are your rights too. don't fall into the trap of the model minority. they're coming for you next.

what will it be: community, or death? it's ultimately your choice

american followers: call your senators and representatives

officially decided that anyone who tries to divide the lgbt community is a fed. i dont care if you're not actually a fed, if you're causing infighting in a minority community then you're a fed who just isnt getting paid to be one. either apply for a job at the CIA or shut the fuck up

[lovedgods]

it is something something about both the flavour of emperor x caelestis & also gladiator x caelestis ships for me

[dangraccoon]

Mando'a (but Horny kov'taakyc)

Honestly, this is as much a post for me to reference back as it is for other writers to use 😅

ANYWAY

** denotes words that I created based on the rules listed in this mando'a dictionary (found here)

mando'a - english - pronunciation

Body Parts

bevagol - penis, dick, cock - bayv-AH-gohl

murce - lips (pl.) - MOOR-shay

palon - hole, opening; aisle, passageway - pah-LOHN

pel'gam - skin - pel-GAM

pel'troan - cheek - pail-TROHN

petir - center - PEH-teer

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc) - shebs

yai - belly, womb, abdomen - yay

yaiten - vagina (anatomical) - yay-TEN

Actions

aar'betenor - groan, moan - ahr-bey-tehn-OHR

baa'ruir - shiver, shudder - bah-roo-EER

baar'murcyur - making love, having sex - bahr-moor-SHOOR

baar'mureyca - sex (lit. "body kiss") - bahr-MOOR-aysh-ah

bat'gaanir - rub, grind - baht-gah-NEER

chayaikir - tease, barrack, make fun of (not as hostile as mock) - chai-ay-KEER

dihaarir - undress, take clothes off, unbutton, unzip - dee-hah-REER

↳ ke'dihaarir - undress (command) **

gayiylir - spread - guy-ee-LEER

gedetir - plead, beg - geh-deh-TEER

↳ ke'gedetir - beg (command) **

irudir - hug, embrace - ee-roo-DEER

iviin'hiibir - grasp, grab, seize - ee-VEEN-hee-BEER

murcyur - kiss - moor-SHOOR

pehir - spit - peh-HEER

tigaanur - touch - tee-gah-NOOR

videkir - swallow - vee-deh-KEER

↳ ke'videkir - swallow (command) **

Feelings

adenn - merciless - ah-DEN

aiki’yc - desperate - ai-KEESH

baar'laamyc - orgasm (lit. body high) - bahr-LAH-meesh **

↳ baar'lamycir - orgasming **

dola - throughout, pervading, soaked - DOH-lah

etyc - dirty, filthy, grimy - EHT-eesh

gebyc - narrow, tight - GEHB-eesh

jatisyc - delicious - jah-TEE-seesh

kandosii'la - stunning, amazing - kan-doh-SEE-la

murey'lin - lust - MOO-ray-leen

murey'yc - sexy, erotic - moor-ay-EESH

nepel - solid, hard - nay-PAIL

nukut'la - naked, nude, bare - noo-KOOT-lah

ori'aal - passion - OH-ree-AHL

piru'lini - thirst - pee-roo-LEE-nee

piryc - wet - PEER-eesh

tsikala - prepared, ready - zee-KAH-lah

yaihi'l - full - YAH-heel

yaiyai'yc - bloated, satisfied - yai-YAI-eesh

Other

ash'emuurir - please someone - ash-eh-moo-REER

copaanir - want - KOH-pan-EER

haav - bed - hahv

↳ haavir - bed (verb; to bed)

jat'ad - good boy/girl (name of affection or praise) - jah-TAHD

jatisir - delight, please, indulge - jah-tee-SEER

linibar - need - lee-nee-BAHR

pel'tigala - tender - pel-tee-GAH-lah

pelid - mattress, something soft to lie down or fall onto - pai-LEED

tennir - open - teh-NEER

↳ ke'tennir - open (command)

Kinky

brii'tay - knot - bree-TIE

↳ brii'tayir - knot (verb, i.e. A/B/O) **

nadal - heat - nah-DAHL

↳ or'nadal - in heat **

mircir - cage, lock up, capture - meer-SEER

tay'briik - cord, rope, string - tie-BREEK

tay'briir - tie up - tie-BREER

tay'gaan - strap, belt - tie-GAHN

yaihad - pregnancy - yai-HAHD

yaihad'la - pregnant - yai-HAHD-lah

yaihadir - conceive, impregnate - yai-hah-DEER

aar'ika - sting, little pain - AHR-eek-ah

aarar - hurt, cause pain - ah-RAHR

ekur - choke - eck-OOR

gratiir - punish - grah-TEER

kadalikir - scratch, leave a mark - kah-dah-lee-KEER

nynir - hit, strike - nee-NEER

oya'karir - hunt, chase - OY-yah-kah-REER

ky'goy - edge, verge, break, precipice - kee-GOHY

↳ ky'goyir - edge (verb) **

Drop a note or ask if there's anything you think I should add!

[ranahan]

C, cy, yc—why are they pronounced like that?

I think I’ve mentioned before that the rule is very nearly regular, so here it is. I’ve reproduced Traviss’s original pronunciation guides here (so you can see whether what I’m saying holds true).

c (without y) is pronounced as /s/ before high front vowels /e i/

cerar [sair-ARR]

ceratir [sair-AH-teer]

ceryc [sair-EESH]

cetar [set-ARR]

cetare [set-ARE-ay]

cin [seen]

cinargaanar [see-NAHR-gah-nahr]

cinarin [see-NAH-reen]

cin'ciri [seen-SEE-ree]

cinyc [SEE-neesh]

ciryc [seer-EESH]

mircin [meer-SEEN]

mircir [meer-SEER]

mirci't [meer-SEET]

racin [ray-SEEN]

tom'urcir [tohm-OOR-seer]

ver'mircit [VAIR-meer-seet]

otherwise as /k/

That is, before other vowels:

ca [kah]

cabuor [kah-BOO- or]

cabur [KAH-boor]

ca'nara [KAH-nah-RAH]

can'gal [CAHN-gahl]

carud [kah-ROOD]

ca'tra[KAH-tra]

cuir [COO-eer]

copaanir [KOH-pan-EER]

copad [KOH-pad]

copikla [koh-PEEK-lah]

copyc [KOH-peesh]

cu'bikad [COO-bee-kahd]

cunak [COO-nahk]

cuun [koon]

cuyan [koo-YAHN]

cuyanir [coo-YAH-neer]

cuyete [coo-YAY-tay]

cuyir [KOO-yeer]

cuyla [COO-ee-lah]

du'car [DOO-kar]

du'caryc [doo-KAR-eesh]

ge'catra [geh-CAT-rah]

jorcu [JOR-koo]

ori'copaad [OH-ree-KOH-pahd]

vencuyanir [ven-COO-yah-neer]

vencuyot [vain-COO-ee-ot]

vercopa [vair-KOH-pa]

vercopaanir [VAIR-koh-PAH-neer]

…and in a word-final position:

balac [bah-LAHK]

bic [beek]

ibac [ee-BAK]

ibic [ee-BIK]

norac [noh-RAK]

tebec [TEH-bek]

yc is always pronounced as /iʃ/

aikiyc [ai-KEESH]

aruetyc [AH-roo-eh-TEESH]

balyc [BAH-leesh]

beskaryc [BES-kar-EESH]

burk'yc [BOOR-keesh]

chakaaryc [chah- KAR-eesh]

copyc [KOH-peesh]

dalyc [DAH-leesh]

daryc [DAR-eesh]

diryc [DEER-eesh]

duumyc [DOO-meesh]

etyc [ETT-eesh]

gaht'yc [GAH-teesh]

gehatyc [geh-HAHT-eesh]

haamyc [HAH-meesh]

haatyc [HAH-teesh]

haryc [HAR-eesh]

hayc [haysh]

hetikleyc [hay-TEEK-laysh]

hettyc [heh-TEESH]

hodayc [HOH-daysh]

hokan'yc [hoh-KAH-neesh]

iviin'yc [ee-VEEN-esh]

jagyc [JAH-geesh]

jaon'yc [jai-OHN-ish]

jari'eyc [JAR-ee-aysh

jatisyc [jah-TEE-seesh]

johayc [JO-haysh]

kotyc [koh-TEESH]

kyr'adyc [keer-AH-deesh]

kyrayc [keer-AYSH]

kyr'yc [KEER-eesh]

laamyc [LAH-meesh]

lararyc [lah-rah-eesh]

majyc [MAH-jeesh]

morut'yc [moh-ROO-teesh]

narseryc [nar-SAIR-eesh]

nayc [naysh]

neduumyc [nay-DOO-meesh]

nehutyc [neh-HOOT-eesh]

nu'amyc [noo-AHM-eesh]

nuhaatyc [noo-HAH-teesh]

ori'beskaryc [OH-ree-bes-KAR-eesh]

ori'jagyc [OH-ree-JAHG-eesh (or OH-ree-YAHG-eesh)]

ori'suumyc [OHR-ee-SOOM-eesh]

oyayc [oy-AYSH]

piryc [PEER-eesh]

ramikadyc [RAH-mee-KAHD-eesh]

ret'yc [RET-eesh]

ruusaanyc [roo-SAHN-eesh]

sapanyc [sah-PAHN-eesh]

shaap'yc [sha-PEESH]

shi'yayc [shee-YAYSH]

shuk'yc [shook-EESH]

shupur'yc [shoo-POOR-esh]

sol'yc [sohl-EESH]

talyc [tahl-EESH]

tomyc [TOH-meesh]

tranyc [TRAH-neesh]

tratyc [TRAH-teesh]

tug'yc [too-GEESH]

ulyc [OO-leesh]

urcir [oor-SEER]

utyc [OO-teesh]

verburyc [vair-BOOR-eesh]

verd'yc [VAIR-deesh]

vutyc [VOOT-eesh]

yaiyai'yc [yai-YAI-eesh]

Note that this is still true when yc occurs in the middle of a word instead of the end:

barycir [bah-REE-shir]

besbe'trayce [BES-beh-TRAYSH-ay]

dirycir [DEER-ee-SHEER]

ke'gyce [keh-GHEE-shay]

majyce [mah-jEE-shay]

majycir [MAH-jeesh-eer]

mar'eyce [mah-RAY-shay]

mureyca [MOOR-aysh-ah]

cy is pronounced as /ʃ/

burc'ya [BOOR-sha]

burcyan [BOOR-shahn]

cyare [SHAH-ray]

cyare'se [shar-AY-say]

cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]

cyar'tomade [SHAR-toe-MAH-day]

mirshmure'cya [meersh-moor-AY-shah]

murcyur [MOOR-shoor]

oyacyir [oy-YAH-sheer]

Ret'urcye mhi [ray-TOOR-shay-MEE]

sheb'urcyin [sheh-BOOR-shin]

sho'cye [SHOW-shay]

tracy'uur [trah-SHOOR]

Exceptions

The above holds true except for some exceptions:

The first is a group of words with a combination of u + yc:

buyca [BOO-shah]

buy'ce [BOO-shay]

buycika [BOO-she-kah]

This might be related to the status of /ui/ as a diphthong in Mando’a & could be a piece of evidence against it. What do I mean? Well, every instance of ⟨uy⟩ in the dictionary, Traviss breaks up in two syllables /u.i/. Could be there’s no diphthong /ui/ in Mando’a? However, I think it’s more likely this is because Traviss gives the pronunciations with an English orthography (i.e. how an English speaking reader would know to pronounce the words), and there’s no diphthong /ui/ in English, so in order to represent those sounds in English, they have to be broken up in separate syllables.

I also think the long /uː/ in buy’ce etc. is likely simply an elision: try going slowly from /u/ to /i/ to /ʃ/, and you’ll notice it’s easier to slip directly from /u/ to /ʃ/. I would generalise it as the diphthong /ʊɪ/ being realised as /uː/ before palatal consonants (at least; maybe others as well).

and:

buyacir [boo-ya-SHEER] /bʊ.ja.ˈʃiɾ/

Which has no excuse for being irregular except for influence on its spelling from buy’ce, so you could alternatively spell it as buyacyir or pronounce it as /bʊ.ja.ˈsiɾ/ (either would be regular).

The other exception to the rule is:

acyk [AH-seek]

The rule for this could be formulated as “if y is the only vowel in a syllable, it’s pronounced as /i/ and the pronunciation of c follows that.” Except for…

tracyn [trah-SHEEN]

Which itself could be analysed as a combination of the above rules: y as an only vowel gets pronounced as /i/, but the consonant in cy is still pronounced as /ʃ/ (in which case it would be acyk that is irregular instead).

It’s the derivations that appear irregular:

tracinya [trah-SHEE-nah]

tracyaat [tra-SHEE-at]

tra'cyar [tra-SHEE-ar]

Tracinya is plainly a derivation of tracyn, just spelled with an i instead of y. Interestingly, in Harlin’s Mando’a tracyn is pronounced as /tra.ʃin/ and tracinya as /tra.sin.ja/. So perhaps it’s acyk which should be pronounced as /a.ʃik/?

I’ve chosen to adjust the pronunciation of the other two to conform to the rule of pronouncing cy as /ʃ/: /tɾa.ˈʃaːt/ & /tɾa.ˈʃaɾ/.

And then:

yacur [YAH-soor]

Idek? I have do idea where this one comes from.

And:

Coruscanta [KOH-roo-SAHN-ta]

which is a loanword and doesn’t count. Although I’d suspect that “Corusanta” might be a fairly common misspelling among native speakers.

Explanation

So why is it pronounced like that? The explanation is something called palatalisation, which is the same reason why c in Latinate words is sometimes pronounced as /k/ and sometimes as /s/.

In very simple terms, the high front vowels and the semivowel /j/ are pronounced such that the tongue is at or very nearly the palatal position. So they tend to pull the preceding consonants to the palatal place of articulation (instead of whichever place of articulation they used to be pronounced at).

So in Mando’a:

c → k

c + high front vowel /i e/ → /s/

c + semivowel /j/ → /ʃ/

Not sure if /k/ is the original value of ⟨c⟩ since this rule doesn’t seem to apply to ⟨k⟩. Maybe ⟨c⟩ had originally another value, which has later changed into /k/?

There will be a second part to this post later, but I’ll break this off here for now.

[sybill-patrica-trelawney]

Hello everyone,

I have an important question am I the only one that dreams about people dying since she's three ? Yes ? Well, that's normal, I'm a fucking seer and before you ask no I don't like that. And yes I would make my gift disappear if I could. But no, I can't.

So anyway, I'm Sybill Trelawney. I'm 17 years old - and like said before I'm a seer. I'm a haft-blood. I'm pan. I'm also not normal because I have fucking dream where I see people dying and don't have a lot of friends. [In fact, I don't have any friends. - So the post is open.] I'm a Hufflepuff. I think that's all.

Oh, yeah. Also, Dumbledore is desperate to have people to join him. Please think about it, we are all pawns in this chess game. And don't talk to Riddle if you don't want to have problems later. DON'T JOINT THE WAR - DON'T BE FUCKING STUPID. I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH YOU ARE GODD IN MAGIC. YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE AT 21 YEARS OLD !

@pandoras-nox @xeno-graphical @lifeofthe-barty @little-king-official @mary-mcdeal @marls-mckinn0n @cas-not-the-band @james-the-amazing-potter @oxxen--free @tjsinclairofficial @wormy-loves-ch33se @alicethekindone @flowers-of-narcissus @andromedashoax @feeblemortal @flyasaphoenix @looneymoonyy @emmelineandhervans @mystical-magical-me @hjonesworld @the-queen-bellatrix @malfoy-lu @thebr1ghtestar  @whokilledevanrosier @voldemortcult

[mistfallengw2]

Been a while since my last VSArtParty and I was very eepy, so funny doodle time it is!

First, let's say thanks to the host of the party, then the rest is under read more!

Turns out Pinata Choyas are super effective at scaring off dragon scions, huh.

Don't ask. This appeared on my tablet idk.

I don't know what was going on and I was too afraid to ask.

Who doesn't want a cryptid charr staring ominously from afar at your party?

< Prober Pann with the proper pan. > No better book to read while chaos erupts around you.

Bunnie was having the worst time trying not to make certain jokes. That's like, her whole thing, but she promised to behave.

Most enthusiastic entomologist has entered the chat and is ready to infodump about the spoods

Always the star of the party.

Might as well include my very bad warm-up (literally, my hands were frozen) doodles of Aurelia and Bunnie.

-

Tags time!

Big Women Big Fun - @hurricanenights Entomologist Pooka - @mirkwood-trash Geomancer Oxxid - @sytiart Golemancer Bunnie - me :D Mabaki - @mabaki Numen of Jormag - @lady-quen Obscure Wanderer - @wilsons-journey Paranomalous Plexxi - @leafofkudzu Pëlkk - @the-skrool Prober Pann - @vitaeplaysgw2 Riyaew - @bop-y Snowballs: Lumena, Rami Lupine, Stig The Seer, Ahrikima

[strangelittlestories]

Let me tell you about the Truthspeaker.

It is well known that most fae are tricksters. They are creatures who do not lie per se, but who make truth light as chaos or heavy as a contract.

They distract you with the truth and while you are looking at it, they steal the ground from beneath your feet, the name from the craw of your soul, and the

They are like shitty close-up magicians, but the coin they produce from behind your ear is everything you ever valued. And the rabbit they vanish into their hat is reality itself.

They leave you untethered, unmoored, floating free in the summerlands while the path home unravels like a knot of handkerchiefs.

It is well known that fae do this. However, you should realise that 'it is well known' is also a clever illusion.

For while you *should* fear the fair folk, they are multi-faceted and manifold. There are some among them that you may still wish to seek out - for while they will *wreck you* quite thoroughly, sometimes a person must shipwreck themselves to reach their destination.

So let me tell you about the Truthspeaker.

I first heard rumours of them when on my quest year. It's become something of a tradition among aspiring urban esotericists to take a year out to gain practical magical experience. Druids venture into the fragmented urban wilds beneath their city. Mages seek out spells and traditions in rare local dialects and folklores. Seers get very high and follow whatever visions they may have to their inevitable horrible conclusions.

Meanwhile, I started out seeking a simple remedy for mild dimensional bifurcation. One of the alchemists I spoke to mentioned they sometimes sourced ingredients from the fae - in particular, they had a connect for ice cold truths that they thought may help me.

Sadly, I was hot on the trail of the Reality-phage by that point. And that whole situation … escalated.

When I emerged from that densely-woven five-year headfuck with a master's degree in Divine Linguistics and a fully fractured sense of self, I went panning for gold through my memories … and I recalled the Truthspeaker.

The path to faerie is an easy one to find, but a hard one to walk. Especially if you want anything that resembles yourself to emerge on the other side.

I had little enough of my self left, so I took precautions.

I conjured a worm out of earth and lichen. I took one of my memories - one I could not afford to lose - and I fed it to the imaginary creature. It was fat and wriggling, as if ready to burst with dreams.

I wrote my own personal rune on the worm's skin in white marker. The worm wrote *its* rune on me in slime.

I took it to a dried up canal behind a main road. I walked onto the footbridge that crossed it. I speared the worm on a hook, tried it to a silver thread and I dangled it from a fishing pole.

From the canal bed beneath, hungry mouths began to warp out of the concrete. I snagged the biggest and reeled it in. Arms aching with the effort, finally it breached the guardrail with a squeal of metal. Its grey teeth gnashed towards me.

I dived in.

After a small unknowable bubble of time, in which the concrete hydra and I argued over semantics, we finally reached an accord.

I rode in its mouth into the Summerlands.

Apologies, I was supposed to be telling you about the Truthspeaker.

Reaching them was complex, even with my fearsome new ride. (Honestly, riding in that thing's maw made me feel I was in that book about the sandworms, but a bit more 'Vore.)

I won't repeat the trials I had to go through, the spirits I had to beg, bribe or bludgeon ... if you ever seek them yourself, you will need to pay your own way.

But eventually I reached their grove.

It was a strange place. It had a mushroom arch, like many fae groves, but if you looked close you could see spots of rust growing on the caps of them. I peered closer and saw: there was an iron frame beneath the fungi.

I've heard it said that fungus make death into the stuff of life. Even given some faeries' affinity for mushrooms, I think it takes a very special fae to take that which is inimical to you and make of it your sustenance. (And to be quite so cottagecore about it.)

I passed beneath the arch and felt my magical protections torn away by long intangible fingers clawed in ferrous decay.

Inside, the grove sat beneath ... what is the opposite of a 'verdant' canopy? A dying canopy? A putrefying canopy?

No, it was canopy of tomorrows. A vast and dense web of mycelial strands that ate dank darkness and shunned the sun. The interlaced fungal strings shone with strands of copper and arced with electricity.

At the centre of this dwelling with something akin to a cottage, but vast and ballooning with bulbous growths. Cosy and grand. Homely but haunting.

From within its cavernous doorway emerged the Truthspeaker.

My eyes were drawn first to the crown that burst from beneath the skin of their head. Filigreed wires wove in and out of their temples, burning where they met flesh. From that burning emerged green shoots and flowering fungus in all the colours of autumn killings.

They were dressed in stars and pale cotton. Their eyes were caverns. Their lips were lined with morning frost, which crunched softly as they spoke.

"You have travelled a long road." their sweet, soft voice was echoed deeply by the creatures that squirmed in the earth around their feet.

"I have, honoured one." My voice shook.

"There is no honour here, child."

"Nonetheless, I come to honour you."

"You come to ask of me."

Inside myself, I felt my heart shrivel and rot away and a new heart build itself again from the mess.

"From where I stand, to ask favour is to show my throat. This is honour."

"You are a sophist." they snorted and a cloud of spores filled the air, glittering.

"That is the source of my power, honoured one." The spores settled on my robe and began to form a sparkling crystal city.

"You bear the blessing of the Once God."

"I, uh..." I found myself reaching for my phone to take a scrying selfie and resisted. "I had honestly forgotten it was there."

"As had the blessing. Such is the way of things with the God That Was But Was Not."

"There is much I have lost."

"You are not special in this regard."

"Are there ... any ways in which I *am* special?"

"I don't especially care to name them if there are."

"I..." I licked my lips and they tasted of earthy spices. "I would ask you to tell me one true thing, Truthspeaker."

"I have already told you several."

"I can offer fair exchange. I can serve you. I had knowledge and skill once, I am sure I can find them again."

"No. You never shall."

I blanched.

"Never?"

"They are mulch. New talents will grow. Or you will die. Such is the way of things." they looked me up and down with their hollow, everything eyes, "Tell me what truth you would have. I will find something to do with you after."

My mouth was dry. My lungs filled with thick honey-like dreck. My skin shone translucent. The crystal city on my robe spread and grew, went through two cataclysms, rebuilt itself, then began to spread across my back.

I forget the truth I had planned to ask for.

Instead I said:

"Do you like me?"

"I do not know yet." The Truthspeaker said. "But I am willing to find out."

That is how I met the Truthspeaker. Our first meeting, but not our last. But that is all the detail I will give you for now. If you want more then you will have to seek me out and ask me or win it from me or remind me of it.

But what was it that I wanted to tell you about the Truthspeaker? What did I learn? What might you learn from them?

Surely, I have already told you that?

No, I will say one thing more:

Sometimes the truth does not set you free. Sometimes it anchors you.

Because sometimes you don't need a trickster fae to untie you from reality. Sometimes you are already doing a perfectly adequate job of that yourself.

And when that happens, a truth you can rely on is like cold iron for the soul.

---

Enjoy my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a one-off or recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[whumpsoda]

I raise that anon who raised you.

Vampire keeps their thrall hypnotized so they do all the chores without making a fuss and so they don't accidentally hurt themselves bruising or spilling any of their precious blood.

Whumpee breaks out of it randomly by something silly like a sneeze and comes back to hella confusing circumstances.

WOHEO Masterlist

Love this sm. Kinda mad cause I wrote all of it and then realized I was originally gonna go in a very different direction😭

cw: hypnosis, dehumanization, vampire whumper, human whumpee

———————————————————————

Nevan smiled contentedly to himself as a pile of dust flew into the pan. The broom, brittle and old scratched against the hardwood flooring of the mansion. Satisfied, he carefully poured the dust pan’s contents into a nearby trash can.

He had almost done all of the cleaning for the abode, the only room left being one of the many dedicated for storage. Nevan always felt exceedingly proud of himself for fulfilling his sanitation duties so well, even if there wasn’t much to clean when he repeated the same tasks every single day.

Darius liked his home spotless, and Nevan was more than happy to oblige to the wills of his master. Cleaning was the one thing he was notably good at, subsequently making it his sole job in Darius’ home. Besides being a food source, of course.

Transferring to the next room to be cleaned, Nevan was giddy with the thought of receiving his promised reward. 

Cleaning was his purpose, his sole job in life, so there was really no need for a reward. Yet, Darius was so kind hearted and generous, that he always promised his thrall a reward for his work. Whether it be presenting him with another place to cleanse or an extra feeding for that week, Nevan was over the moon simply with knowing he had pleased the vampire.

Nevan studied the mess he was presented with. The storage rooms were always a bit arduous to take care of, mainly due to the overwhelming clutter that had formed over centuries. 

He began with a smaller brush, sweeping the tops of boxes and junk. Before he knew it, whatever dirt inhabited the room had unsurprisingly mixed with the air, floating into and itching at his nostrils. 

He leaned his head back, readying himself for a sneeze.

Seering pain sliced through his brain as his body forcibly doubled over, almost as if splitting his head in half. Nevan clutched his head desperately, stumbling and slipping over his feet. He pulled frantically at his hair, the agony spreading to his scalp as well.

The human dropped onto sore knees, expelling a distraught whine. He panted heavily, attempting to settle himself. 

Luckily, after an endless repetition of deep, calming breaths, the pain subsided into a faint throb. Nevan groaned, rubbing at his tear prickled eyes. Out of reach thoughts danced inside his mind, too rapid to be coherent.

Holding his head in one hand, he forced open his soggy eyes. Gazing down at his own lap, confusion began to settle in.

How did-? Why was he…? Cleaning supplies?

Clutching the short broom in his hand, he noticed what was under it. “What?” He groaned, grabbing at the fabric covering his lower body. Whatever it was, it was large, frilly, and itchy, a terrible combination.

Nevan felt around, pressing his palms to the floor and pushing himself onto wobbly legs. He clung to a tall stack of cardboard boxes, his knees buckling. He took in the room, filled to the brim with piled up rubbish. 

Particularly, Nevan’s gaze landed on a long, thin mirror several feet away. He shuddered, digesting the image of the figure reflected. 

It was him. The reflection held Nevan’s eyes, Nevan’s moles, Nevan’s nose, yet they looked so different. Like a failed clone. His hair was lengthy with a healthy shine, his face and body meticulously clean shaven, and he wore a grand, luxurious dress. 

Worrying of all, were the achining wounds in his neck. Red, oozing and sore, Nevan gaped at the sight.

It couldn’t be him. Nevan didn’t do those things. He kept his hair short and easily manageable, he never gave a second thought to body and facial hair, and he sure as hell had never been very comfortable in a dress. He began grabbing at the excessive tool covering his thighs, trying to ease the irritation on his skin.

Once again, the burning sensation returned full force, tearing apart his brain in a wave of remembrance. 

Fear settled over him, a whimper catching in his throat. He was in a vampire’s home. Caught in a web of mind-bending magic, and by some miracle had broken through. His breathing quickened, short and frantic. 

What would he do? What could he do? If he got caught, there wasn’t a chance he’d ever get the opportunity to escape again. Maybe the monster would be so angry, they’d kill him.

“Nevan? Are you almost finished with your chores?” His heart stopped. Nevan lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, pushing his back against the objects behind him. “Where are you?” They called. 

Nevan slid down the boxed, landing on his bottom. Darius was close. Too close. If he tried to leave now, he would surely be caught, but the same was ensured if he didn’t.

Footsteps picked up, the clicking sound of Darius’ heels growing closer. “There you are.” Carefully, Nevan turned his head to face the beast, meeting a wicked grin. “Are you ready for your reward? I’m especially hungry today.” They said, adjusting the collar of their jacket.

Nevan let out a whimper and a snivel, alarms blaring inside his head. The vampire paused, studying him, his smile contorting into a confused frown. “What’s wrong? What did you do? You shouldn’t look like that.” 

Darius reached their hand out, taking several steps toward the human. Instinctively, Nevan hysterically crawled in the opposite direction, knocking over a pile of random contents. 

Darius met the other man’s stare, his eyes just as wide-eyed as Nevan. Slowly, as if faced with a wild animal, he descended to the floor, resting one knee to the ground. As the human continued to make a mess, Darius reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a glistening little item between two fingers.

Nevan recognized it instantly, squealing with terror as he violently shook his head. “Please! Don’t, please, I can’t-!” Ignoring the human’s pleads, Darius lightly began ringing the tiny bell in his hand. 

The ringing, no matter how light, how delicate, held a commanding, unexplainable presence. Betrayed by his own body, Nevan was unable to cover his ears as means of blocking the noise. The sound was soft, almost musical, causing Nevan’s terrified heart to flutter against his will.

“Come here, little servant.” The vampire sang. He began to lean into the constant ringing, as well as the glossy voice of his owner. “That’s right, return back to master.” Darius beckoned him over, settling onto both knees comfortably. 

The matter of his mind was melting, replaced with the weight of the bell’s authority. Lazily, the terrified shake if his body liquefying, Nevan shifted onto his hands and knees. Mesmerized by the sound licking his ears, he clumsily crawled closer, to Darius’ satisfaction.

“Good boy, almost there. Nothing is more important than the bell, isn’t that right?” The movement of the object never ceased. 

He smiled. That was right. It was Nevan’s bell, captivating and alluring. The only thing possibly more significant was Darius.

He soon reached the vampire, resting onto his knees with glazed over eyes. Darius gently placed the bell to the floor, ending the loop of hypnotic noise. He tenderly cupped Nevan’s cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

The vampire took a moment to adjust Nevan’s body, picking up limbs and turning his face as if he was searching for something. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. “I would’ve been very upset if you managed to lose some of your delectable blood in all that panic. Fortunate for you, it seems you didn’t.”

Nevan would’ve been utterly distraught had he made such a mistake. What a terrible thrall he was even risking it. “Now, are you ready for your reward?” He nuzzled into his master’s comforting touch.

In no other universe could he have been more ready.

[noobslayerarchetype11]

FYM?!?!?!? "Bsd Fandom is cooked."?!?!?!?

WE ARE GETTING BURNT, DEEP FRIED, OVEN COOKED 360° PAN SEERED, BURNT BASQUE-

as I quote my brother,

"Bruh, that's cremated."

Yeah brother.

[elrielffs]

It’s funny how “3 batboys and 3 sisters is so boring and cliche” yet the plots and theories people come up with outside of Elriel and their character arcs and story trajectory are SO boring and cliche themselves!!

“Elain uhhhh likes flowers so she belongs in the Spring Court!”

This is such a flat reading of the text.

“Az will train Gwyn and do shit in Illyria!!”

ACOSF 2.0

“Elain and Lucien are mates and SJM is a mates author!”

Which is in itself cliche for everyone to have mates.

I don’t know about everyone else but I’m kind of sick of the mate trope. I’m much more interested in how a rejected bond pans out and with Gwynriel especially I’m tired of the cookie cutter bad ass female warrior character with sass teaching the brooding dark bad boy the meaning of love. Those have become such a dime a dozen.

I’m ready for Elain. Give me my soft seer flower girl with a will of steel that likes to bake.

Give the me the girl who never gets to choose and the boy who never gets chosen.

Also side note but we know SJM wants to write a threesome, personally I’m ready for that VassaxLucienxJurian sandwich especially since Lucien didn’t like humans at first.

[stillwithmeisonlyyou]

I have this headcanon that emmeline vance is one of regulus' besties and part of slytherin skittles. I hc that she is a hufflepuff (although a lot of people hc she is in ravenclaw i just have a vision) and a muggleborn. Their houses are kind of close so they just run into each other when reg runs away from home (i mean with the intention of returning, just like a little act of defiance that orion and walburga never find out about) and maybe connect over books and stuff and reg is interested in things em would know about as a muggle concerning literature and other things because he is naturally curious.

Nobody can know about their friendship as reg states and if em is a bit taken aback by that she doesn't show it because even if she doesn't hear the rumours of black family's questionable ways of discipline as she isn't part of the pureblood circles, even she can tell there is more to the story that reg doesn't let on. Maybe they explore their sexuality together a little bit (like maybe they kiss and stuff and reg thinks there is smt wrong with him because em is a pretty girl and he does really like her personality and he can't wrap his head around why he wouldn't want to do this with her. He first thinks there is smt wrong with him till he comes to the conclusion that he is gay. And em is the first person he comes out to)

In this hc dorcas is a half blood slytherin and reg's quiditch captain and after having a muggleborn friend for all those years he isn't a blood purist at heart so when she is being bullied for such things reg stands by her side and defends her abilities as an excellent quidditch player and captain which starts their friendship although at this point evan, barty, and pandora still don't know about emmeline. (Maybe pan suspects things being a seer and all- cuz yes she is a seer in my hc too) (also cas and em are a year older than the rest) and anyway dorcas becomes a part of their circle too. Maybe reg sort of push em and dorcas together (you know being partners in certain projects and stuff since they are in the same year) but still doesn't tell anyone about em openly since that would cause troubles with his family.

After sirius runs away and the abuse becomes too much to bear even for regulus he runs from home and em takes him in. He stays in their house for a bit and em is the one who writes to dumbledore about the abuse and sirius and she understands why he would want to keep their friendship a secret. After he is out however, he does openly make emmeline a part of the slytherin skittles

And they live happily ever after :)

Anyway yes my thoughts might be a bit scattered but i had this vision 4 so long i had to share.

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Ego Headcanons: The Ipliers

Pt. 1

Iplier Manor is home to most of Mark Fischbach’s egos, the Ipliers.

The Actor-Marc(he/him): doesn’t live at the manor. No one knows where he is or much about him. Dark is the only one who recalls what Actor did, and Host knows due to their powers. His body was dead before and during the entirety of WKM (explaining the amount of maiming that Abe listed). He considers the egos made from AHWM and ISWM to be his children, except Engie. He doesn’t like Engie. (More on that in another post). None of those egos know he calls them his children/creations. He cannot be seen as a failure/the bad guy. (In the words of Mark himself, a narcissist asshole). All of the films he was in disappeared without a trace when he died for the first time due to interference by the HE, leaving many film buffs confused (many people thought the movies, and even Marc himself, to be mass hallucinations and there was later a documentary done on the phenomenon)- Powers: can harness the power of the House Entity to create pocket realities(and stay alive).

Wilford Warfstache(he/him): gnc pan Pink and yellow whirlwind of a man. Cries bubbles. Is more powerful than Dark but content letting him take the lead on most things while co-leading the egos. In a relationship with Dark. The events of WKM haunt his dreams, but he very rarely remembers them in the morning. His mustache and a strip of his hair are naturally pink, he doesn’t dye it. (The color loses vibrancy the closer he is to William. Some mornings, his hair/mustache will be entirely brown. On those days, Dark will sit quietly with him until Wilford finally slips back into place.) He feels a special connection to Dark, but is unsure why (he stopped questioning it after they started dating, assuming that’s why). His bouts as William can be triggered by Damien/Celine so they tend to avoid the bubblegum man when in control. - Powers: reality bending (telepathy/telekinesis/teleportation/ ect.)

Darkiplier-Dark/Damien(they/he): nonbinary ace fusion. Is the designated Head of Iplier Manor. While Dark is their own consciousness created as a byproduct of the twins having been stuck in The Upside-down for a time, they only exist when both Damien and Celine are in the body(they can only separate when in Actor’s stories). Dark specifically is the one in a relationship with Wilford, not the twins. Who is in control can be determined by the color of their aura, with Dark having both red and blue, Damien having only blue, and Celine having only red. (Damien will go by both ‘Dark’ and his own name when in control, while Celine chooses to only go by ‘Dark’.) Only a few of the older egos actually know the difference. Dark himself is usually in control of the body with the twins keeping a running commentary in the back of their mind. Celine is the strongest, due to having been a seer, and can force the other two asleep if she so wishes. Feels a sort of parental responsibility for Engie despite them not being a ‘young’ ego. - Powers: blasts of raw telekinesis like power, shadow bending(possibly more, undiscovered)

King of the Squirrels-Artie(he/him): a physically younger ego (roughly 12). Was pretty much adopted by Dark/Wilford. Has a treehouse connected to his bedroom through the window where most of his squirrel friends have built nests. Always has one or two baby squirrels in his pockets. Has named all of his squirrel friends. Doesn’t usually have his peanut butter beard(Dark banned it in the house and he ushers almond butter instead when a Crank is over). Likes spending time with Engie, who is fascinated by all types of animals. - Powers: higher agility, can talk to animals.

Engineer Mark-Engie(he/they): an ego made from Dark, specifically Damien (like how Marc considers certain egos his children). Due to that, he feels a special connection to Dark and has adopted them as a parent. He likes hanging out with Wilford. They love animals of any type and can often be found with Artie, helping him take care of his squirrels. Loves hugs and will find any excuse to hug someone. They are basically the physical embodiment of Mark’s love for space. He has those glow in the dark stars on his bedroom ceiling and a telescope. - Powers: unknown

The Host-Isaac(he/they): demiaroace nonbinary. uses his narrations as a sort of echolocation, able to see what they describe. Doesn’t technically need a service dog, but sometimes wishes they had one (more so when Mark and Amy visit with Chica)- Powers: visions, low level mental suggestion, and limited reality warping through narrations.

The Author-Oscar(he/him): aroace agender. Wrote actual books. Lived alone in a cabin. Loves dogs. Does not like large groups of people. Keeps to himself. - Powers: low level mental suggestion, limited reality warping through written word.

— Host and Author are siblings OR the same person depending on how I want to write them. (There is a separate post for these 2 as well)

Dr. Edward Iplier-Doc(he/him): demiaroace in a relationship with Host. Watches those medical dramas. Consistently running on 2 hours of sleep and way too much caffeine, but somehow always pretty chill and looks well put together. Pretty much adopted Eric. Dislikes when Mark is off his ADHD meds because it effects all the egos. - Powers: can see how people will die. (He’s very glad egos don’t stay dead)

Eric Derekson(he/him): anxiety boiTM. One of the younger egos (about 18-19). Has chronic bad luck. Has two prosthetic legs. Showed up at the Manor one day and was practically adopted by Doc and Host by the end of the day. Enjoys spending time with Oliver. - Powers: unknown

Bim Trimmer(he/him): theatre bi, not a literal cannibal. Does enjoy very rare steaks though and was mistaken as one by the Jims. Runs a game show in Wilford’s studio but often helps Wilford with interviews as well. Hangs out with Murdock the most and has taken Yan under his wing. He sees Yancy sort of as a younger brother too. - Powers: ramped up charisma

Murdock Malarkey(he/him): murder man with a plan. He’s the older of the two Malarkey brothers. Murdock has a job as a paranormal investigator(the Drowned Man). Keeps an eye on Yancy most of the time. Has a flair for the dramatic and enjoys spending time with Bim. He definitely gives murder tips to Yan. He helped Yancy with the murder of their parents but got away while Yancy got caught. He still blames himself for not watching his brother close enough. Write poetry in his free time. Sometimes hangs out with Author. - Powers: can see and talk to ghosts.

Yancy Malarkey(he/him): theatre kid all the way. The younger Malarkey brother. Best friends with Heapass. Very good with anything that could be used to stab. Regularly spars with Yan to keep their skills up. Got a job at the local corner store after he got out of Happy Trails on parole. Wants to someday hit Broadway. Does not blame Murdock for ending up in jail and constantly tries to explain how it’s not his fault. - Powers: Magic tattoos that he cannot control.

Yandereplier-Yan(she/they): transfem demigirl. Physically younger ego (about 15-16). Hangs around the Malarkeys and Bim to the point that she’ll call them her uncles. Has their own katana. She and Yancy made a secret club called “The Yan Gang” and they meet up every Monday to play dress up and make plans for the week. - Powers: heightened agility, instant mastery of weapons techniques.

The Iplier egos are all open to questions.

Part 2