#the bucket wants bloodshed

[spookythesillyfella]

~★ July 11th : Theme Park

guys !!! the bucket !!! it's coming for you !!! drive !!!!!!

★ version without filters under cut

[ameliathornromance]

"(Y/N)!" Your Orc partner roared.

Where had you gone? It was a routine raid, you should have stayed back and help everyone move supplies.

The fire that had been set to burn out most of the humans (your idea) licked the sky, buildings collapsed with a plume of ash.

It had all gone wrong. The whole point of the fire was to get human beings running and out of the way so that the Caravan could run in, take what they needed and leave.

But that wasn't what happened. The humans had fought back. They had started to drag up water from the well, and tossed it over the fires. The Orcs had no choice but to retreat.

But the humans drew their swords. And the Orcs had no choice but to defend themselves.

Bloodshed had ensued and the fire had gotten out of hand. Once your Orc had retreated to go and get you out of the fray, you were gone. You should have been hiding by the treeline, away from the madness.

"(Y/N)!" Your boyfriend shouted again. He ran past bodies, bodies of his own and humans too. The blood that had spilled made it difficult to maintain your boyfriend's balance. He slipped, and caught himself way too many times.

But he reached the centre of the town, he saw you. You clutched a bucket of water to your chest, soot smeared across your face while another Orc barked at you.

"(Y/N)!" Your Orc Boyfriend bellowed.

You jumped, but the other Orc snatched your bucket before you dropped it. He ran off as your Orc Boyfriend approached you.

"I-I..." you began but you couldn't finish.

"What are you doing?! You need to get out of here, now!" He snapped.

"But the Orcs, they're injured-"

"Don't worry about them, get to the wagon at the other side of town, my others will keep you safe." When you didn't move, your Orc barked, "now, (Y/N)!"

You gritted your teeth. You knew this was no time to argue, but you didn't want to just leave him here. But as a collection of angry human roars echoed from the other side of the village, you flinched.

"Go, now!" Your Orc turned away from you and to the human mob getting closer and closer.

"I'm not-"

"I'll be fine! Now go!" Your Orc Boyfriend shoved you away from him. Once you had the momentum, you took off into a sprint. You knew he was right, there was no way that you could defend yourself from that many people.

A few other Orcs ran past you to join the fight. You still didn't turn back. You knew if you turned back now, you wouldn't be able to keep running away.

The wagon, holding a couple of barrels came into view. The only Orc standing, beckoned to you, "come on!" He bellowed.

Your lungs burned, your legs ached, your arms were sore from helping the survivors. As soon as you reached the wagon, the Orc grabbed you and sat you amongst the barrels, providing you good cover. Should the humans decide to use bow and arrows.

You dared to look back. Where was your partner? Where'd he-

An answer appeared before you could even finish your thought. Your amazing boyfriend, barrelled out from a cloud of smoke, brandishing his axe. Humans nearby flinched, screamed, some even roared and swung back in defence.

The wagon had started to move, drawn by the Orc who had put you on the back of it.

A few humans sprinted to keep up your boyfriend, waving torches and pitchforks. But they only fell further and further behind as your Orc raced to catch up with the wagon.

You leaned forwards, holding your hand out to him, "hurry!"

With one final leap, he grasped onto your arm and crashed onto the wagon.

The wagon creaked under his massive weight. But it did not break. The supplies that the Orcs had stolen rustled as your boyfriend adjusted himself.

He lay on his back, panting, huffing.

"Damn human bastards." He breathed. "The others were good diversions. They said they'd catch up-"

You flung yourself on top of him and squeezed him tightly. Your heart thundered hard in your chest, adrenaline still rushing through your system.

Your Orc said nothing, instead, just placing his large hands on your back and holding you there.

It was a close call. Too close. For either of you.

"Promise me you'll never do that again?" You looked up at him. "Please?"

Your Orc Boyfriend looked at you and huffed, "Only if you promise to never go into another raid like that again."

Nodding, you settled your head on his chest again. His heart had slowed to a dull thumping.

As the voices of the angry humans died out, you felt yourself relax. You were both safe. And that's all that mattered.

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[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

the lords in black are so interesting to me because. they’re so us. we’re watching the citizens of hatchetfield suffer for our own entertainment just as much as they are. we’re their accomplices in all of it

pokotho made hatchetfield into a musical because musicals are entertaining. and we ate that shit up! it’s soooo fun watching a little man scramble as the world around him bursts into song. the musical genre is satirized because pokey knows how the genre conventions work just as well as we do. we like watching musicals so much that black friday and npmd are musicals, too, even though they don’t revolve around pokotho’s plans as much as tgwdlm. we want them to sing. pokotho does too.

bliklotep is the audience and the audience is bliklotep. trail to oregon calls the audience “the watcher with one thousand eyes” and that’s not all, in watcher world blinky seems to be able to see through the eyes of anyone and everyone who loves spectacle. he wants to see the characters go through angst because WE love angst. it’s fun to watch alice and bill express their buried frustrations. blinky wants it to end in bloodshed because he loves tragedy, and let’s face it, so do we. it’s like that one post about how hamlet is aware of the audience and is angry that we don’t do anything to intervene because we want to see how it plays out. personally, I think blinky could have stopped the woodwards if he really wanted (he’s an elder god, after all) but alice shooting him shifted the narrative so that the emotional payoff would be more fulfilling if they escaped. and blinky loves a good story.

t’noy karaxis has blorbos. we joke about it, but that’s really what it is, isn’t it? he’s the fan who watches the movie again and again and again and again to see his favorite character’s dramatic death scene. he’s the guy who writes and reads angst fics by the hundreds because he likes to see his faves cry. he’s the hatchetfield enjoyer who’s on the edge of their seat waiting to see how ted kicks the bucket this time. the bastard’s box is pretty much just an ao3 account filled with whump and hurt no comfort. he’s sadistic AND he genuinely adores ted, because we fans are often cruelest to the characters we love the most. he puts ted through character growth— the realization that his life went the way it did because of his own mistakes, his inability to be vulnerable with jenny before it was too late— and he does that by writing a 56-chapter angst fic that’s still updating to this day

nibblenephim is the fan who voraciously devours every scrap of content that a creator produces and demands more, more, more. let’s face it, the fandom will never let starkid rest until we see this story through to its end. and then someone will demand a sequel series. nibbly is hungry because we will never stop yearning for more stories. he’s simple because that desire itself is simple— as humans, we need creativity like we need air to breathe. nibbly wants more because we want more. and we will never be satiated.

wiggog y’rath is the ruler and the king because he’s the self-inserting writer. I think jon matteson plays paul *and* wiggly for a reason— wiggly is the only lord in black to be played by the same actor in every single show, and that actor also plays the protagonist of tgwdlm. wiggly wants to be the protagonist. he tries to force himself into the human world of hatchetfield because he wants to participate, dammit! he wants to be the bestest ruler that the earth has ever seen! everyone has to love him because he’s going to be their bestest fwiend! when he appears in human form he’s gonna be the prom king! he’s the ebony dark’ness dementia raven way of the hatchetfield multiverse. he wants every human character to bend to his whims and to love him and to put him at the tippy-top of planet earth because he’s the writer and the writer’s main character, you fuckheads, and he can make whatever story he wants, whether the other characters like it or not! if you’ve ever written a self-insert story? congratulations! you’ve been wiggog y’rath.

and the funny thing? I don’t think the lords know that they, too, are as fictional as anyone else in hatchetfield. maybe blinky knows— he sees through the audience’s eyes, after all— but I don’t think the others do. if they did, maybe they’d be a little less tyrannical. a little bit nicer.

but then the starkid writers wouldn’t have much of a story to tell, would they?

[harmeu]

HOW DO THEY REACT WHEN YOUR HURT?

(GN!READER)

(Aventurine, Scar, Dion Agriche, Kishibe)

TW: Bruises, Scars, Wounds, Blood

AVENTURINE:

Aventurine is known for his eccentric personality for sure. He’s done well when asking others to join him but when it comes to actually connecting with others it falls flat due to his personality. You were an exception though! His beautiful lover.

So finding out you were hurt was not the best. It was a bruise you had gotten on your arm from somebody bumping into you by ‘accident.’ Well no not an accident but you weren’t going to tell Aventurine you had gotten into a fight! You know that would drive him into insanity.

“Oh dear? What's that on your arm?” He asked with his usual sardonic smile faltering at the sight of his beloved hurt. He took his hand out rubbing the bruise in delicate circles.

“Somebody bumped into me by accident.” You said averting your gaze as guilt filled you. 

Aventurine didn’t buy it and you knew as soon as his gaze darkened and his smile became more pointed and defined.

“Lies darling.” He said chuckling and kissed your bruise leaving the house.

All we know is that guy who hurt you was never seen again.

SCAR:

Scar is a manipulative asshole and sometimes you wonder how two different individuals like you two ended up dating. Hell, you loved the guy but sometimes you had to take double takes on his decisions. You loved him and he was obsessed. You could tell by the far lengths he went for you. Even if they weren’t good things.

You had gotten hit badly in a fight. A gash was literally bleeding through the stomach of your shirt. It reminded you of all the scars Scar had. Funny and ironic. Though you knew you had to patch yourself up and cover it before your boyfriend saw or who knows what would happen to the guy who hurt you?

Sadly you didn’t know Scar was home early and found you bleeding. He halted in his steps, eyes widened and staring blankly.

“Scar.?” You murmured out a reply PRAYING that he wouldn’t do anything over the top.

“Who hurt you?” His cunning smile returned as he stroked your scar sending small shockwaves of pain throughout you but you mumbled out an excuse.

“Nobody. Some..vines! Yeah vines. Pointy and thorny stuff.” Bullshit. As if he’d believe that.

“As if darling. Can you pleeeease tell me the guy I need to kill? Ooh! No, no wait! Torture and then kill! Ohhh wait wait. Burn him alive.” He smiled after his words, making you pale.

“No no no! That’s not needed!” You frantically said but Scar was already out the door hunting for the person.

DION AGRICHE:

Dion’s a sociopath. Nicest way to put it! Doesn’t show emotion at all and kills without a second thought. The Agriches were known for their ruthless nature so you should’ve been aware of that. But no one could get used to the sight of bloody bodies as a regular person. It was definitely not on your bucket list to date him but it happened! Right after you caught him smelling flowers. Now that tugged on your heart strings.

Would that excuse his actions? Fuck no. But did you love him? Yes. And so did he surprisingly.

Blood was on your palm after getting slashed by one of those who tried to assassinate the Agriche’s. After they found out your connection to him of course people would try and kill you. You managed to run out of there and make it back to the estate with soft pants.

You didn’t expect to find Dion staring dead in the eye at you, his red pupils dilating as he saw you bleed. You wondered if it reminded him of all the bloodshed he went through.

“You're bleeding.” He stated with a monotone voice.

“A bit yeah.” You forced a smile. “Just those regular guys who keep wanting to assassinate the Agriches..” A soft chuckle left your lips.

“Go to the healer.” He said with the same tone before leaving in the same direction where you got slashed at.

KISHIBE:

Kishibe is a on sight man to put it in simple words. Straightforward and hella strong. It was a surprise you ended up dating him since he was hung up on some lady that rejected him several times because she liked women. Were you just a rebound? You thought at times but those thoughts always vanished when Kishibe brought you little things. Like food, bracelets, and soft kisses. 

He had a tough guy look and definitely was one on the inside after seeing him fight but he did hold affection for you. 

Deeply.

A devil had managed to hit a bad hit on your back making you have to clutch the wall for support and limp back to base trying not to collapse in pain.

As you reached the base you found your lover staring at you with dead eyes. 

You know what those meant.

“Just..a devil.” You murmured out embarrassed since Kishibe was beyond strong and could beat a devil in a blink of an eye. Yet here you are bleeding out. “Sorry.”

Kishibe walked over to you and stared at your wound handing you bandages.

“I’ll be back. I need to release some stress.”

“Wait..” You know what that meant.

“Soon.” He left through the door dragging a huge weapon with him.

[neverendingparable]

Dearest Players of The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe, here is a very important survey for you!

Please answer honestly, you will remain anonymous and you will be helping us make this game the BEST it can possible be! Without further ado:

If there are more than one option you want to see or something I forgot to add, feel free to comment below or come tell me in the ask box!

[sweetlikesummerhoney]

burn with me

human mafia boss! megatron x gender neutral reader

implieid mafia! au. possessive megatron. slight blood kink? its biting and marking buddy. penetrative sex.

the atmosphere feels heavy with every step you take, the dim lights overcasting shadows that smear across the wall. if you were to squint hard enough, you may even find strange splotches and red markings throughout the interior.

every person you pass gives you a once over, and a nod. their eyes take no more than a few seconds to glance over you before disappearing into the intricate detailing of the floor.

you can hear hushed voices as you pass, some whispering to each other about the current affairs of the higher ups, and others hoping that today wouldn't be filled with a river of bloodshed.

as you approach the doorway at the end of the hallway, you can hear the voices from beneath. megatron's low rasp is barely heard as you can hear starscream arguing with him.

you almost feel suffocated with the pure rage and frustration emitting from the room in front. you take a moment to stop and stand, ears listening in rapid attention.

"the military is cracking down on supply chains. my contacts may no longer be of assistance." starscream growls, and you can practically imagine him waving his slender hands around in exasperation.

"I have provided you with more than enough resources to proceed with these trades. or does your galavanting through the ranks not get you more than the scraps of the bottom of the barrel?"

his voice is rough, barking against the door as you feel the tension rise. you take a deep breath before giving two sharp knocks against the door. their voices immediately hush, and a gruff 'come in' is heard.

you heed no mind to the way starscream straightens at your presence, while megatron simply gives you a once over. his eyes linger on your frame appreciatively as he leans forward in his chair.

his eyes gleam ominously as a sharp smirk graces his face.

"ah, just in time." you take a moment to stride across the room, eyes roving across the messy desk full of maps and papers strewn across the surface. his ash tray is full of ash and stubbed cigars. not a good sign.

you can feel his eyes rove across you, the dark and deep red drawing you in as you return his gaze. you come to stand besides his chair, cocking your head at starscream.

he stiffens and clears his throat.

"none of our contacts have enough resources to continue fueling these little skirmishes. there have been far too many injured, and knockout has been chewing us out for all the work."

megatron rolls his eye as he leans back, one hand firmly grasping a glass filled with smooth ice and a beautiful amber color.

"that is his job."

you pipe up, heart hammering in your chest as you watch megatron chuckle to himself. starscream fiddles with his fingers as he speaks once again.

"we have been in contact with optimus and ratchet as of late. they have proposed something rather appealing in the moment." megatron's eyes narrow as he slams his glass onto the desk, and you watch as starscream tries not to jump out of his skin at the gesture.

"and what would that old rust bucket want?" starscream stutters out, flailing wildly to cool the heating anger.

"a ceasefire. this would allow us plenty of time to gain more contacts, resources, and recover. our morale is low and we're at risk to losing more than we gain continuing to fight."

just as megatron opened his mouth, you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. the heat radiates off his body as he quiets for you to speak. you clear your throat and gently trace invisible lines into his shoulders.

he slowly relaxes again.

"that would be wise. there is no need to expand our territory at the moment. running ourselves into the ground and wearing thin would prove to be inefficient." megatron hums, watching as starscream waits eagerly for an answer.

"and how would this ceasefire... allow us to gain more control?" you drape yourself over his shoulders, feeling his hand creep to the back of your neck and gently squeezing it. his calloused hand sends shivers up your spine as you continue.

"as starscream stated, his connections in the military might be a bust. we can regain control through the redistribution of synth en. make it a bit easier to get, get people hooked."

you continue, feeling his grip slowly tighten.

"this would gain us an advantage, especially knowing that those on the other side won't be able to stop circulation completely. it would debilitate the autobots. they'll be too busy trying to track the sources and finding a solution towards the addiction and side effects."

you glance at starscream, feeling his gaze settle on the two of you. his lips are firmly pressed into a thin line as he shifts uncomfortably where he stands.

"shockwave can always find or manufactor more weapons through his company. we all know his extensive history in blackmarket connections and complicated technological advancements."

megatron nods slowly, his hair sweeping across his face as he leans forward.

"starscream." starscream jumps to attention.

"yes sir!"

"I will make my decision about the ceasefire no later than tomorrow." starscream rapidly nods his head as he shifts, a nervous smile on his face as he wrings his hands together.

"until then. get. out." starscream doesn't have to be told as he bolts out the door and slams it behind him.

his grasp on your neck slowly slides down to your jaw as he jerks you forward, giving him a good look at your face as he narrows his eyes.

"and here you are, batting for the other team."

"it is most logical to have a ceasefire. we are losing too much." megatron huffs,

"stop hanging out with shockwave. you're sounding too much like him."

"and if not shockwave, I'd have to accompany starscream, knockout and his strange experiments, or breakdown and his debauchery."

you can feel his fingertips digging into the sensitive flesh of your jaw as you grunt, giving a firm glare to megatron as he growls.

"you shall do no such thing." you easily allow him to manipulate you, bending to his whims as he settles you onto his lap, facing him. for once, you're taller than him.

red eyes pool into you as you shudder, subtly leaning into the heat radiating off his frame.

you purse plush lips as you pout.

"a ceasefire would lessen the work we have to do." you ghost your fingers across his neck and trailing down the fancy suit he's wearing.

"and would free up lots of time..." you flutter your eyes as you look up through your lashes, ghosting a hand over the bulge in his pants.

you press your palm against his bulge, feeling him twitch through the expensive fabric.

"wouldn't that be desirable?" "I know something you desire." he gently grinds against your hand, grasping your hips to press you closer.

his mouth presses against you, and you slightly grimace at the bitter taste of smoke and liquor invades your senses. he gives you no choice but to lean in as he guides his lips against yours.

heat pulses in your stomach as you press against him, feeling hard muscle flex beneath you as he guides you to grind against his clothed cock.

a string of saliva connects the two of you as you gasp for air, shuddering as his hands roam across your figure. ghosting over your lower back to appreciatively grope at your ass.

his hand finds purchase in your hair as he yanks, bearing your throat to his whims. you whimper and whine as you feel him suck marks into your skin, ghosting sharp teeth against sensitive skin. his tongue lavishes against your flesh, sucking harshly to mark.

you're not surprised by the way he bites into you, sinking into you like a predator consuming its prey. pain jolts across your neck as he nips and bites, drawing small pinpricks of blood. you mewl against him, squirming at the unpleasant sensation.

his arms pin you against him, forcing your figure close to his. you can feel your heart pounding in sync with his as his eyes darken.

red dots his lips as he eagerly licks up droplets of blood.

"on the desk." he lets go and you obediently splay yourself across the desk, paying no mind to the papers beneath you. if they were important, he would've gotten rid of them by now.

no traces.

you spread your legs as he pulls clothing from your form, eyes narrowing at unmarked skin before him. you hear the clunk of his belt as he draws himself from his underwear.

his cock is heavy and red, the head beading with precum that slowly slides down the mushroom head. it's long and thick, something you'll never quite get used to taking.

he settles against your plush thighs, grinding his cock into your core with fever. his grip is bruising as he mouths at your neck, grazing sharp teeth against you as he slowly presses into you.

his cock brushes against your entrance, slick and wet as he teases your entrance.

"this could be all yours." he grunts before withdrawing. he shoves his fingers into your face as he commands.

"suck." you obediently suck his digits into your mouth, gently sucking and swirling your tongue against his long fingers. you bob your head a bit, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as he sneers at you.

it takes no time for him to press himself knuckle deep into your entrance, smirking as he feels you pulse and tighten around his thick fingers.

his palm presses against your pelvis as he grinds and thrusts his fingers into your walls, curling his fingers in such a way that has you keening and arching your back.

he smirks as he removes his fingers, leaving you whining at the sudden loss. he shows you his hand, where his fingers and wrist is glistening in your slick.

"greedy thing." you watch as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, taking his sweet time to lap up your juices and suck his fingers free of your mess.

your core throbs at the sight, and you whine sadly, giving him big, watery eyes.

"please." you beg, whimpering as you wiggle your hips. megatron huffs before pressing against you.

his cock brushes against your entrance and finally, he slowly presses in. his thick head slowly pressed against your tightening walls as you tried to relax.

despite how many times you've taken him, it always seems that no amount of preparation would prepare you for him.

the two of you grunt in sync as your hips jolt at the sudden intrusion, followed by small grinding movements that slowly inched him closer to you.

his cock pulses against your walls as you mewl, back arching and walls clenching as his hips pressed flush against yours. you felt impossibly full as you clench against him, eyes fluttering as you pant.

megatron lifted your jaw, forcing half lidded, watery eyes to meet the burning, intense gaze of him.

his eyes are dark, like his soul. it reminds you of the corruption that lays deep in his soul, that even his soft side would still be jagged and guarded.

with his calloused, bruised fists or with his haunting schemes that would shatter any hope of survival. bruises and blood that trails behind him like a carpet, leading further into the murky darkness of his empire.

he is a king.

yet here he is, at your fingertips.

you utter his name in a winded fashion as his pace began to slowly quicken. each roll of his hips had you bracing against the desk, hands desperately clenching onto nothing as you squirmed.

he presses his chest against yours, fondly nipping and marking your skin as your stomach wound itself into tight knots. sensitive nipples rub against the soft fabric of his shirt as you jolt. he seems to know all too well the way to play your body like an instrument. you are but a puppet whom strings have been pulled.

your mouths meet in another intense kiss, and for once, he allows his hand to interlace with yours. his form presses against you, hiding you from view and carving into your very being.

he doesn't stop when you clench and keen, walls fluttering as you cum. your hips jerk away from his tight hold, trying desperately to escape the his battering pace. a deep growl reverberates in his chest.

"stay still." he growls, and you moan loudly at the way he seems to swell inside you. one final, deep thrust has the two of you pressed against each other, panting.

you squeeze his hand and he grunts, hips jerking against yours as he grinds into you.

his deep, red eyes bore into yours.

"now, about that ceasefire."

you roll your eyes and huff. only after he's fragged you into oblivion does he want to talk business.

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter 13

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ]

Log date: 17:30. 7th month, 27th day 10AC. Location: Gerudo Desert Gateway  Weather: Hot, low humidity 

Started the week at Outskirts Stables. Picked up a few errands here and there — the Stable Trotters have lost their flutist (flautist? flutee?), one of the stablehands wanted to catch a stalhorse so for his own good I said I’d do it, and Penn, of course, had a new lead. 

We interviewed Nell, one of the Zonai researchers, who said he’d been asked by a stranger to help her find her friend. Something felt off he said. I’ve known Nell a while, since before the Calamity ended — he’s one of Zelda’s more sensible researchers, and hard to fool. Believed him right away. 

I had a hunch, and came up with a plan. Fetched a bucket of water from the stable and went in search of the woman, with Penn in tow. Found her shading under a large tree, mumbling something about her friend being lost and in danger. 

Step one: take the bucket, and upend it over the woman. Her shriek made me doubt this, but only for a moment. As she and Penn were demanding to know what was going on, I prepared step two: a Topaz Rod, recently won from a wizzrobe in Hyrule Ridge. The woman’s eyes went wide. ‘What are you doing?’ 

I said that she must recognise me, and know my name, and have heard of what I had done to Yiga like her. I held the electric rod towards her soaked clothes and assured her that I had no wish to hurt anyone, but that I knew what I was capable of, now. And that neither of us should want to find out what that was. 

The woman disappeared in a puff of smoke and in her place — a Yiga in full gear. ‘Kohga will hear of this’, they said, and then they were gone. Do I feel bad? Not sure. A little fear can go a long way, and avoid a lot of bloodshed. Still, Penn’s been nervous around me ever since. 

From Outskirts Stable, we hiked to Gerudo Canyon. Penn decided to join, having heard of further rumours of Zelda’s whereabouts. It was tough going over rocky and sometimes flooded terrain, but it wasn’t all bad: we rescued three lost travellers, and helped unblock the well at the Gerudo Canyon stables. 

I do feel bad about that. It was only after we opened the well (standard issue monster infestation) that I remembered it was Zelda who ordered it closed in the first place. We promised to come back and clear it out, but never did. Thankfully the owner didn’t seem to remember me. Or maybe, he was too polite to complain.

A photograph of the now defunct Gerudo Canyon Stables, its furniture and wears packed into large boxes. Penn is sitting atop some of them, scribbling notes for his next article.  

Caption: I hope they stay, after all. 

---

Warning: Detecting high levels of particulate matter, Purah Pad geographic sensors offline. 

Please keep the Purah Pad ports, buttons and casings free of sand, dust or other abrasives. The Purah Pad’s patented level surface visual-tactile interface is not scratch resistant, at this time.

---

Log date: 12:15. 7th month, 28th day 104AC Location: Kara Kara Bazaar, Gerudo Desert  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility ten metres. 

Made it to Kara Kara Bazaar. Instinct says turn back. Don’t like ignoring it, when so far it’s kept me alive. 

Not far from Gerudo Canyon the trouble facing Gerudo presented itself — a sandstorm, and a big one. Can’t even tell where it ends, except that it hasn’t reached Kara Kara. If it were just a storm, I’d wait to let it pass – eat a few hydromelons, snooze by the oasis…

But it’s not just a storm. 

I’d just purchased a Gerudo headband to stay cool when I heard two Hylians arguing: You go find him! No, you go! Their buddy was missing in the storm, so I offered to help. They said he’d run off after gibdo attacked the bazaar. Gibdo? They didn’t know how to explain, their only advice being don’t get grabbed. Easy enough. I headed out and met with an ocean of scratchy brown air. Nothing but sand and cactuses and shrubs until… something moved. 

Just one at first, then more, and then they were everywhere. Shambling, creaking things with long mandibles and beady eyes. I hit one with an arrow, and then a sword, and it didn’t flinch. Then it had its hands on me, jaws clicking and oozing, inches from my face. I froze up, but instinct kicked in and I shook free, running fast as I could and stumbling over sand until suddenly it gave way and I was falling — down, down, down. 

The good news is I found Ponthos, the missing Hylian. He’d gotten stuck in a cave below a sinkhole. We made it back to Kara Kara without running into another one of those things, and his buddies were so happy they gave me an orb. Which isn’t rupees, but surely someone is in the market for… orb. 

The bad news is Gerudo Town is at the centre of the storm, I think. And the only way to reach them (and help them) is to make my way there on foot. 

A photograph of Gerudo Desert and the blanket of raging sand that covers it. A Zonai creation - a sled with a fan and steering stick attached - is poised ready to go just outside the edge of the storm. 

Caption: Maybe I don’t have to go on foot, exactly.

---

Log date: 05:35. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: Underground Shelter, Gerudo Town  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility five metres.  

Arrived in Gerudo Town, found it abandoned. Snooped around until I found Riju’s diary (why do people always leave them open and so easy to read…)

She wrote of the sudden appearance of the sandstorm, the hasty evacuation of everyone into an underground shelter, and her wish to do something to help, going off to the North Ruins to train. 

We kept close contact with Chief Riju, over the years. She and Zelda had a lot in common. They were two sides of the same coin in a way; Zelda led through analysis, weighing options, evaluating outcomes, where Riju led through action, trial and error, and gathering feedback. They relied on each other a lot, and together they made it work. 

So no surprise to find Riju taking a hands on approach. She’d been working on a lightning power and just needed arrows to help her guide her focus. I was happy to oblige. When she heard that Zelda was still missing, she paused a moment, and looked back to the storm: ‘Let’s sort this mess out first, Link’.

Mess is an understatement. The gibdo marched on Kara Kara first, and then Gerudo Town. We figured out fast enough that they’re weak to electricity, it practically blows them up. Fire burns them and water turns them to mud, so plenty of options. But there’s also plenty of them, and their nests take a beating before they go down. Worse, some of them fly. Others are fast. We only survived the attacks thanks to Captain Teake’s soldiers and Lieutenant Padda’s cannons, as well as Riju’s lightning. She challenged me to a contest before each fight: whoever downed the most gibdo got the wildberry tart she’d been saving. But we both stopped counting after fifty, so we split the reward.

Now I’m here, in the underground shelter. Suppose they don’t mind a voe around so long as he saved the town. Riju hasn’t slept – she’s working on a lead about the source of the sandstorm. Will help her soon. For now, in the mood for breakfast, and keen to try the fried voltfruit they make here… 

A photograph of the painted mural in the Gerudo underground shelter, a determined Riju standing before it. She is deep in thought, a hand to her chin. There is no hint of fatigue on her features. 

Caption: Never seen a Gerudo back down from a challenge.  

---

Log date: 17:45. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: The Mural’s Myth (Lightning Temple), Gerudo Desert  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility less than one metre. 

Injured. Typing with right hand. Left in bad shape. 

Made it to Lightning Temple. Three pillars in the desert, three lights, metal conduit in the middle. Hit it with Riju’s lightning. “Zelda” was there, but gone soon after. Big stone temple rose from the sand. Mural’s Myth? Probably not what it was called. 

Big bug guarding it. BIG bug – the Gibdo Queen. Not fun. Never any fun. Gotta be source of the storm. 

We chased her off, Riju’s lightning very helpful. But I got bit, left hand. A gibdo jumped me, sunk in its teeth. Hurts bad. Bandaged it up, fairy tonic didn’t do much. Poison? Hand’s burning. 

Going on anyway. Can’t leave Riju alone, can’t let Gibdo Queen escape. Hurts hurts hurts. Riju seems scared, but trying not to show it. Gotta show her we can still do this – that she can still do this. 

A photograph of the outside of the Lightning Temple, the ancient stone pyramid emerging from the sand. The photo is a little blurry, taken with unsteady hands. 

Caption: Stay alive. Just stay alive.  

---

Log date: 10:20. 7th month, 31st day 104AC Location: Gerudo Down Weather: Clear. Hot. 

Where to begin. I, Chief Riju, of Gerudo Town, am making this account, in the season of the Sun, on the tenth day of the fifth Heroine. I believe the equivalent Hylian date is attached to this log, so I will not transcribe it. 

I am pleased to report that all is well in Gerudo Town. By the Heroine’s and the Goddess’ blessing, Link is still with us. We have seen his illness before, many times. The lizalfos of Gerudo Desert often use poison as defence, but a concoction of voltfruit and electric saffina is a powerful salve, and it worked quickly to heal Link’s infected hand. His injuries there still pain him, so I have offered to keep up the task of maintaining this extensive photojournal, for the time being. 

We had just arrived at the Lightning Temple the day before last, to confront the Queen Gibdo. It was there that Link was injured, but he insisted we continue, and that I lead the way. “Your power opened this place, and your power destroyed the gibdos. I’m just a conduit.” 

And so we went on – through winding hallways, treacherous traps, and puzzling chambers, up and up through the huge pyramid structure until we at last reached the roof, and the den of that foul beast. 

She was magnificent, in her own terrible way: six segmented legs with snatching talons, a fluttering scruff from which her shrieks shook the air, and grotesque hairy wings that bent and warped in impossible ways. She, like all monarchs, was fiercely protective of her subjects — and to the death.  

Link’s strength had been waning our entire climb, and there were beads of sweat on his face that I knew were not from the desert heat. By the time we felled the Queen Gibdo – in a desperate and chaotic fight – he could barely stand. When I shook his hand to pass on my Vow, as was my sacred duty as the Sage of Lightning, I could feel him shaking. 

I admit, I don’t know what I would have done, if he hadn’t made it. I have lived with so much doubt for so long – am I doing what is right? Am I worthy of being Chief? Link’s confidence in me erased these doubts, and his perseverance was what won the day, I believe. 

After he’d recovered, needing only a day to come back from the brink of death, Link proposed a new way to hone my abilities. “The leader of the Yiga Clan is hiding in the Depths below Hyrule. I’d like your help to root him out.” I wish I could capture the look on Buliara’s face when he suggested it! But she could hardly say no — I am a Sage now, after all. 

Ah, I have never seen such a fearsome and beautiful place as the Depths. Its deadly terrain, fierce monsters and hidden treasure spoke of a land of hardship and discovery, qualities close to the hearts of the Gerudo. No wonder then that our dark reflection, the Yiga, have flourished there. Once we found them at the Abandoned Gerudo Mine, however, it was fast work to dispatch them. They had funny little Zonai contraptions that flew through the air, with which they may have been able to outrun my blades – but nothing can outrun lightning. 

Link held back, confident in my abilities. I thought it a failure when I reported to him that Master Kohga had escaped, but he was not disappointed. “The Yiga and I have unfinished business,” he said. “Hopefully next time I see them, I’ll be ready.” I assured him that he would defeat the Yiga, but he said that was not what worried him. I sensed a darkness in his voice then — the rage of a warrior scorned that the Gerudo know well — and I understood that he had restrained himself from the Yiga for their benefit, not his. 

With our immediate troubles past us, I must now do my part to find the Princess. We saw her likeness near the Temple, but I, like Link, do not believe it was really her. I know Zelda too well: in a crisis, the first thing she ever wants to do is talk. The several hundred letters we have exchanged through the years can attest to that. She would never keep away from us, unless something was very wrong. 

Zelda is out there, somewhere. I know it. It’s not where we look, but how. 

A photograph of Link relaxing on a cushioned sofa in a sunny courtyard in Gerudo Town. His left hand is wrapped in a thick bandage, while in his right he holds a sunset coloured drink garnished with wedges of fruit, in a tall glass with a thin stem and a wide brim. It’s an ice cool reward for a well-earned thirst. 

Caption: Very few women in Gerudo history have known what it’s like to have a brother, and I am one of them (he let me have a sip, when Buliara wasn’t looking).  

---

Incoming transmission… Message medallion activated. 

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer—

LNK: Hello? 

JSH: Goddess be praised! Link, where are you?

LNK: Gerudo Town. Why?

JSH: No time to explain. You have to come back to Lookout Landing. Did you find the Lighting Sage? I’ve sent word for the others but—

LNK: Josha. What’s going on? 

JSH: You have to come back, as fast as you can. It’s urgent, really urgent. 

LNK: Why, Josha?. It’s not a short trip.

JSH: We— We found Zelda! She’s at Hyrule Castle and it’s really her, Link, I swear it. 

LNK: Zel…what? How?!

JSH: Dr. Purah spotted her through the telescope. It’s like the Princess is calling out to us. Link, please hurry! 

[A pause, and a sigh]

LNK: Alright, but tell everyone to be ready for a fight.

JSH: W-what? It’s the Princess! 

LNK: Just tell them to be ready. I’ll be there soon. 

Connection terminated. 

[vanfleeter]

Bloodshed - Part 6: Josh

A/N: Long time, no see. Apologies for the long delay. Life got in the way. But we are back with a quick filler, starting with the eldest twin, Josh.

Warnings: Nothing major, but still 18+. Tiny angst. Drunkenness. Sickness. Yelling. Arguing. If I missed anything, please let me know!

Catch up or refresh: Bloodshed Masterlist

A sinister chuckle escaped Joshua as he slammed his bedroom door shut and wedged his desk chair beneath the door knob - a sure fire way to keep Jake out. Samuels face twisted into a look of confusion as he plopped down on his brothers bed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“What’s all that about?” He quipped, nodding towards the makeshift lock on the door. Joshua chuckled again as the doorknob jiggled and the sounds of Jacobs fists pounding against the wooden door sounded throughout the room. 

“That my dear brother, is to keep Jacob out while we figure out how we’re getting the directions to the mine out of him.” Joshua spoke as he began to pace the length of his room, arms crossed securely over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor. 

“I think that’s a simple solution, we give him as much whiskey as his heart desires and he spills the beans. He won’t know what he’s talking about if he’s drunk.” Samuel chuckled, raising his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. Joshua snapped his head up and his eyes grew wide with mischief as he mulled over Samuels idea. 

“Yes, yes. But we have to wait until Father is asleep. He’d take the quest right out from underneath our noses if he found out Jacob is the only one who knows how to get to the mines.” Samuel nodded in a thoughtful manner before standing and making his way over to the door. 

“Ah, agreed. I’ll sneak a bottle from Fathers cabinet tonight, one he won’t miss and we will have a little fun with Sir Jacob.” Samuel chuckled, reaching out and pulled the chair away from the door handle. The door flew open and Jacob crashed to the floor, his head colliding with the solid hardwood making a sickly cracking sound. 

“That’s what you get for being nosey, Sir Jacob. We shall meet later.” Samuel nodded his goodbye to his eldest others and took off in the direction of his own room. 

“Jacob, was it really necessary to try and eavesdrop on a private conversation between brothers? Surely you wouldn’t want father catching wind of this.” Jacob pushed himself to stand, brushing off his clothes as his gaze bore holes into Joshua’s eyes. 

“Was it really necessary to lock me out of my own bedroom? And yes actually, where the mines are involved it is very much my business to eavesdrop.” Jacob stomped his foot like that of a child who hadn’t gotten their way and turned on his heel, stalking out of their shared bedroom. 

____

“I’m thinking you’ve had a bit.” Joshua couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his lips as Jacob slid off of his bed, landing ass first on the floor in a fit of giggles. 

The drinking games between the brothers had been going on for quite some time with Joshua and Samuel tipping their own shots into small buckets they had hidden behind them, not consuming a single drop of the alcohol. Jacob couldn’t control the giggles that escaped him as he righted himself in his seat on the floor. 

“Could you tell us something, Jake?” Sam called, taking full advantage of just how intoxicated Jacob had become. The older boy nodded, trying to quell the giggles and focus on Samuel. 

“How do you get to the Mining Realm from here?” Samuel asked in a slow but raised tone. Jacob shrugged his shoulders, letting his head fall back against the mattress behind him and his eyes fluttered shut as the world began to spin around him. 

“It’s easy! You go west from the entrance of the village, ride straight for a pretty long distance, go east for a bit and you’ll come right across them. Phoenix knows, he’s probably the best trained horse we have.” Jacob swallowed hard as he spoke, willing his stomach contents to stay in his stomach.

Joshua eyed Samuel, a curt nodded thrown in the younger boys direction. They would have to take Jacob’s horse to get there in a timely manner. Joshua wracked his brain, they would have to convince Jacob to allow them to use Phoenix - but if David asked, Jacob wouldn’t be able to say no. 

“And once we get there, who do we speak with?” Joshua asked, his booming voice echoing off of the walls in the room. He waited patiently for a moment, his eyes never leaving the small spot on Jacobs neck that pulsated with every beat of his heart. 

“Jacob?” Joshua called again, turning his attention to Samuel as soft snore began to slip past Jacobs lips. 

“Bastard. So if all plays out right, we’ll have David ask to use Phoenix because you know Jacob can’t say no to David. But I’ll ride Phoenix and lead the way to the Mining Realm. After that everything is going to happen on a hope and prayer.” Samuel nodded gently, his mind wandering to the trouble he’ll be able to get into with Joshua off on a task for Father. 

“So you’ll ride at Dawn?” Samuel asked, picking at the skin of his index finger. Joshua nodded slowly before pushing himself to stand and nodding in Jacobs direction, silently summoning Samuels help to get the sleeping man in his bed. 

____

“Maybe next time we don’t get him so drunk he pukes.” Joshua groaned as he stripped the bed of the sheets Jacob had obliterated in his sleep. Samuels face contorted into a look of pure disgust and he reached up, pressing the sides of his nose in a feeble attempt to keep the stench from his smell receptors. 

“Or we prepare him better for what’s to come - I didn’t have clean up whiskey puke on my task list.” Samuel groaned, taking the laundry basket out of Joshua’s hand and turned to toss it out of the bedroom. The older boy rolled his eyes as he slowly made the bed with fresh linens. 

“We can’t let father know what we’ve done, he’ll have our heads. You’ll have to be tasked with watching Jacob while David and I are gone. Speaking of, where is David this morning?” Josh spun on his heel as the sound of the front door to the palace crashed open. 

“I said I don’t CARE! I have a job to do with JOSHUA!” David yelled, storming into the kitchen. His face screwed up almost immediately as the stench that permeated off of the sheets Joshua was rinsing in the sink penetrated his senses. 

“Ugh, who puked?!” He whined, reaching up to plug his nose against the rancid air. Danny followed closely behind David, his arms crossed over his chest as he came to a halt and reached up to cover his nose. 

“You got Jacob whiskey drunk didn’t you?” Daniel mumbled, glancing around the opening to the bathroom and saw Jacob curled around the toilet bowl. 

“Can you take care of him with Samuel and just make sure the puke gets in the toilet and not all over him? David and I have to go barter with the people of the Mining realm.” Daniel rolled his eyes, babysitting another Kiszka was not at the top of his list of things to do today but he nodded anyway and made his way into the bathroom. 

“What’s the plan?” David asked, fanning his hand in front of his face. Josh’s eyes roamed over to the bathroom door and he nodded to Samuel, a silent request for him to shut the bathroom door. 

“So here’s the deal. He only gave vague directions to where we have to go. So what I was thinking is, you take Phoenix, I’ll take Raven and we’ll be there in no time since Phoenix knows the way.” David’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head vehemently.

“I can’t just take Phoenix!” David nearly yelled, causing Josh to clap a hand over the younger boys mouth. 

“If you don’t keep quiet you’re going to find yourself tied to your bed and I’ll do this task alone. You are to take Phoenix and lead the way, Phoenix trusts you more than I. This shouldn’t be more than a few hours and if Jacob stays how he is now, he’ll never know.” David shakes his head again and makes his way towards the bathroom. 

“Hey, Bubba? I’m gonna take Phoenix for a cleaning, we’ll be back in no time.” David didn’t wait for Jacob to respond before he was out the door and changing the saddles on the horse. 

____

“So he really said just ride straight for a pretty long distance? What did he think we were gonna do with that?” David chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at Joshua who was bringing up the rear. 

“And that’s why we needed Phoenix. He gave no real indication on where to go.” 

It wasn’t long before Phoenix was forking to the right, their destination not much farther up ahead. A gasp escaped Joshua as his eyes landed on the arch that lead to the Mining Realm; one made of coals and and the imperfect unsellable gems they mined. Joshua took a deep breath as they crossed over into the realm and pushed his way ahead of David. 

“Let me do the talking, you just sit there and look pretty.” Joshua chuckled, dismounting his horse and slowly made his way to the center of town. 

“I’m looking for the King, King Kiszka has sent me on a task to collect what we are owed .”

____

Sweat trickled down the boys necks as they slowly made their way back to the Spring realm, the loot they had managed to get out of the mining realm tucked securely in their saddle bags. Yelling could be heard the closer they got to the Palace, and they could tell that Jacob was fuming. 

“I DON’T CARE! THEY STOLE PHOENIX!” David’s eyes grew wide as he turned to Joshua and quickly dismounted the horse, walking Phoenix back to the stable. He made his way slowly up the stairs and into the front of the Palace where both Jacob and Daniel stood.

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in. What the fuck was that?!” Jacob yelled, reaching out and placing a hand on each of David’s shoulders before shaking the boy. Joshua made his way inside, their loot tucked safely under his arm and pushed his way between his brothers. 

“Jacob, what has come over you?!” He yelled, placing the saddle bags he held safely into the locked safe to his right. Jacobs eyes were wild as he turned his attention to Joshua and grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. 

“Not only did you steal my task, but you STOLE MY HORSE TOO?! What if David had gotten hurt?! Father would have had my head! I would have been banished to the dungeons for who knows how long!”

Danny sighed and made his way towards the living quarters as the twins fought, wanting nothing to do with their fights. He cocked his head to the side as he realized the couch was now empty, Samuel having been perched on the edge of one of the cushions just minutes prior. Panic began to rise in Daniels chest as he checked the bedrooms and realized both bathroom doors were open. They were going to have his head, Samuel was his to keep tabs on for the day. Pulling a deep breath in through his nose he stepped up to the opening in the door.

“Hey guys? GUYS?! Samuel is MIA.”

______________________________________________________

tag list:

@freefallthoughts @gvfmelbourne @lvnterninthenight @vikingsisthenewsexy @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @watchingover-hypegirl @losfacedevil @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold @jaketlove @mackalah @lexii-nv-c @em-gvf01 @katiegvf @joshkiszkaenthusiast @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasmommy @objectsinspvce @gvfmarge @heckingfrick @bluemeadows77 @laneygvf @sacredmachine @jordie-gvf-admin @gvfpal @killerqueengvf @jaketlover @jordinlkiszka @alwaysonthemend @hellowgoodbye @anythingforjtk @hi-hi-hello11 @anthemofgvf @gretasfallingsky @songbirds-sweet @wildbluesorbit @klarxtr @stardustsecret @sunandthemoontwinflames @everyglowinthetwilightknows @sinsofstardust @sparrowofthedawnsworld @josh-iamyour-mama @dannys-dream

(Combining lists for a general one to keep my brain straight lol)

See you all soon with Jake!

[lilbittymonster]

Day 3: Blood

The barracks were blessedly quiet at this time of day, most of the occupants out on patrol or dispersed through the city. Even sequestered as he was in the quarters of the Azure, the silence was reassuring.

The deep red stains were determined to stay put as Estinien scrubbed with yet another round of soap and holy water, muttering curses and prayers in equal measure under his breath. The thick towel in his hand was swollen with suds as he moved it in tight circles along the scales of his cuirass.

As he dipped the cloth into the bucket of waste water, wringing it out, the water clouded out with an orange tint. Giving a second wring to the towel, just to be sure, he gave a small huff of relief that the metal was finally starting to give way. Once again, he lathered the towel in the small dish of holy water and soap, gripping the edge of the metal with renewed strength to continue on.

"Estinien!" someone snapped from the doorway.

He jerked his head up to see Kitali standing with her head poking in the doorway, looking mildly annoyed.

"Ser Brucemont was looking for- are you bleeding?" she cut herself off with a sudden shift to concern.

"No, but this damned dragonsblood is finally starting to come out," he said.

Even as he spoke Kitali let herself into the room and took his right hand, turning it palm up for inspection. As he started to pull back with a huff, he saw that beneath the white bubbles of the soap, there were indeed bright red flecks. Not the dark garnet of old dried blood, but the vibrant red of new.

"Rinse your hands, I'll be right back," Kitali said. Before he could open his mouth to reply, she was out the door again.

Estinien sighed, and did as she bade. The cuirass was gently dried and leaned against the rest of the pieces before he rinsed the blood-stained lather from his hands. He was in the process of blotting the still oozing blood from his hand when Kitali returned, a small metal tin in one hand.

"What is that?"

"Salve," she said simply. "I made it myself."

She unscrewed the lid of the jar and a sharp herbal scent wafted up from it. The paste inside was tinted a warm green colour, and she gathered a generous amount onto one of her fingers.

"Let me see your hand," she said, holding out her own.

Estinien hesitated. "I can tend to my own wounds just as well, thanks."

Kitali's frown deepened a touch. "Not if both of them need bandaging. Hand, please."

He relented, allowing her to gingerly take his fingers and spread them, starting at his palm and working outwards in gentle circles. He sucked in a breath as the cuts began to sting. He tried not to recoil under her touch, but the sting soon eased.

"Yeah, I know," she said not looking up.

"What's in that, anyways?"

"Mugwort, sage, chamomile," Kitali listed off. "Beeswax to keep it together."

Estinien hummed quietly. Flexing the fingers of his left hand as the skin dried, he could feel where it was pulling taut over the joints.

"How's the other one?" Kitali asked as she released him.

He turned his left hand over, examining. "No blood."

He held it up for her inspection anyways. She smoothed a finger over his knuckles, taking a smaller amount of the salve and coating them as well.

"You were saying something about Brucemont?" Estinien prompted as she wiped her hands clean and resealed the jar.

"Ah, yeah, he was asking around for you, wanted to know if you had changed your mind about the armor." The way she said it implied she already knew he hadn't.

"No," Estinien said softly, looking over at the pile of dulled crimson metal. "No more bloodshed, not if I can help it."

Kitali nodded once, and turned to make her leave.

"Oh, leave that on for about a bell then wipe off what doesn't soak in. And try not to get it in your eyes," she said over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

Estinien flexed his hand again, noticing the small beads of liquid where the cuts had begun to seal, and made to get comfortable for a short nap.

[cipheramnesia]

Good Queer horror movies?

I've probably got like three other asks like this floating around but what the hell we got halloween around the corner, let's take another spin.

Like, how good and how queer right? For example, I would put Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation solidly in the queer category. However, they do require a little bit of background reading and review to grok the queerness. There are also buckets of old movies with queer coding and queer subtext, but I lean more modern, so I'm gonna put down some favorites where the queerness is the text. The down side is it means I'm missing out on some movies I probably should recommend, but I can't sit here and parse out fifty titles.

Anyway, off the top recently I would say Sound of Violence has been a huge favorite of mine, with a queer and murderous protagonist, following an exploration of body horror and synesthesia of sound evoking a sexual response. This isn't for everyone but I adore it.

All Cheerleaders Die is a regular recommendation of mine on queer horror, although parts of it haven't aged very well. But on the other hand the theme of love and queerness is delicious, with a witch whose powers and love for her girlfriend are so strong they literally bring her back from the dead. More recently released is Seance, which is good but a bit middle of the road insofar as horror goes. Still and all, has a bit of the vibe of All Cheerleaders Die but with less of the tone deaf bits.

Der Samurai is, probably unintentionally, my favorite transfeminine horror movie. One trans woman, one katana, one cop trying to repress his queerness, one small town of bigots, and one night of explosive bloodshed. I've watched this movie three times and it always leaves me breathless.

Equally beautiful is Titane, a transmasculine horror movie with strong body horror elements and a great deal of unreliable perspective from the camera. While we can't tell everything that is real all the time, the hallucinatory journey is full of moments of heartbreak and beauty. I actually had to turn it off a moment in overwhelming happiness at the line "you have always been my son."

The trans horror that gave me the most intense experience, and the most trauma, was Boarding School, about a child experiencing the first sense of being trans, but while also undergoing a combination of abuse and trauma and generational trauma at a school where parents leave children they want to forget they have. Between the throughline of the protagonist's Jewish heritage, the moments of self-discovery which transform swiftly to shame or violence, and the moment of claiming themselves for themselves like a phoenix, if you are trans, this movie will both fuck you up and call you out really bad.

I recently saw Jamie Marks Is Dead, a gay ghost story that is also a wonderful illustration of how limited the idea of horror being about "scary movies" is. It's painful and sad and true and had me weeping. Spiral (2019, aka "the good one") is an excellent killer cult / satanic panic type of movie which also really explores the differences of the gay experience a white guy has vs a black guy, with a big heaping of gaslighting and PTSD. While I think Jamie Marks is a more soulful movie, Spiral stands apart as a great example of how a horror movie can be a very good conventional horror movie that happens to have queer protagonists, while including lots of juicy subtext to make it a deeper and richer experience.

There's a few more solid wlw movies I'm gonna toss in at the end here, which I think are pretty good but don't have the energy to go into a lot of detail: Thelma, Raw, and Bloodthirsty. Of course there is one widely Tumblr-popular wlw horror movie that you might notice hasn't been included in the body of this text. The omission is intentional, and judgemental.

[pumpkinupsidedowncake]

Earlier I tried to draw a venn diagram of Malevolent the podcast and Stanley the parable, but I just filled up the middle and couldn’t think of anything to put on either side. Except for writing “GAMER” on Stanley’s side, then attempting to come up with a similarly appropriate title for Malevolent and failing, and then questioning if Arthur Malevolent qualifies as a gamer. Then my perception of the laws of what is and is not a gamer began to deteriorate. If a gamer is one who games, what are the limits of what a “game” is? Do you need to have agency in your participation in order to be a gamer? When Katniss was in the Hunger Games, was she a Hunger Gamer or a Hunger Survivor? Were the Careers who actually wanted to be there gamers? Is that the difference between gaming and not gaming? Seeking bloodshed?

Dear lord, is kayne a gamer? Are all omnivores gamers? Are thorned raspberry plants gamers? Is the sun a gamer? Are the bacteria that cause tetanus gamers??? This is madness! I can’t accept this. Everyone can’t be a gamer. The word doesn’t mean anything anymore if we go around calling every violent houseplant we encounter a gamer.

I decided there was only one solution to this irreconcilable situation: deleting the concept of gamers entirely from this realm. My finger was poised right above the gamer delete button when suddenly, some random white guy I don’t know yelled “wait! don’t do it!” I don’t know how he got in my house. His face looked like one humans tend to have. “don’t press that button! gaming is all I have!” he said forlornly. He fell to his knees dramatically. I don’t know who this guy is, so I asked the only relevant question: are you a gamer? “yeah,” he said, like it meant something profound. So I asked him, what is a gamer? “I dunno.” Is this fern a gamer? He looked intensely at the fern for twenty-four minutes, then stated, “yeah. that’s a gamer.” Dumbfounded, I asked if this small potted cactus was a gamer. He said “nah”. At this point I was beyond done with this gamer nonsense. I asked him if one needs free will in order to be a gamer. “nah”. Nah?!?!

I pressed the gamer delete button. The man in front of me disappeared. The sun disappeared. Even I disappeared. Most everything disappeared that day, except for every bucket and a small potted cactus. It was awful.

Then I got better and pressed ctrl + z. The world was once again inhabited by gamers. My houseplants were traumatized. The random gamer was still in my house. He stared at me with sad eyes, and I realized my finger was once again hovering over the gamer delete button, just as it had an eternity ago. I asked him for his name this time. He gave me his gamer tag. It was unremarkably weird and I forgot it immediately. “you gotta trust me, the world needs gamers,” he pleaded earnestly. I said cool, now get out of my house. But he didn’t. (Is that the true mark of a gamer?) So I did the only thing I could do in that moment. I gave him the gamer delete button.

I was hoping he would destroy it or at the very least leave my house immediately. But instead his “twitch” “chat” dared him to press it. Reader, you cannot know the depth of the baffled rage I experienced when I felt all the gamers in the world being deleted for the second time. I stewed in the void for a long while, wondering where it had all gone wrong. And as I did, I remembered my favorite quick and easy recipe for baked chicken that I learned from my father, who learned it from a family friend. Of course, that method was much less versatile than the version I offer you today.

You will need an oven, chicken meat, and a bottled sauce of your choosing. Consider choosing a restaurant sauce you enjoy, if they sell it somewhere, or possibly a salad dressing if it seems like one that could go on a piece of chicken. Either marinate the chicken in the sauce or chuck it in with the chicken before you bake it. Wash your damn hands and anything else that touched the raw chicken, you maniac. Then bake the chicken in your oven at the correct time and temperature for the variety of chicken meat you are dealing with. Consider using a meat thermometer as well. When this is done, you will have delicious cooked chicken. Unless you chose a horrible sauce. Then you will just have vaguely edible cooked chicken.

Reflecting on my love of baked chicken, I realized that my oven was a gamer, as it had also disappeared when that awful gamer guy pressed that awful gamer delete button. I once again re-introduced the gamers into our world’s ecosystem. “what happened?” the gamer guy in question said. He then was encouraged to press the button yet again by the same force that convinced him to do so previously. The last thing I heard before being yeeted once more into the void was “it would be really funny”.

At that moment, I was at my lowest. Did the world deserve to be infested with gamers who would toss out everything they cared for merely to advance “the bit”? Was there any way out of this mess or would the gamer guy trap himself in a loop of self-destruction? (Is that the mark of a true gamer?) I needed a gamer-proof plan.

There in the void, I created the unthinkable: a gamer delete button delete button. As soon as I brought back the gamers via ctrl + z I pressed the new button, causing the gamer delete button to be sent to the shadow realm, which was like getting yeeted into the void except slightly more permanent. The gamer guy was looking at me again. Leave my house, I said again halfheartedly, just in case it worked. “you saved the world, bro. thank you so much for that.” With a sincere smile, this man who I still don’t know crawled away into my ventilation system.

I had lost so much of what I had previously taken for granted. My button, my worldview, my sanity. But I had gained one thing from all this, one pyrrhic pearl of wisdom: the true meaning of gamer. All you have to do to qualify as a gamer was vent sussy amogus imposter like and subscribe. And in that moment, it felt so meaningful. Profound, even. And now I know for a fact that both the Stanley Parable and Malevolent contain gamers. My venn diagram may be fucked but that’s okay. I’ll make a new kind of diagram to contain all the similarities between these two pieces of media. I’ll call it a list diagram. It’ll be exactly like a list, but with more syllables that add no meaning.

List diagram of the similarities between Stanley the Parable and Malevolent the Podcast:

GAMER

Choices

Wrestling with predetermination

Horror

Wife

Voice describes everything

Fanon divorce arc

Leads are petty

Music that haunts me

Yellow

I’m doney with the funny

[impala-dreamer]

Captives of The Court - Chapter Eight

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that’s been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Chapter Eight Word Count: 2249

Series Warnings and Info may be found on the Masterlist Here 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Y/N was slumped over on the tiny kitchenette table, staring at her laptop as if it were sucking the joy and color from the universe around her. Her eyes moved, her finger scrolled, her mind was melting.

Her partner on the phone was less than helpful, only offering a hum or a cough every few minutes so she remembered that someone was still there.

“This is burning my eyes out, Sam,” she said, finally closing the screen she’d been on. Right behind it, there was another, and she whined to herself. “You got anything yet?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Still trying to match the symbols you sent me. Not getting very far.”

“Figures.” She sat back and crossed her arms, annoyed at the world, tired, and a little peckish. “Do we have to stay on the phone like this? I mean, I appreciate your help but this is kinda dumb.”

“Well-” Sam laughed. “I guess not. I just thought you were lonely.”

“Lonely?” She shook her head and grabbed up the phone as she stood and paced the room. “How can I be lonely? Dean hasn’t been out of eyesight in like two weeks.”

Sam hummed, interested. “Trouble in paradise?”

She sighed. “Not really…”

“I think I understand. I’ve spent more time in the car with him than any human being should.”

Y/N paused in front of the mirror and played with her hair, musing on her road trip with his brother. “Yeah. He’s kinda gross. But, it’s not that. Just- I don’t know! We’re on top of each other. I love the guy but-”

“You love what guy?”

Dean appeared behind her, a bucket of fried chicken under one arm and a six pack under the other. He grinned and kicked the door shut behind him, letting it echo through the room.

Y/N turned to him and sighed. “Love the guy who just brought me dinner!” She smiled and pulled the phone away from her cheek. “See ya later, Sam- I got a juicy thigh calling me name.”

If she could see through the phone, she would have seen Sam cringe. As it was, he gagged audibly.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Hey, Sammy-” Dean cleared his throat. “Don’t call back later.”

He grinned and Y/N tossed the phone onto the bed. Dean watched it land and then slowly moved his eyes to her.

“Don’t forget that’s there,” he warned.

She bit her lip and cooed. “Why’s that?”

The bucket and beer hit the table and he took a long step towards her. “I don’t want you to get hurt when I throw you down on top of it.”

She sucked in a quick breath and batted her lashes. “You think you can just come in here with your chicken and booze, lookin’ all sexy, and toss me onto the bed and have your way with me?”

He paused for a dramatic moment and then smirked. “I do.” The space between them disappeared and Y/N gasped as his arms slid so easily around her. “So how ‘bout it?”

Pushing up on her tiptoes, she pressed a suggestive kiss to the corner of his mouth. She moved over a bit and tried again but was stopped by a rather embarrassing internal grumble.

“Was that me or you?” she asked, squinting up at him.

The grumble rolled again and Dean shyly smiled. “I think I’m hungry.”

She sighed. “Me too. Grub… then grab.”

He nodded in agreement and let her go, holding back as she crossed in front of him. “Sam find anything?”

“Nada. It’s definitely odd, but nothing’s jumping out at him so far. And the markings- they look like runes to me, but they’re not matching anything in the system. Or the internet. Kinda like they’re made up.”

Dean plucked two beers from the carrier. “I mean, it was all made up at some point, wasn’t it?”

“Technically, yeah. But it would be so much nicer if this wasn’t a new thing.”

He twisted the caps free. “Can’t all be easy, Y/N/N. Sometimes ya gotta get in there and dig. Get your hands dirty.”

She agreed, digging through the chicken pieces. “No wings?”

“Gotta keep digging,” he winked.

She tossed a drumstick at his chest and he fumbled to catch it.

“I think we get our shit together and do some interviews this evening. Make a few house calls while people are settling in after work.”

Dean sunk his teeth into the chicken leg. “I thought we were gonna- grub and grab…”

Y/N peeled the skin off of her piece of chicken and popped it in her mouth. “We can grab all night. We need to get to work. I’m antsy and this place gives me the creeps.”

Dean looked around, chewing. “It ain’t that bad.”

“The town, not the room.” She followed his gaze about the motel room and sneered at the hideous painting of horses above the bed. “Though the room is pretty bad too…”

The Putnam kitchen appeared to be designed directly out of a magazine and Y/N couldn’t help but be just a little bit jealous. The backsplash was an intricate pattern made of tiny bits of blue glass and crisp white porcelain, the countertops were black marble with golden flecks, the sink was large enough to take a bath in. She thought back to the tiny kitchenette in the motel room and sighed.

“Your home is truly lovely,” she told her hostess as Mrs. Putnam handed her a tea cup and saucer.

The older woman smiled. “Thank you. I love this room. The light in here is just- perfect.”

Indeed it was, Y/N thought, looking out of the enormous picture window on the east wall.

“Sunrise must be stunning,” she said with a dreamy smile. Her tea was steaming and she blew a breath across the surface before taking a sip.

“Oh, it is.” Mrs. Putnam set her hip against the counter island, turning to look out at the window. She smiled sweetly and Y/N felt a shiver.

For a woman in mourning, she was utterly calm and terribly well put together. Her blonde hair was up in a twist and not a strand was out of place. Her makeup was exquisite and despite her age of fifty-seven, not a single line appeared on her milky skin. She dressed as if she were going to a business meeting, with a string of expensive pearls at her throat that made Y/N’s look like they came out of a cereal box, which they just about did.

Y/N cleared her throat and set the tea cup down gently. “Mrs. Putnam-”

“Please, call me Ann.”

“Ann.” Y/N smiled and pulled her notepad from her purse. “I just have a few questions for you and I’ll be out of your way.”

Ann turned to face her. “Fire away.”

Her eyes were so blue that Y/N was distracted for a moment. It was as if they were being lit from behind by some ethereal force. She sucked in a quick breath and focused on her scribbled notes.

“The fourth victim, Brian Mills, was living here before he passed away?”

Ann nodded and wrapped her manicured fingers around the china teacup. “He was. Brian was renting our guest house out back. More of a pool house, really, but there’s a little kitchen set up in here.” She waved her hand as if nothing she was saying really mattered. “I doubt he did much cooking; he dined with us most evenings.”

Y/N tapped her pen on the paper. “How long was he renting the space?”

Mauve painted lips pursed. “Well now, I’d say a few months. He arrived just after Christmas I believe.”

The pen scratched across the pad. “And he was engaged to your daughter, Elizabeth…”

Ann’s eyes flashed over Y/N with a rapid cruelty. “They were not engaged.”

Y/N cocked a brow and skimmed over her notes. “Huh. The info I got from Sheriff Willard says your daughter was wearing an engagement ring when found. Maybe they didn’t announce it yet?”

Any previous kindness Mrs. Putnam had shown was quickly ebbing. “Fine. Yes. They were engaged. Elizabeth was fascinated with that man and no matter what we said, she wouldn’t listen.”

“So… you did not approve of them getting married.”

“No.”

Y/N took a sip of tea and calculated her next words carefully. She chose to sympathize. “I can imagine no one would be good enough for your only daughter.”

Ann huffed. “She wasn’t really our daughter anyway, now was she?”

She meant to speak under her breath but Y/N caught every word.

“What do you mean?”

China clinked softly. “Well, she was adopted, if you must know. My husband and I were unable to have children of our own, so we took Elizabeth in when she was fourteen. She was a very rambunctious and irrational child, but we did our best.”

Y/N recorded every word, every flinch, every heavy breath in her mind.

“Still,” she said, pushing gently, “it must be devastating to lose both of them like this.”

Ann’s jaw was tight and she stared down into her tea. “Yes. Well, it was tragic, wasn’t it?” She cleared her throat and looked at the time, the gold watch on her wrist gleaming in the rays of afternoon sun that struck the big window. “I’m sorry, but I really must be seeing to dinner soon. If you’ll excuse me…”

The Impala was parked a fair way down the street and Y/N was grateful for the short walk. The fresh air was nice and helped to shake away the crawling feeling Mrs. Putnam had caused to trickle down her spine.

Done with his own interview, Dean was bouncing down the front steps of a house on the opposite side of the street, about the same distance from the car as Y/N. They smiled at the timing but each could tell the other was deep in thought as they marched to the Impala.

Dean set his hands on the roof and fiddled with the car keys. “How’d it go in there?”

Y/N stretched to look over the roof but soon gave up. She opened the door and stood in the door well, finally able to see him over the car. “It went weird. You?”

He bit down into his lip and looked back at the house he’d come from. “That family isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but ya think after losing your oldest son, you’d be-”

“Grieving? Yeah.” Y/N clicked her tongue. “Mrs. Putnam was almost annoyed that her daughter was dead. Oh, wait, excuse me - her adopted daughter. She made that very clear.” She sighed. “Also… and again, I can’t really explain it but… she looked so…”

“Young?”

“Your guys too?”

Dean nodded and leaned in a little closer. “Dude’s gotta be pushing seventy and he looks better than I do. I mean, ya know, in certain areas. I’m sure I got the guy on… well height and stuff.”

Y/N breathed down a laugh but worry was heavier in her mind. “I just can’t figure it out… And everyone’s so damned good looking. It’s like they’re all models or mannequins or robots or something.”

Dean squinted at the light bouncing off the hood. “I don’t think they’re robots.”

“I don’t think they’re anything but weirdos. This whole place is just strange. I wanna go home.” Her shoulders fell and she pouted.

“We can’t just leave, Y/N/N. We’ve got a stack of bodies and nothing good to go on yet.”

“What if we… do leave, and just pretend we were never here.”

He frowned and met her gaze. “You could live with yourself if we just blew town right now?”

She cracked a smirk. “I mean, I’m not adverse to blowing things but-” She sighed. “You’re right. Dammit. Who’s next on the list?”

Dean checked his notepad. “Bronwyn Cromwell. Owns a- get this- magic shop in town.”

Y/N groaned. “Rabbits and hats or crystals and fuckery?”

“We’re about to find out.”

The door creaked as he opened it and the Impala jumped a bit as they both sank into their seats.

“Cromwell?” Y/N questioned, nose scrunched up in thought.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Sounds familiar…”

Dean laughed. “Well, it is the name of the town-”

She slapped his arm playfully. “Yes, I am aware. It just sounds like- I don’t know, maybe I read it somewhere.”

“She’s in the paperwork. Lisa Abbot worked for her for about a month before she quit breathing.”

Y/N chewed her lip. “Lisa Abbot… She was the first woman to be found?”

“Yup. Victimo numero uno.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She shook her head and looked out the window. “I don’t know. Everything feels so off here it’s hard to tell what’s a feeling feeling and what’s just a feeling. Does that make sense?”

Dean sucked his teeth and jabbed the key into the ignition. “Kinda, yeah. But, that’s what we do, kid. We run towards screaming, we chop heads off monsters. If it starts feeling right- you’ve been doing it for too long.”

“So you don’t feel weird here?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? This place’s got my ball hairs standing on end.”

“You are so gross…”

He grinned. “But cute.”

His smile danced in her head, striking a match of desire. She licked her lips and reached over, dragging her hand down his thick thigh. “Drive, cutie. I’m getting antsy.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The Impala swerved a bit as he pulled away from the curb, but all was soon well and the peeping neighbors on Morey Street closed their curtains.

[hannahhook7744]

Caught;

Summary; Panos (Panic’s son) and Samantha (Smitty & a mermaid's daughter) run into someone unexpected while planning a prank with Lampwick & Tiger Lily's second youngest daughter, Blue Veronica.

Prompt: If we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.

Trigger Warnings; Anxiety, thinking of worst case scenarios, dead fish, thoughts of premature deaths, etc.

Let me know if I should add to the list.

The restaurant Panos mentioned is Hades’ Souvlan.

Early Birthday Gift for: @casinotrio1965 .

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

 Sneaking into Tiger Peony's room was easier than the trio had expected.

Not that, that calmed Panos’ nerves in the slightest as he tiptoed closely behind his two new friends—Samantha and  Blue Veronica. He couldn’t help but wonder as he did so what Blue’s sister could have possibly done to warrant the bookworm’s wrath.

When he had asked, Blue just looked at him solemnly and replied with “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have siblings.”

Which Panos couldn’t help but think was a little unfair since he had his cousin, Paro, which wasn’t that different in his opinion. But he knew better than to point this out  to the two stubborn girls and just went along with their plotting. Slightly cursing himself for doing so because now he was here—in Neverland, in a stranger’s bedroom carrying a bucket of rotting sardines that they were about to hide all over the older girl’s room.

He should have said. Like Paro told him to.

But atlas, the things he did for love.

He really, really, really hoped that this whole ordeal wouldn’t end in bloodshed when Tiger Peony inevitably found out about their little prank. 

She seemed nice enough from afar but who was to say that she wouldn’t murder Him, Sam, and Blue for doing this to her like some people back home would have done…

Panos really hoped he was wrong. He didn’t want to die. He was only 8 after all and he had so many important things left to do. Like helping his mom out at the restaurant next Thursday like he said would before he had left the house.

Or graduating from the second grade.

Or dressing up as an adult in a trenchcoat with his cousin and Hadie to go see an r-rated movie.

None of which he could do if he died today. 

Samantha glanced back at him and slowed her pace, waiting for him to catch up to her before leaning towards him and whispering, conspiratorially “Remember, if we get caught… You’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

He glanced at the leader of this little scheme and furrowed his brow “But… What about Blue?”

The brunette shrugged, smiling faintly “This was her idea. If we get caught, we’ll bail and let Ronnie take the fall.”

Panos giggled quietly at the thought. Muffling it with his free hand. 

“HEY! I HEARD THAT!” the girl in question sputtered, offended. 

Samantha rolled her eyes, which only made him giggle louder. 

“You were supposed to!”

“Supposed to hear what?” an unfamiliar voice asked from behind them, causing Panos to freeze. Eyes wide as the bucket slipped from his hands. 

Blue Veronica stared passed him in horror momentarily, before it morphed smiling nervously “O-oh hey, Peony…. Funny seeing you here…”

Oh Shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Panos took off running and Samantha must have followed his lead, because he heard footsteps behind him and BV yelling for them to come back.

But they didn’t and ran as fast as their little feet could carry them. Never looking back.

[4uru]

Ok so, I know kinda gave up on TLH and anything cc will ever write, except for when the characters do backflips on my brain but, I looked forward to reading thr Alastair, Matthew, Charles smackdown for simply too long, and i don't hate the canon version but i wanted more...bloodshed. And i don't know how to exactly search for that scene on ao3.

So I'm kinda sorta definitely begging for someone to either drop a bucket of fanfic of that scene on my head or teach me how i can search for them. As far as i know, there is no tags on it??

[everystephoftheway]

camp cloudtop: chapter twenty-six

*evil cackling ensues*

This can be found on ao3 as well.  

The celebrations came to a staggering halt as all turned around to the back of the room where Lord and Lady Briarwood stood. With a swing of her arms, the parents and the chairs they sat in, as well as the remaining campers in the front of the crowd, slammed against the side walls. With a path now laid for her, she started to glide forward, slow, like a lion stalking a gazelle. Her husband followed instep with her. 

“We wanted to do this the easy way, Gilmore.” Her voice carried across the room, echoing against the tall ceiling. “But you’ve given us no choice.”

“I don’t mind.” Lord Briarwood’s voice was husky and dark, what Keyleth imagined a wolf might sound like if they could speak; it sent chills down her spine, and she pulled the two kids closest to her behind her back. “This way is far more amusing.” 

Delilah threw a hand out in front of her and a twisting strike of purple-black magic hurdled toward Gilmore. There were screams, and then a round golden light blocked the stage, Pike standing tall in front of the group that had gathered there. Delilah’s magic bashed against the shield, and she screamed again.

“Get the kids out of here!” Pike yelled.

In an instant, chaos erupted. Parents and kids alike started frantically trying to escape, running toward the stage and away from the Briarwoods.

“Here!” Vax called out, herding everyone toward an emergency exit behind the curtains. “Get outside and run as far as you can. Goldfish, stay together! Buddy system, remember! Ms. Keyleth and I will meet you there as soon as we can!” 

Keyleth was on her knees on the stage, having ducked to try and avoid the strike from Deliliah. She started to stand only for a pair of hands to pick her the rest of the way up. 

“Keyleth.” Her father turned her to face him, hands cupping her cheeks. “Keyleth, are you hurt?” 

Her mind was frazzled as she was bumped by people running, the sound of kids crying clear above the cacophony.

“Keyleth!”

“I’m okay,” she finally said, hands reaching up to grab her Dad’s wrists. “I’m okay.” 

“We need to go.” 

“No, I need to help! Where is everyone–” She spun around to see all of her friends still on stage, Vax continuing to lead everyone to a safe exit while Grog, Scanlan, and Pike stood in front of Gilmore. Vex and Percy along with Kash and Zahra stood as well, Vex clearly trying to get Percy to leave as she grabbed as many arrows as she could from their demonstration buckets. 

“I’m not leaving you, now shut it!” Keyleth heard him say, and then her father tugged at her wrist. 

“Keyleth, don’t be stupid. These people are dangerous.”

“We have to help Gilmore. We can’t just leave him. We set up this talent show; we want to save this camp. Go help the rest of the people get out. Get them somewhere safe. Please.” 

Korrin looked down at his daughter and he could swear she never once looked so much like her mother. A heavy breath left his nose and he sighed, kissing her on the head once more. 

“Be safe.”

She nodded at him and then Korrin took off, reaching for a couple younger kids who seemed lost in the fray, and led them toward the exit. Vax joined Keyleth now, daggers already in his hands.

“We maybe should have expected this,” he mumbled, looking toward the Briarwoods. 

“You are outnumbered,” Gilmore shouted across the room, his voice calmer than the situation might have suggested. There were still people stuck between the Briarwoods and the stage, perhaps shocked into paralysis, and Gilmore did not want to see any bloodshed. “I can’t fathom why you want this land so badly, but it is over. We raised the money and it is to remain in my hands. Take the loss like a real Lord and Lady should. Leave before this gets any worse than it is.” 

As Gilmore spoke, the group of counselors that remained created a bit of a circle around their director. Vex’s bow was pulled back, two arrows ready to be released. Pike had some incredible magical weapons in her hands, a shield and mace that seemed to be made of light. Grog stood tall over everyone, grinning from ear to ear as his shoulders rose with excited breath. Vax stepped forward with his sister, daggers twitching in his hands. Kash, Zahra, Keyleth, and Percy framed the back; Kash and Zahra seemed battle ready, while Keyleth and Percy both had knocking knees.

“You’re right, Gilmore.” Lady Briarwood stood straighter and, for a moment, it seemed like her eyes grew even brighter. “You wouldn’t want this to get any worse.” 

Suddenly, several kids who still remained inside stood from their positions behind chairs and stage curtains, eyes all glowing purple. With no hesitation, the group of ten or so formed a line in front of the Briarwoods–a fence of human shields.

“Cassandra!” Percy suddenly raced to the front of the stage, eyes wide as he recognized his sister standing in front of the couple. 

“Simon!” Vax’s voice was more of a growl as the young boy stood next to Percy’s sister, his snake plushy still in his hand. 

“Maybe the day is in our favor.” Delilah sauntered toward Cassandra, standing so close that her chest bumped the teen’s back, an arm draped over her clavicle. “We can kill two birds with one stone with this one.”

“Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!” 

Vex had to pull Percy back–Percy, with no weapons, no combat training, wanted to hurl himself at the Briarwoods, the panic in his heart louder than the logic in his mind.

“We weren’t particularly worried about you two, the last de Rolos. Our plan was going to be too far along by the time you came back to Whitestone to claim your place there.”

“What do you plan for Whitestone?”

“Well, so far we’ve helped bolster its commerce and wealth, tripled its residuum production, and created new construction projects. All wonderful things.”

Something clicked inside Percy’s head, his voice only getting gruffer as it got louder. ”Building a ziggurat perhaps?”

“Oh, aren’t you clever.” 

“So, what? You took advantage of my entire family dying?” 

“Well,” Deliliah shrugged, “yes. Accidents, so tragic, but they open doors to so many opportunities.”

Percy just let out a primal scream, the veins in his throat straining with the effort, and Vax had to join in the effort to hold him back so he didn’t jump off the stage.

“Is that why you want this land?” Gilmore spoke up, hands curled in fists. “To build this ziggurat you want?” 

Delilah and Sylas simply smiled before another bolt of dark magic hurtled at the camp staff and Sylas took off in a blur. Those who knew how to fight jumped into action, Vax first throwing Percy one of his daggers. 

“I presume I don’t have to explain what to do with that.” 

Percy simply growled, hand tightening around the weapon, and the two took off.

Keyleth was the last one to move, unsure, scared. Zahra jumped off the stage and revealed a pair of swords–where was she keeping those?--and handed one to Kash, both of them going for Sylas first.

“We have to get the kids out of here!” Pike screamed back at her allies, though her eyes never left Deliliah. 

Something about the kids, the blank look on Simon’s face, managed to get Keyleth’s feet moving. She had never been in a fight in her life, nevertheless with a powerful sorcerer and a vampire, but she couldn’t chicken out. She had to do something. She raised her hands and vines erupted from the auditorium floor, shooting out toward Delilah.

Within seconds, the vines were cut by dark magic, left to fall to the ground, useless. It was interesting how the Briarwoods attacked. Despite being outnumbered, they seemed to only focus on the small cleric gnome. 

Sylas appeared almost out of thin air, his towering form lit from the golden light beneath him. “Little bug.” 

He swung forward, Pike ready to block his strike, but Grog tackled him from the side. “You don’t hit my buddy!” 

“Guys!” Vex shot some arrows at Deliliah only to have them snapped in half. “What do we do about the kids?”

“I got ‘em!” Scanlan suddenly appeared from behind the curtain, a lute in his hands. He strummed it once and a large purple hand appeared. The hand swerved through all the action and corralled the kids into a big fistful, pulling them away from Deliliah. “We need to get them un-charmed!”

“Let’s not die first!” Percy ran toward Deliliah without any hesitation now, Vax and Vex following close behind. 

“No, please, do die.” Deliliah slammed magic into the floor, creating a shockwave that threw everyone running toward her flying back. 

Zahra and Kash joined Grog and Pike against Sylas, but the man was hard to pin down. For every swing they made, he made four more, deflecting their strikes as if they moved in slow motion.

Percy, back crying from the hard hit on the floor, rolled onto his stomach and caught a glimpse of the vampire. “We have to stop him,” he muttered, brain racing through the weeks of research, the notes and books and articles he read until– “Sunlight! We have to get him outside!” 

Vex had run over to him once her legs were back underneath herself, and she reached for Percy’s hand to pull him up.

“What about the potion he drinks?”

“They only last two hours at a time. The show was nearly two hours long.” 

“So we have to get him in the sun.” 

“Yep.” 

Vex turned so her back was to Percy, protecting him like a personal bodyguard.

“Percy?”

“Yes?” 

“I know this is terrible timing, but remember what you said about fear not dictating our actions anymore?”

“I vaguely recall.”

“You were right.” 

“I was what?”

“You were right!”

“Can you say that one more time?”

“Oh, don’t make me regret saying it.” 

Keyleth was on the ground with everyone else, eyes darting between the two main fights and the purple hand of kids floating backstage. Her body ached as she pushed herself to her hands and knees, ducking as shots of Gilmore and Deliliah’s magic slammed into each other and deflected into the walls, cracking the concrete.

“Scanlan!” Keyleth looked over at the gnome, the hand holding firm against the kids who squirmed and thrashed against it. “Can you distract Sylas?”

“I have to focus on this!” he shouted back. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay! Get them out of here! We’ll un-charm them when we can.” 

Maybe I can distract Sylas. She had heard Percy shout something about sunlight, and while she had never done it before…Keyleth sat up on her knees just in front of the stage, her hands held in front of her chest. She closed her eyes, praying to the gods that she didn’t get hit by anything as she focused on warmth and light, joy and nature. Slowly, that warmth got hotter and hotter, like she was holding her hands too close to a fire–in a fire–and between her palms a small ball of golden light started to blink into existence. 

“Somebody grab Sylas!” Her voice was strained as she screamed across the room, eyes still closed, the ball gaining size. 

She heard Kash’s very distinct, “Oh shit!” before Grog bellowed, “ I got ‘im!”

The half giant charged the vampire and, with more agility than one might have guessed Grog had, he managed to jump behind him and grab him in a full nelson. Sylas roared, only for the noise to grow pained as Vax and Kash rushed over, each thrusting a dagger and spear respectively into Sylas’s feet, nailing him into the floor. Vex, Percy, and Gilmore were quick to occupy Deliliah who cried her lover’s name; Gilmore braced a magical box around her, and Pike finally ran backstage where she saw Scanlan run to, hoping to un-charm the kids before Deliliah decided she didn’t want them anymore.

“Keyleth, now!” Vax pushed Kash away from the vampire, from the impending strike. 

The globe of sunlight in Keyleth’s hands vibrated with power, and when she finally opened her eyes to aim she could barely see in front of her. There was a shadow of Grog, a struggling man in front of him, and she closed her eyes again.

“Here goes nothing.” 

She reared her arms over her head and thrust them forward with a scream of effort, the ball turning into a laser beam of light that barreled into Sylas’s chest. Tendrils of the sunbeam spread against his black clothed chest like the licks of flames, burning through the fabric with ease. When it hit his pale skin, Sylas wretched out a noise Keyleth was sure she’d hear in her nightmares for the rest of her life. Yet, she pushed further and soon his skin started to burn and crack.

“It’s not enough!” Percy watched, did the calculations in his head. “We need to get him outside!”

Keyleth could just hear him, followed briefly by Vex’s and Vax’s voices as they tried to figure out how to do that. 

“Mind the wall! And the lady!” Gilmore turned away from Lady Briarwood, the box fell, and his energy went toward a massive blast against the western wall of the auditorium. The concrete exploded in a boom of dust and rubble, and sunrays flooded the hall.

“No!” Delilah dropped to her knees as her husband was washed over in light, and, almost in the blink of an eye, his large body curdled into dust at Grog’s feet. 

Silence washed over everyone for a moment, eyes adjusting to the sun and the sudden absence of the man in Grog’s arms. Keyleth’s arms fell and her sunbeam faded, her entire body feeling like she was being held up by string. She looked across the hall to Kash and Vax, both still on the floor, both looking over at her with wide eyes and equally wide grins. As she felt herself come back to her body, Keyleth smiled back. Her knees burned against the carpet floor, skin red and irritated, but she pushed against them as she sat up and raised her tired arms in victory. Relief flooded her system, adrenaline pumping so hard through her veins she wasn’t sure if it was possible to fly or she’d be stuck in this same spot forever. 

Then, rather suddenly, something cold shot through her stomach. It wrapped around her body in an instant, throwing her back against the front of the stage. She didn’t have a chance to look down at her scorched Camp Cloudtop shirt or at her friends who surged forward. Her eyes found the starless ceiling of the auditorium and then Keyleth felt nothing.

[lilac-whump]

Nightmare's Shadow

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

In part two we meet most of the remaining important characters for her story, Inrissa gets closer to her goal of murder, and you get to meet Nevaeh! Trying to figure out how to introduce the important stuff without it being confusing is fun, bear with me, once we get through the intro period things get more intense emotionally and whump wise.

CW: slavery, lady whump, thats about it this is content wise a more mild installment, mostly introducing characters and stuff

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

Part One

Inrissa leaned against the frost covered tree trunk, tilting her head to have a clear view of the meeting in progress without leaving her place of concealment. Her breath frosted in the air.

Six weeks at the Aren Glade, building trust with the Tribe- particularly their chief, the father of Absalom of the Elite Guard- were finally paying off. The Guard were finally back on land, after an extended mission at sea. Because of course they were at sea, where she couldn’t reach them for over a month.  

It didn’t look like they had had a good time, either, Inrissa noted as she took stock of the group. All of them looked exhausted, and their expressions carried every stage of grief. And one of their members hadn’t come back with them.

Prometheus Firstforged was there, his hulking frame stooped with the loss of his comrade. He was built like a bear, and adorned like a ceremonial weapons display. Everything about him, from his boots to his armor, reeked of privilege and wealth. His armor bore the Imperial Crest and, of course, the same cursed symbol emblazoned on Inrissa’s own neck. Inrissa dug her fingernails into the bark of the tree and gritted her teeth.

Absalom explained things to his father, professional and stoic, just as she would have expected from the Elite Guard’s leader and the chief's son. The smallest member of the team was perched in a tree on a high branch, goggles magnifying her eyes and a crossbow on her knee. Ling, Inrissa found the name on her memorized list of Guard members. The sniper. That left Larkspur, a middle aged human woman. And instead of the dwarf that should have been on the team, there was another woman. A half elf in elegant garb, with long pink hair and elaborate jewelry. 

Inrissa listened to Absalom’s debriefing to figure out who this girl was- she didn’t look much older than Inrissa herself, which meant she was only in her twenties. Finally, she caught a name.

Natala. Not just a name, though, but a title as well. 

Princess Natala.

Of course. Because the Elite Imperial Guard wasn’t called that because of their skill, or at least not exclusively for that. They were the literal elite. Traveling with a Princess herself. Inrissa felt her hatred of them crystallize in her chest.

The Empire was supposed to be a place of opportunity, where she could find refuge and new beginnings. And maybe it was, but so far it just hurt to see. Every ounce of good, of safety, of power, all of it she had had to take by force. To fight for with bloodshed and suffering. But these people didn’t just get security, power, and happiness. They didn’t just get a good life, the kind she wished she had. The kind she could barely dare hope for. No, they didn’t stop there.

These people just couldn’t get enough. 

—------

Four Years Previous

The girl with the red hair tried to get Inrissa to smile, but the young Tiefling stared vacantly at the floor she was cleaning. She hadn’t spoken when anyone could hear in over a year. She didn’t dare break the streak now. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl with red hair knelt beside Inrissa and pulled a rag from the bucket. “Here, I’ll help you, you won’t get in trouble since you’re still working. I’m Nevaeh. What’s your name?”

Inrissa looked at the girl, Nevaeh, trying to decide what she wanted. What kind of a trick could this be? Surely it was a trick; no one would really want to talk to her, no one ever had. Not even other slaves. Even among them, she was the lowest, and she knew it. She was a Tiefling; a monster. She was bad.

Every breath reminded her what she deserved, the metal collar around her neck squeezing with every twitch of muscle. 

Nevaeh wasn’t like her; a regular servant, not even a slave. And human. And pretty. With pale skin and freckles, and long red hair in a neat braid. Her scars were few, and her smile- it must be a lie. Inrissa knew it in her gut. It wasn’t a real smile for her. It had to be some kind of trick. 

Inrissa looked back down and tried to ignore the girl. To keep working. That had to be the right answer. Unless she could get in trouble for ignoring someone? Someone who’s a real person; she should respect them. Inrissa froze, her grip tightening around the rag. What was the right answer?

“Are you okay?” Nevaeh reached out and put a hand on Inrissa’s shoulder. Inrissa felt her joints lock into place and her breath was trapped in her lungs at the touch, anticipating agony. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for silence and pain to engulf her. 

Instead, a soft hand wrapped around hers. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Navaeh whispered. “I promise.”

It was too good to be true. And nothing good in Inrissa’s life had ever been true before. But nobody had ever pretended to be nice to her like this before, either. She didn’t understand what it meant.

Inrissa nodded and pulled her hand away. It hurt to pull away, her hand itched to return to the kind touch.  But it was too risky.  

Nevaeh stayed nearby, helping with Inrissa’s work, and making the occasional soft, kind remark. For hours. 

Her presence was like cold water on a burn, soothing. Inrissa was desperate not to lose it. The evening was closing in, so before they were forced to part ways, Inrissa stopped and looked up, finally looking the other girl in the eye. 

“Inrissa,” she said. “My name…it’s Inrissa.”

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