#souls do not harvest themselves

[temperancegrieves]

my room has been so gorgeous lately

[tainbocuailnge]

this is a final fantasy fourteen dawntrail post. it speaks incredibly for the desperation of the people of alexandria in its decline that they both couldn't bear to remember the dead and couldn't bear the thought of the dead no longer being remembered, and thus created this contradictory system where the dead are only remembered by something other than those to whom that memory is meaningful. so crushed by collective trauma and grief that they directed every effort to eradicating awareness of mortality altogether and it's resulted in a paradise where everyone is incredibly blasé about dying because the dead live forever in the cloud until they run out of spare souls and are completely paralyzed with fear of their own mortality.

but even more than desperation it speaks of a naive sincerity that the scientists and officials behind the project just actually genuinely built and maintained this giant memory database to preserve the deceased at increasingly large cost, rather than just lie that they totally did that to a populace who won't remember those deceased anyway. they're not harvesting souls to power the war effort while using a recreation of the beloved princess as puppet figurehead, they completely sincerely recreate the dead from their memories and simulate them living happily ever after, started by a sincere desire to not lose their beloved princess. living memory is an eternal theme park that actively goes out of its way to facilitate letting people who remember each other fondly meet again. it's the manifestation of a childish wish for a world where there are no partings, only reunions. it's a theme park rather than an actual city with a dmv and shit like amaurot was precisely Because it's a childish dream. it's fundamentally an artificial experience, but one which sole motive is to bring joy and relief from everyday sadness.

and sphene is the first and most prominent victim of that naive sincerity. she's the mascot of this theme park, and because she's the mascot in charge of providing this artificial but kind experience she can't ever break character. the people of alexandria couldn't bear the thought of her being forgotten, so they created a memory of her that would last forever, but they also couldn't bear to actually remember sphene, so she's a mascot instead of a person. she loves her people, and they love her, but none of them can possibly understand the weight that love puts on her shoulders. the sphene we meet is fundamentally trapped by other people's deeply limited understanding of her.

it's so so so important to her character that she's a small dainty feminine woman that exists to take care of everyone emotionally and be loved by them for being so nice and sweet and loving, and when she tries to arrange some kind of secure future she ends up with an abusive husband who ignores her wants and needs for his own ambitions, and she is fundamentally unable to act outside this highly gendered framework. sphene reads like the commonplace tragedy of the straight woman to me to the point where making her in lesbians with wuk lamat is like. I can certainly understand wanting to grant sphene the sense of liberation and comfort that many lesbians themselves feel at the realisation that they don't have to marry men, so far be it from me to say anyone is wrong to do so. but it's kinda ignoring part of what her deal is for the sake of that comfort I think.

not that lesbians have never ended up in abusive marriages with men but sphene very explicitly does not have other options, part of the tragedy is that you fundamentally cannot actually grant her that liberation and comfort. cahciua explicitly says there's no way to know what the real living sphene would have done because this sphene is a recreated memory of the beloved princess whose job is to sustain living memory. their darling sphene who will always listen to all their troubles and is always nice to them and will always take care of them. she's literally trapped by the role society assigned her, and that role is essentially to be their tradwife mother. the living sphene may have been into women, but the people who recorded her to create the sphene we meet never even considered the option.

do you guys know that tweet thread where OP describes going to a funeral for a woman they didn't know who'd died young of a heart attack, and the husband spent most of the eulogy talking about himself instead of his recently deceased wife, and by the end of the ceremony OP had learned nothing at all about what this woman was like beyond being a wife and mother? everyone fondly remembers the princess and queen of alexandria, but nobody remembers sphene. and just like all OP could still do for this woman was go to her casket and acknowledge that she too had been a full person in her own right before the stress of swallowing everything about herself killed her, all wuk lamat can really still do for sphene is think of her as the full person she must have been.

we're not told anything about what sphene was like as a leader, what her policies were, how she actually did her work, her vision for the future of her country before she died and was reconstructed. they only tell us everyone loved her so dearly because she was so kind to them. we're shown her dying moments and it's her using her airship to shield a civilian, so we can assume her love for her people was indeed true. but none of sphene's history that we're shown and nothing of how otis (who knew the living sphene) talks about her tells us anything about what she was like outside her role as beloved princess. her memories from after her "revival" are dissonant and corrupted and possibly not even real, and her policy of preserving living memory no matter what is a wish implanted in her by the people who reconstructed her. we don't even get to see what she looked like when alive. the only sphene the people know is the theme park mascot of living memory.

cahciua was exactly as erenville knew her and was true enough to herself to be able to turn against the system, so we're not given reason to believe any of the endless were tampered with. but sphene was already dead by the time they even tried to figure out how to preserve her memory, her actual soul and memories definitely long gone by the time the technology worked. we're explicitly told that nobody in everkeep really cared who or what sphene was as long as she adequately fulfilled this role of loving them all so much. she can't even tell you her favourite food, none of the people who labored so intensely and sincerely to bring her back bothered to write down even her most basic personal preferences when they reconstructed her. she has to deflect the question with "when I think of the people who make the food I can't pick just one" because the only preference she's allowed is loving all her people equally. she's completely thrown off that wuk lamat would even ask.

and it's precisely because she is remembered only as this kind loving woman who gave everything for her people that she is weak and powerless to actually do whatever it takes to keep them safe. she does not have the freedom to assert herself, let alone to be cruel or violent or take extreme actions. society does not give her that freedom, because she is a small dainty woman and (therefore) the only role allowed to her is to be their tradwife mother. so while her desire to protect her people is as real and true as it can be part of her plan to lobotomise herself in order to become someone capable of violence and cruelty also reads to me as that specific female frustration of wanting to destroy the sweet babygirl image of yourself by doing something extreme. like britney spears shaving her head. but in sphene's case destroying the babygirl image amounts to destroying herself completely, because the babygirl image of her is all that comprises her. and so when all is said and done the only fragment of sphene that is restored and lingers just a bit longer after that image is destroyed is the sphene that wuk lamat sincerely wanted to get to know.

[nickmarini]

Hello Nick!! Your role in Downfall was so amazing and I love the extreme nuances and choices shown in your role playing.

Can you share any how you used terms like “child”, “son” and “father” when referring to the dawn father? Was it separately characteristics of the same god or more showing perspectives in those moments as the mortal avatar? I am fascinated and it make me scratch my brain thinking of possibilities.

Thank you so much!

#CR Downfall

Thank you for saying that, and great question!

This is a round about answer but a lot of that wordplay came from simply the name. Dawnfather is such a name rich in meaning. Both aspects of it have ties to time and new beginnings.

Dawn is the suns' rise each morning, born anew to herald the coming day. Its consistent return gives mortals the ability to track the weeks, the seasons, and the years. To even learn that the suns' patterns can allow one to divine the seasons takes years of thoughtful study. Dawn dispels the darkness and stimulates natures growth. It’s constantly new and also always constant.

Father. One cannot become a father without time. To be a father, one must have been a child, it is a stage of life that must be reached. It necessitates change and growth as much as the dawn does. A father knows what it is to have been a child, to have been the dawn, and now he watches over it, paving the way for the new. If I’m going to show a different side of the Dawnfather then showing that previous stage of life seemed interesting.

Within his name itself is this story of growth. His was the first light, he fathered the dawn, and he has kept watch through the ages as the keeper the time. Sun, summer, time, agriculture, harvest, he is a hands on god, consistent, dutiful, present, with his hands in the dirt, it is what he knows. To become mortal and not tend to the world is hard for him.

Ayden is young, he is new, he is the Dawn, but not yet the Father. He is an aspect, the Dawnfathers hope sent down to Exandria to aid his siblings. He has more abilities pertaining to agriculture than the sun because that is the Dawnfathers newest domain. He comes late because the Dawnfather wants to wait till the absolute last minute to abandon his post. He has yet to make the journey.

All this to say that I wanted to explicitly show him growing from this experience. Ayden is not the Dawnfather we know…yet, he is the Dawnchild, on his journey. He has not toiled for ages tending to the world. I believe that the Dawnfather pre and post divergence is quite different. I think the divine gate separates him from the hands on nature of his expressed divinity. I think Ayden was a way to show this dawning realization that to be a good father one must empathize with children but also sometimes make the hard decisions for them, something they do not always agree with.

I wanted to play with him being both a part of the greater whole of the Dawnfather, and something seperate. His literal age of 15 means he is not fully formed despite being infused with the divine soul of the Dawnfather. Getting to play with “child” “son” and “father” let me highlight the differences and illuminate the growth that happens during this time of mortal incarnation and explore the inner turmoil with the Dawnfather himself as his various aspects interact with one another.

There is also precedent in some belief systems of Sun gods birthing themselves or being replaced by their own mortal incarnations. I think for a diety that rises anew each day it’s natural to associate imagery of rebirth or the journey of child to father.

And lastly I think it shouldn’t be overstated how much effect the Everlight and Trist had on Ayden. Nearly half of his levels are devoted to her. I think that sort of reinforces his mortal shell in a unique way and gives him the opportunity to be two things at once more fully.

[urspiritualnurse]

Pick a card. (Left to right)

What do I see when I orbit around your soul?

Pile 1.

Predominantly shapeless souls, sometimes harvest itself into a form that it's beholder deeply lacks, wants, yearns, desires or the opposite, fears.

I see that yours has mimicked a root.

Why has it shaped itself to that, what desires or what subconscious motive caused it is something you will naturally realize at your own pace and timing.

I see the repeated number 9s in the cards, and in this case I perceive that number as a blockage, a mid stop, a constantly frequenting incompletion, just when you believe you are about to reach the complete numeral 10, it restarts back to 1, and so begins the continuous sishyphean cycle.

If you picture a root digging in the soil and entangling itself to every fibre and grain of it, that imagery is usually delicate, gentle, soothingly heartwarming .

But in your cards, the picture I visualize is rather hostile , as if every string of that root has claws, shredding each grains, piercing through any and every vitality of the land to dig itself down, so fiercely and so passionately, as if it's life depends on it.

With no end goal, destination in mind, that it is aware of, it just absentmindedly keeps on digging.

I see you going from people to people, community to community, anywhere and everywhere, with your roots clawing on every connections you have had, with a pure intentions to find solace but your desperate and devoid roots knows no other way to plead firmness, and stability except digging furiously onto everyone and everything.

Do you find yourself to be an uncomfortable being to be and be around?

Has your soul crossed you out from being its land where it can simply ground itself?

Has it found other candidates instead to have them fulfill your role?

Do you have someone that you feel is the epitome of comfort?

Ask yourself, when I'm nearing their existence, my soul's form which I have no awareness about, how is it approaching and interacting with them?

Your soul is wandering sad and desperate to feel a sense of connection to a land that it can call its own, why are you uncomfortable to your ownself? That is for you to unpack and unravel.

What can you do to call your beloved vital essence back to yourself?

Start by asking, "why do you make your soul uncomfortable ?"

( your vital roots will inadvertently be claws to the lands, that isn't yours to dig.)

Pile 2.

Anger is an advocate of those too timid to speak.

But if anger is unsupervised, unguided, unguarded, it denotes to the onlookers, that it is only a mere tantrum with loud speakers on, consisting the blend of generous vulgarity and crude language.

I see, in this pile humiliation has been the main force behind reasonable outbursts of anger.

Was there a crowd who laughed when you would scrunch your expression in fury? Was there a community that mocked your anger's sensibility and intelligence?

From this reading, an image of a canine species comes to my mind, whose fangs represents your justified anger, yet I see those fangs growing so tall and untamably beyond the line of normalcy, that it pierces through the specie's snout, making it unable to voice out the core reasons in sensible, coherent language and speech.

Your anger, (and I keep wanting to reassure you) is justifiable, valid.

Yet it has reached to a point of such humiliation, and provokery from the flocks of lunatics around you who are too insensible and too uncompassionate themselves to ever see past your fury.

That your anger has surpassed its own ability to communicate.

It has lost the language it is meant to use for efficient self expression that causes no harm to you and others and also the reality around.

Have you heard the term "blacking out", your anger goes through that quite a lot.

Don't be too hard on yourself, or your burning anger, for that is the only warmth that is loud for you to notice , that is emanating from within you, not others.

A warmth that says, "I care."

Do what you must, after reading this pile.

But my utmost suggestion would be, communicating with your anger.

Ask it, who is it angry at? What did they do? What did they caused?

Nomatter who the culprit behind it is, whether your ownself or others.

Just notice how the anger responds to your question.

Does it howl incoherent language?

Does it throw things around and punishes inanimate objects, walls with your

knuckles?

Or does it speak.....

In a language that only those who are truly listening can understand.

(Insensibility towards a disheartened child, is what leads to a tantrum.)

Pile 3.

Do you know in this whole play of existence, we all expect certain things from the earth that we reside in.

And if we were to put all those collective desires in a single piece of paper, one would notice a common thing from each anonymous man's written desires.

Luminosity.

Every living being with a thrifty sense of individuality, somehow always seem to find anything luminous, desirable.

Or maybe, it's just that, what you want always seems to shine.

Whether it's love, promotion, prosperity, good health, vacation, etc.

I see in this pile, the luminosity you desire is of riches and the freedom that it comes with.

And when I speak of freedom, you must know how grand and multi dimensional it is.

The freedom riches gives, the freedom love gives, the freedom good health gives, etc, are all different yet they all are indeed a valid face of the multifaceted term, freedom.

I see you, having almost a professional outlook and interactions with the world, the earth.

I can almost hear you speak to it, " You are letting me live here, I will pay you back for your service by not throwing litters around, donating to charity that cleans your vast back, agreeing on plastic bans, etc"

In all of those chat you hold with the earth, in your subconscious mind room.

You represent formality and such alienating disconnection, that your inner sense of disbelief towards anything that promotes unity is reasonable.

What you want from this world is a luminosity build by luxury.

No shame, no bringing forth discussions about compassion here because the synonym of riches doesn't mean cruelty, for me to ever dictate you of how you should be and must pursue.

Do you ever feel like escaping your office and the very building you work on?

Somedays the formality eats you up and chews your mental agility and spiritual resilience, so much so you just wish to be at home, playing with your autistic and unspeaking cat.

You can do that.

You can call off the work.

You can reach out to the elevator and press the ground floor that takes you to the parking lot, there will be your car waiting for you, you can get in it and drive away from the office, the work air.

But what will you do when the crushing formality surrounds not just that place, but the entire earth?

Can your car drive you up to mars? To the moon? To the stars?

For you to escape even for a second, out of such professionalism burdens that you inhale every living seconds of your life.

In this reading, I see no visions that I must introduce you to.

You are already a visually active person, you think with visions not just numbers.

By no means this reading insinuates you of being unkind or lacking in any humane qualities.

Neither is it a complain from the mother earth to you.

Take it as a gesture unfolding infront of your awareness.

A gesture that suggests sensibility in your life.

Even the faintest mimickery of sensibility has acquired you a tip of what you yearned for.

Ponder, what the real thing could pull.

(Has the professional interiors followed you, even to your bed?)

Pile 4.

I must introduce you to an objective of mine that suggests what this outside world consists of, happens discreetly within our interior too.

Adversity, competition, push and pull, dog eat dog world pace, etc.

And how you may ask?

Every external worldly tension stems from various reasons, one that stands to this day, the most valid is, lack.

The uprising heat and debates, the battles of winners and losers are here, not just because of human sadism to win but to also get hands on a place, position, thing,etc before someone else does.

Which comes from an arguably devastating narration that we all collectively feed on, lack.

Your internal world seems to be a world copied and pasted from our very reality.

You seem to tell your internal conscious residing within you, that you lack space so severely that to be accepted for residence, one must go for the other to find the leash.

Competion arises the moment lack wanders around introducing itself.

Your masculinity and your feminity will compete for a position because you told them, only one must stay.

Your anger and the contradicting poise of a breeze will compete the moment you say to yourself, i need only one to navigate.

Your mind and heart will start to clash, get into heated arguments that spiral you into madness, depression, anxiety and mental , physical, emotional, spiritual agony.

Because you told yourself, only one is reasonable, the other is not.

That only one is reliable to execute life with, the other is not.

So, when your whole internal cells that makes up your entirety feels like a war zone,

a telenovela about a sibling rivalry, the marching tension between you and your competent colleague, or the ticking time bomb that ticks rules such as the one who gets there first gets to have it, etc.

You must know, it is because a narration is being given with or without your awareness.

That says,

I lack.

I lack so, what I consist entirely of, must decide with each other, who is to get deducted and who is to stay.

In this reading I don't think I need to guide you into answers because you already are aware.

But as a gentle nudge, here goes my everything.

" Lack only exists in places where prosperity unsettles us."

(Stop playing "the floor is lava" with the entirety of yourself.)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[ghost-1-y]

Worship

Human!Giyuu x AFAB!Naiad!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, sub!Giyuu, dom!reader, penetrative sex (f! receiving), unprotected sex, oral sex (f! receiving), face-sitting (f! receiving), pegging (not strap-on, Giyuu gets fucked with a dildo though), body worship, having sex underwater, virginity loss (Giyuu is a virgin), creamp!e, praise k!nk, worship k!nk, temperature play (ice), slight degradation from reader, reader refers to Giyuu as “pet” a few times, please lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: As a water nymph, you never saw the world from beyond the spring you were born from, having only seen humans come to your spring bearing gifts and performing rituals for the sake of worship. However, one day, a beautiful human male stumbled his way into the domain of your sacred spring, and with neither offering nor sacrifice to give you, he thought of another way in which he could pay you worship.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: this was inspired from the story of Hylas and the Water Nymphs, a Greek mythology story where Hylas, a young male, goes to get water from a spring but is kidnapped by the Naiads because of how beautiful he was, it’s a short but interesting read!

Beauty was beheld by those who wished to seek it.

It would be bestowed upon in many different forms, through life, through fertility, and through healing.

Oftentimes, those who sought such beauty would do so through sacrifice – and would give thanks through continued worship of those who so graciously imparted such virtues upon the needy.

As the sun would rise, your eyes bore witness to such worship, as humans from the nearby village would arrive – men, women and children all wishing for their lives to be filled with beauty unknown. Some would ask for it on behalf of others, a sick family member perhaps – or possibly for the good of their village, praying for the blessing of a good harvest with the changing of seasons; others would ask for their own sake, for personal gain and fulfillment. And you were willing to provide them with what they desired, so long as they gave appreciation and thanks in return.

When dawn broke over the horizon, a line of villagers would emerge from the woods, the men carrying the corpses of swine or lambs for the sake of sacrifice. You would peer at them from within your quiet spring, eyes just above the surface of the water as they’d form a circle and remove the bones from the animal and offer them at the edge of the spring. 

Smiling, you’d emerge from the water and would take the bones into your possession, admiring the beauty in the humans’ effort to worship you. As you stood collecting the bones, some of the children would come by and offer locks of their hair to you – curious and excited to see such a pretty being emerge from the spring. You’d take their offerings and gently pat them on the head, before using water to create doll-like figures made out of ice as the children stared in awe at your power. Giggling, they’d take the shaped ice into their soft hands and run back to their mothers, showing them what the “beautiful water fairy” gifted them before it slowly melted away in their hold.

The villagers would cook and feast upon the meat that was not sacrificed until the sun rose higher into the sky, chatting amongst themselves, happiness evident in their eyes as they’d return to the village to find their crops thriving and their sick healing.

It was good.

It was beautiful.

And so you’d return to your spring, with water as calm as night and falls as enchanting as the morning mist, cascading into the place that inhabited your very soul. You submerged into its depths, ripples causing floating lily pads to drift away from you before swimming behind the falls, your home behind its veiled entrance.

Each week, the same ritual would take place – the villagers would change over the years, some growing old and some with newer faces. You’d always laugh at those who’d blush and refuse to make eye contact with you due to your lack of clothing – something unnecessary for a water nymph such as yourself – but the unmistakable happiness remained constant throughout their years of worshiping you.

However, on a day in which the villagers would usually not come to your spring with plans of worship, you heard the trudge of footsteps from outside of your home. Curious, as it sounded like a single human had come to your spring rather than a group, you’d wondered if there had been some sort of emergency that required your help.

Perhaps the human was in need of healing? Or caring for someone who was dying? So you emerged from behind the waterfall, only to find a young man – no older than his early twenties you’d assumed, as you’d learned of the average human lifespan from blessing generations upon generations of villagers over the years. His raven locks splayed past his shoulders and fell down his back and chest – which was completely bare down until his waist, where the only cloth he wore seemed to be his woolen chiton which had fallen off of his wide shoulders and pooled past his hips, revealing a physique that would invoke the envy of Heracles himself. 

He crouched down at your spring, filling his hydria with the sacred water of your home.

“May I ask why you fill your cup with the water of this spring?” you asked, looking at him with curiosity. Startled, he stood up, spilling the water that he had collected in the process.

“This water is not meant for your consumption, love. I must ask that you refrain from drinking it at all,” you continued, a soft smile gracing your features.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

How rude, you thought, taking from your home and not knowing who you were.

“I am the spirit which inhabits this spring, dear human. May I ask what you are doing alone and so far from your village? I’m afraid I have not seen your face before.” You walked along the water’s surface, ripples emanating from your footsteps as you closed the distance between you and the stranger. This man, however, did not seem to like that idea – pulling out a xiphos blade from the scabbard hooked to his waist belt to point it towards you in warning.

“Do not come near,” he demanded, a certain venom lacing his tongue, although a faint blush seemed to grace his cheeks as it took everything within him to not look below your shoulders.

“Such weapons are useless against me, love – I’d have hoped that your kind would be smarter than to show hostility to a being like myself,” you sighed, continuing to draw near. “I assume you did not come for the sake of worship, then, given your confusion?” 

He glared, yet said nothing, instead deciding to sheath his blade – expression nearly unreadable as you tentatively approached him. 

“Why would I waste my time by spending it on worship? I’m collecting water for my group.”

“So there are more of you? I don’t sense them, could they have left you behind?” You looked over his shoulder before gazing at him again. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching before looking back over his shoulder, searching for someone who wasn’t there.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m thirsty, so I’ll be taking this water with me,” he resolved, holding his hydria close to his naked chest.

“Is that so?” you smirked, a playful look in your eyes, “and yet you have not brought anything for me in return? Not a single offering nor any sacrifice…” You drew close enough to touch him, before a sudden voice rang from the forest.

“Giyuu–!?” the voice called out, and the raven-haired stranger turned his head quickly, seemingly responding to the name. While distracted, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the depths of the water, your grip strong enough to persist in holding him close despite his thrashing movements, trying to escape from you and the spring. You exchanged your grip on his arm for holding his jaw, colliding your soft lips with his and exhaling into his mouth. He gasped and parted from you, staring at you in bewilderment as he found himself able to breathe despite being completely submerged under the surface. 

“Is Giyuu your name?” you ask, and he nodded quietly.

“I can’t have you take from me without giving anything in return, Giyuu,” you paused, “if you offer me something, I will allow you to return to your group, does that sound fair?”

“What would I offer? I don’t have anything of value,” he admitted.

“Well, unless you wish for your voice to become a mere echo that haunts this spring, I suggest that you think of something, love,” you folded your arms, looking at him expectantly. “I am a gracious spirit to those who treat me well, but I am also selfish should I not receive any thanks for my good works.”

Giyuu thought deeply, trying to think of something – anything – he could possibly give you to save his life. His mind raced, and his heart started to beat faster out of sheer panic.

But then, he thought back to your kiss – how your lips were soft against his own, and how it lit something deep within him that he wished to feel yet again. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet your own as a blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears.

“I– I could give you–” he swallowed, “my virginity.”

Your eyes widened, having never received such an offer from a human before. You couldn’t lie, the man before you was beautiful, but you also knew that this was a rather unconventional way for one to worship a spirit such as yourself.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was fine with it, “you could gift me something else, it could be something small even – like your hydria or even the clothes on your person–”

“No. I’ve made my decision,” he paused, “you wanted someone to worship you, right?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Then let me worship you.”

Despite his words, he seemed very unsure of himself as he reached out for your hand, holding it up to his mouth before kissing along your palm. Your eyes softened, his actions nearly melting your heart. You moved your hand to his cheek, tracing your thumb along it as you initiated a kiss with him once more. This time, rather than doing so to prevent his drowning, you savored the taste of his lips upon yours, enjoying the roughened texture of them as they caressed your lips. His movements were hesitant, but the groan that bubbled from his throat told a very different story.

“Is– is this okay?” he asked once parted from your lips, and you smiled at him.

“It’s more than okay, Giyuu, you’re doing perfectly,” you reassured him, causing the faintest blush to appear on his cheeks.

“Okay.”

He kissed you once more, his hands hesitant before placing them gently on your bare hips. You could feel his pulse beating rapidly against your skin, slowly guiding his hands further down towards your ass. His breath caught in his throat before looking at you, eyes nervous and unsure until you kissed him once more, encouraging him to grope and feel how soft and pliable you were in his hands. A hum emitted from your throat, and he smiled into the kiss, feeling slightly more confident in his actions as he held you close to him.

He moved to your jaw, kissing along it before slowly licking a stripe down your neck, the slight saltiness evident against the freshwater you both were submerged in. His kisses were delicate – soft despite the chapness of his lips as he kissed along your collarbone. He moved his hands from your ass, making them travel upwards and around towards your breasts, holding them gently.

“Squeeze them,” you commanded softly, and he obliged, groping them like he did your ass – but it wasn’t enough. You took his hands in yours, taking them off your breasts.

“Did I do something wrong?” he looked worried, and you shook your head.

“No, love, I just want to show you how I like it, okay?” you reassured him, before taking your own breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples and rolling them between your fingers, moaning softly as you played with your tits. Giyuu watched eagerly, taking in every movement you made as you pleasured yourself. You looked back at him before taking his hands and placing them once more on your breasts, and he copied your movements, yet it somehow felt better than when you did it, his roughened hands playing with your breasts – a delicious contrast against your soft skin. Eventually, he lowered himself so he could latch his mouth to one of your tits, sucking gently as his eyes fluttered shut in contentment, his cock beginning to strain against the cloth that hung from his waist.

“Mmh– such a good boy, Giyuu, doing such a good job for me,” you praised, causing him to groan against your nipple, sending vibrations through it as he felt his cock throb at your words. Your hand rose to cradle the back of his head as he sucked at your tits, alternating between the two when he felt as though he wasn’t giving enough attention to one compared to the other.

Eventually, he started to kiss down your stomach, descending towards your heat until he stood on the floor of the spring, with you floating in the water above him. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as he gave a shy lick to your swollen clit, causing your hands to tighten around his dark locks. His eyes looked up to you in approval, peering through his pretty lashes at you as you brushed your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. His pupils dilated, and he pressed the tip of his nose to your clit as he began licking around your sopping hole, not tearing his eyes away from you while sloppily eating your hot cunt. His tongue was flattened against your slit as he licked a wide stripe up it, before licking at your clit, running circles around it teasingly. 

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind, causing him to temporarily part from your cunt before sitting down on the sand below him. You lowered yourself down to the floor as well, wondering what he had in mind, before you saw him lay fully on his back.

“Please, will you… sit on my face?” he asked innocently, his eyes peering up at you in such an obedient manner. You smiled at him, and did as he asked. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pushing you down so your full weight was on him. His tongue delved into your hole, shallowly thrusting in and out of it, causing you to bring a hand up to your mouth, muffling your moans. 

“Wanna hear you, please,” he begged from between your thighs, and reached to bring your arm down and away from your mouth, causing you to moan unabashedly as you ground your hips into his face. 

He continued to slurp up your sweet juices, nose nudging at your clit as he fucked his tongue into you, collecting anything and everything you’d give him, groaning hungrily with each taste. 

“Fuck– I– shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” you moaned, grinding down faster as he continued his ministrations, a tension building up deep in your gut as he licked at your needy pussy, until finally the tension snapped, causing heat and pleasure to course through your blood as you screamed his name.

“Giyuu—! Fuck, so good– so good f’ me,” you whined, and he moaned into your cunt, sending vibrations into it as you rode out your high, roughly grabbing at his hair, causing him to let out a small whine.

“Shit, such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” you asked, and he nodded quietly.

“Say it.” 

“Mmh.. ‘m– ‘m a good boy f’ you,” he whimpered, “love worshiping y-yo– oh!” 

You reached under his cloth and started stroking his cock. You were slightly surprised by its length, giving long strokes along his shaft before collecting the precum that had leaked from his tip. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you? Have you never touched yourself before, Giyuu?” you asked, and he whined pathetically, shaking his head, “so cute, ‘s a shame no one has ever touched this cock before– not even yourself. It’s okay though, baby, ‘m here now to take care of that.” 

He moaned softly as you kept stroking his dick, pulling it out from the cloth that hid it. You pushed the cloth he was wearing down his legs and off of his body. Once he was completely bare, you moved on top of him, your pussy hovering just above his cock.

“I’m going to ask you one more time: are you sure you want this, Giyuu?” you asked.

“Yes, please,” he whimpered.

You sank down on his cock, feeling it throb inside of you, veins pulsing as you took him deeper and deeper inside, moaning as your hips were finally flush against his. You reached behind your back, cupping his balls in your hand before starting to bounce up and down on him. His eyes shut, brows furrowing as he tried to take in how good it felt for your cunt to be wrapped around him. 

“Wait– wait s-slow down, I won’t last long–” he protested, but that only encouraged you to move faster.

“N-no, please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna–!” his voice was cut off by a low groan as he spilled himself deep inside of your pussy, his cum hot as it exploded in ropes against your pulsing walls as your second orgasm came crashing down around you, grinding yourself into his hips as you both tilted your heads back in ecstasy.

“Such a good boy, maybe I’ll keep you as a pet– you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have no worries at all except to look pretty and please me?” you asked him, and he whined a small yes in response.

“I knew it – good pets deserve rewards, don’t you think, baby?”

He nodded, whining at how overstimulated he felt from your pussy clenching around him. You slid off of his cock and stood up, before holding your hand out, palm facing up towards the surface. Ice fractals began to swirl around your palm, forming an object Giyuu couldn’t quite make out until you held it out in front of him, causing his eyes to widen and his cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to fuck you, pet?” you asked softly, holding up the ice dildo that you created, “I promise I’ll be gentle with you.”

He swallowed thickly, but he was intrigued, so he nodded, “yes, please,” his voice small and soft as he spoke.

“Turn around for me then.”

Giyuu sat up and turned his back to you before getting onto his hands and knees, his ass on complete display for you. You caressed one of his cheeks before giving it a light slap, causing him to whimper softly. You knelt behind him, at first inserting a finger into his hole, causing him to tense at the sensation.

“Relax, pet, you’re doing such a good job for me,” you cooed, and he did his best to relax his muscles, softly whining as you moved your finger in and out of him, caressing his walls before slowly working in a second finger and prodding them deeper into his hole.

He was trembling, arching his back as you thrust your fingers in once more before removing them completely, making him whine at the feeling of emptiness inside of him. His whining was cut short, however, as you pressed the ice cold dick against his ass, causing him to shudder due to its temperature. You leaned over him, and brought your face close to his ear.

“Are you ready, baby boy?”

“Yes,” he moaned, gasping as you inserted the toy inside of him, the coldness of it making it difficult for him to relax as you slowly began moving it, having the toy press against his prostate with every single thrust. You reached around his torso to stroke his cock as you fucked him, and the combined stimulation caused a familiar buildup to bubble up in his gut.

“Nngh– so, so good,” he moaned, slowly losing himself as he began fucking himself back on the toy, meeting each of your thrusts while simultaneously fucking his cock into your fist.

“Such a good little slut for me, you love this don’t you? You love being my pretty little whore, huh?” you smirked.

“Yes, yes– love it,” he moaned, the tension nearly at its breaking point as he continued to fuck himself with your help. “Gonna– gonna cum again, please let me cum,” he begged.

“Of course, baby. Cum for me.”

His legs shook as he arched his back further, head tilting up as his eyes rolled back into his head, moaning as his cum spurted out from his cock. He gasped, panting as he fucked himself slowly into your hand to prolong his orgasm, cheeks red and hot as he finally came down from his high. You removed the dildo from his ass and converted it back into liquid before pulling him into your arms, allowing him to collapse into you from pure exhaustion.

“You did so well for me, baby,” you praised, and he gave you a small smile as he closed his eyes, head resting against your chest.

After a while, you swam him back up to the surface of the water, allowing him to swim and crawl back onto the land surrounding your sacred spring.

“You may always return if you wish, I’d never be opposed to receiving more worship from you,” you teased, and his blush was hot as he frantically tried to pull on his wet clothing, grimacing at the slight discomfort it brought him.

You smiled and, with a wave of your hand, you evaporated the water that soaked both him and his cloth. He sent you a thankful look before pulling it onto his body.

“I believe you should go find your group, pet, they may think you’re dead since you’ve been gone for so long,” you smiled at him.

Nodding, he muttered a quick, “thanks,” before collecting his xiphos blade and hydria and walking off into the forest once more.

It was only by the time he reached his group's encampment that he realized that the hydria he was supposed to fill up was completely empty.

He may need to go back to the spring once more – just to collect the water this time, of course.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @whateverfontmindmenere, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience.

I hope you enjoyed!!

[tartppola]

Stranded in another world, with no hope of going back or any magic to defend themselves with, this is the anecdote of the Ramshackle Prefect Yuulis Crowley's first week in another world called Twisted Wonderland.

warning : mentions of blood & dissection, didn't beta this so :P a/n : happy april fools :D

It was a chilly morning on the Night Raven College campus, and Sam’s first day coming back to the mystery shop. Oh, how he missed the purple overlay of the wallpaper; the diamond skulls and taxonomy and other knick-knacks that seamlessly blend together to form something quite avant-garde. Speaking of knick-knacks, he remembered that his new stock of goods his ‘friends’ salvaged from who knows where should be arriving today, how exciting!

His feet skipped up and about, the keys he spun around his finger chiming as he hummed a happy tune from the Port of Jubilee. Sam wonders what kind of faces the new first years would make the first time they step into the shop, or when they meet his ‘friends’ for the first time. 

Just as he was about to make a turn from Main Street, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a pile of huge boxes at the doorstep, that must be his new goods, but there was something else, or rather, someone else. That someone–young enough to be a first year, but not wearing the school uniform–was waiting by the boxes. No student has ever been to the shop this early, and the school hasn’t allowed any of the local townsfolk to visit, so why?

“Excuse me!” Sam called out, making his way towards them, “I’m flattered that a line is already forming, but opening hours aren’t until lunch time!”

They stared blankly at him the moment he stood right in front of them. They held out a clipboard with a delivery receipt that listed the names of various magical supplies 

“I’m here to on behalf of the Headmaster,” Sam barely understood them through their thick accent, “Please double check the receipt and make sure to tell of any errors.”

Since when did the Headmaster hire any couriers.....and one so young at that. Oh well, as long as Crowley’s not breaking any child labor laws, it should be alright, shouldn’t it? The shopkeep noticed that his back grew colder and colder as he went through the new inventory. He stole a small glance at the youth, turning back immediately when he saw how intently their gaze bore through his soul.

“Phew! It’s getting pretty darn cold out here!” The hand that held his keys trembled a bit, “How about we go inside to warm ourselves up a bit?”

He took back his thoughts. This was far from alright.

“--and where do these charms go, Mr.Sam?” 

“By the aisle near the grimoires, next to the paper talismans,”

It’s been nearly half an hour of restocking, yet they haven’t left the store. Sam tried his best to breathe through the awkward atmosphere, but the tension was so thick he could harvest it, bottle it up and sell each for 500 madol. If only such a thing was possible, if only.

“Mr.Sam,” 

He felt his shadow jump to the ceiling at the sound of their voice. 

“What kind of store is this, exactly?” 

“Well, since you’ve seen my wares firsthand, should you be able to tell right away?” He put on an air of faux confidence, hoping they wouldn’t notice. 

“At first, I thought this was a magic supplies store, but none of them back at home sell dangerous herbs like oleander and wolf’s bane. How did you get a hold of this amount of them anyway?”

“Well, what can I say? There’s only so much exotic ingredients you can grow in the botanical gardens,” 

“But, there are also basic necessities like toothpaste and clothes,” They pondered, “Come to think of it, one of the new deliveries was a box of snacks, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what happens when you’re the only tuck shop in one of the most prestigious schools in the world!” He winked, “It wasn’t easy getting ahold of most of the inventory, but you gotta do what you gotta do, don’t you agree?”

A small chuckle escaped their lips, “That’s not a bad mindset for a businessman.”

In the end, no matter how eccentric they initially seemed, a child is still a child. He felt foolish for being so afraid, what could they do when he had his friends by his side?

“By the way,” it was hard to notice how much time passed by, “Shouldn’t you go back to your dorm and change into your uniform? It’s almost time for morning classes.”

“Ah, was Mr.Sam not present during the entrance ceremony? No wonder you didn’t recognize me,” 

There was some word on the street about a fiasco happening during this year’s entrance ceremony, something about the halls being lit on fire by a beast? He couldn’t believe it when  one of the friends that stayed to guard the shop told him about it.

“I was deemed unworthy to be sorted into a dorm, because I possess no magical capabilities whatsoever. It seems that there was an error during the student selection process,”

“Is that even possible?” his suave expression morphed into worry, “Then, why didn’t the Headmaster send you back home?”

“He tried, but the Mirror of Darkness said something along the lines of ‘The place from whence they came from can’t be found in this world’. 

“And so here I am, doing odd jobs and tasks on behalf of the Headmaster, the students and the staff of NRC,” Sam could hear a small sense of pride at their introduction, “I'm more capable than I look, please don’t hesitate to call upon me if you need any assistance.”

Of all the strange things to make their way into his shop, never in a million years would Sam expect an estranged secretary to be one of them, and one that possibly came from another world to boot. He had a feeling that this year was going to be much, much more eventful than any of the years to have come, and he couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, little demon,” The shopkeep tipped his hat in a fine, gentlemanly manner, “Make sure to drop by again, ‘till next time!”

The gap of knowledge between the first and second year was indeed a big leap to overcome, Crewel knew how unprepared his puppies were going to be.

But by the Great Seven, oh how much he overestimated them.

The likes of Riddle Rosehearts and Azul Ashengrotto couldn’t possibly make up for the utter incompetence these mutts have, even the students with subpar scores like Savanaclaw’s Ruggie Bucchi and Diasomnia’s Silver looked like geniuses. At best, there are students like Kalim al-Asim, who actually tries, yet their efforts seem to seep out through their ears the moment they leave class, then there’s the unpredictable ones like Floyd Leech.

He remembers how the eel turned in blank test papers, or how he mixes whatever ingredients he finds interesting together, bleeding the chemical supply. 2 days ago, he used up an entire month’s worth of imp spinal fluid during potions class. It’s not as if they were hard to get, but their effects are most potent when freshly harvested. The thought of harvesting it himself made him shudder; sure, he’s seen some grotesque imagery as an alchemy professor, but who knows how long it will take to restock if he made a report to Crowley?

Sigh. Looks like he’ll have to put practical sessions on hold for a while and haggle with Sam.

“Excuse me, is Professor Crewel here?” 

The door to the alchemy lab opened, bringing the professor back to reality. Someone he has never seen before let themself in, a plastic bag in hand. 

“Stay! I don’t recall allowing anyone without a lab coat to enter….!” Realization kicked in once he got a clearer look, “Huh--so it’s you, the magicless stray that caused a riot in the entrance ceremony.”

The sound of a whip resonated through the room, followed by faint chattering and murmurs from nearby students scrambling away from the alchemy lab. 

“Only authorized students and staff are allowed in the lab during school hours, didn’t the Headmaster tell you?” 

Most of his students would cower just by hearing his tone grow stern, yet they remained unfazed. Playing bold now are we? Looks like he’ll have to teach them a lesson. 

“The Headmaster,” they brought the plastic bag to his chest, “said that the lab’s storage room needed restocking.” 

Ah, was that it? Making a child do his job; how much of a slave driver was Crowley? Knowing Crowley’s tardiness, it was probably something he had already spent his paycheck on, although the bottom of the bag was unusually cold. 

Curiosity getting the better of the professor, he untied the knot and opened the bag. His face recoiled, from the shock of seeing the contents. Aurora moth’s scales--he had only requested these a few days ago! Not to mention all of that translucent mucus coating the scales, how long ago were these harvested?

“Is there something wrong, Professor?”

Crewel almost forgot about the intruder standing in front of him, “No, it’s just--this is the first time I've seen them so...fresh. The ones Crowley buys usually come preserved in bottles.”

“That may be because I just harvested them this afternoon,” they said nonchalantly.

“You--You what?!” the professor didn’t even try to mask his disgust, “You did this yourself?”

Their head tilted sideways, akin to a confused child.

“The Headmaster said that the locals needed help with pest control, so I’d thought I’d lend a hand, and they let me do whatever I wanted with the moths as payment, ” Despite having experience with that sort, Crewel’s stomach began to swirl, “The Headmaster gave me permission too,”

A scowl grew on his face. Typically a moth would've been killed humanely before their wings were plucked to relax their ligaments, but seeing the mess clinging to the wing's ends, it's clear that they didn't consider such option. He couldn't decide if they had a strong stomach to withstand seeing large bugs squirm underneath them, or an uneducated fool.

“Professor, are you alright? You look exhausted,” 

He snapped back to reality that instant, rubbing circles around his temple. Pull yourself together, Crewel, he edged himself, you’ve lost your composure twice already. Maybe he just needed a good serving of raisin butter with wine on the side, or a joyride on his prized car. He glanced back at the dismembered wings, at least he got what he wanted. Still, this has never happened before, perhaps if he could take advantage of this situation….

“Tell me, pup. Since you have...the appropriate experience to harvest wings, how good are you at dissecting imps?”

They pondered for a while. It’s the most animated he’s seen of them, “I suppose I do how to extract fluids, their lymph is a versatile ingredient in many types of salves after all. Although it has been a while since I’ve ever needed to.” 

Bingo

“Then, how about spinal fluid?”

It was their turn to be surprised, “I-I’ve never done that on an imp before. Just think of the amount of imps needed to fill a single bottle.”

“Tell you what, pup. Are you interested in a side-job?” 

Without giving them a chance to respond, Crewel tossed a few madol and a map of the campus in their direction, “There are some common imps causing trouble in the college lately coming from who knows where. If you can deal with them, I’ll give you the other half of the payment, and of course--.”

He shoved them a basket full of empty test tubes, slinging it over their shoulder, “Fill every single test tube here to the brim before tomorrow's Science Club activity, I won't take no for an answer.” 

And with that, they were pushed out of the alchemy lab. Spending their first sleepless night in another world catching imps wasn’t on their bucket list. Sighing heavily, they picked up their feet and staggered.

‘I wanted to creep him out a little,’ they thought, ‘but I ended up being the one getting creeped out.’

For such an important place, why did Crowley’s office have to be in a place so out of reach? For all his years in Night Raven College, Crewel always dreaded sending weekly reports to the Headmaster’s office, he could feel his leg muscles ache as he knocked against the two large gates. He peeked inside the office to look for the Headmaster. 

“There you are, professor! What took you so long?” 

There he was, sitting cross-legged on his desk as the portraits of the Great Seven floated up and about. Trein was there as well, as cold as usual and showing no sign of fatigue, peering at him as if he could see through everything. Maybe it was because he had a 20 year head start, either way, it was irritating how he was the only disheveled one.

“I don’t know, maybe it was the countless stairs I have to climb every week to submit a report when you can simply hire a secretary to fetch them for you?” 

The crow simply smiled, already figuring out a solution to Crewel’s ire, “How has the first week of teaching been for you, professors?”

“I don’t know which is greener, the topiary maze in the Heartslabyul dorm, or the new puppies I’m in charge of,” Crewel shook his head. 

“For once, I agree,” the history professor nodded indefinitely, Lucius yawning in his arms, “But that could be said for every first year in the history of NRC.” 

Dire nodded, “Seems like everything’s going smoothly then! I shall leave the future of our students in your capable hands!”

Both professors nodded in response, “As you wish, Headmaster.”

“Although, I’d like to inquire about something,” Crewel spoke up before raising his index finger to the large window. From above, the view of the setting sun looming over the campus could be seen, but his finger specifically pointed to Main Street, or rather;the magicless stray walking to the direction of the alchemy lab, with the basket in hand and the direbeast from before by their side.

“What are we going to do about that?”

Without needing to look, Trein simply closed his eyes, “If what the mirror spoke was true, then that child quite literally has no place to go back to. It comes to question how they even ended up here in the first place."

Crowley rubbed his chin. The ultimate decision lies with him, and honestly, there was nothing stopping him from just shirking them off his feathers and leaving them to fend for themselves, along with the cat-beast that terrorized the entrance ceremony.

"It would undoubtedly stain the reputation of our esteemed college if we just kicked them out," the Headmaster groaned, "Oh, why must I be plagued with such problems!"

"Best of luck to you then, Headmaster Crowley," The two professors turned their heels and left Crowley's office with not a care in the world, leaving him with his worries.

The Headmaster leaned against his chair and sighed against the beak of is mask. Dealing with the child was the last thing he wanted to do at this moment, with their odd mannerisms and such, however...

Being unable to return home wasn't an unfamiliar conundrum to the Headmaster.

Perhaps it's his boundless generosity speaking to him, but there was a pang of heavy emotion in his chest that told him he couldn't simply leave that child, Yuulis, alone. Was it guilt? or maybe atonement? Whatever it was, it overrode the rational side of his brain

Dire Crowley was the type of person to judge a book by it's cover, which is why he was surprised how his new errand runner, or rather, the new Ramshackle Prefect was able to hold up better than he expected. The reports he received from the staff members he had tasked them with helping have been amicable, and his workflow was much smoother now that he had divided the more menial tasks to someone else. He had thought he had envoked the wrath of the Great Seven with the mess that was thrown his way, but surely they were more pliant than they initially seemed, and now Crowley had a reliable aide at his beck and call.

That would've been the end of the story if Crowley's worries ended there.

Perhaps it's his intuition as a mage, one that's been sharpened by many years of experience, but there was something off about the Prefect. It was subtle enough for none of the other professors to pick up on it, perhaps not even the prefect the▅self were aware of it, but Crowley co▅ld fe▅▅ it.

The lingering mi▅▅ma ▅▅ p▅rmea▅▅ from ▅▅em, it ▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅ ▅▅▅ M▅▅▅l▅ ▅▅ ▅no▅▅ ▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ , ▅n▅▅d f▅rom the loo▅▅ ▅, if Crowley doesn't get it under control, it might spell disaster for the mages in his beloved college.

They'd succeeded his expectations as a prefect, so why not bestow upon them another act of kindness?

A knock resounded from the door to the Headmaster's office, before creaking open. Under the candles that lit the office dimly, the prefect looked like one of the many ghosts that toiled in the campus.

"Apologies for the delay," they nodded, curtly greeting the Headmaster, "It took a while to convince Professor Trein to let me into the library archives, but I got what you asked for."

"It can't be helped, I suppose. The lecture he gave me that time still rings in my ears," Crowley picked the bundle of files off of Yuulis' hands.

"Rightfully so," the monotone in their voice wavered, "With all due respect, I don't see why what you did was necessary, nor will it benefit you or your reputation, Headmaster."

His fingers intertwined and rested over his mouth, obscuring what's left of his face. A part of him thought that Yuulis wouldn't question his actions, but it seems they had not let their guard down completely. Not that he blamed them--in a world of villains, it's wiser to play your cards right.

"I've made it quite clear that it was a mutual agreement, yes?" he says, "One day, you'll understand, once you've proven that you're worthy of carrying my secrets."

He sauntered towards them, slow and heavy footsteps circling around the prefect, "Besides, don't you want my help? You won't have to isolate yourself anymore, drifting around from place to place, worrying about hurting other people. You'll be able to live a normal life. It'd be easier for me to help you with your more personal matters like this, wouldn't you agree, my dearest nephew?"

It was probably underhanded of him to take advantage of their ignorance, but it's too late for them. The pact has been made, Crowley isn't sure whether Yuulis could feel the invisible link that binds them together as well, but the matching blue vest he gave them, their new surname, was enough to send them the message.

"It's getting late, come now, I'll walk you back to that rickety old--err, Ramshackle dorm," says the headmaster, waiting for Yuulis to trail behind him, like they usually do.

With bated breath, they come to accept their new circumstances. They step closer to the Headmaster.

"As you wish, uncle,"

[neressma]

Danganronpa and the Paranormal

Danganronpa is extravagant, from it's deliciously unhinged plot to it's refreshing psycho-pop aesthetic. Ontop of all this, the series contains some paranormal elements, which some players tend to forget about. In this post, I'll go through every instance of paranormal happenings in the series; this includes the first two games¹, the spin-offs and novels.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

Spirits

Ghosts are a surprisingly reoccurrent theme in Danganronpa games. The most flagrant example is the revenant Komaru and Toko encounter in Ultra Despair girls: none other than Tokuichi Towa, the late father of Haiji and Monaca Towa. He appears and speaks to the girls, even revealing he has the ability to curse (though he refuses to do so, considering the act "lowly"). His death was caused by his own daughter, who ordered Monokumas to slash his throat after the man betrayed Junko. Tokuichi's soul is stuck in a tormentuous purgatory at the hands of Monaca, and thus, he begs the protagonists to stop the child (a feat which would probably lead to his soul being freed and moving on to the afterlife).

One might think this is the only case of revenants appearing in Danganronpa, but the first game might contain some as well. When considering that spirits hold the power of possession, it becomes clear that Chihiro Fujisaki and Kiyotaka Ishimaru might be victims of possession themselves. Regarding Chihiro, it's rather curious how his Alter Ego program emulates human-like behaviours and emotions. While this might simply be due to Chihiro's talent as the ultimate programmer, it is possible that a part of his spirit went on to possess his program, albeit in a subtle, barely conscious manner. Much less subtle and dubitable is the possession of Kiyotaka Ishimaru, who is overtaken by the ghost of Mondo Owada after the latter's execution. Taka reacts to his best friend's death by becoming deeply traumatized and entering a near-catatonic state, rendering his spirit feeble. Shortly after, he becomes white-haired, and exhudes a powerful, radiant energy in the form of a glowing aura. His behaviour, mood and even speech patterns begin to ressemble Mondo's. Note however that it stays at that - a ressemblance. The ultimate moral compass keeps a certain amount of restraint, by not daring to actually curse for example. One could blame this on a form of psychosis, or - the more likely option, ironically - possession. The following official artwork suggests as much.

One could argue that Hajime undergoes a comparable process at the end of the second game, when his spirit rejects that of Izuru Kamakura's, though this instance seems to be rather similar to an anime trope than something meant to be paranormal.

There's also a haunted grave at the Jabberwock Hospital in SDR2. However, since the island is apart of a simulation, it's likely that this is simply an addition of the Junko virus rather than a recreation of any "real" Jabberwock Island element.

Superstition

There are two types of superstitious forces in Danganronpa, the first being luck. As simple as it may be, it's a talent that proved itself to be a true function in the DR-verse. Makoto and Nagito both manage to use this "power" (though when it comes to Nagito, this tends to backfire at times). Both young men manage to have events unveil in their favor through the power of luck, despite not having any direct control over the talent. It's also known that Hope's Peak Academy's steering commitee even attempts to harvest this power through the Izuru Kamakura Project, in spite of scepticism surrounding the existence of luck. Regardless of such subjective opinions however, luck is undeniably real in the DR-verse.

Another superstition that's mostly present in the first game is clairvoyance. Yasuhiro Hagakure, the ultimate clairvoyant, is said to have a 30% success rate on his predictions. One turn out to be accurate (the first being about how Kiyotaka and Hifumi are the last victims of their killing game²) and the second is correct depending on the player's performance. In fact, if they fail at the last trial, they get the bad ending, which is a perfect display of a fate Hagakure predicted: him and Makoto fathering the children of the same woman (Aoi). Hiro's character is often portrayed as that of a shady con-man; these two true predictions however hint at the possibility of his powers being real.

Aliens

Not only is Yasuhiro Hagakure gifted with clairvoyance, he also had an encounter with an U.F.O. This U.F.O. (likely a flying saucer according to the artwork) flew to him one night, locked onto the hamburger he was eating with a ray of light, and then absorbed part of it before flying away. According to Hiro, whoever piloted the flying saucer wanted the beef from the burger (which aligns with the well-known trope of aliens stealing cows from fields). The scene is very much out-of-place and it's veracity is unconfirmed. It isn't the first or last time aliens appear in Danganronpa's universe.

Back in Kirigirisou, a parallel ending introduces the player to Rhinogradentias. Those aliens also appear in the third Togami novel³. They come in different shades of brown, with various specimens possessing diverse features; some have tentacles, others have hands, etc. These creatures are based off rhinogrades, or snouters, which are actual real-life mammals known for the fact that they "walk" on their long snouts. The Rhinogradentia are introduced in Kirigirisou as "super galaxy level invaders". They wish to take over planet Earth and get rid of of humans, which they deem too destructive and polluting. However, their limited intellect restricts them. Like the aliens Yasuhiro saw, they fly in U.F.O.s. The third volume of the Togami novel hints at their existence being purely theoretical, without any further confirmation.

Lastly, there is a group of aliens at the Jabberwock Hospital in SDR2, though this once again seems to be a gag set up by AI-Junko rather than any recreations from the real Jabberwock Island. They return in Danganronpa: Ultimate Summer Camp, once again as an easter-egg. The meaning of this scene, of these aliens standing next to an operating table, is very enigmatic.⁴

Notes:

Gundham Tanaka and his antics aren't included in this post, as he doesn't really have magic powers, but instead has Chūnibyō syndrome.

¹ I deliberately left out Killing Harmony, as it's parallel canon, and ontop of that it's events are confirmed to be in-game fiction. Hence, the paranormal events of V3 qualify as inauthentic.

² This first prediction concerns the 4th chapter. 4 is the number of death and bad luck in japanese numerology, fitting for the chapter with the most victims.

³ Kirigirisou's alternate endings are parallel canon. As for the Togami novels, whether or not they're canon is unconfirmed to this day.

⁴ I like to think there is some sort of hidden symbolism behind those aliens. In my opinion, it's related to Kamakura. There are 4 people in Monokuma masks, so perhaps they symbolize the steering commitee? I'm not sure what the aliens symbolize though. I like to think AI-Junko included the easter-egg as a nod to Hajime and his transformation.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So for AEIWAM, how does the whole Ukitake thing work? I’m still fuzzy on how it was in the manga (and that’s not even touching the ‘epilogue’/Echoing the Jaws of Hell why are these arc names like this) but wasn’t he essentially reverse faith healed-slash-possessed for death? I see you keep mentioning gods so like- what does that whole situation make him?

I need you to imagine a Self-Propogating Cryptocurrency Mining Computer. Whenever it's hardware starts to burn out, it creates a little man to build it a new machine and port it's memory over, keeping the machine alive and solving equations.

In An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, that's God.

I may need to back up.

If you're not familiar with how Cryptocurrency Mining works, essentially, a computer thinks very, very hard about how to solve an extremely complicated equation, and when it solves it, it gets a little bit of money (or it gets a receipt saying that it has money that uh. nobody will accept, because the money aspect is a scam but the math, at least is real).

Anyway, thinking very, very hard like that runs through the computer's hardware- it's especially hard on the graphics cards. So eventually, if it want to keep solving equations, it needs new hardware. But a computer can't replace it's own parts, and this Ultra-complex, reality-generating God-computer is no different.

So when it starts to get old and degraded, the God-Computer does a neat little trick: it builds itself a programmer. That programmer learns all about the God Machine and how it works and the way it's powered- it moves souls through three planes of existence- each enormously complicated question is representative of the shape of a lifetime- each time a soul completes it's life and is reborn, the God Computer gets a little burst of extra energy. The larger and more complex the soul and longer and richer lifetime, the more energy the God Computer gets. So for the last millions of years, many, many generations of God-computer have made the universe richer and more complicated to generate larger and more complex souls to power themself (themselves?) further.

The programmer learns all about how the God-Computer works, and sets about building the next Generation of God-Computer to keep the universe running.

Due to a slight miscommunication, the programmer is colloquially known as the "Soul King" this time around.

Anyway, the Soul King was doin' his thing, when he happened to start chatting with a cool guy online and agreed to meet up with him. And it was fun! They hung out, Soul King showed him the true nature of reality, they stayed up late eating junk food and talking bullshit, good times. Later, The Soul King's cool friend from the internet said he had some other friends who wanted to meet him, and Soul king thought "BALLER. SLUMBER PARTY!!!" and told everyone to come on over!

-and then the new guys beat the shit out of Soul King's buddy and dismembered the Soul King for parts to sell as part of an organ-harvesting scheme!

Whoops.

Now, Soul King's buddy DID manage to get up and stop one of the organ thieves, the guy absconding with his hands, and tackled him off the Balcony. One of the psuedo-god hands (the one with the power of stagnation) fell into the Spirit World,took the name "Mimihagi" and became a minor kami because he's really bad at this Witness Protection thing.

Eventually, some parents with an extremely sick kid came to the hand's shrine and asked him to save the kid, and Mimihagi went "Well, I can't cure him, but I can hang out in his body for the next few centuries and prevent his disease from getting worse with constant effort?" and they said "...Please?" and Mimihagi said "Yeah OK.

-And ever since then Ukitake has had the left hand of The God Machine's dead repairman living in him and (mostly) stopping his super-tuberculosis from getting worse, like a benevolent tapeworm!

:)

The God-Machine is still dying this whole time, BTW. Might want to do something about that.

(the best part is, that of the three-to-five-and-a-half living pieces of the Soul King, Mimihagi is actually probably the least weird and definitely sanest of them)

[thelakesuite]

The Rusty Lake Story in Bitchass Baby Terms

this is ALL off the top of my head (and i haven't experienced like 10% of it maybe?) so i might be wrong but i don't care right now

the lake itself isn't, like, that well established 'cause it's a mystery game or something so we don't need full exposition. it's some deity-like thing as old as the mammoths (not canon) that eats time. or rather memories that are stored in lil cubes. and it gives its zookeepers immortality so they can keep feeding it. they call themselves the Rulers of the Lake but we all know the truth. 'immortality', or rather enlightenment, is represented by you becoming your fursona and living maybe an extra century. mr. owl's looking for a new heir pretty quick in the process but we'll get to that.

corrupted souls are kinda a byproduct of all this. truly the lake's farts. when a person dies horribly, when their memories get extracted wrong, or when the plot demands it, they become corrupted. corrupted souls still talk, and some of them are even sensible (like your mom oooooh), but generally they're jumpscare beasts or wet little puppies. sometimes both. yes you can get corrupted when you're enlightened, and right now it's the more likely outcome actually. there's a whole 'elixir of immortality' that gets harped on, where one drinker gets corrupted and the other gets enlightened, but that is literally only a thing for roots and a little bit of cave so don't worry about it too much. unless you're making dramatic fanart in which case leverage that shit.

cubes come up a lot in cube escape, believe it or not! black ones are bad memories, white ones are good memories, blue ones are connected to the past in a way that's somehow not a memory, gold ones are connected to the future, red ones only exist in my fangame that ellesian recently unearthed, and green ones are jello yum. also suck it anyone who told me pre-tpw the gold cube thing was unestablished. anyway. it was a big thing mr.'s owl and crow were working on, creating a golden cube (presumably to extend their own lives) as seen in cave, but then one just kinda appears in the past within when albert does electric jujitsu. jury is still out on that.

onto the actual narrative i think.

in paradise, you're mr. owl pre-owling (1790-something). the lake's current suckass servants are your family who tried to sacrifice you to it way back, but your mom took your place for mom reasons. now mom's corrupted and guiding you to... well, to get sacrificed for real this time. but with your powers combined (yes mr. owl was two people, no it is never addressed) you get enlightened and tell your family to fuck off 'cause you're building a hotel on that island now. you also get a tease in the secret ending that dale and laura will do a similar fusion dance to be the lake's next suckass. we've been waiting 6 years for that to happen.

in roots, two alchemist brothers get that elixir shit going (1860-1935). one of them becomes mr. crow, while the other becomes a playable character for a game. and corrupted. you rope your whole bloodline into this, harvesting their body parts (usually after they die from other means, but you totally caused most of their deaths) for a reincarnation ritual involving a magic seed (that also only exists for this game). this is where the best characters come from because rusty lake actually wanted to tell a story with this game. you reincarnate into a woman! don't think about the implications.

in samsara room, the inside scoop of reincarnation is fuckin' weird, dude (1935). the original was made before rusty lake began, so it's not truly part of the narrative, but it got folded in for the fifth anniversary.

in hotel, you do not get the backstory of the third bird man (1890ish). instead, you get to kill mr. owl's family again, but one-on-one as animal people. how did they become animal people? fuck you that's how! mr. owl probably did it on purpose to spite them with shit sandwiches and bullets to the brain. oh, also, there might be an evil twin of mr. rabbit that shows up later.

in arles, you're vincent van gogh. that's it. he's not relevant. but it is funny seing the death date of paul gauguin in the timeline docs.

we're talking about the past within later but the 'past' segment takes place around here. 1926 iirc?

in birthday, your parents get shot (1939). you're going to be an important detective, dale, but like right now you're getting traumatized. or rather you're experiencing that memory, then doing blue cube magic to fix it and have your grandpa shoot evil mr. rabbit instead. is your grandpa actually mr. crow? no. shut up about it now.

in underground blossom, your mom gets abducted (1935-1972 maybe). okay, well, not you. this is the laura backstory metaphor game but you're actually playing as the third bird man who is both her stepdad and her pet. and her grandpa albert takes her mom rose for his own nefarious reincarnation schemes maybe probably. rose is surprisingly okay with it but characters rarely put up a fight with the plot anyway. laura's a lonely kid, starts dating robert, picks up art to soothe her nightmares, gets murked, then reaches some kind of epiphany that we just train ride away from before finding out what actually happens. she's your daughter, damnit, you should support her transcendence. not enlightenment importantly. also, no, laura's life didn't literally happen at train stops, it's just a vehicle. not even a pun don't fucking laugh i see you snickering.

in seasons, you set up a really interesting plotline that gets utterly countered by everything that came after (1960's-80's). it's just laura time in there, and she uncorrupts herself, thank you very much. the series has been struggling with how laura gets her corrupted self to 1980-whatever, and so far only one other game's even taken place after 1972. and that game's the past within which also counters every other plotline. sigh. maybe we're not smart enough for these puzzle games. at least harvey's cute and bird-shaped. key point that's impossible to fuck up is that laura dies in 1972, and it's unclear whether it was a murder or suicide. that's why we get a detective.

in harvey's box and the lake, uh i don't know really (1969). these are early games that are basically spinoffs of seasons. they help with the overarching stuff but aren't much for the narrative at this point. also they suck

in case 23, dale starts investigating laura's death and gets wrapped up in the lake stuff (1972). it was supposed to be just another murder case, but he got too into it and it got too into him, so he gets teleported to the lake chapel and ferried off to. somewhere idk. he goes into an elevator that takes him down memory lane to the lake floor.

in the mill, mr. crow is really trying to clean house before dale gets here (1972). this is where laura gets her ass corrupted by mr. crow, and we find out how the lake eats memories or whatever. it's supposed to overlap with case 23 and it almost succeeds. whatever skrunk is still there is forgiveable, this was the flash era after all.

in theatre, dale learns about ripoff hinduism, goads a man into suicide, and abandons his darling toilet fetus son (1971). it's like birthday again, where this is a memory we're seeing, but that is a light distinction. robert kills himself at the bar, and we take his memories for legal reasons. there's some sixfold wheel we learn about that doesn't matter much.

in the cave, mr. crow still cleans house before dale gets to the Magic Memory Machine (1972). mr. owl's kinda sorta dying, and dale's been elected his son or something. gotta get his mindmeats. you read a textbook about cubes, pilot a submarine to the lakefloor, put dale and laura in a surrogate fusion dance machine, then give dale the golden cube it makes before sending him up the elevator again. hotel did imply something serious was gonna happen when he gets to the top, but that was eight years ago. the devs probably forgot and fell too in love with albert vanderboom in the meantime.

in the white door, robert unkills himself and gets wrong psychiatry (1972). as it turns out, mr. owl has a front business running a for-profit psych ward to extract totally good and healthy memories from people. this one is an actual factual spinoff but is kinda relevant for the greater rusty lake metropolitan area.

in paradox, fuuuuuuuck who knows maaaan, isn't it all just a metaphor? (1972). there's a consensus that none of the stuff that happens in paradox actually happens, and that it's all in dale's head while he's in the Magic Memory Machine from cave. even though there's five different endings, he kinda walks away at the end, which might be the worst ending of the lot. the information's solid though; mr. owl spells out the whole heir thing, there's bits of backstory for dale and laura everywhere. also the movie's sick.

in the past within, albert becomes a mechanical engineer for the sole purpose of making plot armor (1926/1984). yeah, remember that guy from roots? the voodoo murderer who got third-hand alchemy information to make up for his lack of pussy? yeah, he invented a time machine decades ago. and he enlisted his daughter to talk to her past/future self to grow him back to life in 1984. with a gold cube that he somehow got. and somehow his scar is genetically coded in him. and we don't see his wiggly lineart dick. what does he do in 1984? trap his daughter in a time loop then who the fuck knows. he's stuck in his jumpscare beast ways from being corrupted for so long. how did he get corrupted when he was literally buried in the ground and salvaged bones from? next game!

there's an ARG that i never saw a thing of because i hated it, best kept memory. from what i gathered, it was another front scheme for memory harvesting, except in the 2000's. does that mean it's enlightened dale/laura doing this one, since mr. owl presumably passed on the title then turned into a fish? i'd like to know too!

also, a chapter of underground blossom i haven't completed, and a paper-based game coming out within the next two years or whatever. i don't know how much they'll clear up.

toodles!

[cowbok]

Character Analysis: Narinder (The One Who Waits) Part 2

Part 1 Here!!

Alrighty, let's start!! Last time we left it at the begininng of Narinder's jealosy towards his brothers, and the affections the mortals gave them while he received fear and hatred from the mortals.

But before turning on his brothers, he tried to do something about this. He thought "Why do mortals fear me?" The answer was easy. He was the personification of dead. Judge of the souls, the reaper themselves. Of course they would be terrified of Narinder!

So, the curse of action was obvios. What if he wasn't just the God of Death? After all, it was fair! Their brothers weren't the gods of just 1 and 1 thing alone! Shamura was war and knowledge. Kallamar was pestilence and health. Heket was famine and harvest. Leshy is order and chaos.

So why couldn't he be the God of Death AND LIFE at the same time as well?

Of course, Narinder didn't knew about how to create living creatures, not even about the magics that went on the creation of a soul. But he would figure somehow.

It is said that Shamura nurtered this ambition of his. Without truly knowing Narinder's intentions, maybe Shamura knew the God of Death wasn't well received so they wanted to support Narinder as good as they could.

Dialogs of Shamura right here.

Narinder was so close to figuring out the secrets of life, and he manages to created ressurection! Finally, after millenia! He would no longer be just the boogey-man of the mortals folkclore!

No longer feared, but loves just the same as the rest of his siblings as the god of Death AND LIFE. No longer he who lays a soul to rest. But also, he who reaweakens a soul anew.

And for this, for trying to go against the natural order, the bishops had to stop him. Of course, at the time Narinder couldn't understand the gravity of what he was trying to achive, he was just so full of ambition and desire.

So he felt so enraged when his siblings denied him. Weren't they supposed to be different from the brainless gods that slaughtered themselves during the purge? Weren't they supposed to be brothers in arms? That there was nothing they couldn't understand?

It seemed like it wasn't that way. And so, the bishop of Death saw red that day, causing the wounds in our bishops that they still hold to this day.

I like to think Narinder felt some guilt from this. But he never admitted it. Specially not after what happened later.

Chained, trapped into the deeps of the underworld, unable to leave for eternity. How could they? They were his brothers, his family, his only home. The only ones he trusted with his life and they dis this?!

Once again, shunned away, hated, feared, left alone to rot forevermore. The tittle of god meant nothing, for nothing had changed from the time he was a mortal.

The only mercy he was given was the company of the two kittens, Baal and Aym.

I like to make a parenthesis for them. Even after Narinder tells us he does not cares of them i believe he's just being a huge tsundere. The kits talk so higly of Narinder that its difficult to imagine they didn't form some kind of bond over the centuries.

I know he does cares but of course, he loved his siblings and look how they repaid him? He would never be found showing love and appreciation over anyother, ever again...

At least he thought so...

The Lamb

A prophecy of a liberator, the most loyal of the followers of dead.

At this point Narinder knows better than to let himself form a bond with his vessel, its supposes to be just bussiness but...

It has been ages since he had devotion poured into him. And the Lamb, he's so different. No fear or hatred, no prayers to keep him away, but true love. The kind of love the followers of their brother gave them, instead of that rancid fear and horror disguised a respect he used to get.

That's why it comes as such a surprise to our cat that the Lamb refused to be sacrificed. They were their most loyal, weren't they?!?! Once again met by betrayal?!?

It seems Narinder has a tendency to see only his way, tho. Of course the Lamb has all the right to feel equally if not even more offended by Narinder's word.

I would give him, that it seems flesh sacrifices were the norm and that it was a way to show devotion. Judging for the scenes where the bishops get powered up by their willing followers. Narinder thought this natural, without taking into account if the Lamb was or not okey with it

(And that depends on the type of gameplay of each one. Personally, i hate doing sacrifices, so i headcannon my lamb as the same).

But this is about Narinder and how he felt when he thought was, once again, betrayed. The heart of the bishop of death cannot get a fucking rest.

After his defeat, might as well die. Why keep living this life that has done nothing more but to stab him in the back and front over and over again? And what's worse, he's not even a god anymore...

And then... The lamb spares him.

And the the Lamb gives him a second chance. And the Lamb takes care of him, and shows him a new life, and shows him things CAN be different, and the Lamb keeps him safe.

(And depending on the gameplay you choose, the Lamb even loves him, shows still devotion. And the feelings are complicated. The lamb betrayed them but... They still... Love him?)

And it's all so weird. So many conflicting emotions over millenia. But at last... He is free. And he has all the time in the world to figure out his place in this new world.

And that's all!! Hope you liked this analysis. I just needed to take it all out of my system haha (HYPERFIXIATES TOO MUCH ON NARINDER HELP)

The cow now leaves. Bye!!

(Not going to talk about finals where the lamb kills him or keeps him alive to put him in the pillory forever because they make me sad 😔)

[chocomd]

Kataang Fanfic Masterpost

Over the years, I've poured part of my soul into written some Kataang fanfic, which you can find on ao3 and through the links below!

Kataang longform fics:

The Waterbender’s Heart - Katara is passionate about many things, but when it comes to Aang, even she doesn't know her own heart. Or, the story of how Aang and Katara got together after the DOBS kiss, told through missing scenes.

Drag You Down - After breaking up, Aang and Katara go their separate ways. But when unexpected events throw them back together, they have a hard time moving on—even if moving on is what’s best for themselves, and for each other. Kataang break up with eventual make up. 

Kataang missing scene short fics:

Midnight Meditations - After being forced to learn bloodbending, Katara is haunted by the way it has changed her. Aang tries to help her in his own way, with unexpected results.

Numb - when Aang wakes up, he discovers that the lightning strike did more than just scar his back (set during The Awakening)

In The Sun - when Aang convinces Katara to dry off in the sun after waterbending practice, a tickle fight ensues (pure fluff)

Arrows and Braids - when Katara gives Aang a haircut, they both remember what they had given up 

Close to You - Katara seeks out Aang when she has trouble sleeping (set after The Runaway)

Without Water - Katara struggles to heal Aang after he is struck down by lightning. Five times she can never seem to do enough, and one time she discovers she is everything he needs. Or, the story of how the ordeal of healing Aang almost breaks Katara before she learns how to hope again.

The Cost of Winning - Unlike everyone else, Katara isn't afraid of Aang when he flies into the rage of the Avatar State. But she fears what losing Aang to the Avatar State might cost him. Missing scenes/expansion of scenes from The Siege of the North Pt 2 and The Avatar State.

Missing Pieces - With the invasion coming up, the Gaang will need new outfits to replace their Fire Nation disguises. But finding clothing from their cultures in the heart of the Fire Nation proves to be more difficult than they anticipated--especially for Aang.

Gone - Aang struggles with the aftermath of burning his glider. Takes place after “The Awakening” (S3E01).

Kataang post-series short fics:

The Beginning - set immediately after the finale kiss, where Sokka doesn’t interrupt (epilogue to The Waterbender’s Heart but can be read on its own)

Lullaby for the Departed - adventure/tragedy in which Aang and Katara travel to the Spirit World to find baby Tenzin, who has been kidnapped (TW: miscarriage)

Scars - when Aang gets burned, old wounds open up and scars are healed

Everlasting - The war is over, and the Gaang gathers for one last time before going their separate ways. Aang struggles with the prospect of losing the only family he has left, but with some help from Iroh and accidental cactus juice shenanigans, he learns that friendships don’t have to end after saying goodbye.

Lifeblood - When a peaceful mission turns deadly, an injured Aang has to figure out how to reach Katara in order to survive. (Formerly titled “A Peaceful Mission”)

Mooncake - The Gaang gets together for the Harvest Moon Festival, and Aang gives Katara a taste of an unexpected surprise.

Forever - (rated M) When Aang makes a slip of the tongue, he and Katara face what they both have been avoiding.

Worshipping the Weaver Fairy - (rated M) The most romantic day of the year starts off on the wrong foot, and Katara soon discovers why.

Sun Pillar - In the sunset of the South Pole, Katara revives a tradition for one last time. Written for Kataang Week 2024, Day 1: Revival of Traditions

Kataang canon-divergent AUs:

Too Caught Up - After their dance in the light of a Fire Nation cave, Katara discovers how she really feels about Aang—but he doesn’t seem to feel the same way about her. Or, if things went a little differently after the Kataango.

Enough - As Katara tries to live with the knowledge that Aang does not return her love, she struggles with a mysterious illness that is slowly choking off her breath.

The Deal - After he loses Katara to hanahaki disease, what is Aang willing to trade to bring her back? Sequel to Enough.

Kataang drabble collection:

Slices of Life - 100-word drabbles for the @kataang-100 word challenge; includes every period of the Kataang relationship, from missing scenes to post-ATLA to LOK era

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Epilogue

As summer fades, the ghouls settle in further. New friends and relationships blossom, and a new band performs their first ritual in the local village.

Rating: M Content: possessive behavior Words: 4812

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Not bad for a fic that was meant to be 5 chapters and about 15k words… this was supposed to be a quick little fic that I wrote before moving on to write the longer soulmates AU I’ve been planning since around March! 

As I think I've mentioned, this isn't the end! This was always supposed to be a Raindrop fic, and so Swissalps's story will be continued in a sequel. I'll be dropping the first chapter shortly, and I have a special invitation for it if anyone wants that in their ask box! message me or reply if you'd be interested?

I can't let myself get too sappy here or it'll end up longer than the chapter itself. But thank you to everyone who's been so lovely about this fic in replies or reblogs (especially looking at @everybodyshusband @cosmicseafoam @jazz-bazz @0-miles-away @papaslittlesunshine @ligovskaya @midnight-moth @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan and anyone who's AO3 username I haven't correlated to a tumblr blog yet!), I wouldn't have stuck with this so long without you guys 🖤🖤

Read below, or on AO3!

The weeks passed, the summer fading further every day. With the final harvests nearly all brought in and the trees painting themselves in a hundred shades of amber and gold, autumn was finally upon the Abbey. No amount of dulling of the colours of nature could dull the passion of Rain and Dew’s relationship however, even as they found themselves slipping into a routine. For the Abbey’s fire ghouls, it was all hands on deck to help keep the grain dry, yet amidst his busy schedule Dew still found ample time to luxuriate in him and his pack’s safe and comfortable new home. Most importantly though, he thought, he had time to spend with his m– Rain.  

Dew had to stop himself for the thousandth time from thinking of Rain as his mate. To him, the rituals were practically complete. Having passed on his amulet, he had opened his heart and shared his soul. For Rain though, he knew they were only at the end of the first step of the many that comprised a water ghoul's courting ritual. They had many months left before Rain would have completed his side of the tradition; the next step being gifts that were less about being pretty, and more practical gifts for their future together. Dew had no way of knowing that Rain was already hard at work on that front; taking advice from his new pod of water ghouls on the best kinds of kelp to harvest from the lake here, and the weaving patterns that would create the softest possible blankets from it. Dew was happy to wait for Rain however; even if it took millennia, he would wait for him. 

As the weeks passed for Dew and Rain and their relationship grew both deeper and stronger, Swiss and Mountain continued to dance around each other, both backing out of making the final move at the last second. Their friendship had never been stronger, and with that came the higher pressure of what was a stake if their feelings were not reciprocated. 

Aether could see straight through their – at times – comedically oblivious behaviour. He had known Mountain for so many years now, and Swiss a great number too, that he could decipher the thoughts running through their heads just like reading a book. Seeing his pack couple off like they were doing could have made him feel lonely and jealous, he supposed. Considering his thoughts however, he couldn't find a scrap of negativity towards any of them. Really, he was just happy to see his pack happy.  

He had a fulfilling life; a pack, new friends around the Abbey. Aether had always said that he was happy alone, with no desire to settle with a mate. Admittedly, Mountain had said something similar when they first met, but Swiss seemed to have been an exception there. Over the recent weeks since Cumulus had properly introduced them, Aether had especially been enjoying getting to know Cowbell. The quiet ghoul's steady, timeless attitude felt grounding amongst the recent chaos of his life, and Aether could tell they seemed as delighted to have made a new friend as he was. 

Aether’s role in the infirmary was also going better than he could have expected. Astra had quickly seen how unnecessary any training she could offer him would be, and had set him up mentoring some of the younger quintessence ghouls. To his mild amusement, he had gained a small gaggle of quintessence ghouls who followed him around the infirmary like little ducklings, hanging on his every word and keen to lap up every scrap of knowledge he imparted. Aether found he enjoyed that side of his new role more than he had expected, and looked forward to teaching the younger ghouls each shift. 

With the Harvest Festival quickly approaching, one of the main tasks of the infirmary ghouls had been to prepare a supply of tinctures and remedies for the ghouls and siblings alike who would inevitably indulge a little too heavily in the Abbey’s famous blackberry wine. Due to his extensive knowledge of medicinal plants and herbs, Astra had delegated the task of organising this to Aether, who had grasped the extra responsibilities firmly. 

Before the festival however, came the one thing that was more exciting to the pack; Swiss, and Copia’s first musical engagement in the local tavern. Sunshine and Mountain were also heavily occupied now in rehearsals for it, the three ghouls – and one human – doing an excellent job of hiding their nerves from the rest of the pack. 

The pack was something else that had grown stronger at the Abbey, thought Aether. It hadn’t taken long for the five ghouls to begin to see the ghoulettes they lived their lives in such proximity to as more than just casual friends. Dew had clearly seen them as family long before the others had, but within the span of time they had been here the other ghouls also came to see them as an interwoven part of their lives. 

The ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus in particular, had been referring to the new ghouls as pack, long before they were aware of it. The Den had become so much more crowded and noisier since they arrived, but none of the ghoulettes would change it for the world. The Abbey could feel large and lonely at times, and the constant presence of at least one member of the newly extended pack made everything feel cosier.  

Indeed, the concert – Aether still found calling it a “Ritual” to be laughable, although he would be happy to be proved wrong – was to be their first true pack adventure. The nine ghouls, plus Cowbell, Copia and several Siblings of Sin, were all planning to make the journey down the hill to support their leader’s latest passion project. Cowbell had offered to drive them in the large horse and cart usually used for their monthly grocery runs to the village, and as such the event was developing quite a party-like atmosphere. 

Even amongst the ghouls not attending, most either too busy or incapable of holding an adequate glamour, the day held excitement and novelty. There was a general buzz in the air throughout the Abbey, and it was riding this high that inspired most of the ghouls to finalise their remaining chores before the harvest festival the following day. 

One ghoul in particular who seemed to be buoyed along by the jubilant environment was a young, dark-haired fire ghoul. He was comparatively new to the Abbey, arriving some years after Dew left. Swiss was hurrying back to the Den, bringing armfuls of freshly-washed clothes from the laundry when the fire ghoul strode up to him with a self-assured, almost cocky, grin. 

“Good luck for tonight,” he purred in a low voice like treacle, reaching out a muscular arm to lay a hand on Swiss’ own bicep, “I’ll be at the festival tomorrow, if you want to get a celebratory drink together?” 

Swiss stood confused: he couldn’t remember ever speaking to this ghoul before, and certainly not in a way that would cause him to be so familiar with him. He hoisted the pile of clothes further into his arms, trying to think of a polite was to ask who he was exactly. 

“I, um…” Swiss trailed off, distracted by a low noise ringing in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge it but to no avail: if anything, it seemed to be getting louder. A dark and earthy scent suddenly assaulted his senses, and he wondered if he was falling ill, or if he had been cursed or something. It seemed the fire ghoul could feel it too though, as Swiss saw the colour drain from his face, rendering his tanned, olive skin an ashy grey. His terrified eyes were fixed on a point above and behind Swiss, and he stood frozen like a deer caught in a ranger's torchlight. Swiss cautiously turned around, half expecting to see some kind of nether-worldly monster oozing out of the wall. 

All he saw was Mountain however, stood tall and stony-faced with a dark aura emanating from him. The added height of his antler-like horns meant he cut an imposing figure. His lip curled into a snarl as he growled again, and a new wave of that woodsy, almost possessive scent washed over Swiss. As much as it seemed to be scaring the fire ghoul, Swiss thought it smelled divine. He smiled at Mountain with a questioning head-tilt, wondering where this strange behaviour was coming from so suddenly. The Earth ghoul’s eyes were fixed on the fire ghoul however, who managed to unfreeze for long enough to stutter out a disjointed sentence. 

“I’m sorry!” He looked like he was staring straight into the face of death himself. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” 

With a jerk of his head, Mountain dismissed him, sending the terrified fire ghoul scuttling down the hallway as fast as he could run, his tail between his legs. Once he was out of sight, Mountain seemed to calm down. His expression softened, and the air around him seemed lighter again.  

“What was all that about?” Swiss asked, confused by the earth ghoul’s sudden black mood, and the even more sudden departure of the unknown fire ghoul.  

Mountain muttered something Swiss didn’t catch and started relieving him of the large bundle of black clothes in his arms. Swiss trailed back to the Den beside him, still utterly confused by the interaction that had just taken place. 

“Was I meant to know who that was?” He mused aloud. “He acted so familiar, yet I can’t remember him from anywhere!” 

Mountain almost dropped the clothes, as he doubled over and snorted with laughter, previous aggressive attitude long behind him now that he had the multi ghoul to himself again. Was Swiss seriously that clueless about the fire ghoul’s unsubtle actions? Ever since he’d known him, Swiss had been taking advantage of the humans’ proclivity for flirting with him, often reciprocating if he thought it would secure him more work, or tips and favours. He couldn’t think what would have changed now to make him so oblivious, unless it was simply that it was another ghoul, rather than a human? 

“He was clearly flirting with you, Snapdragon!” Mountain guffawed in disbelief. “Could you really not tell?” 

Swiss’s quizzical expression suggested that no, he had not been aware of that. Adding to his confusion was Mountain’s reaction: he seemed to be finding the fire ghoul’s actions funny now, but what had the growling and – he realised what it was now – scenting been about? The bounce in the taller ghoul’s gait could only be described as victorious, and he chose to file all the hope about why that could be away until after their performance tonight. That wasn’t a distraction he would allow himself today, not when Copia was relying on him. 

Swiss had a suspicion however – one he kept to himself – about why he hadn’t grasped what the fire ghoul was really suggesting, and it had everything to do with the earth ghoul trotting slightly ahead of him. He was self-aware enough to know his feelings for Mountain bordered on infatuation, and he figured that now he had become used to the intensity of those feelings that he had forgotten what anything smaller felt like. The thrill of attraction, or of a newly developing crush felt so insignificant now that they were dwarfed by the magnitude of his feelings for the earth ghoul. He only had eyes for Mountain, and the thought of anyone else thinking they stood a chance in the battle for his heart was laughable to him. Hastening his steps to catch up with Mountain, Swiss fell into step with him to revel in being by his side once again. 

Reaching the Den just before they did was an excitable Dewdrop. He burst through the main door, and then into the room he shared with Rain, brandishing a dull metal object. 

“Look!” He exclaimed to a slightly startled Rain lounging in their nest. “A horseshoe!”  

Rain could see that, although what he couldn’t see was why Dew was quite so excited about such a mundane object. He smiled at him with a questioning tilt of his head and waited for Dew to elaborate. 

“The humans do something with them at weddings,” Dew explained as he joined Rain on the bed, still clutching the curved iron shape, “something about them catching luck? I thought we could hang it on our door!” 

He held it out for Rain to examine, demonstrating how it could look like a vessel for capturing luck when held in a U-shape. Rain took it from him, and it really was just a regular horseshoe: slightly rusted and worn down from use. More interesting than the horseshoe though, Rain realised that this was the first time Dew had ever brought back something to keep for himself. He let Dew chatter on about needing to find a hammer and some nails, if they should think about painting their door before or after mounting the horseshoe, and what colour Rain would like if so, would he like teal? Rain nodded along, only half his mind on the conversation. The other half was preoccupied celebrating this relatively large step for Dewdrop; this was yet more proof that he was finally starting to settle properly and relax, putting down roots for himself and Rain, finally feeling a sense of permanence. 

“I got it when I went to see Cowbell just now,” Dew elaborated, “to check if they’re all ready to drive the cart down to the village tonight. They were just reshoeing the mare we brought with us from the village, so that means this shoe played a part in getting us out of there! It really is lucky!” 

Rain melted further. It was becoming increasingly apparent that deep down Dew had the potential to be an incredibly sentimental ghoul, and he couldn't wait to see how that continued. 

“It seems to be working so far then,” Rain murmured, holding it up, “I've had nothing but luck since you came back for me.” 

With that, he leaned in to steal a kiss; both the horseshoe and all talk of home décor soon being forgotten. 

The day seemed both to drag and pass all too quickly at the same time. Before they knew it, Swiss, Mountain and Sunshine were all dressed, and carefully buffing the metal masks that were a part of their outfits one final time. Copia had decided they added a nice touch to their costumes; the shining horns hinting at their ghoulish nature without actually revealing it. The whole Den was alive with excitement and nerves, the fervour growing as the light outside began to fade. 

Walking out to the front courtyard to meet Cowbell with the cart, Swiss proudly led the way with his guitar strapped to his back. This felt familiar, and more importantly it felt right; doubly so with Mountain by his side. Cowbell was leaned against the wooden trailer, as human-looking as anyone could remember ever seeing them before. They were smiling softly, although slightly apprehensively, as the pack approached. Behind the pack followed the Siblings of Sin, who had initially been keen for an evening out but now seemed to be regretting their decision. Swiss could smell the waves of alarm pouring off them as they got closer, none of them used to interacting with the ancient ghoul who lived in the stables. 

“Good evening, dear ghoul!”  

Copia greeted Cowbell as he bustled forward and hoisted himself up next to them at the front of the cart. The rest of them would be travelling in the back, even though none of them were particularly keen to be sharing the space. They had no choice however, and the Siblings dutifully lined up behind the crush of ghouls that were piling in and jostling for space on the narrow wooden benches. Rain and Dew happily squeezed themselves into a corner, and Swiss settled himself into another; Mountain willingly joining him and shuffling closer until their thighs were pressed tight against each other. There was eventually space made for everyone and with a jolt, the cart set off. The sudden motion and continued bumping along the cobbles of the courtyard threw Mountain even closer into Swiss. Even once they were onto the smoother path into the village, he remained plastered along Swiss’ side as the countryside flew by.  

It really was a beautiful evening, Swiss though as he glanced out at the trees and fields around them. The orange sunset cast its glow over everything, making the whole world look like it was on fire. Most vibrant of all however was Mountain; his auburn hair glowing in the light like it was itself aflame. With his large horns glamoured away, the russet glow was all that served to make him appear as otherworldly as he did. Swiss thought that the whole world around them could truly be on fire, and he would be happy to sit and burn if only to stare at Mountain for a second longer.  

They continued rattling down the hill towards the village, and Swiss felt a pang of longing when he spotted Dew with his head leaning on Rain’s chest; held against his front by the water ghoul's long arms. He wished he could be so casually affectionate with mountain, but he dared not. He wouldn’t allow himself to dream that until he had first concluded the hard part – making sure they really were both on the same page. He didn’t deserve such a reward without the prior work, he thought.  

All too soon they were slowing to a stop outside a wide stone building that was emitting a narrow stream of smoke from its chimney: the village tavern. The Siblings practically fell out of the cart, their instincts screaming at them to put some distance between themselves and the ghouls. 

“Go, my Children, enjoy yourselves!” Copia laughed as they threw themselves towards the tavern door. 

The ghouls were only slightly more restrained as they clambered down and spilled into the building. Cowbell made no move to follow the others inside, instead staying next to the pair of horses, stroking one's nose. Aether paused, looking back at them. 

“You aren't coming in?” he asked, worried that the ghoul didn’t realise that they were welcome in too. Cowbell shook their head. They didn’t like crowds, especially human ones, as the noise and bustle were too much for their deeply ancient mind to handle. Despite that, the biggest thing stopping them now however was their appearance: Cowbell gestured to their feet, where Aether saw that their hooves were very much still visible. 

“My glamour’s incomplete,” they shrugged, “’m out of practice. It’s been centuries since I last used it.” 

One day, Aether thought, he would ask Cowbell just how old they really were. He suspected it was millennia. 

“Go inside with the others,” Cowbell smiled a wonky smile, “I’ll be happier listening out here anyway. Besides, I have company.” They stroked the second horse. Reluctantly, Aether followed after the rest of the rabble he called pack, throwing a final look back at Cowbell. They were muttering something in the horse’s ear while continuing to pet them. It sounded to Aether like they were speaking Infernal, a language only spoken in the pit, or so he thought. The horse didn’t seem perturbed though, and she whinnied happily at the attention. 

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was jovial already. The large room was dimly lit, wood-panelled walls and supporting columns all stained dark with years of fire and tobacco smoke. Scattered across the panelling were a patchwork of lighter sections from recent and less-recent repairs. The only lighting came from lanterns that lined the walls and hung directly from the vaulted ceiling, as well as a small number of candles dotted on tables that lent a cosy and friendly air to the place.  

Better lit however, was the makeshift stage against the wall. It was slightly raised, simply built from a few wooden planks resting on crates, but it did the job. On the other side was the bar, its countertop polished as smooth as glass from generations of patrons leaning on it. Along its length were a line of stools with faded fabric covers, and the remaining floor space was filled with a hodgepodge of tables and chairs, scattering in increasingly private settings ranging from the centre of the room to corners almost entirely shrouded in darkness. 

Leaping lightly onto the stage, Copia looked resplendent in his robes, with his face painted black and white in the mimicry of a skull. Swiss thought he cut an imposing figure, when he wasn’t turning around to look at his ghouls with nerve-tinged excitement at least. The man stretched his arms out wide, the candlelight flickering off his bedazzled chasuble and truly making him look like the head of the dark church. 

Before long, the tables began to fill up with locals, intrigued by the talk of visiting musicians from the mysterious Abbey up at the top of the hill. Rain, Dew and the other ghouls not performing settled themselves at the table nearest the stage, Dew looking particularly excited and practically bouncing in his seat beside Rain. Swiss didn’t know what had overtaken him recently, but he seemed so much lighter and carefree now. He assumed it was Rain. The bustling crowd completely filled the tavern as the four musicians took their places on stage. Swiss caught Mountain’s eye once he was settled on the box he used as percussion. He saw the twin green flashes of his eyes behind his mask wink at him, silently wishing him luck. Swiss beamed back at him, his teeth glinting in the firelight through the bottom of his mask. With a final tune of his guitar, and another smile at Sunny, Swiss nodded to Copia and the man addressed the crowd. 

The ritual passed in a blur, and before Swiss knew it, they were leaving the stage to rapturous applause and cheers. As he stepped down onto the solid floor, Swiss had a large beer thrust into his hands by a grinning stranger. The jubilant atmosphere continued as the night wore on, the ghouls and their Papa swept up with the crowd, never finding their tankards dry. Even the ghouls who had not been performing seemed to be having fun, spending the local money Copia had given them to allow them to fit in and enjoy the night. The man himself was circling through the crowd, inviting anyone and everyone to the Abbey’s harvest festival the following night. His plan to spread their message was going better than any one of them could have imagined, and he had gained the interest of several curious village members.  

The noise and ruckus were proving too much for Aether however, and after a while of watching Dew and Swiss race each other to down their pints, he grabbed a pair of tankards and slipped out the door. Another musician had taken the stage, an accordion player, and Aether found Cowbell tapping along to the beat on the frame and iron wheels of the cart with two sticks like it was a drum kit. Aether chuckled as he approached. 

“Copia ought to make the band all wear floor-length robes, then you could join them!” 

Cowbell looked slightly sheepish at being caught, but their forked tongue slipped out as they smiled anyway. They joined Aether where he perched on some crates and accepted one of the beers gratefully. Apart from the rhythmic sound of one foot and one hoof tapping on the ground, they sat in a comfortable silence; two friends enjoying each other’s quiet, unhurried company. 

Back inside, Swiss could feel every drop of alcohol going to his head, and he thought Mountain must be feeling it too. The night was blurring together into a busy cacophony of singing, cheering and laughing. The one thing he could feel coherently was the constant, grounding pressure of Mountain’s hands on him. The earth ghoul had slunk across the tavern to join him, then barely let him go all evening, always keeping a hold of his waist or hip, or letting their shoulders press against each other. If their tails weren’t safely hidden away, Swiss had the feeling that they too would be braided together.  

In his fuzzy mental state, he wasn’t entirely sure what could have brought such behaviour on. The almost possessive twinge to it, like Mountain was trying to ward the humans off, was making his him feel even more floaty than the alcohol. Running on a high from the successful performance, Swiss couldn’t find the mental energy to really care about why Mountain was suddenly glued to him, he only cared that he was. He saw Rain and Dew similarly pressed together, and his inebriated mind let him convince himself that they could be the same, if just for tonight. 

Whoever was on stage currently seemed to know the audience well and was gradually convincing more and more of the tavern’s patrons to dance to the jig he played. The humans pressing close, swirling and stamping to the beat, swept the ghouls up in their fervour. Swiss soon found himself pressed closer to Mountain, dancing partners even without indenting to be, the pair clutching each other's arms for balance as they ebbed and flowed with the tide of the crowd. 

As the dance ended, Swiss fell against Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul held him close while they both caught their breath and laughed at the exhilaration. For a while, they held each other and swayed to a slow dance only they could hear. Hearts beating in sync, Swiss looked up at Mountain to see him already staring down at him. His peridot eyes were at the centre of his vision, the only thing Swiss could focus on. They seemed to grow and expand to fill his field of view, and Swiss only realised that this was because they were getting closer together when the twin points of light blurred out of focus.  

Swiss’s eyes fluttered shut, and with his vision gone all his other senses heightened in response. He could feel Mountain’s breath against his face and could smell the sour note of beer in it, although he didn’t find that as off-putting as he supposed he should as he stretched up on his tiptoes to bring them closer still. Swiss felt rather than heard Mountain’s final sigh against him, before the soft yet insistent press of Mountain’s lips to his shook him like an earthquake. With all their prior hesitancy washed away by the free-flowing liquor, Swiss pressed back instinctually, throwing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and holding on like his life depended on it.  

Time meant nothing to the pair as they ignored the general ruckus of the crowd around them, and the chorus of whoops and cheers that Dew was leading. It was like all the background noise had faded away leaving only them stood in a world of their own. Before long, although it was really several hours at this point, Copia was desperately trying to shepherd his sleepy, tipsy ghouls and the Siblings into the cart to head back to the Abbey. They had a busy day tomorrow, he reminded them, as he had promised all the villagers that their little band would be performing at the harvest festival too.  

Slowly, they all stumbled out into the brisk night where Aether and Cowbell were waiting, three sheets to the wind themselves. Swiss and Mountain had managed to make it over the threshold of the tavern without separating, but getting into the cart proved more difficult. Breathing their own air for the first time in a while, they unsteadily clambered into the trailer, cramming themselves into a corner to continue where they left off, despite the jeers from the ghouls around them. 

“Even we're not that bad!” Swiss thought he heard Dew crow from somewhere behind him. 

Eventually, they had made the short trip back up the hill and were all bumbling back into the Abbey, still drunk off free beer and good energy. Kiss broken, Swiss continued to hold Mountain's hand as he pulled them into the Den and their room. He kicked his boots off, uncaring where they landed as they tumbled into bed, still giggly and touchy but both too tired to do any more than that.  

“Today was fun.” Swiss purred sleepily, as he wriggled in Mountain's arms. The earth ghoul was almost asleep already as he hummed in affirmation. Quickly, they fell into a deep, contented sleep. They could think about what the events of tonight meant for them in the morning. 

To be continued... 

[aheathen-conceivably]

As 1932 drew to a close, the small crop field nestled amongst Strangerville’s orange hills flourished until almost every plant was ready to harvest. After years of effort, they burst to life with something even more precious to Giorgio than the riches he thought this land would bring him, because it meant everything he had believed and invested in hadn’t failed. He hadn’t failed, and for now that was worth more than the money he had hoped this harvest would bring them.

Because even with the bounty they had managed to coax from the sandy soil, attempting to sell it was near pointless, as crop prices had all but bottomed out while food costs skyrocketed. Everything they picked was more valuable on their own shelves, so for weeks on end Josephine and Zelda stood in the kitchen drying and canning anything they possibly could. 

Zelda wracked her brain for every trick her mother had taught her or poured through every book Mabel had loaned her. All the while Josephine attempted to get a handle on even the basics of preserving food, trying to follow what Zelda did without feeling like she was falling into the trap of uselessness that had nearly broken her the first time. There was so much to do that Jo thought Zelda never noticed, and she was immensely thankful as she struggled to keep up.

Only it was impossible not to notice Josephine’s heavy sighs, no matter how well she thought she was hiding them. Especially when the only distractions from their work were idle chatter and the occasional appearance of Giorgio as he sought shelter from the heat during the long hours of uprooting the spent stalks in the field.

Zelda was always glad to hear his footsteps on the porch, even if they did momentarily fool her into thinking that Antoine had returned home early. Gio’s presence seemed to immediately alleviate Josephine’s frustrations, and in turn Zelda’s guilt that she continued to struggle with this life.

But gradually, seeing them together became harder for Zelda as she grew more aware that they were the couple who had eachother at all hours of the day and night. Meanwhile she spent her days working alongside Gio as her own husband and daughter increasingly found themselves away from home, and she more frequently alone.

Until finally, when the last of the beans had been shelled and the final ear of corn ground into flour, Zelda’s resilience ran out. Her hands were sore and her mind just beginning to process that what they had all worked toward for years was now complete. It meant they would have to start all over again; the soil would have to be mended and tilled once again, the crops replanted, the water regathered, and then she would have to keep trying and trying and trying…

Josephine noticed the look on her face, and knew that her friend was lost in her own thoughts. So much so that she didn’t even notice Jo looking at her intently, watching her eyes as they fixated on the jars in front of her. She was staring at them like she had poured her very soul directly into their contents, only to realize that they were nothing but jars after all. She looked so depleted, that Josephine understood she had been wrong all along. Life here wasn’t as effortless for Zelda as her envious eyes had led her to believe; and that maybe, in giving so much to this life, she had lost part of herself too.

Jo slipped out the door without Zelda even noticing, only to return minutes later with a repurposed bottle full of clear liquor in her hand. She shut the door behind her loudly enough to ensure that Zelda would hear, and then unscrewed the cap and set the bottle on the table, hoping the smell alone was enough to bring her out of her melancholy reverie.

Zelda looked up at Jo before jumping to her feet, “Is that-is that what I think it is?”

A mischievous grin spread across Jo’s face before she shrugged her shoulders, “Gio has his sources.”

It had been a long time since either of them had drank like that, much less something so strong. At the first sip of moonshine out of a kitchen mug, both of them had wrinkled their noses and held their breath. Zelda had coughed profusely. But like most things at over 100 proof alcohol, each sip burned less and less, so that by the time Antoine and Violette returned home, they stayed outside with Giorgio playing around the fire and assembling corn husks into dolls, leaving the increasingly intoxicated women inside the house to laugh and talk to their heart’s content.

Only the more they drank the more Zelda couldn’t hold back the question that had been on her mind for months, filling it with guilt every time she saw Josephine struggle. But slurred and emboldened by the liquor she couldn’t even taste anymore, she felt it come to her lips before her mind even registered it, “You’re happy here, right?”

Fuck. Maybe she could blame it on the moonshine once Antoine found out. Once Gio knew. She had asked her mid sip, and Jo seemed to keep the cup raised to her lips for a moment longer than necessary before she lowered it back down and looked away, “I..I think — I’m happier, at least. I’m trying…”

Zelda sloshed what little liquid was left at the bottom of her cup, the alarm bells in her head numbed by the buzzing sound that had settled there since her fifth sip, “You know that, that if it’s ever — if you’re ever unhappy here, I’ll support you no matter what you do, right, Jo?”

Josephine returned her looked curiously and Zelda’s heart sank. Did her eyes look sober? Angry? Had she said too much and ruined all of their lives? Over and over again she and Antoine had talked about it, how to let Jo know that they were there with her, for her, without her finding out they were keeping Giorgio’s secret; because Zelda knew just as well as Antoine did that she was likely to view all three of them as her betrayers, and so it was even more likely that she would run now than if they had just told her from the beginning.

Then if she ran, there was no way to guarantee that Gio wouldn’t blame them, or that Antoine wouldn't insist on leaving with his sister. Then where did that leave any of them, especially her daughter who had only just learned to call this place home?

But the moonshine seemed to work in Zelda’s favor, and Jo’s curious expression broke into a smile and a small disarming laugh, “Of course, silly. As I would for you. You’re my sister, after all.”

Jo reached her hand across the couch, swaying slightly amidst the flowery patterns beginning to spin before taking yet another sip of moonshine. Zelda reached forward to take her extended hand in her own, the warm touch doing little to allay her own guilt, “My sister.”

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Dreava Bleek, Gallowood Sheriff

It's a gruesome business enforcing the law, especially when the laws are written by an aristocracy who wants their subjects submissive and terrified and it's your business to keep them that way.

There have always been people like Dreava Bleek, blunt instruments that enforce the social order so those at the top needn't bloody their hands. They do it for many reasons; coin, ambition, sadism, but in the case of this villain it's misplaced righteousness: Dreava has had a hatred burning in the pit where her heart should be since she was a child, a bone deep conviction that if people just knew their place and followed the rules that the world could be a place of pace. Nevermind the powerful that abuse the system for their own gain, nevermind the starving poor who break the law only to fill their bellies. In Dreava's word there are only good citizens and criminals, and criminals will hang.

Adventure Hooks:

Dreava earned both her reputation and her title in her campaign against the Gallerwood outlaws, a band of highwaymen who were famed for robbing everyone from wizards and duchesses and who Dreava left hanging from the trees along the edge of their forest. After her little stunt folks started calling the area "Gallowwood" and speaking of how her victims still haunt the roads looking for one last take. Some others mention a secret hideout that the sheriff never found, in which the thieves kept their most valued treasures.

The two easiest ways for the party to end up in Dreava's sights are to already be criminals, or to make themselves the enemy of some belligerent noble who can accuse them (accurately or not) of some transgression of the law

Backgorund: Dreava was young when darkness was wrought upon her soul, when a series of poor harvests and overstepping officials saw her little village rise with its neighbours in a revolt against their feudal overlord. She lost her home and her mother not in the uprising itself but in the violent pillage the lord's forces were allowed after its brutal suppression.

A flip of the coin and Dreava could have been a rebel fighting against authority, but in those grim days the alchemy of terror instilled in her an understanding of just what happens when the poor overstep the place allotted to them by their betters.

Since then her life has followed a pattern. Get hired on by some lord after having difficulty with bandits or other such rabblerousers. Make a show of brutal violence that seems to put an end to the problem for good. Continue to build her reputation until she either becomes her patron's bloody left hand, making their followers just as brutal and jackbooted as she is. End up entering into the service of another lord either on recommendation or after she's ousted for some violence that not even the benefice of the nobility can forgive.

Further Adventures:

Rather than a head on confrontation, Dreava will seek to bait the party into a trap, either by setting up an ambush or going after their known associates. Coerce, intimidate, brutalize, leashed in only by the very limit of what the law might allow. If she doesn't have proof of the party's guilt she'll drag them off to a dungeon to await a sham trial (from which they might be able to escape), but if she's been given the goahead by her superiors she'll gladly execute the heroes in the field, a grim situation which has it's own escape methods.

All her life the sheriff had sworn by the goddess Erathis, seeing herself as a champion of law and civilization. What a surprise for her then after the heroes sever her soul from her body to awake in the halls of the lord of all hells.  While the other gods turned their heads away in shame and disgust, Asmodeus watched with appreciation as Dreava bent her life to punishing sinners, and now offers her the chance to do so again, this time in his service. With a new master to serve and chip on her shoulder against the party Dreava will gladly agree, emerging from her damnation with a newly fiendish form. Consider having her emerge as a surprise villain several levels after the party thought her dead, and the head of a band of fiendish cultists.

Art

[stoutguts]

First time posting something like this so I hope people will like it! 👉👈

Gaming (💀🧼)

chock full my own personal HCs and ideas, mostly unhinged rambling about Ghoap if they were into video games/gaming habits because brainworms and rot

Ghost is a complete fucking nerd, he's autistically obsessed with DND, Skyrim, Bloodborne, Dark Souls, etc. Their eyes will light up whenever someone asks him about these games/interests in particular, and whenever they get the chance to geek out and talk about them/it he will of course talk your ear off about it. Soap always listening to it's nerdy rants with equal enthusiasm, as he just loves to hear Simon talk no matter what it’s about, but also because he’s always so eager to learn. Ghost also occasionally likes to play fifa or rocket league or something along those lines, but it gets major game rage when it plays those games because he sucks ass at it. Also, they've probably got like 2,500+ hours in Skyrim alone. Even if sports related games aren’t their strong suit, he’s really good at other games, with being so fucking sweaty when it comes to Bloodborne, Skyrim, Dark Souls, etc, it's no surprise that it's like god-tier at it. He's very good at rhythm games, but particularly they enjoy Guitar Hero and Project Diva and has perfected all songs across multiple games on maximum or higher difficulties. It also positively dominates on games like Overwatch (they are a Diva/Moira main), Super Smash Bros. (he's a Donkey Kong/Bowser main), and practically any first person shooter with online play. When it comes to first person shooters, they strictly play with other players and doesn't care about the campaign/story mode. Every now and then it'll get Johnny to join them for a round of DND or play Skyrim with him, and even though Soap isn’t nearly as experienced in the game as Ghost is, they still both have a lot of fun. Soap listening to Simon’s autistic rants pays off in some instances, like when faced with different enemies or characters he can name them or knows what they do, or he can even recall certain lore that's interesting to him. (Soap being hella ADHD, and even though he tries his best to listen he struggles with processing information, (APD gang), and often has people repeat themselves, or he just totally forgets stuff unless he's makes it a point to commit it to memory).

Soap is the complete opposite from Ghost he’s really not that much of a gamer at all, he's certainly not any good at most competitive-based games anyhow. He's into the more casual or feel good kind of games, like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, or any cozy life simulator type game—he even plays the Sims every once in a while. Where he’s virtually created his ideal life with Simon, a nice two story house, a couple of kids running around (two daughters).—Has meticulously outfitted and created him and Simon to be as accurate to real life as possible, as well as their two kids (Scarlett and Bonnie), (or at least what he would imagine them to look like). Even though, he absolutely loves what the two have, a man can dream. He has Ghost give their own input on the little life that he’s built for them in the Sims, and Simon will gladly give suggestions and tell him what to do with certain things, whether it’s their house, pets, clothes/accessories, etc. Johnny also always asks for name suggestions when it comes to new pets or sims. Soap has like at least 5000+ hours in Animal Crossing, on New Leaf, New Horizons, and City Folk each. With his island/towns completely decked out and decorated—with everything you can possibly think of unlocked. He’ll whip up Animal Crossing in order to destress at the end of the day, and always makes sure to login and do his daily tasks and chores on all three games (or at least when he can). He'll even take his 3DS with him on long missions (if he's able to), and if he has the time and is not too exhausted he'll play New Leaf for a bit before going to sleep. He's 100%'d Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons and Stardew Valley, his farms being as fancy as can be, though he doesn't play them nearly as much.—He'll only play for a little while before getting off. In a similar vein, Ghost will play Animal Crossing or Stardew Valley with Soap (as Johnny’s created multiple profiles across all games for them so that they can play together) every now and then. Ghost always half-jokes that he’s gonna kill Soap’s spouse in Stardew, (Harvey, because in Johnny’s eyes he’s the bachelor that looks the most like Simon), getting all jealous and possessive, and Soap thinks it’s adorable. Ghost feels like a kid again when he’s playing Animal Crossing. It's favorite villagers/characters being Stitches and Celeste, Stitches because it reminds them of an old beloved teddy bear he had as a child, and Celeste because she's adorable and because making constellations is their favorite thing to do in City Folk, plus, the zodiac themed furniture is their favorite furniture set in New Horizons. Johnny being particularly fond of Shep, and CJ/Flick, because Shep reminds him of one of his childhood dogs growing up (an Old English Sheepdog named Mack), and CJ and Flick because they remind him of him and Simon.

Another game the two will play together is Wii Sports or Wii Sports Resort. Johnny and Simon are both incredibly competitive, and will talk shit to one another during the entirety of a game—start to finish. They’ve gotten into petty spats over wounded pride or some “bullshit play”/“cheating”.

It always seems to slip Simon’s mind to put on the fucking wrist strap for the Wii remote before they start playing, so they've chucked it full force into the TV on multiple occasions. Shattering it or severely damaging it, because he’s too fucking strong for it's own good. 💀 Johnny will sometimes yell at them, and is naturally always upset, because most of the time when it happens he has to go out and buy a brand new TV, which is expensive.

"Si, baby, I love you, but please remember to put on your bloody wrist strap", he sighs.

But Soap despite his frustration can't stay mad at it for long, and forgives him shortly afterwards.

"I know ye didn't mean to", he feels horrible, because he knows that Ghost has a lot discomfort and even trauma when it comes to people yelling or screaming at them. Johnny always tries his best not to raise his voice at it, though sometimes it just comes out.

Simon starts crying, which makes Soap feel even worse and like a total dick. Though Ghost understands that sometimes Johnny can't help but raise his voice, it still triggers them. Soap goes to them almost immediately and takes him to the couch, wrapping his arms around it in a tight, but warm embrace. He holds Simon and tries his best to comfort them, whispering sweet words into his ear and telling them everything they need to hear in the moment—

“I’m not mad or anything, you know I could never stay mad at you mo chirdhe.”

“The last thing I’d ever want to do would be to hurt you, I’m so so sorry.”

“I love you more than anything, I’d give you the world and then some if I could.”

Ghost eventually calms down, its face still flushed and wet with tears. He kisses Johnny. Oh so, passionately.

“Then why don’t you prove just how much you love me?”, they say with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“There’s nothing I’d want to do more, my sweet”, Soap chuckles. [END]

...

Oh yeah, also Johnny and Simon's favorite games to play together in Wii Sports and Wii Sports Resort respectively are golf (because they're both white as hell), and swordplay (because it's more violent and action-packed compared to the other games). Soap's favorite sports to play on his own on Wii Sports/Wii Sports Resort are baseball and archery, while Ghost likes boxing and basketball.