#seattle occult

[edgeofthecirclebooks]

[yukoishii]

book of the sun (akashic records) mixed media assemblage Available only on artful home: https://www.artfulhome.com/navigate?searchTerm=yuko

[khornedog]

Tumblr is where you're supposed to be weird on purpose, so I'm sharing this short film I helped a bunch of my friends make. It's a holiday special and it's a comedy!

Come for the adult theater nerds, stay for the esoteric wisdom and sight gags!

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my September 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Godless, Graceless, and Young by��kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (110k)

Seattle, Washington, 1991

It takes a special breed to have a slacker persona and still be a millionaire rockstar. Harry is about halfway there. He's the guitarist in a Seattle grunge band that could finally be headed somewhere, but he's also been sleeping on his bassist's sofa for the last three months and has been fired from every day-job he's had. Money doesn't equal success, but it does pay the bills.

When a job offer and a new lead singer stumble into Harry's life, he might be getting a lot more than he bargained for. Like a couple of extra gigs and a boy who can teach him more than just how to mix a few drinks, and it's gonna take a few band brawls and a whole lot of heart-searching to get there.

He's gotta have one somewhere...

Coax the Cold by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (86k)

England, 1897.  

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Late Nights and Good Intentions by princelouisau / @princelouisau (71k)

“About last night,” Harry says suddenly, as if he’d been debating on whether to say anything. Louis whips back around to look at him.

“Do not finish that thought,” Louis says just as abruptly.

Harry looks at him oddly, as if assessing him. With a small frown, it seems the assessment is over. “I only wish to say that you do not have to dwell on it. The rest of the men will surely forget by tonight.”

“And you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will you forget?”

“I will remember every second of it fondly,” the Lord says, no trace of a tease in his words. or, a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend.

For You, I Would Ruin Myself by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (54k) WIP

It was the perfect last day of summer. They built sandcastles, wrote their names in the sand, and caught crabs, which they eventually let go when one of them pinched Louis and he was near tears. Afterward, they swam in the ocean, splashing each other playfully before moving toward one another in sync, lips pressing together in sweet kisses. When their skin turned prune-like, they returned to shore, laying out on their towels beneath the bright sun, snacking on fruit and chocolate while talking about everything and nothing.

At some point, Harry had shared, “I think this has been my favorite summer yet.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, a smile peeking out as though he already knew. He looked so pretty and cool with his sun-kissed skin and black Ray-Bans covering his eyes.

Harry rolled over on his towel until he was half-pressed against Louis and placed his palms on top of Louis’ chest, tucking his chin over them. “Because I had you.”

or

Harry’s unrequited crush on Louis turns into a whirlwind summer romance, only to leave him heartbroken in the end. Years later, a return to his hometown forces Harry to confront his past and the one person he was running from.

Tarnished but so Grand by tilthesundies / @tllthesundies (32k)

Louis hides in places. Harry always finds him.

I'll Be Your Love Tonight by dinosaursmate (20k)

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from you.” “So don’t.” Harry ran a fingertip over Louis’ thigh. “Stay with me.” - It's the summer of 1999 and Louis Tomlinson has been abandoned at a house party. A dispute over Smirnoff Ice and several night buses later, Louis is unsure how he'll ever walk away from this lovely, curly-haired boy.

Green in the Morning and Blue Afternoon by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (14k)

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or a Friends AU.

A Few of My Favourite Things by sweariwouldnt / @sweariwouldnt (8k)

Harry and Louis do cat sitting.

[nosferslotu]

The Auspectives

One thing about me is if a game can have a detective, it will. Here’s three across three of the chronicles I play in/run

I.M D’amore - toreador, gentleman detective based in New York CittttAaay

Remington “red” herring - hardboiled noir detective and columbo kinnie based in Seattle. Sire of Harvey Darling

Renata “deadeye” Giovanni - hecata and occult detective, currently based in Salt Lake City

(Their old designs are under the break)

What Four months of improvement does to a homie

First designed them in June. Re addressed them in October. Super happy with the improvement!

[aurclians]

name   ⏤   estefania   cisneros   .   species   ⏤   witch   .   age   ⏤   fifty  (  appears  thirty  )   .   nicknames   ⏤   stef  ,  esty  .   zodiac   sign   ⏤   scorpio    .   gender   +   pronouns   +   orientation   ⏤   cis   woman   +   she   /   her   +   pansexual   .   inspired   characters   ⏤   veronica  mars  ,  sam  carpenter  ,  anissa  pierce  ,  prue  halliwell  ,  sally  owens  ,  jessica  jones  ,  spencer  hastings  ,  lafayette  , alex  munday  .

tw : mention of death .

portum  always  existed  in  the  back  of  stef's  mind  ,  only  as  the  place  where  her  grandma  (  her  dad's  mom  )  lived  and  where  she  never  thought  she  would  find  herself  .  growing  up  ,  her  father  used  his  magic  to  rig  casino  games  in  his  favor  and  win  a  fortune  in  atlantic  city  .  he  spent  more  time  at  a  poker  table  than  he  did  with  his  wife  or  their  three  kids  .  meanwhile  ,  stef's  mom  was  doing  her  best  to  hold  down  the  fort  and  pay  the  bills  .  some  months  ,  they'd  do  just  fine  ,  with  her  dad's  winnings  paying  all  their  bills  and  putting  lobster  on  the  dinner  table  .  other  times  ,  her  mom  would  have  to  resort  to  pulling  double  shifts  at  the  club  ,  her  own  magic  enchanting  the  customers  into  slipping  some  extra  cash  out  of  their  wallets  .

the  perfect  example  of  a  middle  child  ,  stef  didn't  fit  in  with  her  family  at  all  .  her  brother  and  sister  used  their  magic  for  everything  ,  while  stef  avoided  even  waving  her  hand  funny  .  the  dishes  were  always  doing  themselves  ,  her  mom's  coffee  floating  into  her  room  at  noon  everyday  ,  her  siblings'  homework  assignments  being  completed  while  they  watched  tv  .  she  didn't  wanna  be  a  witch  ,  she  wanted  nothing  less  actually  .

she  excelled  in  school  on  her  own  merit  ,  became  hyper  independent  and  dedicated  to  getting  out  of  new  jersey  as  soon  as  possible  .  she  wanted  to  become  a  doctor  ,  ironically  ,  and  the  plan  was  always  to  attend  stanford  medical  school  ,  clear  cut  across  the  country  .  except  ,  she  could  always  feel  her  power  just  under  the  surface  of  her  skin  ,  always  bubbling  when  she  got  angry  or  excited  ,  until  finally  ,  some  girl  got  into  an  argument  with  her  in  eighth  and  suddenly  blood  started  gushing  from  her  nose  .  it  didn't  stop  for  hours  .  her  mother  had  smirked  when  she  got  home  ,  dubbing  her  the  family  vampire  ,  bloodlover  ,  all  of  the  above  .

being  a  doctor  was  out  of  the  question  now  .  everyone  at  school  had  a  very  naive  view  of  the  situation  ,  rightfully  clocking  stef  as  a  witch  but  more  of  a  freak  kind  ,  not  a  cool  kind  like  the  ones  on  tv  .  it  was  the  late  eighties  and  she  was  being  told  to  go  back  to  eastwick  because  all  the  cool  witch  movies  hadn't  come  out  yet  .  she  was  an  outcast  at  school  ,  mostly  of  her  own  accord  ,  as  she  didn't  want  to  get  close  to  anyone  .  what  if  she  made  them  cry  tears  of  blood  or  something  ???

her  grades  dropped  even  more  as  she  entered  high  school  and  began  hanging  out  with  the  burnouts  ,  smoking  with  them  in  their  vans  and  loitering  in  parking  lots  .  she  somehow  managed  to  graduate  and  that  would  begin  the  decade  of  wandering  .  stef  lived  in  every  state  from  jersey  to  california  before  she  settled  in  seattle  ,  finally  ,  liking  the  rain  .  it  was  there  that  she  decided  to  read  more  about  the  occult  .  she  slowly  began  growing  her  power  ,  though  never  indulging  in  what  her  mother  had  dubbed  the  bloodlust  the  only  time  she'd  gone  home  for  christmas  .

in  the  2000s  ,  her  grandma  contacted  her  ,  asking  her  to  come  visit  in  portum  .  the  trip  lasted  over  a  month  ,  with  her  learning  all  that  she  could  from  her  grandma  ,  reading  over  her  spellbooks  ,  mixing  potions  for  her  .  stef  would  return  to  her  deadend  job  during  the  weekdays  ,  so  she  could  pay  her  bills  ,  but  every  weekend  she  was  in  portum  with  her  grandmother  .  it  only  lasted  five  years  ,  however  ,  until  her  grandmother  died  in  her  sleep  .

this  devastated  stef  ,  who  returned  to  seattle  and  thought  she  would  never  go  back  to  portum  .  suddenly  ,  she  yearned  for  normalcy  again  .  not  even  the  kind  she  had  before  but  the  one  she'd  dreamed  of  as  a  child  .  she  got  a  bartending  job  ,  met  a  cute  girl  ,  settled  down  for  a  bit  and  it  was  good  .  it  was  fine  .  she  washed  her  own  dishes  and  poured  her  own  coffee  and  nothing  floated  around  .  it  was  good  for  her  ,  for  a  long  while  .  if  she  didn't  have  a  wrinkle  on  her  face  ,  she  chalked  it  up  to  a  good  skincare  routine  .  but  life  has  a  tendency  to  throw  curveballs  directly  at  stef's  head  .

her  wife  at  that  point  had  chosen  to  carry  on  a  two  year  affair  with  stef's  best  friend  and  suddenly  ,  she  couldn't  stand  to  live  in  seattle  anymore  .  her  heart  was  broken  and  she'd  almost  popped  the  veins  in  her  wife's  head  so  she  had  gotten  into  her  mustang  and  drove  for  hours  ,  until  she  took  the  wrong  exit  and  ended  up  back  in  portum  ,  back  in  front  of  her  grandma's  old  house  .  she  has  not  left  since  .

[thefruitiestofbois]

The Cascade Five- 1

I love college. I love getting drunk and making terrible decisions, going to my painfully early classes the next morning and then repeating that all over again. But after you’ve graduated a handful of times, college gets boring. Bad decisions are no longer fun when they get repetitive. And classes become mundane when you already know everything. A couple hundred years of meaningless existence will make everything mundane. The years also tend to blend into one blurry mess after a while. Clarity as a vampire is as impossible as a cure for immortality. A cure that my good old friend Joel Miller potentially died for. Well I don’t actually know if he’s dead but there’s a good chance he is. What do they always say about missing persons cases? Best chance to find them is in the first twenty-four  or forty-eight hours. Well it’s been three weeks. He’s vanished off the face of this doomed earth. All this talk of a cure and he’s just gone and fucking evaporated. A cure for immortality, now that is something The Council would want to get their hands on as well as any supernatural creature alive. 

“Are the dead truly walking among the living?” Professor Anderson begins today’s lecture in occult studies and his eyes scan the room, almost as if he’s seeking out one of the undead amongst the class. The answer is yes but for the humans that make up the rest of this class, I’m guessing their answers would be no. “Legend has it a group of savages, in their conquest for domination and bloodshed, raided and tore apart an entire village in the country we know as England, just across the pond. However, this specific village was home to a group of remarkable beings capable of bending the forces of nature to their will and in retaliation to these savages, created a curse. Immortality.”

“How is immortality a curse?” One of my classmates chimes in. Why is it a curse? I never understood what made immortality so detrimental. At least not for a while anyway.

“Good question,” a sombre look replaces the eagerness on his face as he answers, “these savages lay waste to everything and everyone in the name of their one true god. This particular group of fanatics believed bloodshed was necessary if their god was to grant them peace in the afterlife. To deny them peace was the curse. They died and then awoke to find they were subjected to eternal misery. How can you find peace in the afterlife if you can’t even die in the first place? More importantly, how does one find peace in life if they know every mortal they meet, and maybe care for, will die? This curse was bound by blood, and so the immortals would need blood to survive. Without it, they’d be subjected to agony as their bodies would decay but never die.” As Professor Anderson continued his story on the origins of immortality, I wondered how Joel would deliver this lecture. Occult studies was his expertise, and his fragile humanity only drove his fascination with the supernatural further. 

I first met Joel on this very campus twenty odd years ago. Excitement bubbled amongst the students as talk of a new occult studies course was now open for enrolment at Cascade Crest University. Inexplicable murders and missing students all over campus had people in Seattle believing some sort of psychotic creature was loose at CCU and so people jumped at the opportunity to learn about the origins of this psycho killer at large. I think that was the 80s or the 90s. I never paid any mind to scholars who claimed to know everything and anything about the supernatural but Joel seemed to know a lot, too much for an ordinary human to know. But Joel was no ordinary human. The Council sent me to kill this man but instead he became my family. And now he was missing. No doubt The Council’s fault but one thing I don’t understand is why? Talks of a cure have popped up throughout the centuries, all over the world, and yet this time it leads to Joel’s disappearance. He can’t just have gone missing over silly rumours. There’s no way The Council would intervene for something so small but then again, they had sent me to kill him. I never questioned my orders or The Council’s intent. I mindlessly did their bidding. Joel never really did tell me why either. That was our friendship. We never asked about our past, only helped each other from then onwards. That understanding was for the best. Some skeletons are better left in the deepest and darkest parts of the closet. 

Joel went missing right before the semester began. I never thought I’d be back here but I needed to find him. I owed him my life and I’d be damned if the bastards who got to him aren’t brought to justice. I’ll snap the neck of anyone who stands in my way without even blinking. 

“What’s your verdict?” Turning to find a girl staring at me intently, a strand of her auburn hair framing one side of her freckled face as she twirls a pen between her fingers, her face itself resting in her other hand. Curiosity gleams from her as she waits for my answer. Confused, I glance at the slide on the screen as other students seem to be debating away in pairs. 

Paired discussion: does immortality exist?

“Well I mean if immortality and vampires exist, surely we’d know about it rather than it being a subject only found in stories. I think whoever came up with the idea was probably someone very creative.” I then lean in a little closer, bringing my voice to a loud whisper, “Or they are real and they’re sitting in this class right now. Who knows?” A satisfied smile tugs the corners of her freckled cheeks as they meet her pale green eyes. I then ask her what she thinks. 

“I think Professor Anderson is only asking us to debate immortality so he can distract us from the fact he’s secretly a vampire himself.” A laugh erupts out my chest and I extend a hand into the space between our desks.

“I’m Maya.” She shakes my hand and the softness of her hand is a stark contrast to how rugged it appears with black pencil and different colours of paint smudged all over. She must be an artist. 

“Ellie.” Her raspy voice drops to a whisper as Professor Anderson calls for an end to the discussion and the chatter hushes down. I take notes for the rest of the lecture, glancing up at Ellie and then back down to my notebook before she realises I’m stealing a glance here and there. 

“There is a pop quiz in two weeks time so please do the extra reading. Other than that, welcome back and don’t party too hard this first week back!” With that Professor Anderson concludes today’s class and my eyes, with a mind of their own, search for a certain brunette with no success. I guess she was already gone.

As we all piled out of the doors on the right of the theatre, Abby, the Professor’s daughter, practically bursts through the ones on the left, rushes to her dad, eyes deadlocked with mine as she whispers something in his ear. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I try to tune out the rest of the students and hone in on whatever they’re whispering about. 

“We need to talk like right now… there’s someone… we need to figure something out.” Those fragments are all I pick up on as the sea of students pushes further and further away down the hall. Have they figured out I’m here? Uncertainty crashes throughout me in waves at the possibility of being caught despite being here less than two weeks. There’s no way they could know about me. Unless it was something to do with Joel. An official police report was only filed the week of his disappearance and it mentioned an altercation of some kind between Joel and a student of his at his office in the late hours of the evening. Officially, no name was released but after a few drinks and my obvious charm, a lovely lady working for campus security just happened to tell me it was Owen Moores. Owen also happened to be Abby Anderson’s boyfriend. Or an ex-boyfriend. I can’t really tell, everybody fucks everyone in this place.  

Wiggling the handle gently until it snaps, I look over both my shoulders, praying nobody decides to take a leisurely stroll anywhere near Joel’s office. The door creaks open, the smell of wet paint swoops into my nose and I grimace. Sometimes having heightened senses isn’t so advantageous. As I move to step into his office, some kind of barrier pushes me back. I try again with more force but nothing. Is his office spelled? I can see into his office- white sheets are draped over all his desk, bookshelves and chairs, his paintings and wooden sculptures are all packed into a box in the corner of the room and there’s a tub of paint and a brush on a plastic sheet on the floor towards the left wall. People can obviously get in so it’s not spelled, how else would there be a fresh coat of white paint on the walls? It could be spelled to deny entry to supernaturals. But if that was the case it meant this university knew about us in the first place. That then begs the question of how many supernatural beings are on this campus. Best case scenario was that the deed to the office must have been signed by someone else after Joel went AWOL. I just had to be invited in but first I needed to figure out whose name was on the deed. 

//

The phone rings only a few times before Wilson picks up. 

“How’s college going Maya?” Sarcasm lacing his gravelly voice. He seemed more chipper than usual. 

“Well I think I might actually graduate this time if we can keep The Council away from Seattle’s best and brightest.” 

“Don’t murder anyone and you’ll be fine.” Funny. Memories of my blood-fuelled bender during my time at a different college, from at least a decade ago, come rushing back. In all fairness, I didn’t need to kill anyone but I wasn’t really myself back then. I’m a changed person now. I’ve even been to therapy. 

“Something’s blocking me from stepping foot into Joel’s office.”

“Did you try the handle?” He jests.

“Haha very funny,” My voice monotonous, “it opens, I just can’t seem to get my foot in the door. Literally.” As he’s telling me he’ll scour CCU’s admin servers, I’m handed a flyer by someone wearing a werewolf costume. Looking around, a number of people in a werewolf getup are handing out pieces of papers to people walking around the central campus. Finishing up the conversation, I tucked my phone into my pocket, reading the invite on the red piece of paper for a party at Cascade Lodge- a fancy manor home to the Cascade Society. The college held competitions at the end of every year to decide which society would reside in the fanciest house on campus. Fundraisers and sports games made up the competition but up until three years ago, any winning society randomly gave up their first place to the Cascade Society. What was so damn special about that one society? A million other questions burned through my mind, each thought leaving a fleeting ember that whirled in my head, just waiting to be reignited again at the worst-case scenarios of Joel’s disappearance. I owed him. Not just a debt, I owed him my life. You’d expect a human to be the worst thing to throw into the mix of a century long and humanity devoid vampire bender but he was a steel anchor in that rampage. 

A red flyer is shoved into my chest, hurtling me out of my own head, as I cut across the greenery of the central campus grounds, heading straight for my next class. My snooping, while also being unsuccessful, was also making me late. I mean I could speed into my class seat within a few seconds but then that would defeat the whole laying low thing. I glance over the flyer when I see a group of students handing out countless red flyers to everyone else on campus. Some kind of party with free alcohol and easy veins to tap? Count me in. I’m almost at the doors until the smell of fresh blood rushes to my nose and staggered sobs faintly echo through the halls. Fuck it. Biology can wait and I could always compel myself an A+. 

Rushing past the faculty room and the building’s cafeteria, the sobs and scent get louder as I near the toilets. One of the blue stall doors is slightly ajar, a bloody handprint smudged near the lock in the middle of the frame. A creak sounds as I push the door open to find a freshman- by the looks of it- clutching her bloody neck, eyes droopy from the obvious blood loss, her frail body barely keeping up with the shakes her anxiety must be rocking through it. Frustration fills me as I imagine the new or either immensely stupid vampire which did this to her roaming the halls with blood stained clothes. No way a hunt like this ends up with no mess. 

Using my strength, I bring her to stand face to face as I let my eyes work their magic.

“Don’t be afraid, you’re going to be fine. Who did this to you?” Her face blank as she tonelessly replies,

“Jesse.”

“Who’s Jesse?” I dig my fangs into my own wrist and bring it to her mouth, “Drink it.” 

“He’s a junior and he’s a member of the Cascade Society.” The Cascade Society has a vampire? Her eyes’ alertness re-emerges as unscathed skin replaces the two deep punctures, the only evidence of an amateur vampire attack was the remaining maroon smudges over her neck and t-shirt. There were even some splodges of red on her textbooks. I might just kill this Jesse guy out of frustration at his lack of basic decency and skill. Fucking idiot. My eyes roll at the thought and I grab this poor girl once more.

“Forget everything that’s happened, go straight home and burn everything with blood on it. All you need to remember is that a very nice girl lent you a hoodie after some douchebag spilled soda all over your shirt.” Less than a month in this wretched place and I’m already doing damage control for some dumbass I’ve never met.

“What about my textbooks?” This time genuine panic erupts in her voice as she darts her eyes back and forth between me and her books. 

“Nosebleed?” I suggest and she nods once again, gathering herself and casually strolling out the doors. Looking at the smudges and drops of red on the floor and the stall I sigh. Guess I’ll have to compel a janitor. 

The yellow splashes of sun melt into lilac in the sky, the campus practically bare as most of the students have either retreated into the libraries or the bars. Some others opted to go home, like my neighbour who decided to not just go home but also bring a girl back with him. I drag my eyes away from the window, retracing the drawings on notebook page. It doesn’t even astound me that these sketches were older than some of the professors on this campus. Time really has become meaningless. My ears are also meaningless. Or at least I want them to be right at this moment. Paper thin walls and enhanced hearing is the perfect combination for wanting to tear my ears off and stick them in a blender. This is the fifth time just this week and I’ve decided I have had enough of hearing his bed frame rattle, very out of rhythm, against the wall and him grunt for five minutes like some two pump chump while his ‘guest’ fakes it like she’s done so at least fifteen times since I moved in. Barging through my door and slamming my fist down hard enough on his door for the hinges to groan. That’s the only authentic sound coming from this room. Tragic. What’s even more tragic is the door swinging open to a very sweaty jock who’s clearly rushed to throw on sweats, and a girl- still basically fully dressed- who looks as though she was doing something as menial as reading a book- wait a damn minute. Is that Abby? I fight the surprise on my face and politely ask if they could keep it down or at least put some music on all the while having daggers glared into my soul by Abby. What is her fucking problem?

“Yeah no my bad, I hadn’t even realised someone had moved in next door.” A blush practically bursts onto his cheeks, even past his poor attempt of a beard, and his eyes shift to the floor. 

“No worries, just thought I’d let you know on behalf of everyone on this floor.” I shake him off realising that he’s just a horny college jock in desperate need of an ego boost and it seems our people pleasing bitch next to him is more than happy to oblige. 

“It’s none of your fucking business, is it Maya?” 

“Abby don’t-”

“I don’t recall introducing myself.” My tone shifts and I don’t even bother hiding the suspicion. God was everybody in this school stupid? I wasn’t an idiot either, I knew coming to the one place where Joel worked for the better half of his life was bound to hold more behind the curtains than whatever was displayed on brochures and taster days. Joel loved the occult, he finds a magic cure and goes missing, some dickhead vampire happens to be roaming CCU and Abby has a stick lodged up her ass whenever she glances my way so it doesn’t take a genius to draw a few conclusions. Either they already know what I am and are planning my long overdue demise, or this place is roaming with supernatural creatures. A lot more of them than me and Wilson anticipated. The spell blocking me from entering Joel’s office and Abby being Professor Anderson’s daughter has me leaning towards the latter. 

“My dad, he- I uh saw your ID on his attendance logs.” She stammers, eyes wide, and I hold back the eye roll at the even stupider lie this dumbass is spewing out. I remain silent, jaw locked and this time it’s my turn to glare at Abby. She retreats back into the dorm room and I smile at the jock. His eyes dart to where Abby must be behind the door, and his heartbeat increases tenfold. My smile practically cement on my face, I bid him farewell not before apologising for the intrusion. A shaky smile of his own forces its way out and I spin on my heels to head back to my own room but the sound of his door closing doesn’t come. Instead, whisper light footsteps hurl at me from behind, searing hot pain erupts from my back as I feel something wooden piercing my flesh, splinters breaking and lodging themselves in a messy array through my back. Agony rips through me and I scream out through gritted teeth, my body quickly falling limp and collapsing to the floor. Before my vision blurs to black, Abby steps over me, a phone held up to her ear with one hand, muttering something inaudible and a broken wooden stake in the other.

Fuck this place.

[invcstigative]

#invcstigative. a literate and descriptive original detective character . 18+ only // minors dni

Muse Name: Detective Beau Dayton Age: 42 Gender: Cis Male Orientation: Bisexual Hometown: Seattle, WA. Travels the US for work.

Ever since he was a kid, Beau had a love for noir films and mystery novels, and while at first he had every intention of becoming a police officer, he became disheartened by the system and thus his dreams shifted and he struck out on his own to become a private detective with a focus on cold cases and helping those who can't afford fancy agencies. Gruff, a love for coffee, and a little mysterious, Beau is straight out of a noir film, though it's unknown if this is just a show he puts on or if the aesthetic truly runs that deep.

While I do tend to write him as a regular detective, I am open for writing him in a more paranormal setting where Beau is a medium, able to converse and see spirits whilst focusing on cases that have to do with the occult and helping spirits finish their unfinished business.

--

I love writing ships, romance is one of my favorite things to write, but I will not enforce it, nor is it the only thing I will write. I don't force ship, and I appreciate if you do the same. That being said, if you ask, it's more than likely I'll say yes, we just need chemistry in our writing.

You must be over eighteen to write things of a NSFW-rated nature. There are no exceptions to this rule. I will unfollow you if I find out you lied about your age. Period. This is not a game. 

My ask box is always open, and if you ever have a comment or a concern, please feel free to write me! Anonymous hate will be deleted and not published — I don’t feed trolls.

Hate of any kind will absolutely not be tolerated on this blog. If I see someone who is a friend of mine, or a mutual player, getting hate, I will stand up and defend them. If I find out you, as a follower, have been spreading hate — whether it be on your personal or your RP blog, you will be unfollowed. I have a zero tolerance policy.

Things are tagged, NSFW things are always tagged as #nsft

I’m happy to write with multiple versions of the same character.

[orbitalsparkle]

!Orbital Sparkle Masterpost!

Welcome to the Orbital Sparkle campaign page! Here, you will find everything having to do with the game, the players, and the general plot! As well as that, there will be links to each player's introduction page, and any other important posts. So without further ado, Campaign name- Sparkle Rolls: Orbital Sparkle

Game- Blades in The Dark (minorly hacked) Story- Magical Girls GM- @eldrigeonsss

Total player count- 7 Sessions played- 1

The Players

Sierra ( @moreclaypigeons) Character: Urania "Raini" Playbook: Leech Planet/Bird: Uranus / tba

Guthrie ( @guthrie-odonto ) Character: Kuro Seti Playbook: Hull Planet/Bird: Pluto / masked lapwing Devo ( @cambriascall ) Character: Lulu/Cythe Playbook: Vampire (modified) Planet/Bird: Venus / Fruit Bat Robin (@melonkittii ) Character: Mimi Imi Playbook: Whisper Planet/Bird: Saturn / tba Dylan ( @/blsbaddie [discord] ) Character: tba Playbook: tba Planet/Bird: Mercury / tba Serenade Character: tba Playbook: tba Planet/Bird: Ceres / tba

-------------------------------------------------------------

The Crew

Crew type: Occult Reputation: Daring Tier: tba Hold: tba

The Setting

Welcome to the beautiful city of Newol Seattle, in the beautiful year of 2068! If you haven't heard, The Great Year is soon approaching, so the cities citizens are all getting ready for its arrival.

It has been about 50 years since the Catalyst Event that caused all of earth's society to crumble, and our rebuilt world is better than ever! Perfect, one might say. Yes, even though the Rewritten Years were hard on everyone, humanity is resilient, and through the collapse of Old Age government, capitalism, and structure, we have found something much more valuable! Community! And through community we have found our city! Built on the rubble of New and Old Seattle, Newol Seattle is the pinnacle of the country Washington's glory Not that there is much outside of it Sporting some truly astounding architecture, with very organized city structuring, you will find that this is the city of your dreams. Take a ride on the light rail, see the first ever building to touch into space, tour through some of the most beautiful gardens in all of the world. Or go down further, find the neon-lit night markets, see Old Age technology first hand in the scrap pits, discover tunnels that lead down into places unkown. The possibilities are endless, so feel free to get lost in our illustrious city!

The Story

tba ^^

[edgeofthecirclebooks]

[yukoishii]

the 7th sun mixed media painting, wax on wood panel © Yuko Ishii

[mikaharuka]

Your Writing Education - Tag Game

So... @mrsmungus tagged me to answer this question:

What are some of the things your writing has inspired you to learn (more) about?

There are quite a few, and this list is definitely not exhaustive at all:

Airports, flights, roads/highways around West Washington State

Recipes and other info for various desserts and drinks

Fashion aesthetics - especially Bohemian and Victorian Goth

Medical stuff related to concussions and hospital procedures

Metaphysical/occult shop wares, Google search functionality

Geography within Seattle - notably Magnolia/Discovery Park

Architecture and gardening stuff, also colors in general

Sanskrit and Latin languages (only at the start of this)

Plants - wildlife, medical, floral, within Ayurvedic stuff...

Vampire/supernatural lore from across the world (especially Quileute lore, since that was quite grossly butchered in canon!)

World History... sooooo much history in general. In fact, I think this deserves its own separate list of topics, so... continue down! Also I'm only listing stuff I've started looking into - by no means am I anywhere close to done with this stuff, nor is this list exhaustive. I'm only at the overview stage for most of this stuff.

Washington State - time as a territory, treaties and agreements, statehood process, international diaspora through today, Seattle-specific history, Quileute history (like with the lore, a lot was overlooked if not outright incorrectly portrayed in canon)

Civil War - timelines, notable/relevant battles, status of major cities

1600s in America, Middle Ages + Renaissance

Medical History - Black Plague, Plague of the Justinian, medical advances and education in general

Ancient World - Mesopotamia, Greece, Han Dynasty (China), India, Egypt, Roman Republic, early Roman Empire, Conquest of Dacia

...so yeah. As you can see, this is quite a lot and I'm only scratching the surface right now!. I didn't plan for things to go this deep when I started, but I wouldn't change anything and found it rewarding.

Tagging to play (no pressure, of course): @axolotlsupremacyowo, @kayedium-writes, @udaberriwrites, @alpaca-clouds, @sliebman10, and the open tag for anyone else who is interested!

[gyakusama]

Ears lift, only barely, beneath cascade of white hair. What was he? However, instead of ... something polite, or even introductory, her lips part: ❝ Did you cut your bangs in the middle of a mental breakdown? I get it ... I did it once. But it turned out like ... bad. The bob is cute! ❞

��� 's that any way t' speak to a customer? ❞ Yes, he cut his hair in the middle of a mental breakdown, but that was forever ago!

Now, what brings Captain Shinji Hirako all the way out to a little occult shop in Seattle, Washington? To find something that cannot easily be purchased in Japan or the Soul Society, of course. Something unique. Something that might help make up for his absence from the World of the Living...

Most of the Visored (and Kisuke) have their birthdays towards the end of the year────a time Shinji anticipates being, unfortunately, very busy. So he might as well do a bit of shopping while he has the free time. Hachi in particular seems to have taken up an interest in ❛ human magic ❜ recently────which makes sense, if you think of Kidō as the Shinigami equivalent to magic.

❝ Ya got any...spellcraft...things? ❞

[thisandthat-whatever]

How do you like New York City overall?

I like it way better than LA . It fits my vibe better.

Hell-A is my least favourite city in USA. It is not a coincidence that most who like NYC don’t like LA and vice versa. I know some people who would prefer LA, so it is a personal choice. I have been to many cities here through travels mostly , from Seattle (where I actually lived for six months when I first came to USA) to Ohio City (passing through. Too rural for me), from San Francisco (pre-whatever is happening there now) to Chicago, etc.

To live I would recommend Seattle and NYC. To visit , like if you have only a few days to visit somewhere in the US, I’d say NOLA because New Orleans is the most interesting and different American city compared to all others. It has that occult intrigue on top of everything. 😂 I was there for only three days but I wanna go back because I don’t think I explored their cajun cuisine enough.

[blamelessfish]

Silver Part One

Master List // Next

The smell of ink and candle smoke mingled with the stench of blood. I straightened up, glanced down at the corpse, and sighed. I rubbed my temples. At times like this, my brain just logged what I saw, not reacting. He'd been eviscerated, throat to groin. The amount of bleeding showed that he'd still been alive, but there was no rope burn on his wrists and the cut was clean. Almost surgical. Like the work seers or Necromancers did on corpses sometimes. "Old hand," I murmured,  and glanced at the ritual circle the body had been curled around. The lines were bizarre, the Arcane frequencies were incongruent, suggesting a ritual invoking passion and emotion, but the wavelengths had been secured. The circle around the ritual hadn't been made with salt or something grounding, but powdered copper. There was items from the first five gates, skip the fifth and sixth, and then an Angel's Feather. And the power source was celestial. Celestial power for a ritual of blood. I was unsure what to make of it. That made me nervous. There was a knock on the door, and I glanced around the dingey one room Seattle apartment. There were photographs on the walls. It looked like Ronald was a nature photographer. My eyes lingered on a picture of a coyote, its eyes seeming to stare back out at me. There was another knock on the door, and Alphus cleared his throat. I looked at him. He was a mountain of a man. Nearly seven feet tall, wearing a jacket in the July heat. His expression was unreadable, hidden behind a beard and mirrored sunglasses. He cooked his head towards the door. I sighed. "Let them in. It might be good to get a second pair of eyes on this."

             "That bad?" He asked in a voice like grating stone. I gestured to the circle.

             "Any ideas?" He didn’t say anything, and opened the door. The two feds that stepped into the room looked the part. Cheap suits, mirrored off brand shades, shoulder holsters. If I hadn't known any better about the C.O.D's finest, I might even have thought they knew what they were investigating. One was a shorter, plump woman, and the other was a tall thin man. They both seemed to cast a wary glance at Alphus and I. "We don't bite," I promised. They started to come in, then they saw the body and froze. Alphas closed the door. "Greetings from the Order of the Corpus Sacrement," I said to break the silence, "I am a Keeper of Gates and a Warden of the Emerald Domain, Silver Harrows." I gestured to the body. "I wish the circumstances were more pleasant." The woman nodded and stepped forward while the man stepped forward and started to examine the body. She shook my hand.

     "I'm special Agent Cassidy Burns of the Cryptozoological and Occult crimes Division of the FBI." She cooked her head at the man examining the body. "Special Agent Burns." He grunted, and stood up.

     "A single, clean laceration," he said with a tone like that was the one big clue that would crack the case. "Whoever did this was an old hand," he turned to me. "Who do you know that could open someone up like that? Like a surgeon?" Alphus chuckled darkly, and I couldn't hold back a grin. I shook my head and glanced at Special Agent Cassidy. She shrugged.

     "First case in the C.O.D. Got here after catching a Loup Garou that dropped a few bodies." I let out a low whistle and looked at the man. He didn't look like he could tangle with one of the Moonhexed.

     "Respect," I said, "but you're asking the wrong person the wrong question."

     "Why? Do you know a lot of people with medical training?" I ran my hand through my hair nervously.

     "Not exactly," I said. "It's just that most Practitioners worth their salt, specifically in the fields of Divination or Necromancy, which involves a lot of magic, would be able to do this." Special Agent Burns seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

      "I thought Necromancy was frowned upon," he finally said.

      "By the Unenlightened," Alphus said. "To Practitioners, a corpse without a soul is just more material." I let out a short, amused exhale. He was uniquely equipped to speak of Necromancy. There was a pause as Burns seemed to process the information.

      "But he wasn't dead when the cut was made," he finally said. "Any living person would buck and struggle, and even if he was restrained," he paused as he checked the ankles and wrists. "Even if he was restrained, there would be evidence of that jerking, bucking movement as he was killed." I nodded. The man wasn't stupid. "Unless,"

       "Unless he was unconscious or charmed. Maybe both." I finished. He nodded. I gestured to the ritual circle. "What can you get from this?" I asked. He set to work, and while it was clear he didn't know what he was looking at, he at least had the good sense not to touch anything. I crouched next to the corpse again. Next to Ronald, again. His face was twisted in agony, his features a distorted parody of what they would have been in life. Special Agent Cassidy crouched next to me.

        "Not unconscious then," she said.

        "No," I agreed. The image flashed in my mind. Unable to move, unable to scream, held in place as I was eviscerated. I winced and shook my head, unsure if it was a reverberation or just my imagination. I opened my eyes to see Cassidy reaching out to close the corpses. I stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

        "Why not?" she asked. Her voice carried a tiredness in it that I knew well. Resignation that things could always get worse.

       "We don't know what spells did this, or what he fueled. Until we do, it's unwise to touch him without protection." She nodded. I murmured a few words under my breath, and traced a few sigils in the air. His eyes slowly closed. She patted my shoulder. 

      "I'll call Arcane Hazmat."

      "Just know that he's at peace," I lied easily, "and we'll catch whoever did this."

      "What do you think sat here?" Burns asked. I stood, and turned, glancing at the carpet he gestured to. A heavy rectangular object had only just started to depress the fibers. It was barely noticeable. I hadn't seen it.

     "Nice catch," I said, crouched next to it, and ran my fingers along the carpet, murmuring words of protection. All that happened was that my fingers tingled. I grunted. "Could be a few things, but it was probably a tome," I straightened up, my knees popping as I did.

    "Like a wizard's book of spells?" Burns asked, smirking. I shrugged.

    "Not quite. It's a grimoire, but it's also more. Each tome is unique to the author. They can't be reproduced. A bit of your own soul, your own magic, goes into making the book. It holds all manner of Arcane Lore. Rituals. Incantations. Names. Formulae. Miscellaneous Magical Minutiae." I shrugged. "I can get more in depth about grimoires if you'd like."

     "Sure," Burns said. 

     "So-" I started.

     "It's two thirty," Alphus said. "We have to go." I grimaced, remembering that I'd agreed to meet with Marcilla at three. Alphus handed Agent Cassidy my card as I packed up my kit. Just a few things like moon water for cleansing and arcanically receptive stones.

      "We'll be in touch," I said as we left.

      "Should I be expecting a raven tapping at my window?" Agent Cassidy asked, grinning.

       "Actually, my familiar is a toad." She laughed as Alphus closed the door. I grimaced. Alphus was silent until we got to the elevator, and the doors closed.

      "You lied to her," he said simply. I nodded.

      "They didn't want to know." Alphus remained silent, but I could tell he agreed. Neither of us wanted to know either. We didn't want to know that the whole time we were investigating, Ronald's ghost was chained to his body, split open, and screaming like he couldn't when he died.

[rockytilly]

BASIC INFORMATION.

full name: rocky tilly

age: twenty seven

birth date: 5th march 1996

birth place: new orleans, louisana

nationality: american

gender: cis male

pronouns: he / him

orientation: bisexual

occupation: main street records + heartbeat station

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: oliver stark

hair colour: light brown

hair style:

eye colour: blue

height: 6"2'

weight: 163lbs

build: athletic

PERSONALITY.

+ compassionate, jovial, ardent, punctual and resilient - airy, brazen, imprudent, boastful, pessimistic

FAMILY.

mother: joanie tilly

father: ramsay hart

grandmother: brandy hart

BIOGRAPHY.

joanie tilly and ramsay hart were never supposed to be parents — they met while ramsay was touring with his band across the deep south, where they drank tequila at shitty dive bars, screwed each others brains out in the bathroom and fought into the early hours at various motels when joanie would catch ramsay flirting with another woman or ramsay would cacth her flirting with another man.

it was a tumultuous romance, the kind that never should have lasted longer than a weekend and would have ended long before it actually did if it wasn't for joanie falling pregnant and giving birth to rocky nine months later.

motels and dive bars were no place to raise a new born baby, but his parents were hellbent on trying. the type of parents who believed a baby had to fit into your life, not change it.

it was when rocky was six years old that they dropped him off at his grandmothers, relinquishing their parental rights to ramsay's mother. the nine years that rocky spent in new orleans with his grandmother were the happiest and most stable years of his life — even if she was slightly unconventional.

rocky spent his days after school at his grandmother's store for all things magick and occult, where she hosted clients seeking comfort and closure after losing a loved one. marianne hart was an eccentric woman, a self proclaimed medium but she loved rocky with every fibre of her being and there wasn't ever a day that rocky doubted that.

he was fifteen years old when his mother knocked on his grandmothers door, a minivan parked outside with all of her belongings inside after splitting up with ramsay for good this time and claiming to wanting to start a new life with rocky — in montana.

despite begging her to let him stay in new orleans where he had built a life, joanie promised rocky that things would be different now and that she was ready to be a mother — she was lying, of course. joanie just didn't want to be alone now that she'd split up with rocky's father.

readjusting to life in montana wasn't easy for rocky, everybody he knew and cared about was back home in new orleans but he was resilient, being abandoned by his parents had at least taught him that. his teenage years spent in montana weren't always smooth sailings. joanie hadn't lied when she said she was through with ramsey for the last time. unfortunately that opened a revolving door to new men who never stayed long enough for rocky to learn their names. none of them lasted longer than a few months, some only as long as the weekend.

sometimes rocky would be left home alone for the weekend or several days, the longest joanie was ever gone was a month. returning only when her latest fling had ended. it was during these years that rocky made a conscious effort to focus on his school work, determined to graduate with grades that would make any school in the country give him early admission and get away from his mother as fast as he could.

rocky left montana shortly after graduation, returning to new orleans to spend the summer with his grandma before heading to fairford, seattle to complete his bachelors degree in music production. joanie and ramsey might not have shared much with rocky, but they did share a love for music. however, where ramsey's passion was with performing, rocky's was producing. whenever he listened to the music his parents or grandma played growing up, he'd often wonder how it was produced.

once rocky graduated from fairford community college after completing his bachelors degree and masters in music production he landed himself a job at heartbeat station as an intern where he worked his way up to host in the last three years. it's not the career he wants in music, but he considers it a stepping stone in the right direction.

TIDBITS.

during his years in college he worked at main street records, quitting after graduating but returned to work there part-time recently simply because it's one of his favourite jobs he has ever had.

working at the radio station is a means of networking for him, hoping to discover new talent and meet other people in the industry to help him get a foot in the door.

by no means considers himself a celebrity or even a local celebrity despite being a local radio host

has a tiktok channel that he posts tiktoks of himself producing music in the same vein of charlie puth's "anything can be made into music" tiktok series.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

PLATONIC.

friends / best friends / acquaintances / ride or dies / co-workers from main street records / co-workers from heartbeat station / old college buddies / drinking buddies / smoking buddies / room mates

ROMANTIC.

friends with benefits / first loves / ex-boyfriend + girlfriend / skinny love / doomed love / flirtationship / tinder matches / grindr hook-ups / college exes / college hook-ups

ANTAGONISTIC.

enemies / former friends / people he has burned bridges with / exes / petty rivals

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

ex something of @thaddcarter. dated for a little over year and a half, never quite managed to put a label on it and ended recently after rocky got scared of things getting too real and self sabotaged their relationship by kissing somebody else