#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,"

[jupitermoontarot24]

POV: You're In a Scary Movie 🎃 Villain or Victim?🔪

HI guys! Just a snippet from my Patreon from back during halloweek. Come Join Me For More Fun Readings Over There Weekly!

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Piles 1-5 and oh yea... BOO

Pile 1🤬

You would be the villain. I think you would be the villain because you're sexy and you bring all the cats to the yard.  you provide food and comfort. It's like if everybody in the neighborhood had cats and dogs and you put dog treats in your yard everyday, you know you will be attracting everybody's dog. like can you stop? lol and you might just be like oh well I'm just giving the dogs a treat but everybody else is like no. Yeah it's like you're so connected with people that people are like getting hypnotized. In this scary movie you could be seducing somebody's wife or seducing a couple. So the reason why you would be a villain in this is because maybe people wouldn't know what you're doing with the people that are seduced. like where do they go and what happens to them? Yeah it gives you collect souls or you do something with them. Okay so it could be like this couple has joined a cult. they look to you as a savior, as a guidance for them. It could be somebody else who's trying to get away from being hypnotized in this movie because they're afraid that it will cause them to  spiral. But honestly it seems like it's real true guidance from Spirit though. like in this movie you are looked at as a villain but it's just because this person is scared of the real truth. okay it seems like this person could be watching a couple be seduced by you or alert by you so this person is on high alert because they're like pile four is alluring people into them. So the only reason you're the villain in this movie is because you're the magician. So kind of like how people will burn witches at the stake but all witches are not bad witches. Pile 1 doesn't just have one person, they have two people, they have multiple people so what are they doing behind the scenes? They could also be getting Karma in this movie but it's weird because they don't see you doing anything like they can't see what you're doing so it could be like maybe you're doing magic. So in this scary movie this person is suspicious of you. They don't come to you and fight you but they might go to the man in the couple and see why or they might get in contact in some type of way. for some people the couple that you seduce is not together anymore because they both like you were one of them likes you more. Okay so to this person in this movie your villain plan would be to send out a frequency that reaches people and makes them loyal to you and then you harvest their energy or their souls and it makes you more abundant in the physical world. I think you do send out a frequency that goes to people, it brings them to their higher self it brings them to a piece of Nirvana and helps them gather resources for themselves strength…or it’s a evil ploy. It gives dr.doofinsmirk

Victim: none?/ everyone

Uzumaki

Pile 2 🔪

Okay so you would be the victim. they're going to be somebody who is obsessed with you or really really likes you. but the thing is this person wouldn't want you to be out they wouldn't want you to be a hot girl. no other girl no other person would be enough for this person but you.This person can already have a partner/girlfriend but they don't satisfy them enough. like this gives Joe energy from the show where it's like he might be obsessed with somebody but then once he gets them he becomes obsessed with somebody else. they would try to trap you but I feel like you would trap them instead. The crazy thing is is that you do know this person but it's not like you guys were ever in a relationship like you could have just worked together you could have went to school together, you could have mutual friends that ended up at the same places but this is not somebody who you romantically were involved with.I don't like this energy like that like the other pile was a little bit lighter but this person is kind of dark. So in this scary movie this could be a group of people or just a specific person but I feel like they feel that getting you would even the odds like it would make whatever situations balanced. Okay so this person probably did have a accomplice. it seems like this person could have manifested through their third eye basically evil eye because the third eye is very significant so this person could have been sending evil eye and trying to infiltrate you through the mind. The villain was trying to infiltrate you from the inside so you would basically unravel and be lost. Yeah, it seems like you were very hot girlish because this is Bratz rock angelz as the picture so I feel like you're somebody who was on the go, who was cool, who really left a impression on people and on this person specifically. so this is somebody that you could have just met on your adventures like not somebody that you really deep involved with. The accomplice could have made it their mission to make you cry. Maybe they didn't see you as emotional,  maybe you didn't come off like that and this person could have come up as emotional but you give steady and calm and balanced. They tried to plant things in your mind that weren't true basically make you crack,make you sweat. Okay so you're the main goal of the villain could have been to knock you off play with your head maybe close down certain chakras. Basically make you scared/ scare you off. I feel like everything dark comes to light and this person didn't want you to shed light on them so they were trying to cloud your judgment. They could have tried to do this through accomplice.So you definitely beat this villain by playing the switcheroo. you could have lured them to a certain place expecting you to be there but you aren't and instead you got them accomplished. it seems like they get offed energetically though I think you and your lover so maybe you can have like a surprise lover in this movie but they come and you guys energetically kill them off so it almost gives like couple versus couple or just accomplice versus accomplice like Kim Possible. Checkout pile 3

Villian: associate, could have been one your friends.

Blink twice, Bratz rock angelz ,death proof

Blink twice

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS MOVIE

Pile 3 👻

Unfortunately pile three you would be a victim. You would be a victim for being the it girl/boy. Have you watched this movie form the picture Love Don't Cost a Thing ? The girl in the middle and her friends were kind of mean. So this could start off with somebody liking you romantically. This could also be a situation where your friend is obsessed with you like obsessed with you being The It Girl. In this scary movie I think you could be coupled up with somebody so you could be dating somebody and the whole time one of your friends is plotting to mess it up. it gives me Mean Girls. Regina George was looked at as the bad guy, it could be said that that was her karma but Cady pretended to be her friend to sabotage and then she fell in love with her boyfriend that's messed up lol. in this scary movie you're just doing your thing being perfect, being beautiful, dressing amazing, being the main character and you attract someone's attention :a guy/girl?. but you have a whole bunch of Love offers because you're the most popular good looking person around and there's a particular person that proposes something to you and one of your friends sees it and they're like I don't like this. they're like that offer should be made to me? why does this person get everything? Why do they look so good? Why are they so alluring. so they gather up weaponry maybe not literally but different things to make this downfall. Yes so this could be a situation where this friend is only popular because they're around you..  the person that wants you romantically could be real popular as well they could be really good looking and they can have a lot of money.  I feel like this person was already maybe shallow in the first place but when you got with this person it was too much. So I think it would be two people because it is two friends in the picture but one specific person could have been the one trying to really seek out the revenge. The thing is that I feel like realistically it wouldn't work like this person wouldn't succeed at this plan. but you would still be the victim because the plan was made for you but I feel like you will get out of this in such a smooth way that it's funny. I feel like the universe will protect you to the point where you might notice something is off, but it works out like you might not have to do much to get this person away. this is not the type of scary movie where you are fighting to the death at the end with the killer no. this is the scary movie where you do know there's something off and you sense something's off and maybe you're having some type of paranormal experience but it ends up getting solved and the two people kind of disappear or disintegrate off. So in this scary movie it's like one friend would actually have been doing something and you can feel it and the other person probably will try to gas light you. so you could be like something's wrong I feel something is off and it could be specifically this person and the second friend is like you're crazy I don't like when you act like this I don't know if I can be friends with you anymore.Orrrrr they could have just been like you're overreacted its nothing take a chill pill, yeah this person could have been shallow like I said so they could have just been worrying about their looks and how they feel when you were likenreally going through it.So I think this villains plan was almost unknown to them I don't think they really knew where they were going with this they just wanted to be you.

They could have wanted to Destiny swap with you and also by doing that made you be with somebody else. Yeah so maybe they didn't really like their partner like that so they're like I want to be pile 3 and I want their partner and they can have my partner. Their boyfriend/girl could have been involved. check out pile 2.

villains:  a Duo ? a couple, two friends.

Gothika, Love Don't cost a Thing, the craft

Pile 4👿

I think you would be the victim. it gives one of those movies where you know those scene where its this couple out on the town,having fun and they're just in the moment and little do they know it's somebody up on the balcony staring at them. yeah you could be just minding your business and there's somebody who is hot! behind the scene. somebody who doesn't want you to be as abundant and Luscious as you are. This could be the type of scary movie where it's like a wolf in sheeps clothing around. so this person might present something to you but it's like a gag gift. They want you to be stuck somewhere. So you could just be minding your business having a good time and maybe a specific person starts pursuing you and now you're dating this person and they're treating you well  maybe you guys even get married? And the whole time it's this person in the back upset! do we know why? It's because they broke up. Honestly this person could have broken up with their partner but usually their partner comes back like a dog but they didn't because they found you. So you will be the victim because this person will now be on the bottom and their use to being a top priority. This person will be upset but I don't think they would do anything to you per say. I feel like they might try to protect you as a couple? like they don't want anybody else to date  your partner so they'll make sure that you guys stay together or at least make sure nobody else gets in between the relationship but they will be also trying to put themselves in situations to talk to your partner. Yeah like maybe not trying to outwardly get them but say they have the kids together like oh I need you to drop off some paperwork to me, or we need to talk about signing the bills off on my name now. something to where they have to speak. Your partner is really loyal in the scary movie so it's like they're not going for it like they don't want to be with them but it seems like they're always there so they could be following you guys around. you might look up and you guys are at Disneyland with your kids and you're like is that them in sunglasses and a hat? then the villain is like it's no way  pile 5 is this perfect like it's something about them thats going to come out, they're not perfect.  you come off really perfect and balanced. They could have seen you as a villain. They could feel like you were trying to erase them and what they've done but they're plan was to erase you especially if you guys haven't been together that long. they were just trying to get rid of you so they can focus on what they had, the history they have or the relationship/kids. Even make you mad to the point where you leave like you get fed up with the situation and you're like I'm just going to leave. Villian:an ex, stalker

Obsessed

Pile 5 🥵

Definitely the villain. something is shady about you pile 5. Not going to lie you are the sexiest villain to ever be. the villain but this gives a crime of passion. is it a crime? sade voiceYeah like this is more sexy than anything else. so in this scary movie you and your lover can have a lot of eyes a lot of suitors. and that could drive you to do certain things. I heard evening the playing field. this could be a situation where you just get your get back. Okay this is the type of scary movie where it's a psychological war on your partner. so maybe you make them go crazy, they don't know who's really you, is this the real you or if you're playing a game with them maybe they just aren't sure about anything.  it only drives you even more. it makes you raise your level of taunting. yeah the movie for you guys is basic instinct. people could be or your partner could be almost paranoid being with you because it's like are they going to kill me? are they going to do something to me when I'm not looking. but it seems like this is if they did something to you. this doesn't seem just unproved kind of like if they broke your necklace, is pile 5 going to break my neck. are they going to slit my throat? You're the villain because people are scared of you especially if they do something to you. you're like the Grim Reaper.  that type of energy where it's like the reaper is looked at to be really scary but he only comes when it's your time to die it's not really his fault. yeah and you could be nosy or just know a lot of information, see a lot of things, have a lot of eyes, find out things about people really easily so that makes you even more scary. yeah people are like if I do something pile one, if I make them mad.. they go blow out a candle and end my whole life. If I'm not nice they can find out my secrets. Maybe people have received really bad karma surrounding you, like maybe they totaled their car and then somebody walks up to them and issues them a government official debt collect on top of that and the person that presents it has the same name as you or has the same initials something like that. so people like dang there go my karma from pile on. like you have voodoo dolls and you poke them when they do something bad to you or if they were just a bad person. Also people could feel like you're the villain because you are good at seducing people even if it's not on purpose like people might try to seduce you into seducing them. people could lose their partners and be like dang what a villain. so in this scary movie you're a hot Queen / King that everybody is scared of and steals people partners. Either way you give crazy psycho hot person. I would say that your plan as a villain would be to give Karma to people that did you wrong. But honestly I do feel like you would use their energy to become hotter and smarter and faster. 

victim: could have been ppl who weren’t there for you during a tough time, a person left you to drown in your own stuff. 

Scary movie: Jennifers body, american psycho,

💗💗💗💗💗XOXOXOXOXO💗💗 💗🕺🏽🕺🏽🕺🏽🕺🏽

SEE U THERE ;)

[ganondoodle]

(Original art) Xaror, any pronouns, species (?), age (?)

short summary about them; they act as both an antagonist and an ally since they are only really interested in what they want or whats fun to them, they are immortal and call themselves 'death itself' since they have a special connection to souls (being the only one able to communicate with them) and the ability to seperate souls from their bodies in such a way that nothing can harm the soul afterwards their main goal is to .. bother and disturb the 'celestials'*, which they hate, as much as they can, breaking into their palace, freeing prisoners, destroying research, destroying the place, and most importantly, making as many souls unusable to them as possible-

they dont want to destroy the celestials though, they cant fight them anyway and this game of doing 'good' only with the goal of annoying them is their most treasured activity, so Xaror doesnt intend to stop them from killing or hurting anyone, only from harvesting what they are actually after (though Xaror doesnt actually care as little as they think they do about people, and has a soft spot for demons)

most of their appearance is later into the story; Zaphira (the empress) had been in coma and the medical facility she was treated in was destroyed by Shargon (orange eyed demon who acts as her bodyguard for the first part) in an attempt to save her from her estranged relatives taking over her country after they heard of her decline in health, she is believed dead but washes up on the shore of the mountain Xaror resides at years later (it has a reason, too much to write here) and they slowly nurse her back to health, the reason they give for it is that they found their first encounter very fun, thats all (is it?)

(more lore under the cut bc this is already so long .. im trying to keep it short q-q ......... this is stuff i have been working on since i was a kid so uh, some things might be cheesy but i cant change them anymore ..)

just to get some basics out of the way; theres three worlds, the celestials palace, human world and demon world, each are their own planet connected via different gateways

*celestials (possibly not final name, loosely based on angels) are the last remaining "survivors" of their planets demise, when their world died the most powerful among them cannibalized the weaker to sustain themselves until there were only less than 10 left, who each turned into different beings from it and dont resemble their own people much anymore, they built a palace from what was left on their world that protects them from space as its atmosphere collapsed shortly after- however they still needed something to live off; they discover the human world and are delighted to find rather short lived people with powerful souls, the best kind of sustenance for them (now), they aim to herd them like cattle, but a problem arose when it turned out another world has long been in contact with the human world; demons

demons are semi immortal creatures that act as protectors for their world, protection they extended, more or less secretely, to the human world ensuring them a long and secure life- the celestials need them to die at their whim though (demons are few in numbers, hard to kill and rarely have offspring, not an ideal target); as they worked out a plan on how to get rid of demons one of the celestials, Xanthriel (time) grew somewhat fond of people as they spent alot of time in the human world to observe and research them; in the end turning on their own completely, but losing the fight against Uriel (knowledge)

Xanthriel was supposed to be executed for their betrayal, but it doesnt work, instead they are splintered into many parts after a lot of struggle, most body, memory and most strength is one part (ending up as motionless forever bleeding corpse kept locked up in the palace), the rest is some time later gathered together and reforms as a seperate, weak mockery of them, they embody Xanthriels emotion- Xaror, without memory, strangely cut to pieces (hence all the missing limbs and broken halo) but driven by an unstoppable desire to disturb the celestials (they live seperate long enough to each become their own person, at some point Xaror discovers Xanthriels body after all and they merge back together, though as they are now two, Xanthriel only takes over once directly after merging, stays silent for a long time and lets Xaror be themselves, only later revealing that they are there at all .. hiding perhaps- i rarely have specific ideas for voices, but Xanthriels is like, like coarse rocks being violently rubbed against each other, less voice more noise)

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group (he wasnt the strongest or special, he was jsut the last in the row and always got the lowest dosage) when Xaror found them in yet another break in into the palace and got him back to the demon world .. where he was promptly blamed for the others that were taken and treated like a pretender/fake/spy bc what he got put through changed his eye color (something that demons cannot change in any form) to one that does not exist among 'real' demons (orange ... notice the inner color of Xarors broken halo? :) ), some even suggesting killing him, but none of them were brave enough to do it (they were all kids still) .. except Eadrya (the big blue-ish one, largely regarded as the strongest demon alive) but Shargon managed to escape, and since then lived largely in isolation- this is part of why he is so hated, and why he starts to spend so much time in the human world after rediscovering the pathway there)

[adobealmanac]

How I was taught to cleanse with fire

Many cultures around the world use smoke and fire for cleansing and purification rituals. New Mexico is not different in that manner, as often I see curanderos (and spiritual leaning Catholics) burning a variety of herbs, woods, and resins to cleanse themselves and their spaces. Sometimes we even use mezcal to cleanse by spraying it from our mouths. While not necessarily ‘fire’, it does have that flame element to it. Spraying mezcal from the mouth is often done to cleanse the body or mind of someone, rather than a space.

I grow a variety of herbs on my property and I often find myself inclined to use them over store bought bundles or incense as it feels more traditional, and connects me to the earth and to my ancestors. My grandma taught me how to burn desert sage to purify a space, which is one of my favorites to use spiritually for cleansing. It brings an energy of healing and calmness when you burn it, and also works great for purification. I think of it as the lavender of sages due to its warm hug-like energy it brings.

To begin cleansing with desert sage, you first must hold the sage in your hands, and close your eyes. Envision happiness, and warmth, and hugging your own abuelita. Think about the warm yellow energy of the desert sage and how it brings that feeling of walking through a winter landscape knowing that you will be home soon. Enjoy the feeling and scent of the unburnt sage. Once you feel ready to begin, open your eyes, and take one deep breath in and out. Now, you must open the front door of the place you are cleansing, and optionally more windows if the space is large enough. The thick adobe of my grandmothers house wouldn’t allow any spirits to leave if you didn’t allow them to exit somehow. Begin by walking around the space with the unlit sage, feeling the energies of the space and finding spots that you need to focus on. Once you have identified the dense spots, you can light the sage. I always light the largest end of the desert sage bundle as I find it is the easiest to work with, allowing you to hold it by the smaller portion. Allow a large ember to form, about the size of a dime. Then, while walking through the space blow on the ember allowing the smoke to fill the direction you are blowing into, as this brings life and soul into the sage you burn. While doing this be intently focused on removing ‘anything bad’ as my grandmother would say. Be sure to blow the smoke into each of the four corners of your house too, to fortify and protect your space. I usually include the outdoor corners too, if the weather is calm enough outside to allow my sage to burn. Once you have hit all of the dense spots with your smoke, place the desert sage into a cooking pot in the kitchen or living room until it ceases to burn. This allows the smoke to do any remaining work it needs to. Once complete, thank the spirit of the sage by holding it again in your hands, giving it a sort of hug, and verbally thanking it. You may leave an offering at the bush you collected it from if you harvested the sage itself, otherwise you could also leave the offering near your favorite plant, I suppose. Once complete store your sage respectfully until the next time you need to purify your space.

Allow the front door and any open windows to remain open for at least 30 minutes after the final ember went out. Remember to always practice fire safety and never leave a sage bundle burning unattended.

If desert sage does not grow near you, look into if it would be able to successfully grow in your plant hardiness zone. If not look into using a native sage variety that grows in your area! In my opinion it is always best to use herbs that are from the region you live in over imported ones any day. And of course, do your best, because no one is perfect. If store bought is all that is available to you then use it! Or, if you already have a store bought herb bundle go ahead and use that. Be resourceful, and stay safe out there!

[weirdducky17]

⛧ Shepherd Leading The Blind ⛧

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As his vision darkened around its edges and sockets ached in a dull repetition, he could not help himself from silently cursing at his elder brother from whence his eyes were gouged out. The phantom pain of feeling them being pried out of his skull haunted him day by day, the culprit slept not too far from his own tent in this damned cult.

He could only mourn the sensation of being able to properly see, his crown only being able to suppress his agony and delay his visual impairment. Now his crown replaced by cotton felt bandages to merely hide his disfigurement, his green envy barely showed on his expression. His godhood lingering in how he must carry himself, head high with no weaknesses visible to exploit.

He was the God of Chaos.

Now rendered as the blind and weak bishop, the first to fall from the Lamb's blade.

Yet even as his gaze was muddled by blurry images of followers meandering around his form, his other senses were sharpened. His hearing, sense of smell and taste seemingly enhanced to make up for his lack of vision. He could recognize the scents of every follower that carried delicious meals to and from the kitchen , the heavy footfalls of the workers constructing the newest lamp posts people kept chiming about.

Everything was clear to him.

Everything was something familiar.

Comforting. Peaceful. Quiet.

... Safe.

Was that something he can even indulge in? Was he allowed to bask in such undeserved tranquility that was reserved to the ones with such a pure faith in their own God? He's lived for many millennia, even as their reality as other worldly beings weighed heavy as the crown that once sat atop their heads.

He used to be happy once.

A Monster like him.

Can he experience that happiness once more?

The scent of blessed pine and the subtle hint of death overpowered the masses that surrounded him. Other scents dulled to make way for this special one. His branches twitched at the soft footfalls of hooves crunching against the cobblestone path, heading in his direction. The soft jingle of a bell rang out. The gentle yet firm touch of a hoof rested upon his clawed hand that held crushed seeds within his fingers. Their mere godly presence dulling the ache of his sockets.

"Lovely morning, Leshy. Has my radiance blessed this day of a bountiful harvest?" A teasing tone yet held an air of reverence in every word they spoke.

". . . And may your brilliance nourish our crops to provide an abundance of fresh produce to further our flock's survival." A soft giggle left them.

"I'm glad someone can match my energy on such a peaceful day."

"Do not get ahead of yourself, Little Lamb..."

"No need to worry thyself about how I may casually address you. After all you are my follower, I am your Leader. I am a person you can rely on, dear Leshy."

"Anyway! The camellias I managed to harvest from Darkwood are growing nicely in my personal garden and I just happened to prepare some tea for two, would you be a dear and join me to 'Smell the Roses'?"

"Do I have a choice in the matter, My Leader?"

"Nope!"

"I see..."

Even has his vision darkens and warps to incomprehensible shapes only he could bear witness too, he could only mentally scold himself as his clawed hands clasped around the Lamb's dainty arm. The pads of his fingers grazing across the many scars and mangled skin left by the many foes they threw at this determined creature, a testament to their strength and courage.

Soft. Gentle. Kind.

So Kind to the very core, even if the way they held themselves were the exact opposite.

He could not help himself from feeling that green envy once more, gnawing at his mortal soul. It was not a surprise that the red crown got so attached to this Little Lamb.

He could feel a sharpened dagger like gaze directed at his back, it was not any jealous loyalists that revered the Lamb with the utmost respect. Nor was it that damned spider, Webber, that was highly favored in the cult grounds. This was much different, familiar even. The same gaze that cursed him to death.

Narinder.

... pfftt—

He could eat his heart out. The Little Lamb chose Him to accompany them after all, not phased by his elder brother's poisonous glares.

The smallest bit of happiness bloomed in Leshy's repulsive, mortal soul.

[enigmaticexplorer]

Let Me Love You - Part I

Masterlist | Next Part

General Summary. An opportunity to expand your grandmother’s business brings you to Coruscant and a chance-encounter with Commander Fox. Friendship is your intent. But feelings grow, and with them, renewed fears. 

Pairing. Commander Fox x female!OC

General Warnings. Self-esteem issues; intimacy issues; trust issues; explicit sexual content. 

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Word Count. 2.4K

A/N. Happy Kinktober! My kink is the hyper-independent FMC who’s convinced she’s incapable of being loved, and the confidently-patient MMC resolved to prove her wrong.

Also, this story wouldn't exist without @/dystopicjumpsuit's In the Matter of Marshal Commander Fox vs. the Stocking Kink, the Court Finds the Defendant Filthy. There is zero correlation between the two, but DJ's one-shot reminded me how much I love Fox. And thus, this story was born.

9 Yelona, Zhellday

Autumn on Coruscant elapsed like the other seasons of the year—controlled temperature, heavy traffic, and malodorously polluted air. The environment was a stark contrast to your home planet, Lefaepa. 

With its fields of amber, and its hills of autumnal red, and its valleys speckled with clumps of asters and sunflowers, Lefaepa was the planet to visit for the annual Harvest Festival. 

It was a tradition that dated back ten thousand years. Month-long festivities concluded on the 35th when everyone gathered in their local towns and shared the reaping of their harvest. 

The communal and unevolved technological aspects of Lefaepan culture set it and its neighboring systems apart from the rest of the galaxy. “Backwater,” they were called. “Archaic.” 

But the Lefaepans didn’t care. They were so far removed from galactic societal expectations and dictations that the opinions of those located billions of kilometers away hardly mattered. What do the people who live in cages know? they laughed among themselves.

You missed it—your home, the silence at night, the fresh air with its honeysuckle breeze. 

Since you first arrived on Coruscant two years ago, you’ve returned home twice for the Harvest Festival. Your parents appreciated the extra help on the farm, and you enjoyed the pitchers of apple cider, the twangy music, and the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables. 

This year, however, you were missing the festivities. An argument with your mother left you too raw to visit home. No matter how much your heart longed for the stars and your soul yearned for the quiet of those red hills, your pride kept you away. Your mother had gone too far this time. 

Her constant pressure to settle for the first man who gave you attention—her constant remarks that you weren’t “getting younger”—had coalesced into a resentment unbreakable. Even now, three weeks after your argument, a bitter taste filled your mouth. Ire clenched in your jaw. 

Was it not enough that you had performed well in university? 

Was it not enough that you had expanded your grandmother’s business?

Were you not enough on your own?

Conflicting thoughts clashed within your mind, a war raging. 

Swords clanging—an adamant acceptance of your independence. 

Cannons blasting—a defiant roar against your mother’s comments and interferences. 

Arrows piercing armor—a desperate, silent plea for someone to see you, to believe you were enough to be loved.

Over time, many battles were fought. 

For weeks, the armies fell quiet, re-strategizing, allowing you a moment of peace. And then they surged forth, a surprise attack spurred by your mother or your insecurities or—

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The voice plucked you from your spinning thoughts and you recoiled, looking up from the thin coin you were cleaning. Weaving his way through the glass cases of artifacts strolled a man in red armor: helmet tucked beneath an arm, curly hair close-cropped, groomed stubble faintly shadowing his jaw.

A member of the Corrie Guard. You were familiar with them. 

After the Clone War ended two years ago, the Jedi uncovering and preventing a massive scheme to destroy the Republic, the Grand Army of the Republic was restructured. A tentative peace encompassed the galaxy. There was no longer a need for full battalions of soldiers. 

Pension plans passed, many soldiers retired. Some remained, though. Some, like the Corrie Guard, who were organized into an internal defensive bureau—the Department of Security—dedicated to protecting the New Republic from terrorist cells. Cells that were keen for chaos and anarchy.

So, the Guard’s random visit to your gallery was surprising.

“Can I help you?”

The Guard approached your counter—where you conducted all final transactions—with an aplomb that clued you into the seriousness of the situation.

“Are you the owner of the gallery?” At your nod, the Guard extended a gloved hand. “I’m Commander Fox.” The handshake was firm and brief. Matter-of-fact, just like the commander’s tone. “Yesterday, two Weequays were spotted on a public cam just outside this gallery. They were wearing black cowls and dressed in dark clothing. Do you know anything about them?”

The description, while slightly vague, was familiar. Your eyes narrowed. “They came inside and looked around a bit.”

The commander maintained eye contact with a calculation that made you tense. “For how long?” 

“Maybe five minutes.” You rounded the counter and motioned for the commander to follow you. A couple paces led you toward an unseemly case in a corner near the locked door that led to the backroom. “They spent most of that time looking at this: the Sword of Skander.”

Commander Fox peered into the case, eyeing the ancient sword inside. “What’s its story?”

“The sword belonged to Emperor Skander of the Meso civilization that existed ten thousand years ago,” you said with a cool, blasé inflection born from years working in this field. “When he assumed emperorship, his empire was close to collapse. To fight off his greatest enemy, he went to a sorcerer-type people and begged for an undefeatable weapon. They gave him this sword.”

“Undefeatable?” The commander raised his gaze to yours. A white scar cut across his chin. “It’s a sword.”

You offered him a bland smile. “The metal of the blade is unique. It no longer exists. It’s either been depleted so much it’s undiscoverable or it’s been hidden.” 

Commander Fox observed the sword with an unreadable expression. “And yet the metal in the sword remains.”

“The sword is protected by both cultural heritage laws and general artifact preservation laws,” you explained. “It was given to my grandmother forty years ago by a local community with ties to the Meso empire. One of their children was playing in a random cave when she found the sword. The locals recognized it from their legend. They wanted to protect it. So they asked my grandmother to safeguard it from those who would test the metal and replicate it.”

The commander ran a thumb along his lower lip. “Did the Weequay ask you any questions about it?”

“No.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “When I asked if I could help them, they left.”

“What’s so special about a rare metal?” Commander Fox mused aloud. At your silence, he pinned you with a hard look. “You know something.”

You hesitated. When you inherited the gallery, you had promised your grandmother to protect the sword’s secret capability. A capability that would earn the interest of different parties, including terrorists. 

“Very few people know this,” you said quietly. The commander shifted forward. “The sword’s blade can cut through any material. Including beskar.” His eyes widened. “And its blade is imbibed with a quick-acting poison. One little scratch and you’ll be dead within a minute.”

“That makes it a dangerous weapon,” Commander Fox murmured. He surveyed the front windows. Stained glass. An assortment of colors. They shielded visitors from Coruscant’s environment, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of ancient times, transplanting visitors from the modern world into history. “In the wrong hands—”

“That’s why only a handful of people know the truth.” You gestured to the case’s peeling wood and scratches. “And why its appearance is so modest.”

The commander released a contemplative sound.

Unease pricked the back of your neck. “You think the Weequays may suspect its true origins.”

His demeanor was impassive. “If I asked you to move the sword to your backroom, would you?”

“Only if you answer my question.”

“You haven’t asked me a question.” The corner of his mouth curved at your annoyed eye roll. “But…I believe there’s merit to your suspicions.”

You gave a sharp nod. “There are cases in the back with strong security systems. I’ll move it into one of those.”

“Thank you.” Commander Fox adjusted the helmet beneath his elbow. “Do you have private cams set up?”

“I do.” You extended your head to the one behind him, well-hidden among lacy drapes. 

“Good.” He scanned the gallery, most likely searching for the others. “Can I get a copy of the last week’s footage?”

“The last week?” His nod was perfunctory. You pursed your lips. “I don’t have time right now—”

“I’ll return to tomorrow.” He glanced once more at the sword. “If that works with your schedule.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Commander Fox offered his hand and you accepted it. Again. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

10 Yelona, Benduday

“Commander Fox.” You greeted the man with a close-mouthed smile. “Give me a minute.”

The commander, with his helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, nodded. The patient apathy on his face hid his true thoughts as he appraised a glass case housing five clay tablets inscribed with an indecipherable language. Your radiocarbon tests dated them nearly one-hundred thousand years old.

“As promised,” you said to the elderly man opposite your counter. Removing the lid from the large, nondescript box, you beckoned the man to peer inside. Joy played on his withered mouth.  

“Your payment,” he said, brandishing a bank card, “as promised.”

A swipe of his card deposited the credits into your account. It would take no more than thirteen hours for the transfer to complete its process. 

With a wave at the elderly man, you turned your attention to Commander Fox. 

“As promised for you.” You slid a datafile across the counter. “The five days preceding the Weequays’ visit, and the day of.”

Commander Fox rested a hand atop the ‘file. Like yesterday, red armor accentuated by a white chest plate covered his body. A black kama encircled his waist; a white utility belt sat snuggly on his hips. He set his helmet atop the counter.

“You must make a lot of money to afford these pieces.”

“I don’t sell the artifacts,” you said. The commander straightened slightly at your terse tone. “A majority of them were gifted to me by my grandmother. The rest are on loan from museums or private collections.” Your arms crossed your chest. “Artifacts are meant to be admired, studied, and respected. I’m not in this trade to buy and sell rarities just for the ego of having lots of money.”

If he was bothered by your sharp response, he didn’t show it. “Then how do you make money?”

“Through appraisals and consulting, mostly.” You rested a hip against the counter. “Preserving certain artifacts is expensive. If you don’t know what you’re doing, it can be either dangerous or ruinous. Lots of people will pay a good amount of money for an expert to preserve their family heirlooms or treasures they’ve accumulated. And they’ll pay even more to store their collections. I also document and organize assets for clients.”

Commander Fox dipped his chin toward the front door. “And that man—what did you do for him?”

“A cleaning.” You shrugged at his bemused frown. “Inside that box was a stack of plates that have been in his family for eight generations. Each plate is painted with a unique decoration. The paint is hundreds of years old and frail. A regular cleaning wouldn’t suffice, so I handled it.”

“That’s a lot of work for…” The commander cut himself off.

“Junk?” you surmised. He offered an apologetic grimace. “It may be junk to you. But artifacts mean different things to different people. Not only are they a way to study history and cultural nuances, they also connect you with people you might have nothing in common with. They offer a new perspective.”

You gestured to an ornamental warrior’s mask hanging on the wall behind you. “This mask belongs to my oldest client. She’s lost mobility in her hands and her eyesight is waning. She asked me to store the mask for her granddaughter, who will inherit the heirloom on her twentieth birthday. It’s been in their family for nearly two thousand years.”

Commander Fox whistled lowly.

“That’s a lot of history stored within a single, material item.” You scanned his face. “But it’s not just about preserving that family’s history. The mask is symbolic—it represents the family’s drive and resilience in times of turmoil. It’s survived horrific times, and so can they.”

For several seconds, Commander Fox scrutinized the green-blue mask. 

“I…don’t have anything like that,” he said slowly, almost as if to himself. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “I’ve never been one for history. I prefer a quantitative approach to my work.” 

“Different methods of thinking,” you said. “But equally important to society.”

He levelled a shrewd look at you. “What does it mean to you?”

“I told you—”

“I don’t want a practiced answer.” He arched a brow. “Why do you care about this stuff?”

“It’s history.” Your eyes drifted across the gallery, perusing a set of dry scrolls, a painting of unfamiliar constellations, a set of vases detailing a primitive form of hunting. “Being around these things—holding them…it reminds me that my life is short and insignificant. History won’t remember me, so I might as well live my life how I want.”

For someone like you—someone who experienced the heavy, debilitating pressure of responsibility when making even the smallest of decisions—it was comforting. 

Commander Fox braced an elbow on the counter. “You don’t think you’ll be remembered?” 

“I’d rather be known than remembered.”

“A contradictory sentiment for someone in your industry.”

You conceded his point with a small smile. “There are people who leave a lasting impression on others. I’m not one of those people.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You left an impression on me.” 

A doubtful eyebrow quirked. “Is that so.” 

“You shared a secret with me.” The beginnings of a smirk ghosted his mouth. “One that only a handful of people in the galaxy know.”

A quiet laugh escaped, and you shook your head, amused. “I hope I don’t regret that decision.”

Commander Fox tapped a slow rhythm against the countertop. “Nah. You won’t.”

“I gave it some thought,” you said, while Commander Fox pocketed the datafile. His silence demanded an explanation. “A Guard investigating something is serious. I mean, you jurisdiction is terrorism.” Whatever vestiges of humor remained vanished. “Tell me, Commander, will my gallery be safe?”

“You’re concerned with the gallery?” At the incredulity in his voice, your eyes squinted in confusion. He searched your face. “Not your life?”

Your blank blink earned you a displeased frown. 

“They’re after the sword,” you said plainly. “If I don’t get in their way, I doubt anything will happen to me.”

Displeasure remained present in the scoured lines of his forehead but the commander didn’t press. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and gave you a final onceover. “I’ll be visiting every day for the foreseeable future. To keep tabs on things and to sweep the area.” 

Dark brown eyes—like the blackest of caf with just a dash of milk—held yours. He waited for your nod of acknowledgement and then turned on his heel.

“ ‘Til tomorrow,” he said in farewell.

Masterlist | Part II

A/N: This story exists because I wanted to see someone like me fall in love, and be loved. I wanted to know it’s a possibility for me.

[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!

[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

[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 😔)