#she is truely a wonderful woman

[beemintty]

my mother a year ago: just one more hard year.

my mother a month ago: just one more hard month.

my mother a week ago: just one more hard week.

my mother a day ago: one more hard day.

mum i did it. i made it. im ok.

[evilminji]

Who are the easiest to access Heavy Hitters?

Like? You could just... walk up to them at their Day Job, JLA Heavy Hitters? Not CEOs obviously. Nor, even, Clark. He has a desk job sprinkled with in the field reporting. Honestly?

It's probably Wonder Woman.

She works as a curator of the Louvre Museum in France. All you would NEED is something potentially worth going into the collection, even if it doesn't work out, just POTENTIALLY worth... Oooooor? To wait, having largely tracked her daily schedule down to the quarter hour, for her to head into work... and shout in a truely abominable and choppy version of one of the Amazonian languages "Princess, please wait, may I have a moment of your time?"

Cause that works too.

And Wes had the whole damn plane ride, in the cheapest economy seats he could find, to practice. If the ADULTS won't do anything and Fenton can't leave for longer then 2 seconds without the town burning down... Then Wes Weston will. He hates it. This shouldn't be his fuckin job. But Grandma always did say that the burden of Seeing the Truth, was feeling compelled to act on it.

He REALLY hopes he doesn't get stabbed by an Amazon.

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @hypewinter

[not-my-final-account]

I’VE FALLEN DOWN THE RABIT HOLE OF DANNY PHANTOM AND NOW I CAN’T ESCAPE

Once the Justice League was losing. It was the end of the world. No seriously, the world was an hour away from being blown to bits.

-

Constantine sighed and rubbed his face, he had just ran out of cigarettes and it was making him more jumpy than was truely necessary in any given situation. Him and most of the bigger heros in the Justice League sat in a cave and were forced to wait out the apocalypse, well, the hour left of it anyways.

Constantine sighed and looked up to what you could see of the sky from inside their cave, he was almost… afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen, afraid that it had come to this, afraid that the rumours were true or even worse than they seemed, Pariah Dark was not known for caring nor his mercy.

Honestly Constantine was going to consider it lucky if he died and got to rest in peace, even more lucky if the world actually got saved! This was a last ditch effort.

Constantine grabbed a piece of chalk from his pocket, it was worn from years of carrying it around. He settled it on the flattest piece of stone he could find and started drawing the circle he had memorised. “John what are you doing?” Wonder Woman asked, he ignored her and took a deep breathe

“Oh dark king of the ghosts.” he prayed, there were truely only a few necessary words but Constantine felt like he needed to add a message, so he kept speaking as he drew the intricate patterns of the circle “My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please K I N G O F T H E G H O S T S.” Constantine begged, Wonder Woman and most of the others sat up or got more defensive, it truely said something that Batman didn’t bother.

-

Danny Phantom sat playing DOOM with Sam and Tucker, cheering when we got to a higher level. Suddenly something tugged at his core and a voice whispered through his ears

…oh dark king of the ghosts. My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please…

“-anny? Danny?” Sam asked “Hello?” she said in a sing song voice

“Still with us Danny?” Tucker asked, Danny swallowed,

“I- I’ve got to go.” he said

-

Constantine sat on his knees in front of the circle and… nothing happened, Superman glanced at him and started to sit back down when suddenly the stone inside the circle fell away into a green spiral.

Superman gasped and jumped back up

“Don’t attack him, bow.” Constantine instructed, reluctantly Superman and everyone else did, except for Batman of course, what’d you expect? Him to change? Just because the world was ending?

A pale hand reached up from the circle and grabbed the edge; whoever was in the circle pulled themself up slowly and as they came closer to the mortal realm Superman got a sense of dread, of death, of… something else, of authority, and everyone in the room seemed to find themselves bowing lower. Superman couldn’t help but think, had Constantine double-doomed the world?

-

Constantine looked up as the figure hovered above the circle, he was the first to move from his bow. This… wasn’t what Constantine expected Pariah Dark to look like, he was still imposing but didn’t fit the ghost kings reputation.

He had a cape as dark as the shadows with glowing constellations and stories sown into the fabric. He had a crown that burned with green fire and floated above his head, his eyes glowed the same green as the crown and his hand had a single ring. He wore royal looking clothes, white boots and gloves with a black shirt and pants.

This was the ghost king “Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts. I am Constantine-”

“Pariah Dark? I dethroned him years ago! I’m Danny Phantom.” the ghost king introduced.

“I meant no disrespect your highness.” Constantine quickly said

“I don’t- never mind. You asked for me to save earth?” King Phantom asked, Constantine gulped

“Y-yes, we can’t win, please, I- I’ll do anything.” he begged,

“A favour.” King Phantom said

“What?” Constantine asked

“A favour, I’ll save your world for a favour from you and your friends.” King Phantom said.

A favour to a ghost king who was probably very evil, that is so stupid and such a horrible idea, who in their right mind would-

“Deal.” Constantine agreed.

There was a flash of bright light and King Phantom disappeared, after a few seconds of him being gone the sounds of a battle echoed through the cave.

“Constantine what did you just rope us into?” Batman asked. Constantine really, really needed a cigarette.

-

Years ago, the world was ending. In a last ditch effort Constantine summoned… something. Superman didn’t know much about the ghost king that had appeared, just that he was powerful, and that the better half of the Justice League owed him a favour. It had been on everyone’s minds for a few months after that deal, waiting for the day they would be called for something horrific and hoping it wouldn’t ruin them or their morals. But truthfully, after a few years everyone sorta forgot about it; it was the type of thing no one remembered unless the subject at hand related to it, and even then you were uneasy for a day and forgot all over again.

So when a scroll appeared in a flash of green light during a meeting one day, Superman would like to say that the freaking out was justified.

Batman (who seemed to adopt everyone he met in one way or another) shushed the group of panicking superhero’s and picked up the scroll “I am calling in your favour, when you finish reading this you will all be teleported to my aid. Signed, Phantom.” Batman read. Oh no.

In another flash of green light they appeared in a park with a few heros who hadn’t even been in the room. Everyone immediately put up their defences and raised various weapons, then they realised the park was empty. Superman looked around using X-ray vision, he had no clue what was going on in the seemingly peaceful that could make a ghost king ask for help, then he looked through a hill and saw a giant green dog running with two kids gripping it’s lead.

As the dog jumped on top of then off the hill and ran in front of them Superman could make out the words in their screams

“Sit boy, sit!” the Batman looking one called

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! NO OFFENCE DANNNYYYY!!!” the one with devices falling out of his bag and pockets yelled.

Everyone lowered their weapons and Flash relaxed and scoffed

“This is what that ghost guy called us in for? This is going to be a breeze!” Flash said happily

“Don’t judge a book by its cover Flash.” Constantine warned. Superman was about to agree with flash when the ghost king suddenly appeared in the air in front of us, dripping in something green which looked alarmingly like blood- oh god the ghost king was dying!? Re-dying?!

“Forget I said anything,” Flash raised his hands in the air and got ignored as we rushed over to the ghost king who had fallen out of the air and onto the ground.

Before anyone could do anything though another person appeared out of thin air and then floated down

“Join me Daniel! Together we could rule the world!” he asked, okay that was an evil guy if Superman had ever seen one, he even had the looks to go with it, you could mistake him as Dracula … was that Dracula?

Suddenly another guy who looked like the ghost king body slammed Dracula from the air

“I WILL RULE THE WORLD AND ME ALONE!” as he stood up Superman noticed he looked just like the ghost king only older and more evil looking. As if the mention of look-a-likes summoned her, a small girl who also looked just like the ghost king only younger and female body slammed evil twin number 1.

“Not on my watch you fruitloop!” she yelled. Suddenly a woman in a track suit with ridiculous looking googles and carrying an oversized gun jumped down

“Get away you evil ghosts!” she yelled and fired some energy weapon at the small group, they all scattered and the four of them fought when some girl on a hover board swooped in and pointed her hand at the ghost king

“Danny Phantom! You and all of ghost kind will pay!!” she yelled, something on her wrist started glowing when

“GET AWAY FROM DANNY!” a school girl yelled. Her orange hair swung around as she discus threw her books and bag right into the girls face. They also ran off into the distance to fight.

“What?” Flash asked,

“When he said.” Green Lantern agreed.

“The Dracula looking one is Vlad, he’s a bad guy, so is my evil self from an alternate timeline, we call him Dan, Dani is the small girl who looks like me, that’s because she’s my clone, she’s on the good side but she might steal your stuff just because she can so be careful,” he took a wheezy breath “My sister Jazz is the one who hurled her books into the air to protect me, she’s good. The girl in the red suit is Red Huntress, she’s good she just doesn’t understand -same with my parents, the couple in the jumpsuits, their ghost hunters.” the ghost king explained

“Wait, your parents are ghost hunters?” Flash asked

“Yeah?” the ghost king asked- oh I see.

“But you’re a ghost?” Flash said

“I’m technically a halfa actually, but trust me I know. It’s all ‘we’re going to tear apart the ghost boy molecule by molecule’ and never ‘is the ghost boy good or bad’.” the ghost king groaned, I reached out to help “I’ll be fine go fight or help!” he said

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hi!

I have been following this blog for a while now and I love using it to find new podcasts. I was wondering, if you have time, what you think is the scariest podcast you've listened to or what your favorite horror podcasts might be? Thank you, and I hope you have a great day :)

I'm so glad to have helped you find new shows!

I don't really get scared by horror podcasts (not sure why. It isn't some "I'm tough" thing, I get startled by the toaster, and it's not like I never feel unsettled or concerned or icked out at podcasts, just not scared) so I'm not sure I can give you a good answer on that one, but I'll gladly give you ten of my personal favourites instead:

Alice Isn't Dead: The podcast that got me into podcasts. A truck driver travels the USA looking for her wife, who until recently, she had thought was dead. Along the way she has all manner of strange encounters, and sees a side to the world that few truely comprehend.

Archive 81: A young archivist takes a job at a remote outpost organising and digitising a collection of tapes. On the tapes is a series of interviews and investigations made by a social worker in the 90s as she becomes familiar with a bizzare apartment building. The archivist, naturally, has an increasingly bad time. Each season is part of the same story, but they're all a bit different.

Ghost Wax: Recorded interviews conducted by the last surviving necromancer, and various people who died under seemingly otherworldly circumstances.

Hello From The Hallowoods: Supernatural and cosmic horror. A powerful and dramatic entity visits your nightmares to relay stories of the people (to varying degrees of both human and alive) who inhabit the beautiful and deadly Hallowoods. What start off as individual stories quickly connect to a larger narrative.

Hi Nay: A supernatural horror following a young woman named Mari, who's babaylan (shaman) family background draws her into helping people with various horrific supernatural problems around Toronto. Formatted as phone calls to her mother telling her what's happened.

I Am In Eskew: Often-horrific stories from a man living in something that very much wishes to be a city, and a private investigator who was, in her words, hired to kill a ghost. Many people seem to agree this one is scary.

Janus Descending: A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to investigate and sample the ruins of a long-dead alien city, and discover more than they anticipated. The format for this one is really clever: you hear her audio logs first to last, and his last to first, and the story is all the more heartbreaking for it. I'd recommend listening to the supercut.

The Lost Cat Podcast: A man befriends strange entities, loses bits of himself and drinks an awful lot of wine while looking for his cat. Soft and cosmic horror.

The Moon Crown: The shortest on this list, but also one of the most fascinating. A disgraced scribe living in a city of humans, beasts, and other bizzare entities, begins to recount recent happenings, and actions she has a hard time explaining, on broadcast. But the people she's hoping to reach might not be the ones listening.

The Silt Verses: In a modern world where gods are plentiful, both illicit and commercialised, two disciples of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

Although, maybe some other listeners can help me out and share what scared them?

[threepandas]

Bad End, Chosen: Part 4

Back <- | -> Next

The Cycles never "loaded" back in at quite the same point. It was something I had noticed, though I had only suffered a few of them so far. It was like the God's were hoping "Chapter" to "Chapter", fickle and easily bored, trying desperately to find something NEW.

It made planning all but impossible.

Where... where was I?

A simple room. A suitcase before me. Loading or unloading? I held a robe in my hands. Painfully familiar. I had worn them for years. The highly protective robes of Mage initiates, at the Magic Tower. Meant to work as armor, life support, even... God's forbid, an emergency beacon. They were hideous. Function over form.

I could cry, for how deeply I loved these ugly robes.

No one had EVER been able to figure out how to style them properly. God's know, we had TRIED. But when The Dark came? This ugly, ugly things? These long complained about hand-me-downs? Oh... oh they had saved so, SO many student's lives.

Such tiny little things. Pulled from the rubble, still breathing. All because of these chaotic, gaudy, terribly comfortable and so deeply loved, old robes. T...They truely were as hideous as I remembered, weren't they? Blocks upon blocks of overlapping stitches and patches, too many colors, as though the tower was too stubborn to throw as single thing away.

We were.

We... we NEVER leave anything or anyONE behind.

Packrats, all of us. Such terrible hoarders. But... I looked around. It did not tell me the date. Was I leaving? Joining the tower? How old was I supposed to be? I pulled on my robes.

It felt like coming home. Like balm against the raw nerves of my still fragile mind. I felt old. Brittle. At... at terrible odds, with my young skin. I wondered if this was how she felt. The woman, the poor girl, that came before me. Before she broke so badly even the God's could not force her to perform. I did not want to admit I understood the impulse.

Ah, there.

I had once, what felt like lifetimes ago. What WAS lifetimes ago. Bought this very calander. It was cute. Little fairy dragons danced upon the edges, delicate and joyous. They were, of course, incorrectly drawn. The artist had never seen a real fairy dragon, only heard of them. I had seen some during the war.

People forget that neither the Fae nor Dragons are sweet or gentle things.

They were... Awe inspiring. In the oldest sense of the world. "An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, and fear." I believe the text defined it. Like living starlight and glass, sung poetry and water. They were the fury of long dead gods and the vengeance of beings who were divine unto themselves.

They removed an entire MOUNTAIN RANGE before they fell. Burned and reduced to molten earth, an entire inland sea. They died like STARS. Violently and with a force that destroyed the void itself. Consuming all that dared stand in their shadow.

Ha. And people think they're CUTE.

Ah...my mind is wandering again. I try to concentrate on the calendar. My... my mind doesn't want too. Oh dear. That's... that's probably a rather bad sign, isn't it?

Opening my eyes at the beginning of the cycle had brough such... CLARITY. As though my head had been held under murky water and finally, FINALLY, I was able to scramble free. But... much like the drowned... I felt something like a high. Adrift. Without my anchor. I wanted my Gran-...

NO.

I grab the dresser before me. Hard enough my knuckles go white. My wide eyes focus far away. Seeing without seeing. Hyperfocused on the woodgrain before me. I am my OWN anchor. Feel the magic in your veins. The push and pull of the world. We are not his slave! Not his PET, to keep and cherish. A toy on a shelf.

I am a PERSON.

I DEFY MY FATE.

A cheerful knock at the door to my room. My eyes finally focusing on the date. Fuck. Moving IN, then. I do not know if I can act "normal". I... I will have to try. I can not unclench my jaw, but with great force of will, finger by finger, I release my grip on the dresser. Stand up. Glance up into the mirror.

I look like I am some hateful little thing, vowing some ugly little vengeance. Perhaps it is just my face. The way anger and spite only barely holds my bleeding edges together. My fear. I...I look like I am about to cry.

What a wretched child.

I try to force a smile.

It looks hideous. More ugly grimace and deep disgust then "oh, Master, how pleased I am to see you!". Fuck. When did I become so broken? A knock again. More hesitant. I breathe deep. I can not do cheerful, then. But...I... I can do nothing.

My face slides into an emotionless mask. Blank. Like a doll. Vaguely pleasant but meaningless. How damningly familiar. Gran-... HE reduced me to this in the end. A few steps. Almost distant, robotic, movement. And I open the door to a once familiar face.

"Learner." My Master smiles, awkward and uncertain. He had not wanted a student. I forced his hand. I know now I never should have done so. He was not ready. "Are you, um, settling? In? I know it is quite different from the life you once lived, but I promise. I will tale care of you. Well figure this out together."

Oh, Master.

I...I wish I could weep. I had forgotten this lie. How deeply I had once believed it. It was a child's promise, from a man who grew old but never, truely, grew up. I was to be failed again and again. Had once given him chance after chance. Because I had believed his words. My eyes feel hot. He looks panicked.

"Ah! W-what did I do? Was that wrong? Please don't cry?! Oh no! Uuuuh-!"

"Well THIS is a record. Not even a day and you've made the child weep." Comes a terrible voice. No. Please, Gods. Not so soon. "Here I am, come to greet my precious Grandlearner. And what do I find? My student, tormenting a child."

My Master sputters defenses of himself. Not even noticing that his own Master did not call him Learner. All but disowned him before me. My fear howls like a deafening beast in my ears. But... cowering? Will not... can not save me. Turning my head is almost painful, with how tightly my muscles have tensed.

That is not the look of a man who does not recognize me.

He remembers.

Alaric Blight stands in truely magnificent Tower Master's robes, as though he has every right to be there. Respected. Beloved. A legendary talent, the likes of which have not been seen for lifetimes. ANYONE would be HONORED to be in his presence. After all... he is a man who holds the world at his feet.

He is a monster.

"Hello Grandlearner," he all but purrs. Stalking forward to loom, as only an adult CAN loom over a child. The power difference between is even greater now. I can not even count myself an ant before him. I... I can not breathe. "What a delicate little thing you are. Utterly precious. And so SMALL! You certainly have a lot of training to do, don't you?"

His hand reaches forward to cup my cheek, sparks of deadly magic dancing lazily across my skin too finely for Master to notice, but not so fine I can not FEEL. It is a subtle threat. A little reminder. Not a single soul in this tower is safe, so long as he is here. All it would take? Is.. Just. One. Touch~

"I'm sure you'll BEHAVE for your Master, WONT you, Dear? After all, he only wants what's best for you. And a darling child like you, Grandlearner? Should be cherished."

"He's right." My Master said, clueless to the monster he let so close. Who so very dispised him. "But... but Master, I'm not sure, well, HOW exactly..."

"Oh don't worry, student of mine." Alaric Blight, monster of my nightmares, hummed in a laughable mimicry of pleasantries. "I'll be with you EVERY step of the way. How could do anything less? We'll train my darling Grandlearner together."

A terrible grin.

"Leave everything to me."

[jonesywrites]

I feel compelled, so I must.

*Now with images for context

Man I shit you not, I have so much stuff to do like SO MUCH but I also have ADHD and a tendency toward hyperfixation so I am compelled, I tell you.

I'm writing for a whole ass other ship, filming, and editing for my YT channel. But I saw gifs, and I read tweets, and I saw hot takes and then I decided to react to Season 3 Part I for my channel.

I AM OBSESSED.

I'm in the middle of editing my reactions to Ep 1-4 and I just HAVE to chime in with these observations I keep having as I go through and re-live each Polin scene while editing. I know some of this has been seen/said before but I'm a newb to this fandom and I just finished listening to all of the audiobooks (save Simon and Daphne's story) so I just gotta! I OBSERVED A LOT and there's a lot here, so . . .

Colin turns to the Featherington house as soon as he arrives home and greets his family.

Because whether he's aware of it or not, he's thinking of one of those Featheringtons, who happens to be standing there as he debuts "the new Colin" to the people he cares about the most -- which includes Pen, they are telegraphing to us in this moment -- (right after testing some of that newfound charm on a gaggle of giggly girls). I don't think he greets her right away because he isn't ready yet but you can see his smile/smirk when he spots her -- like "Yep, Pen, feast your eyes, it's the new me, and NOW I'll bet you'll want to hear about my travels."

Eloise is the first person to spot that he may not really be into this "new Colin".

The show GOES OUT OF ITS WAY to let you know this isn't really Colin, that his heart isn't really into it, from jump. The siblings Bridgerton do a little "we see each other" when he questions her about trying to fit into society after all this time -- they're two sides of the same coin. He's too sensitive and romantic for the rakes of the ton and she's too independent and free-thinking for the boring trappings of the marriage mart, but here they both are. Pretending.

Colin goes out of his way to test his new charm on half the ladies at the Queen's garden party thing BEFORE he approaches Pen to talk for the first time since he got back -- at first glance he's just doing his thing, being the new him, enjoying himself and his new ability to woo the ladies but IT IS THIS AUTHOR'S HUMBLE OPINION THAT HE WAS TESTING HIS CHARM TO ITS LIMITS BEFORE HE WENT OVER TO THE ONE GIRL HE ACTUALLY WANTS TO/TRUELY ENJOYS CONVERSING WITH TO LAY IT ON HER.

Wanna bet me he wasn't thinking about Pen while he was away, wondering why she wasn't answering, plotting to talk to her when he got back, plotting to see if his new charm would work on her because she's Pen and her opinion means a lot to him? He doesn't get why yet but it's there -- the tip of the iceberg, only a strong desire for her attention and approval right now, but I can sooooo see how that started to quickly burn into a much more intense desire for just...her.

I adore how Penelope asks the dressmaker for new dresses in the fashion of "what they are wearing in Paris" after Colin tells her his new wardrobe is what's all the rage in Paris from is travels.

He always counts on her just being Pen in the citrus colors hanging on the wall, a safe place, but then he sees her in that green dress and I truly believe this is the moment he realizes -- nah fam, this isn't just "Pen my friend who doesn't count (as a woman)", this is "wow who is that woman in the striking color with pretty lips and fiery red hair?"

This poor lovesick fellow has no idea why every time he sees her at a ball his heart does a funny thing and he suddenly can't see anyone else and he gets the urge to drink whatever's in his hand/close by.

HEY BABE IT'S BECAUSE YOU LIKE HER. A LOT. She isn't just Pen who doesn't count, she is SPECIAL.

Much has been said about the "Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton" scene, but I'll just add that you can tell when Colin is being genuine and totally himself vs when he's trying to charm her into relaxing with him/being more like her usual self.

When he says "the colour rather suits you," he's being her good friend who is pleased to see her looking so good but he's also saying that to himself, judging by his tone, like "yeah girl you should wear green more often, this makes you look damn good". And when he says he misses her, he means it, but you can also hear the armor of that New Colin Charm in his tone. It's a vulnerable thing to admit, so he uses a devilish smile and has a wink in his eyes because so far that has worked on every girl here since he got back. Not Pen, though ... he was SHOOK when she rebuffed him and called him cruel.

Yes, he is absolutely panicked that he might lose his one true friend in all of the fickle ton, but also . . . Colin is totally realizing how hot Pen is in the garden scene. Colin is looking into her gorgeous eyes and admitting how she makes him feel and you can see the real-time realization in his eyes/expression. Handshake? He is acting on his impulse to touch her while using his newfound charm to disguise his curiosity.

Colin wants to hang out with her as much as possible because that's how comfortable and appreciated she makes him feel but also it's my opinion that he, at least subconsciously, also wants to keep looking at her, getting closer to her, winning her favor. He's not even thinking about the results of the whole charm lessons thing, he's just thinking about being around Penelope as much as possible because of that realization that she makes existing in a world that is determined to misunderstand him (and has "forced" him to don a mask/facade to survive) bearable.

I agree with those who pointed out that he is taken aback by Pen's awkward flirting session with the fan because normally when they're alone talking all he sees/experiences is her wit, intelligence, keen ability to read between the lines of their society, etc.

Also, you can see he doesn't even care what the other blokes think of her, he thinks she's friggin adorable -- he can't keep the smile off his face even as he's sympathizing with her for going down faster than the Titanic-which-doesn't-exist-yet-duh-but-analogy-with-me-here.

Every moment of the private lesson scene, from him instantly abandoning the card game with his siblings to the way he planned out the whole thing and thought about where everyone would be and what window of time they'd have to "practice" shows THAT HE WAS IN FACT VERY EAGERLY AWAITING HER VISIT for their lesson. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who suggested the game in the garden to get everyone out of the house in anticipation of Pen’s arrival.

It is this author's humble opinion that Colin really, really wanted to pretend to flirt with Penelope to satisfy his nagging, subconscious (yet fluttering to the surface) curiosity and I AM WILLING TO BET MY TWIN SISTER'S WHOLE 2024 SALARY that (especially after her compliment shook him to his core) they wouldn't have made it much longer without him kissing her if they hadn't been interrupted and she had't read his journal.

He wanted alone time, he wanted intimacy, he wanted to flirt -- they would have charmed each other right into each other's pants if those lessons were allowed to continue, mark my words.

Colin's body was at least several weeks ahead of him. The body doesn't lie. Touching her skin in the garden. Leaning into her whenever they speak (with the convenient excuse of their height difference), pressing his palm into her lower back to escort her to the drawing room, sitting and letting her hold his hand for an unnecessarily long pause before forcing himself to stop staring at her and end the impropriety (escape the intensity of the moment to breathe and process, more like).

Jealous Colin(tm) with his intense eyes and hard jawline is everything and hot af, end of observation.

I love Dream Pen for Colin. The way he dressed her. The way his mind envisions her being breathless for him.

The way he pictures himself just holding her close and indulging in hot, sultry kisses until she's practically melting in his arms. THIS IS WHAT HE DREAMS ABOUT, WHAT HE TRULY WANTS. This boy is a Romantic with a capital ROMANTIC and I JUST LOVE how his dream about Pen reflects that so clearly. We've seen him struggling to pay attention or care in brothels but he displays more sexual intensity, passion, and lust in this romantic wet dream about simply confessing his feelings than any other time he's seen on screen with a woman he's supposed to find attractive.

The "Sweet Treats" scene, as I believe I've seen others pointing out, is --yes, sweet-- at a glance. But also HOT AF. He's pining, he's nervous, he's jealous, she's so sweet and lovely confessing her excitement and hopes for the match with Deblin. But it's also hot b/c I meeeean....The pink everywhere (pink walls, get it), her lips and his reaction to her glancing her tongue across them, his fingers flexing out of nerves but also the subconscious urge to touch, maybe even caress, is all in his stiff, hovering body language. Like, if he could shove those treats off one of those tables, throw her against it and ravage her "sweet treat" right then there in that pink little tent, homeboy totally would have if society/propriety/scandal/watching eyes weren't a concern.

SIDENOTE: I think Deblin was definitely attracted to Pen, it wasn't SOLELY a practical match for him.

He says she can make men wither within seconds of their first meeting and he definitely looks at her in a way that says he's charmed, intrigued, impressed, etc. So I think even they married, eventually he would start to miss her while away, then ache for her, then he would come home to her and he would fall. Gradually maybe, but I do believe Pen was right to hope love could grow between them. However, I'm so so sooo glad neither of them settled.

WHAT CAN BE SAID ABOUT THE CARRIAGE SCENE THAT HASN'T ALREADY BEEN SAID??? It's one of the hottest love scenes I've ever seen, and it's not because everybody is naked or because there's kink or anything crazy. It's because (for me) the actors TRULY CARE ABOUT THE DETAILS. Almost every frame has something you can freeze and stare at in awe, they DID THAT. Colin finally FEELING IT, with the one person who can truly see him and inspire those deep feelings he's been yearning for was HOT AF. Pen basically being at his mercy but also realizing her power over him and embracing it by letting him ruin her because it's COLIN (she wouldn't let anyone else do that, IMO, not even Deblin). MY FAVORITE PART:

At the end, when they exhale and slump into each other/the carriage seat in sync. She looks like she's never felt anything like this in her life (cuz she ain't) and he looks like he's finally HOME. And I'm not talking about his family's estate -- I specifically mean right there in Penelope's bosom, between her legs, her breath, her eyes, her moans for him, like he looks relieved and satisfied AND THEN HE'S LIKE "SO I'M NEVER LETTING THIS GO. DONE DEAL, YOU'RE MY PENELOPE, NOW."

Ugh. I loooove this couple! I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BODY. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Gonna add stills for the moments I mention once Tumblr stops being a bitch.

[captain039]

PART 3 In plain sight

Aemond x niece!reader

Warnings: AOB, swearing, HOTD things, targcest, incest uncle/niece, tension, angst, smut, sexual things, reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter (specified brown hair), plus size reader, fat shaming, self esteem issues

Previous part <-

The dragon pit is tense when you land. Your dragon grumbling as she enters the pit and disappears from your sight. There’s guards outside waiting no doubt for you. You approach as a knight steps forward nods his head.

“Your room is set up princess” he says and you nod following him as he turns then walks and you follow. You keep your head down no doubt the word getting around quicker than an infection. You enter the room quickly what little things you bought in a pack on the desk. Gods what a mess.

A small knock comes and you tense before opening the door frowning when you see Lord Larys.

“Princess” he bows his head.

“May I come in?” He asks and you nod letting him inside.

“What can I do for you lord Larys?” You ask nervously rubbing your hands together.

“I did wonder how long it’d take for someone to recognise you” he smiles slightly and it leaves you a little uneasy.

“The prince regent took longer than expected” he shrugs slightly.

“My lord I don’t wish to talk about this” you cut the man off and he nods.

“Of course, to the issues at hand. I’m afraid your- the prince regent is thirsting for war” he says and you frown briefly at his lap of words.

“I’m aware” you say shoulders tense.

“I don’t know if there is truely a way to stop it without blood shed on either side” his explanation is slow and his avoidant eyes make you annoyed yet you try to keep your calm.

“Perhaps you could play a much greater part in this” he says looking to you again.

“I have played a part look where it got me” you gesture to the room probably your now prison.

“The king is on the mend, I’m trying my best to get him up quicker, but it’s going to take time with his wounds, and with the whispers of new dragon riders the prince regent doesn’t have as many dragons” you know all he says.

“Lord Larys speak plainly” you say.

“Distract him” the lord says and you frown.

“For the sake of us all” he mutters as hurried footsteps come closer and the door is opened. Aemond stands there brows frowning as he spots the lord.

“Lord Larys” Prince Aemond says his tone menacing.

“Prince Aemond” Lord Larys answers and leaves.

“Did our whisperer, whisper something to you?” Aemond asks closing the door behind him.

“No” you say simply.

“If you aren’t going to kill me-“ The alpha has the audacity to let out a small growl like noise.

“Uncle” you scoff lightly as he approaches.

“Such familiar titles” he says and you frown as he keeps his eye narrowed on you. He stands too close, but you don’t back down from the silent challenge of the alpha even if his scent fills your nose deliciously.

“Change out of those clothes” he says eye darting down to your servants outfit and you scoff quietly.

“Afraid to be seen with a servant my prince?” You talk back but he stays silent.

“What do you want from me?” You sigh and you watch his pupil dilate before a knock comes.

“Who is it?” Prince Aemond calls before you can.

“Servants My Prince” a presumed knight answers and the door opens. Three ladies walk in and you know them. Ilya a young woman with blonde long hair tied in a braid, Brenna a slightly older woman with brown short hair to her shoulders and Lyria, same age as Ilya with light brown hair in a bun.

“Your ladies in waiting princess” Prince Aemond says and you frown.

“I know these women” you say a little quieter.

“You did work with them” your uncle says matter of factly making you glare.

“You’ve been deceived I’m afraid, the princess of Dragon Stone has been hiding amongst you” the women stare in shock before they all bow slightly muttering soft ‘Princess’ as they do.

“Run her a bath, get her changed for dinner” Prince Aemond orders before he’s out the door without another word. You glare at the door and huff as Ilya goes to the bathing room area.

“Apologies” you say.

“No, it’s alright I understand” Brenna says a small smile on your face.

“I’m here on my own accord, as daughter of the true heir” you say slightly testing where their loyalty lies.

“Long live the Queen” they both say and you nod smiling a little.

You bathe, the feeling odd of having someone who you worked with now cleaning your hands and nails. Your hair is brushed and braided before you’re adorned in a dark blue dress and some jewellery. You’re escorted down to the dining room, finding it strange you’re not the one serving. You sit at the table finding it oddly empty besides Helaena and her children and Aemond at the head of the table. Helaena glances to you briefly before going back to her food. It’s silent the whole way through dinner. Nobody speaks except for the children and their soft babbling as the servants help feed them. You don’t dare look at Aemond, finding yourself having simmering rage against him even more so now.

After dinner finishes you excuse yourself and follow the guard back to your room. You grab some parchment and a pen before you begin writing to your mother in quick lettering. You sigh scribbling the words out in annoyance before grabbing a new piece of parchment. A knock comes but you ignore it hoping whoever it was believed you were asleep. Only they didn’t, the door opened and you turned with a frown before you saw the prince. You huffed quietly turning back to your desk and dipping your quill in the inkwell.

“That’s no way to greet a prince” Aemond says voice teasing and you roll your eyes.

“You want to be swooned over and relished go to the silk streets” you sneer back sighing when you can’t find words for your mother. Gods she must be worried, maybe even thinks you’re dead.

“What are you writing?” He asks voice surprisingly softer.

“A letter, is there something you needed?” You say rushed hand shaking as you hold the quill. You feel like the days rushed back to you, everything that’s happened. You see splotches of inc on the paper and sigh a little. You stiffen though as you sense the prince alpha directly behind you.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks voice close to your ear but calm and smooth.

“Nothing you can help with” you snap. You feel like you’re begging to be executed with your rudeness to the prince regent of the realm. He hums hand on your bare shoulder making you jolt.

“Your scent reeks of anxiety’s” he says as you take small breaths trying to not melt into the warmth of his hand.

“That’s what happens when one has a day as I have” you mutter grabbing another sheet. He hums again hand moving to the back of your neck making you even more tense till you feel him gently massage. You can’t deny the instant reaction of your shoulders drooping a little more and your eyes closing. You breathe a little deeper cursing him silently but also enjoying it silently. This action should be banned from your biology as omega, the calm it brings.

“Write” he says softly and you snap out of the small trance you’re in.

“While the enemy looms over my shoulder?” You ask hearing him chuckle softly.

“I have to make sure you’re not writing anything to give our enemy information” he answers.

“Your enemy, my mother is not my enemy, my family is not my enemy, except you” you say blankly.

“Write omega” he repeats and you curse him silently. You write to your mother. Explaining why you left, what you planned to do, and now that you were living at the Red Keep unharmed. That Elea had flown here also on her own accord and that you were alive. Apparently whatever you writ was appropriate as you finished and sealed the letter. You doubt he would truely send it off anyway as you hand it back to the prince alpha. He hums, takes it and leaves the room without another word. Your whole body sags but you don’t get much time to breathe as your ladies in waiting dress you for bed.

[ultimatejunkofan]

I honestly think the scariest thing about Junko is you really dont know what shes thinking or feeling

As much as she shows this darkly comical side if her at least to me it all feels like a peformance to me, shes an actor taking the stage all her personalities and lies upon lies

In reality, she's cold and calculating. Everything she says and does is an act to the point. im not even sure Junko knows who she is anymore, her mind lost in true, unrelenting despair at existence. She can't be reasoned with, her mind can't be changed and she can't be saved, it's also why I see her to be so tragic, she's a victim of her own mind and circumstances.

Truely a hopeless being, beyond hopeless even despair is all she knows, theres no timeline where Junko can be saved without fully changing her character. Part of me wonders if its why mukaro helped her do some truly dospicable things, knowing her sister wasnt essentially a dead woman walking, her only real family lost to her own despair.

God just have so many thoughts about her just in awe of her as a character. Someone a lot of people see as this super shallow villian being evil for the sake of it while i cant unsee her as this complex character way beyond mindless evil, someone always doomed to be the villian of her own story who decided if she was doomed to never taste hope, to feel what its like to never feel complete or truly happy then why should anyone else.

Sorry, for the ramble, but god, this woman is just on my brain again

[1-800anklebully]

Mood - Trent Alexander Arnold x black female reader part 3

Summary: In which you and Trent were sneaky links at one point in life and he got sick of you. You’ve now returned back to Liverpool and old feelings resurface.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Asshole!Trent, swearing, smut if you squint a little, Toxic!Trent. And probably many things that I can’t think off the top of my head.

Excuse any errors.

“Trent don’t be rude, aren’t you going to greet Y/n properly.” His mother scolded him, stepping closer to mostly likely pinch some manners into him.

However he was smart and quick enough to know what her aim was so he bolted over to your side. He sent his brothers a vexed glanced before he glanced down at your 5’5 frame.

“Hello Y/n.” Trent says nonchalantly, no ounce of joy or excitement was in his tone which made you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

His long arms pulled you into his chest and he hugged you, allowing you to get a sniff of his cologne which smelled wonderful.

You could’ve sworn that you could stay in his warm muscular arms forever if only he wasn’t such a jerk.

The hug lasted for a good 50 seconds until he cleared his throat moving away, and on your deceased pets life you saw a glimpse of his tanned face and his cheeks were flustered.

Before anyone could call him out on his rosy cheeks or how long the hug lasted. He had quickly blurted out the first thing on his mind.

Anything to just get the fixated attention of him. Trent felt all hot and bothered, since when was your backside big like that especially in that dress.

“Well the food is most certainly going to turn cold if we just stand here. Come on everyone.” Trent began ushering his family, into the dining area and they all followed wordlessly.

Accept for his brothers who glanced at each other snickering like little boys, at Trent’s antics.

“You were mesmerised by the bunda huh.” Marcel childishly remarked, stopping his journey to the kitchen area. Tyler also couldn’t help but smirk at his younger bothers face.

He got caught red handed and wanted to deny it. Respectfully, Y/n was a pretty girl and Tyler viewed her as a little sister. Although he would admit that she had grown into her grown woman body and he was here for it.

“I wasn’t even looking but would you get in there.” Grabbing poor Marcel by his neck, Trent pushed him into the kitchen causing Tyler to do the same to Trent.

The Alexander- Arnold were truely a bad trio indeed.

︱︱︱︱

“Did you see the way he looked at me? I can’t go back down there again he hates my guts.” You were currently upstairs in Agnes room helping her fix her curly hair up.

Today she had decided that she wanted a new look; so she insisted on you straightening her hair as she would usually get Marcel to, paying him 50 bucks as he would bribe her.

But then she figured why waste money when you’re here. You know how to deal with all sorts of hair especially black woman here.

“Girl, you’re just exaggerating. He doesn’t hate you, sure he’s pissed. But he can’t hate you:” Agnes says from her phone as she texted her boyfriend; whom was devastated that he couldn’t make an appearance.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you should’ve have seen his face when he was hugging you. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Why? Because he didn’t expect your booty to be that big. He was checking you out.” Agnes blurted out not caring and your face dropped almost burning her with the iron.

She screamed loudly; jolting away from the straighter and you apologised profusely for damn near almost burning her forehead.

“Girl what’s wrong with you almost burnt me?!” She yelled shoving you back, causing you to stumble and bump into the counter wincing.

“I’m sorry. It’s just why would you say some shit like that knowing damn well I was straightening your hair.” You argued back while finishing off her hair; then turning off the straighter.

Unpluggung it, you wrapped up the cord putting it in the cabinet below. Then all of a sudden you were yanked by your hand downstairs with Agnes leading the way.

Everyone was chatting about whatever and Y/n seized the opportunity to go into the cabinet and set up the tables. While Agnes helped her mother with the food.

“Uh why aren’t you guys helping Y/n. I thought I raised you guys better than this. Trent go help her.” Mr Arnold said pointing at his son and Trent surpassed the urge to roll his eyes at this.

All these men in the room, and out of all of them he chooses me unbelievable. He thought.

Instead of replying all he does is nod and goes into the cabinet,where he found Y/N she was texting to her friend about how overwhelmed she felt.

Turning around, she gasped once she caught a sight of her ex towering over her with a bland facial expression. As if he didn’t care what she was doing.

“I just need to get the utensils. So if you’ll excuse me.” You nodded your head rapidly moving to the side; as Trent stepped forward grabbing the plates.

The cabinet was big enough so you weren’t entirely fussed on the fact that you could smell his cologne which was marvellous. Not once did he make eye contact nor talk to you when you guys set up the table.

To him you were like a ghost, non existent therefore he didn’t feel the need to acknowledge your presence. Which was absurd because you had no beef with him at all.

If anything you wanted to talk about, and put it all aside he was just the one dragging it on for no reason.

Returning back to the table,finally once everything was done everyone had already taken their seats and the only seat left was one next Trent.

Tyler was on his right and I could visibly see him cackling to himself about the whole situation.

“Hey Agnes.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you think you can be a sweetheart and move one down-“

“Yeah no thank you. I’m already comfortable and my legs hurt from all that running.” She didn’t even glance up, and this made you scoff in annoyance.

This whole family knew damn well what they were doing, it was perfect set up as if they wanted you guys to sit next each other.

With no choice left you decided to suck it up and take your seat next to Trent whom pretended you weren’t even there.

“Now that that’s all settled. Let’s all bow our heads and thank the lord almighty for this food.” Mr Arnold insisted, and everyone bowed their heads down respectfully.

One thing about the Arnold family was they did not play about prayers, every single dinner they would give grace to the lord. It’s good to know that some things still remained the same.

While everyone was listening to Papa Arnold give grace, you couldn’t help but feel a overbearing gaze on you. Almost as if someone was staring you down.

So ultimately you opened your eyes, and there he was again staring at you blankly. He didn’t even bat an eye until the prayers was over, then he mumbled an “amen” and broke eye contact preparing his plate.

How odd. You thought to yourself, instantly everyone began digging in filling the plate to the brim as mama Dianne’s food never disappointed. You on the other hand, you lost your appetite.

It was gone, all you could was pick at the chicken that was on your plate. Meanwhile now majority of the family was halfway through the meal.

Y/n was still trying to gather herself together and Papa Arnold took notice to how glum she looked and he frowned.

“You alright baby doll, you haven’t touched your plate, since the beginning what’s up with that?” Papa Arnold pondered, while eating a mouthful of his rice and chicken. His wife and Trent’s siblings grumbled in agreement.

“Right you look so out of it.”

“If you want I’ll gladly take your leftovers anything for you my love.” Marcell joked, diving his slender fingers into your plate. However Trent acted out of instinct and slapped his hand causing him to wince.

“Don’t be rude Marcell. And please eat something so I don’t feel guilty.” Agnes whispered softly to you, in a pleading tone once everyone had resumed back to whatever they were doing.

And judging by the stoic and deadly look on Trent’s face, you obliged and ended up finishing up your entire plate with no fuss. By the time everyone was finished, you took the initiative to gather everyone’s dirty plates and wash them a little bit before placing them in the dish washer with the assistance of Agnes.

As soon as everything was tided up and the boys had all left to do their own thing, You took this as your cue to leave. Not wanting to be around the Arnold family, and this was only because you couldn’t stand that creature who was lurking in the background it was making you feel uneasy.

“Anyways mama Dianne, it was lovely see you and spent time with you all. But I think it’s best I call it night.” You announced with a soft grin. Instantly you were me with Dianna’s dejected face, and Agnes exasperated one.

“Are you serious right now…”

“Why’s that darling, I organised this so that we could spend solid girl time together, like old times.” Dianna expressed causing your stomach to cave in with guilt, the second she interlocked your hands together.

“I—“

“It’s because she’s scared of Trent. If you want me to sort him out, I won’t have a problem doing that.”

Your eyes widened at how serious and annoyed she seemed.” No! Please don’t, and I promise you that’s not the reason Agnes.”

“Quit lying to me girl, I’ve known you my whole life and I know when something is bothering you.I could see the way he was glaring holes into the side of your face. That boy still wants you.” Agnes voice gradually began to increase in tone, so you had to latch onto her bicep and ease her anger.

Because you didn’t want the whole family knowing how badly one person was affecting your mood.

“Is that so? Y/n if so, why didn’t you say anything.” Dianna frowned in disbelief at how much ruckus her son was creating behind her back.

She knew he was petty, but she didn’t think he was that petty to purposely make his ex sneaky link uncomfortable.

Sighing, you knew there was no getting out of this situation so you began to explain yourself with Agnes kissing her teeth every two seconds.

Little did you know that Trent never actually went upstairs and he was standing behind the wall connected to the kitchen; therefore they couldn’t see him.

However he did hear all the things that you said about him and he was deeply hurt that you thought that he was a bad guy.

When in reality, you’re the one that left him all alone in Liverpool 2 years no girlfriend, he couldn’t even eat for months just feeling sick to his core that you just abandoned him like that.

So for you to running around acting clueless, as to why he was treating you the way he was treating was irking something inside of him.

Finally, the conversation between his mother and Agnes had wrapped and up they began to walk you to front door.

Panicking, Trent attempted to jog up the stairs however his pace was a little to slow because his sister caught him.

“Trent! Since you wanna be so noisy do you mind walking Y/n out? While I go pack stuff for her and I?” Surprisingly, Trent didn’t protest and he just nodded his head walking to the door and opening it.

He tuned out his sister and mother saying their goodbyes, just standing there patiently with his hands in his joggers due to how cold it was outside.

Flashing them a quick grin, You jogged up to Trent who just glanced up and began walking by the direction of Agnes car which was parked a couple of cars down.

The whole time he didn’t say anything instead just scrolling through his phone, and you just about had enough of his odd behaviour. You needed answers and you need them now.

“Do we have a problem?”

This inquiry seem to get his attention, as his eyes finally gazed up into yours with confusion, almost resembling a lost puppy.

“When did I say that?”

“It’s not what you said it’s how you’re acting Trent. If you have a problem say it, and I want all your problems so please enlighten me, because I’m sick of your shit.” You blankly told him,and he eyed you with wide eyes not expecting you to jump straight to the point.

This caught him off guard as he was not sure how to reply back instantly.

“I don’t have a problem with you Y/n. What makes you say that.” He says innocently while furrowing his eyebrows together. You see now he was trying to make you seem stupid.

That’s one thing you don’t like, is when someone tries to make it seem like it’s all in your head when they’re the one causing the dilemma.

“It’s so obvious Trent. You don’t want me here you could see it all over your face, every time I spoke it was like a demon speaking you kept tutting your head or rolling your eyes.” You noted everything down, that he did the whole dinner and he finally let his guard down.

“Okay maybe I didn’t want you there and what?! We broke up for a reason, just because you came down to Liverpool doesn’t mean you have to come see my family. You barge into the door like everything’s okay well it’s not Y/N. We’re not together anymore and the sooner you accept it will be better. We’re not getting back to together,so this little plan that you created to creep back into my life is over, and you need to stop it!” He snapped, chest heaving up and down with fury.

And you almost felt like a small child getting scolded by their parent by the way he just yelled at you. This was the most angriest and harsh he had ever treated you. Sure you would get into arguments when you guys were seeing each other, but he never ever dared to raise his voice at you. Up until now.

Gulping, you swallowed down the huge lump that formed in your throat. Fighting back your tears, you bit down on your lip and just chuckled dryly.

“Way to be so harsh Alexander.” His face scrunched up in regret, the second he heard you let out a sniffle. You weren’t crying because of him raising his voice at you.

You were a big girl. You could handle that. It was the fact that he was so dismissive and rude that it made you so upset. Trent did not want to hear a word you said.

“Y/n.” He reached out to touch you, however you’re quicker and you smack his hand off you with all your strength.

“Save it. Go inside if you’re gone be an arse I don’t wanna hear it.” Grabbing Agnes car keys, you unlocked her Kia and slammed the door shut locking it so he wouldn’t come inside.

And Trent didn’t fight it. Instead remorseful and ashamed with his actions, he headed back inside with his head down dejected at what he had just went down.

“Hey where’s Y/n?”

“She’s in the car waiting for you.”

Trenr didn’t give her a chance to respond, he was already upstairs and slamming the door to his room and he collapsed on his bed face first.

All he could think was.

What had I done now.

-

And that’s wrap. I’m actually so sorry that I took so long to complete this I will admit I lost all motivations. But it’s here now and that’s all that matters.

Words can’t describe how badly I want to fly kick Trent for doing my girl Y/n like that. Like she didn’t do a damn thing.

What are y’all thoughts?

I hope you all enjoyed it and I’ll see you in the next part! 🤍🤍🤍

[dailyadventureprompts]

I was wondering if you could do something of a Monsters Reimagined for Luthic. It always struck me as odd that even though she is a deity of childbirth and fertility and motherhood she is evil simply because she is an ORC deity.

Monsters Reimagined: Luthic, Cavemother

There are no easy births: it always a matter of blood and broken bones and shit and curses and pain in the desperate hope of getting through it alive and maybe bringing something good into the world in the process. It would stand to reason then that the god who claimed birth as her domain would have to be strong, hopeful yes, but tough as old boot lather and not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Luthic is that god, who lends her strength to those who bear life as the process threatens to rip them apart, who councils with midwives, grannies, bonesetters, and village witches who keep the hardwon knowledge of the fever-herb and staunching poultice.

It is said that before she took her current form Luthic was a god of the dark and secret places of the earth, who first encountered mortals when they sheltered in her caves from the bickering of other gods and their aims during the primordial dawn age. The mortals were new, not yet knowing the design of thier own bodies, and when it came time for the first generation to give birth to the second, someone had to step up and help them through it. Like any mother Luthic encouraged them through their explorations, as playing with sticks led to spears and tools, and painting on stone walls led to art and language. When they were ready, she brought them blinking into the light, and then retired to a well deserved state of distant reverance as her adopted children took their place in the world above.

Adventure Hooks:

Like the great bear that is her crest, the cavemother likes to keep to herself much of the time, unless some idiot stirs up enough of a ruckous to wake her from her hibernation. This time it's some upjumped priest king that's convinced that if he can just impregnate the right woman he can sire a word redeaming chosen one. The only problem is that he's not giving the "right woman" much of a choice in the matter, and has decided to invade the party's homeland to search for and capture her. Luthic isn't going to stand for it, and appears to the party in the form of a local medicine woman to set them on the right path and patch their wounds along the way. Once they've earned her trust, she'll put an ancient bone knife in their hands sharp enough to cut through an army of zealots and imply that they should use it to feed the priest king his own cock. Something about a lession in not sticking it in where it's not welcome.

The caves marked off as sacred to Luthic are wellsprings of primordial power, resounding not only with the wisdom of previous generations but the energy of creation itself. Its said that if you pilgramage into their dark depths one might emerge remade, free of illness or debilitation, or reborn into a body more fitting of who they truely are.

Seeking the holiest of holy places to consummate his marriage to his longtime rival and off again on-again flame, an orcish champion has sought out a long-abandoned mountain temple dedicated to the Cavemother. His dreams of altartop honeymooning has been shattered however as he's discovered that the temple and surrounding highlands are overrun by the brood of Shub-Nuggrath and her cultists. Having perhaps bitten off more than he can chew, he requests the party's aid in ousting the "goatfuckers" from the region.

Titles: Cavemother, She of the Bitter Roots, Bellycarver,

Signs: Unnatural darkness, Rumbling in the mouths of caves, clawmarks in stone, particularly angry bears.

Symbols: The Orcish rune for cave entrance, The Cavebear, or the Jawbone of one.

Despite not being one of the more widely published deities Luthic has been one of my most requested gods to rework, and after I published my take on Gruumsh my inbox I got even more. Normally I won't go into the racial sub-pantheons more often than not because of how conceptually thin most of the entries are, but the asker (and a few others) rightfully noticed the oddness of having Luthic be marked out as an evil goddess despite her domains being centered around fertility, birth, healing, and the earth... all classic mother goddess stuff we could imagine any good aligned druid talking about.

It took me a little while to understand that Luthic's evil was strictly rooted in the idea that she was helping more orcs be born, orcs being a primary enemy of all good people and thus contextualizing a wholly unselfish and natural action as something counter to the forces of good. Remember kids, dig too deep into d&d and you WILL find genocide apologia waiting somewhere under the surface. The same goes for her healing aspect, which is repeatedly brought up as being crude and inferior to the medicine of other races (Her priestesses carry dirt to rub into the wounds of those they care for, because even though it's healing it needs to be gross and inferior because they're orcs and orcs are a standin for anyone the writers subconsciously think are gross and inferior).

That said, removing the one conceit that Luthic is evil ( and all the misogyny baked into her original writeups) we're actually left with a very interesting addition to our pantheon: A goddess who presides over the unpleasant and frequently gruesome process of pregnancy and birth, a fact of life for the historical-ish settings that most d&d campaigns but one that is seldom touched upon. I can easily imagine Luthic's acolytes being the ones to hand out herbs that deal with unwanted pregnancy or to be called for in the difficult case of a breach birth. Luthic likewise being the god who presides over caves because most of the more well-known deities that deal with the underground are specifically mining related, and there's a delicious tension there between between places below the earth that exist to be exploited, and others that exist as sacred, liminal spaces that we merely visit.

Art

[msfantasy]

Home Sweet Home

Summary Short: Y/n builds a home for her beloved.

A/n: I had this in the drafts for a couple weeks. I’m not entirely convinced this is a decent draft, but I’m not bothered re-writing a version I’m happy with so c'est la vie.

Ominis x Reader

From the very moment Y/n met the Gaunt family. She had dedicated her waking hours to building a cottage fit for her beloved.

Using magic she gathered all necessary resources and built the foundations. The hardest part was deciding on the design and researching magic spells to build their home.

But at last, her year of effort had come to an end. Her hard work had really paid off, their future home sits with an ethereal glow.

Y/n walks through the dungeons in search of her beloved. A warm pair of arms snake their way around her waist. Ominis leans down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Hello my dearest." He greets in a soothing tone. "May I ask why you dragged my poor friend through the markets to look at curtains?" A small giggle escapes your lips.

"Where did you hear such a story." She questions, feigning ignorance. Omini's snorts at her attempt to deceit.

"I heard his howling myself and your yells to 'shut up or you'll ruin the surprise." Ominis smirks. "So the surprise? What is it?" He questions leaving the girls heart beat racing.

"I had this whole plan lined up - but I suppose now is a good time to show you." She guides Ominis past the school grounds before disapparating. The two appreate at the gate of the cottage built with her own talents.

Taking his hands she guides him through the front door. "This is the living room ... I may have entered your families home and pinched some books to line the empty bookshelves-" The girl quickly moves dragging her beloved behind her. "I kept it as an open floor connecting straight to the kitchen." She pulls a silent Ominis up the stairs. "This is the guest bedroom." She announces, pulling him along immediately. "The study." She pushes Ominis along once again into the final room. "Our master bedroom with an ensuite... oh and these are the curtains Sebastian picked out. Green like the Slytherin house colours. I'm not sure if i like them yet." The girl rocked back and fourth on her heels nervously, waiting for the stunned Ominis to speak up.

"This place ... is it- what is it?" He asks quietly. A blush creeps along the girls' face.

"I named it 'Gaunt's Meadow'. But if you don't like it-" Ominis cuts her off.

"What is this place?" He asks once again softly.

"Um - well... our home." She says quietly. Ominis places his grip on either side of her arms.

"This place... this house... this is ours ?" She hums in agreement.

"I started building it the day you introduced me to your family... I hope you like it." She says sweetly.

Omini's heart grew 3 times larger. Beating hard his breath hitches at the romantic gesture. "You built a home for us?" He asks once again causing a giggle.

"Yes ... I love you ... and want to spend my life with you." With that Ominis crashed his lips on hers.

"This is truely a dream come true. I'm with the woman I love, standing in our home. Just the two of us. Our home." He announces with elation. He pulls his loving partner into a bone crushing hug. “You’ve bestowed upon me happiness I never thought I’d have the privilege to experience… thank you, for being your wonderful self.

[danihwang882]

Realization Felix is a Earth Angel Match to me basically based around our interactions. GOD MADE US GREAT HUNNY. ALWAYS WISH THE BEST AND BETTER FOR ALL. At this point in my life, I am drawn to you and other people like Kids injuryed and or joyful. DOGS that befriend my dad through another dog dad. What I did today was pull a chair out for this first son in a cast before his dad could do it at resturant. Thats the kind of woman I am. Jesus and My Higher Archangels made us truely Magical. Thank you Saint Raphael. <3 Best unisex healing angel ever. Okay that was spooky, i just did that without invoking and something like a home apartment tab opened on laptop. Does he/she know what I need and helping?

Confirmed they manipulate energy and human power in unseen ways. They call my parents home a home to them too, thats why the backyard is my favorite place. Figured out they do more here than inside. I wonder why they dont like my mom? Or maybe my energy to them is more here than inside. also had proof of a human picking up on my comforting energy in public around san diego, lestats on a crossfade night on halloween.

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[inkedobsidian]

~ Wildfire pt.2 - A.B ~

prompt: Oceans pt.1

requested by: @theinfintenerd

summary: Anthony has little time to figure out what he truely wants, but will he act on the realisation?

pairing: Y/N x Anthony Bridgerton

warnings: nah shits fluffy

word count: 1,168

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

Anthony did eventually move from the spot that Y/N had left him on. He'd had enough of watching her dance and converse with the prince, especially since they were in the middle of a conversation. That's the only reason he was annoyed that she'd left. Anthony quickly spotted Benedict across the room and made his way over hoping to not be interupted by any ambitious mamas on his travels.

"I see you arrived in one piece, no vicious mamas tail you?" Benedict said as he handed Anthony another spiked glass of lemonade. They both did a quick sweep on either side to see any eavsedroppers or mamas, thankfully there was none. On his way back Anthonys eyes caught Y/N as she did another round of the dance floor with the prince. When they finally broke and Anthony looked back Benedict was already looking at Anthony, his face soft in what was almost pity.

"So our beloved Y/N dancing with the prince. They made a pair don't they?" Benedict said trying to poke a reaction out of Anthony, but it didn't work. Anthony simply agreed and nodded then tried his best to not look over again, although it was nearly killing him.

"How is the list going dear brother? Did Y/N give you any more questions to add?" Benedict tried his best to change the topic and distract his brother but that didn't help considering more than half of Anthony's life was made up of moments with Y/N. Benedicts words however did light something up in Anthonys brain. The questions, the list, the literaly marrige checklist that Anthony created.

"The list…" Anthony trailed off as he finally let his eyes wander back to the dancefloor, back to her. Benedict had no idea what he set in motion and in that moment he wished Daphne was here for even the slightest bit of advice.

"Yes, your marrige list. Y/N was helping you perfect it, no?" Benedict was confused at his brothers confusion. He didn't think his statement needed more on an explanation but clearly it did.

"She was… she has a good way of knowing exactly what I need. Like Mother." Anthony didn't want to put words to the thoughts in his head right now, because that would make it real.

"Well yes, I suppose she has always been special. The perfect mirror for you." Benedict always did have a way with words, Anthony always attributed it to the artist in him but sometimes as his older brother Anthony wishes he'd just shut up. Benedict could see Anthony going through more emotions in 5 minutes than he's seen him go through in 5 years.

"The list…" Anthony repeated pulling the literal list out of his pocket. His eyes scanned every page as he continued to flick through with so much force Benedict thought he was about to rip one of the pages. Of course he could never find a wife, no wonder he could never find someone who matched his ideal. She already exsisted. Anthony had spent the better parts of his life around this woman, she was in every memory, every moment.

"Are you quite well brother?" Benedict said as Anthony seemed to get more sparattic and more intense.

"This list. You have all witnessed me draft it day and night. Designing the perfect woman. When all along just beside me I was crafting this list but I always had help. Always had a second voice of what I should write, ask, everything. No wonder something was always so off. This list, right down to the last page is a love match. How does one go about designing a love they can't desrcibe? Only if they had experienced it but never put it into words. She," He trailed off as he looked at her as she was stood just meters in front of the prince. She would make a stunning Princess, but she would make a better Vicountess. "She has been my choice all along, even before I believed myself ready to choose."

"Now that brother, is true emotion." Benedict was stunned at the beauty in the words that his brother had just broken. Benedict always knew of his brothers love for Y/N, hell the entire family loved her. Now he realises why. Anthony whipped his head between the book, Benedict and Y/N. His mind had a million ideas in them, what does he do with the stunning realisation that he was in love with someone. Then he looked over and just behind her was his mama. Anthony then remembered how his mama spoke of his father. Theirs was a true love match, one Anthony had never longed for. He never needed to, he had the same love beside him the whole time. He wanted it to stay that way. Benedict knew his brother was about to do something completely bold and irrational, he was a Bridgerton. Anthony then cleared the dancefloor in a few simple strides and landed himself back where he was left, standing in the middle of the woman he loved and a literal prince.

"If you would excuse me, I must have Ms. (L/N)'s attention for a moment." Anthony said bowing in respect. The Prince gave a simple curt nod, he knew when he was out matched. No one could out do a love match, not even a Prince. Y/N was a slight bit confused at the energy flowing through Anthony, she felt he was about to pass out if his breathing sped up anymore.

"Anthony," She placed her hand on his shoulders and he could've melted right then, "Are you ok?" She whispered knowing someone could always be listening. Anthony didn't mind, he wanted them to hear. He quickly nods.

"I have never been better. Now," Anthony quickly grabbed his mother's betrothal ring out of his inner pocket and descended to one knee in the middle of the dancefloor, in the middle of the ball. Now, THIS was an event for the ton. "Y/N L/N, you have been attached to my soul from the very first day we met. I needed not to look for a perfect partner, because I had a love match beside me each day. It is you that this list points to, it is you that my heart points to. Y/N will you do me the honor of taking my hand in marriage."

Dearest Reader, Today the entire ton is gathered to celebrate the union of the wonderful Vicount Bridgerton and his dashing Viscountess. The ton shook the day of this proposal and who would not, the drama and the elegance alone is enough gossip for the ton to feed on for months if not the entire season. Now, my gentle reader, this author has nothing to say on this union only that she wishes the couple the best. This author could think of nothing the Vicount deserves more than a love match that rivals his parents. A love match is always a win in this author's books.

[minti-tales]

(@driftward) Smut prompt! 4) slow sex while one or both are injured (bonus points if it’s after a battle or after they’ve patched up each other’s wounds). But! You must wait to answer this until after Dawntrail launches at the very least.

I got inspired by the MSQ to write the first half, so there's a hint of *Sims "Woohoo" sound effect* at the end. Hope that works! This is me trying to practice my writing, too.

Dawntrail spoilers are here.

CW: Language, mental health, implied intercourse, violence.

"More? You got more?! I want more of your army to break upon this blade, Zoraal Ja, you pig b------. Whoresson. A coward who uses children as a shield!" 

A true shame, then, that the soldiers' armor weren't strong enough to withstand repeated rounds of aether cartridges. All that technology, all that rapid progress, literally slashed to ribbons, courtesy of a towering Roegadyn woman, called Minti Chocolate, swinging an equally towering gun blade about her head.

A few moments ago, this stretch of Section 9 had had stray Vanguard soldiers, each searching for souls to harvest. Civilian, member of the Oblivion resistance group - it didn't matter. The King of Resolve made it abundantly clear: all life within the Everkeep was to be harvested, to aid the invasion of Tuliyollal. No exceptions. No mercy to be given.

The metal ground beneath Minti roared to life, cracking and spurting flames thanks to concentrated blasts of aether. "You like that trick? I call it 'Fated Brand.' I got plenty more, my sweets. Have a taste, don't be shy!" 

Most of the soldiers were gracious enough to take themselves offline after the first hit. One of them, tsk tsk, was still standing, shaken but somehow perfectly pointing its lightning rifle at its target. Another one of Zoraal Ja's toy soldiers, with absolutely no fear, no thoughts running through its hollow frame.

It would be a pleasure to sever the soldier's head from its shoulders. 

<The Signora> Oh, yes. How many souls have you taken, puppet? Have you wished for someone to -cut- you from those horrid, horrid strings? You needn't say a word; allow me.

A cloud of purple and black smoke, almost pure darkness, materialized and danced along the Roegadyn woman's armored glove. Up to the very tip of her gunblade, all the way up, so that the weapon might more closely resemble a reaper's scythe. The Signora, the voidsent bound to Minti's reaper crystal and one of the voices in her Echo-blessed "Choir," was whispering in her ear, feeding her feelings of anger and spite.

<The Signora> Queen Sphene and Zoraal Ja are truely a couple made in the seven hells, my dear. They harbor no love for their subjects. Why, they don't even let them remember their dead. Is that not the cruelest thing you've heard, my sweetling?

She could feel those claws tug at her face, stinging metal hooks all lashed up with pretty wire.

"Shut up, shut up," Minti snarled through gritted teeth, her gunblade singing through the open air.

<The Signora> Ah, but I tire of playing the hero. I have a new game in mind, if you would hear of it. I wonder - what if we cut down each and every one of these toys? That way, our dear Queen has nowhere left to run. She can pay for her crimes like the tyrant that she is.

The soldier took a few steps back, it's gun rapidly moving from left to right, before breaking into a sprint. Off it went, clanking towards a makeshift barrier of empty crates and torn-up road. It couldn't possibly have seen the Gunbreaker dashing up behind it, readying their warped blade for a final swing.

"Your King is a cancer," the Roegadyn snarled, swinging the blade like a woman possessed. "And I- I am the barber's blade. Puppet."

For the briefest of moments, Minti felt like a puppet herself, hearing herself speak those words to the soldier's soon-to-be-cleaved frame. Something of that was familiar to her, but, where had she heard it before? As metal struck metal, rending what had false life in half, those thoughts left her mind. They weren't needed, anyways, not with what The Signora was planning next.

<The Signora> One down, oh so more to go. Now, where shall we go next-

Suddenly, there was a heavy feeling, a pair of great weights, pressing down on Minti's shoulders. She couldn't do anything but fall, like a great tree felled in the forest by a botanist's axe. This must be the soul within her gunbreaker crystal, who called himself The Royal Volunteer. She could hear his voice - deep and rumbling like the earth - as the ground greet her.

<The Royal Volunteer> You've had your fun, witch; now be useful and let her be. You weren't with her when we stormed the fortress with the others. Didn't see you fightin' for our damn life against that great lighting beast.

The lass is resting - right here - so go suck a imp's arsehole for all I care.

Now, Minti, you rest up. Might need to wake up in a few, if your friends are looking for you.

---

There is time for comfort, in this false paradise, where death is considered an inconvenience.

It's not every day that a warrior of light gets woken up to the sounds of a Cure spell being cast on them. Even rarer still is the Cure that's cast by someone who cares for them on a level few others have achieved.

There's pleasure to be found in having the warrior's jacket slipped off their shoulders, neatly folded, and put off to the side. Getting their armor pushed up by their love's hands, all the way over their head. Belt unbuckled, jeans pushed down to their feet, boots removed with reverence.

Innocent kisses that become much, much more. A touch between the legs, fingers probing, exploring great big warm depths.

You did so good today.

I did?

Yes, Minti. Yes, you did.

[h-s-moonshadow]

The Mystery of Healing: Story 1 - Part 3 (Conclusion)

Her grandmother watched her for a long moment before she spoke. “Etel, give her the rundown.” Kylantha’s green eyes turned to the man, and she started to look at him with rapt attention. Hanging on to every word as he started to speak. Listening for anything that was out of the ordinary inside of this story.

“Chest with a precious necklace. We had it under lock and key, and the chest itself was screwed into the very wood of the caravan. The locket inside simply went missing. It was there last night when we arrived in town, but this morning when we opened the chest the locket was gone.” Etel looked at Kylantha’s grandmother. “That’s it right?”

“That’s all you told me, and I have asked my questions. But I am curious. Kyl, do you have anything that you want Master Etel to clarify before we go looking for this item?” Her grandmother offered her a gentle smile, gesturing. It gave her permission.

She thought for a long moment, eyes trailing around the room before she nodded and looked at the caravan master. “Sir, did your guards see anything?”

Etel shook his head. “I pulled in them for questioning. None of them saw anything. If your thought process goes to that they are the ones who stole it, toss that out of your heads. They’re loyal men, good friends of mine. I wouldn’t have them as guards if they were not.”

Kylantha nodded to herself. “And the chest, was the bottom cut out? Or was it all as it should be?”

She glanced at her grandmother, who offered an encouraging nod. She was smiling as she watched Kylantha. That kind, warm, grandmotherly smile that Kylantha never felt like she deserved.

“Kinthara, this  is not the girl you led me to believe she was!” Etel said with a laugh. “She doesn’t let anything drop does she? As for the question, the bottom was not cut out.”

Kylantha’s grandmother laughed softly, shaking her head. “Everything I told you about her was true Etel. You might have just interpreted it strangely.” She glanced at her granddaughter. “Is there anything else Kyl? Or should we go investigate the scene?”

Where there any other questions? Kylantha paused, she felt like that was a test. To see if she was ready for something. What happened if she said no? Was that a pass? She did not know. She was silent as she thought. It was a question she had to answer it.

“No more questions.” She said after a moment. “Thank you for your time Etel.”

Her grandmother nodded. “Wonderful job Kylantha.” She said after a moment. “Etel, I will be back after we find this for the matter of payment. Okay?”

“I know you’re good for it Kinthara. Take all the time you need in finding it.” He said witha  chuckle as he sat down. “We’ll be here all week.”

A few minutes later, Kylantha and her grandmother were at a wagon on the inside of the circle of wagons. It was one that could be set up like a stall. A portable counter to show goods on, with a canopy that could protect them and customers from rain and sun alike.

Another human worked the stand. Probably in her mid-fourties. She wore a practical, but well made outfit. Pants and a shirt, the pants brown, the shirt white. She tossed her long black hair behind her as she saw the two elves approaching and smiled, wrinkles crinkling next to her gray eyes.

“And what can I do for you two!” She asked with a small chuckle, leaning against the wagon, and gesturing to her wares.

“We’re here about the stolen locket,” Kylantha said at the conclusion of the question. Her eyes moving over this womans wares. Hats in various styles and fashions in seemingly every color imaginable lined the wagons poles. Jewlery made of precious stones and pearls lay on the wagon itself. Rings, earrings, and necklaces. It was truely a wonderful sight. The riches that this one wagon contained was something to behold in and of itself.

Kylantha’s grandmother chuckled. “Please excuse my granddaughter straightforwardness. I typically choose to go for a bit of conversation before stating that we’re investigating something but…”

Kylantha felt herself wilt. Shrinking down into her already small frame. She had been asked a question right? So she should answer. Staying silent would have been rude. Her eyes slowly drew towards the ground as she listened to her grandmother speaking. It didn’t sound like words anymore. It was just sounds.

She could never express how this felt when it happened. The feeling of utter failure that consumed her. An all consuming darkness that made it impossible for her to listen. An all consuming silence that made it impossible for her to see. She wanted to sink to her knees, but moving in and of itself felt impossible. She could have been standing up, laying down, or falling through the air and never would have known it.

She felt a pressure on her back and jumped. Glancing around she found herself looking into her grandmothers kind face, into her green eyes. How long had she been like that? Trapped in her own darkness and despair. She could not say. It felt like it had been hours though, maybe it had only been a few seconds.

“Kyl,” Her grandmother asked softly. “Are you okay?”

She did not want to speak. Questions however, demanded answer from her. However much she despised how they made her answer no matter what. They… she could not think about the they. She simply had to follow their rules. “Better now.” She said. The honest truth.

With a nod her grandmother turned back to the woman. “Thank you for the information that you gave us. If it’s okay with you, we’re going to investigate the chest now.”

The human, Kylantha only just realized she had not caught her name, nodded with a smile. “Of course Kinthara. You know that Etel has the key?”

Kinthara laughed softly, as she looked at the woman. “Helen, I don’t need any key.” She looked at Kylantha. “Granddaughter, do you want to pick the lock, or inspect the underside of the wagon?”

Kylantha blinked. “Inspect the underside?” She asked back. “But didn’t Master Etel say that nothing was out fo the ordinary there?”

“He did.” Her grandmother smiled. “But we need to cover all our bases as well, and that means checking the underside of the carriage.”

Kylantha frowned thinking. “I’ll check the underside grandmother, if that’s okay with you?”

Again that warm smile made it Kylantha’s way. One that Kylantha wanted to feel so badly. She wanted it to peirce the cold darkness that was so close to the surface that even when it was scared away, made it so that not even the warmpth of her grandmothers smile could touch her. A terrible feeling and yet it was all that could be felt.

“Of course Kyl.” Her grandmother turned. “Let’s get to solving this mystery!” Her voice was excited, and even though she never walked or spoke like the age she was, she suddenly looked two centuries younger.

With a nod, Kylantha slipped underneath the wagon. She blinked as her eyes, elven in nature, quickly adjusted to the new light setting, allowing her to see details that those not of elven heritage might not be able to without a light source.

“Do you need me to knock where the chest is?” Her grandmothers voice came from above. “To give a feeling of where you should look?”

“Please?” She responded. “Thank you.” Quickly followed as she heard the knock, and lightly placed her hands on the wood above to follow the vibrations to where they were the strongest.

She started to inspect the wood, as she heard the telltale signs of her grandmother starting to pick at the lock of the chest. She gave the lock a minute to withstand the genius of her grandmother. She expected it to be open within fifteen seconds. 

During the short time she had, she ran her hand along the planks of wood that made up the floor of the wagon. Hard oak it looked like, wonderfully treated and maintained. The varnish immaculate even here on the underside of the wagon, where it should be at its worst. Indeed she found no signs of cuts or new patches to suggest the bottom had been taken out from the chest.

She ran her fingers over the bolts that held the chest in. The heads of the bolts. She paused.

“Grandmother?” She called. “Somethings off.” The click of the lock followed. Thirty seconds had passed, a well made lock.

“What is- oh.” Her grandmother paused. “What do you see that’s off Kyl?”

“These bolts are on wrong.” She called from underneath the wagon. “They should be the other way right? The nuts should be underneath the wagon, the bolt heads on top?”

There was a three count. “Excellent work grandaughter.” Her mother said with a laugh. “Truely excellent work! Come out please.”

It took a few moments even for Kylantha to slip out from under the wagon. This time her attention focused on the chest she had not really looked at earlier. A dark black wood. She could not be sure if it was naturally that color or stained to look like that yet. Not without a lot of time and more inspection. She had never really gotten the hang of identifying woods.

Her grandmother watched her. “So what does this tell us Kylantha?” She asked after a moment. “Given everything we know?”

Kylantha pursed her lips, and glanced at her grandmother, then at Helen, who had continued to watch the entier situation. She paused after a moment. She knew Helen did she not? No she had never met the woman before, though she did look earily familiar. Especially with that dark hair, those gray eyes, and that slightly upturned nose that did not make her look snobby.

She blinked and refocused. “It means that the box was taken off by someone, and probably the bolts were put in the wrong way.” She said after a moment. “The problem is, in order to take the box off you’d need to have the lid open.” 

Her grandmother continued to watch her, as if expecting more. Kylantha shrugged. “I’m not really sure if there’s anything else Grandmother. I’m stumped here.”

Her grandmother smiled. “You’ve done well regardless.” She turned to Helen. “Helen, are there more than one of these chests in the camp?”

The human woman paused, before nodding. “Yes, there’s a wagon full of them. We keep them because they’re decently sturdy, and allow us to transport valuable goods separately from others if we so choose.”

“Do they all use the same key?” Her grandmother was truely smiling now. As if she understood everything that was happening anymore.

Helen nodded. “Yes, all use Master Etel’s. Which he keeps around his neck at all times. It’s not the safest of safe lockboxes, but it’s the best option we have and we haven’t had any other problems with it.”

“Has anyone come around with a splinter? Or requested a sledgehammer?” Kylantha could see the water wheel of thoughts turning inside her grandmothers brain as she desperately tried to follow the train of thought. What could all of that together mean. What did her grandmother see that she could not?

“Not that I-” She froze. “Yes.” She said after a moment. “My son Taylor had a large black splinter-”

“In his finger this morning?” Kylantha asked, interrupting. Causing her grandmother to look at her in surprise. Indeed. Kylantha had surprised herself with the need to ask the question.

“Yes how did you know?” Helen asked, frowning gently.

Kylantha shrugged, she had noticed the family resemblance apparently, but not what it meant. “He and I had a short chat like fifteen minutes ago. He asked me if I wanted to have a longer conversation with him. Maybe at the bakery.”

Her grandmother was looking at her, slightly astounded. “What did you tell him?” She asked, and then frowned. Looking like she disliked herself for even asking the question, but it was too late. The words were out of her mouth, and so Kylantha’s answer was iminante.

“No, and no.” She said curtly. “Though I do not really see why that matters.”

Helen paused. “By the creator I didn’t think he’d actually do it.” She sighed. “He mentioned… that he was going to try to… make a move to court you as we were comming here Kylantha.”

Kylantha froze, then looked at Helen curiously. “But he’s… and I’m… neither of us are adults by any margin… mine far larger than his…”

Her grandmother moved and placed a hand on Kylantha’s shoulder. “Younger humans and Elves… always have a difficult time with that point. Even the older elves sometimes see human adults as children instead of as equals. Do not think less of him for this. Though, indeed. I think we know where our missing locket is.”

They found Taylor at the bakery. Kylantha stayed outside as her grandmother went in and brought him out to herself an Helen. The two woman and one elven girl looking at him with disappointment. It was a long moment before anyone spoke, and when the silence was broken it was by Helen.

“Do you want to admit what happened now? Or Shall we present the evidence?” His mother asked softly.

Taylor paused, then looked at all three of them. “This is about the locket isn’t it.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “So you are the one who took it? Why? Was it just to impress someone?”

“Not just someone!” Taylor shot back. “Kylantha.” He looked at her. “She notices no one it seems like. I’ve seen how she acts at the festivals that are thrown here. Yes I only get to see her once a year if I’m lucky, I just thought that maybe I’d have a chance.”

Kylantha shrunk back a little. It was her fault that he had stolen it then. It was because of her actions that this locket had gone missing. A pit of dispare opened in her stomach at that. She was the reason why he had done what he had done.

“Kylantha?” Her grandmothers voice ripped her out of her guilt. “Do you have anything to say to Taylor?”

She looked at him. “I’m sorry that I made you do that. You should give the locket back. I’m going to go home.” She looked at her grandmother. “May I? There’s some locks that I can fix today while you shop?”

As her grandmothers green eyes met hers she felt as if she saw something. Inside of her grandmothers green eyes she felt as if she saw true sadness. Even as her grandmother nodded, and Kylantha turned and walked away.

That evening her grandmother returned home to three fixed locks ready for inspection, and a bubbling pot of potato soup. Kylantha had made that first. Had it on the stove for hours at this point, adjusting it whenever she had needed a break from working on the locks.

Yet her grandmother did not find Kylantha tending to the soup, or in the workshop. Instead she found Kylantha in her room. She leaned on the doorframe, as she looked at Kylantha. Who felt those green eyes on her as she looked in a different direction.

A brown cloak hung, the only ornamentation of the small room. It was torn and shredded. As if by claws. Yet it hung there, two silver leaves adored either side of where it would connect with a small chain around where her shoulders were.

“I brought you something.” Her grandmother said softly. “And your soup smells delicious.” Kylantha glanced at her grandmother and nodded. Not registering what had been said to her yet. Not at the moment. Her mind too full of memories of that cloak. Of when she had worn that cloak for the final time.

The bed sank as her grandmother sat down next to her. “You did a good job today. Don’t you think so?”

“No.” Kylantha said softly. “I didn’t think about… whatever you did. I never would have guessed… whatever led to your line of questioning. I still don’t know how he did it.”

“He switched boxes.” Her grandmother replied. “The bolt heads could be pulled down enough they wouldn’t turn when he turned the nut… once the nut was off he pushed the bolts up into the box. And stole the entire box. Moving off to smash it with the locket inside. Then he grabbed another box, and put it on, but was either sloppy or forgetful with which direction the bolts went, and he put them on the wrong way.” She smiled at her granddaughter. “It’s okay that you don’t think like me Kyl… you don’t have to. You’re still young. You did a wonderful job. Think of all you noticed today.”

Kylantha listened to the explanation with a half open ear. Of course that had been how it was done. Why could she not have seen it? 

They sat in silence for a moment. “Come downstairs.” Her grandmother said. “Let’s eat dinner together. Your locks were fixed perfectly.”

Kylantha nodded silently, standing and following her grandmother down the stairs on light feet. She froze however when she reached the entrance to the small kitchen. At her place at the table, was a locket.

It was oval in shape, made from gold, with a silver inlay of a moonflower on its cover. A true masterwork of art. It’s chain looked to be made from silver as well, thin and dainty.

She looked at her grandmother who smiled. “It was always for you.” She said softly. “Happy seventy-sixth birthday.”

She was seventy six? This was her birthday? Emotions crashed into her as she walked to the locked to look at it for a long moment. Before walking to her grandmother, pulling her into a tight embrace, and starting to weep.