#welcome to the child murder channel

[dee-writes-angst]

CLEMATISES (Chapter Seven)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Eris processes new revelations while in a secluded cabin, when he finally makes his choice he ends up running into his father and learning the truth about what happened after he left.

CONTENT WARNINGS murder, death, angst, betrayal, Beron being a douche as per usual, Lucien being fucking oblivious, sad Eris, mentions of labor, just some more depressing shit as always.

AUTHORS NOTE sorry for the shorter chapter, this is just bringing everything together and setting up for the main event! That's right, I'm making you wait to know if they're going to be okay, sue me. :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The cold wind of the Autumn Court’s forests bit at Eris’s skin, his cloak barely providing warmth against the relentless chill. He had left the palace in a whirlwind of anger and hurt, unable to face the reality of your betrayal. Each step he took away from the life he had begun to build with you was like a knife twisting deeper into his heart.

He found refuge in a secluded cabin, a place he had discovered years ago during one of his countless escapes from his father's tyranny. The cabin was nestled deep within the forest, surrounded by ancient trees whose branches intertwined above, creating a canopy that seemed to shield him from the rest of the world. It was here that he sought solace, attempting to mend the fractures in his heart.

Eris spent his days hunting and foraging, his skills as a warrior and a survivor keeping him alive. The physical exertion was a welcome distraction, a way to channel his rage and despair into something tangible. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the memories of you. The way your eyes sparkled with life, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter—it all haunted him relentlessly.

Nights were the worst. In the stillness, his mind would wander back to the moments you had shared. He remembered the first time you had laughed at one of his jokes, the soft sound of your breathing as you slept beside him, the way you looked at him with such trust and affection. Those memories were a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and the betrayal that had shattered his heart.

One night, as he sat by the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls, Eris allowed himself to think about his father. The slap, the humiliation in front of the council—it was all too familiar. His father had always known how to break him, to strip him of his dignity and humanity. It was a cruelty Eris had endured for years, but it had never hurt as much as the pain you had caused.

The revelation that Lucien was the father of your child had hit him harder than any blow his father had ever dealt. Eris tried to process it, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He had always been closest to Lucien, had raised him and protected him as best he could. The memory of being forced to hold Lucien down while their father slaughtered Jesminda still haunted him. It was a betrayal that had cut deep, one that Eris had never forgiven himself for.

Now, to learn that Lucien was the father of your child—it was almost too much to bear. Eris felt a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth every time he thought of it. How could you not have told him? The betrayal was a poison, seeping into his veins and clouding his thoughts.

Yet, in his isolation, Eris began to see things differently. He started to realize that pushing you away had been a mistake. You had been his refuge, his hope for a better future, and he had let his pride and fear drive him away from you. The thought of you struggling alone, possibly in danger, gnawed at him day and night.

The image of Lucien, his brother, raising his child was a painful one. But Eris knew that Lucien would never intentionally hurt him. Their bond, though strained, was still one of family. And you—he had seen the way you looked at him, the way you cared for him. The love he felt for you was too powerful to deny, too vital to ignore.

On the twelfth night of his solitude, as he stared into the fire, something shifted within him. The anger and betrayal that had consumed him began to wane, replaced by a deep, aching regret. He knew he had to find you, to apologize and make things right. The realization hit him like a tidal wave—he couldn’t live without you. The love he felt for you and your child was too strong to let go.

With newfound determination, Eris packed his belongings and set out from the cabin. The journey back to the palace was arduous, the terrain unforgiving, but he pressed on with relentless resolve. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that you needed him now more than ever.

As he approached the outskirts of the palace grounds, the familiar sense of dread crept over him. He had no idea what he would find, or if you would even take him back. But he knew he had to try. For you, for your child, and for the future he desperately wanted to build with you.

His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and hope as he crossed the threshold of the palace, his mind racing with possibilities. He would find you, he would make amends, and he would fight for the life he wanted with you, no matter the cost.

Eris's steps echoed through the halls of the palace, the familiar corridors now seeming alien and hostile. His heart pounded with each stride, a mix of fear and determination driving him forward. He had to find you, to make things right.

As he turned a corner, he found himself face-to-face with Beron. The High Lord of the Autumn Court stood there, his eyes cold and calculating, a sneer curling his lips. The sight of his father, the man who had inflicted so much pain and suffering upon him, only fueled the fire of Eris's anger and urgency.

"Well, well, well," Beron drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look who decided to return. The prodigal son. Have you come back to grovel, Eris?"

Eris clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. "I'm not here for you, Father. I'm here for her."

Beron's eyes narrowed. "Her? Ah, you mean the pregnant woman Lucien tried to hide away in the palace. Pathetic, really. He always was soft-hearted, trying to protect those who don't deserve it."

Eris felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you mean, hide away?"

Beron chuckled, a dark, menacing sound. "Didn't Lucien tell you? He brought some woman here, claiming she needed protection. A waste of our resources, if you ask me. So, I threw her out. We don't need any more useless mouths to feed."

Rage boiled within Eris. "You did what?" he hissed, stepping closer to his father.

"I threw her out," Beron repeated, his tone mocking. "If she's foolish enough to get herself in trouble, she doesn't deserve our help. And as for you, meddling in affairs that don't concern you, it's high time you learned your place."

Eris's vision blurred with fury. The thought of you, vulnerable and in need, being cast out into the streets because of his father's cruelty was too much to bear. He felt a surge of power, raw and untamed, rise within him.

"You've gone too far, Father," Eris growled, his voice trembling with anger. "This ends now."

Beron laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "And what do you plan to do about it, boy? You think you can challenge me? You are nothing but a disappointment."

Years of abuse, torment, and humiliation flashed before Eris's eyes. The countless times he had been belittled, the pain inflicted upon him and his brothers, the loss of Jesminda, and now the suffering you had endured—all because of this man.

Eris's anger reached its breaking point. With a roar of fury, he summoned his fire, the flames dancing around his hands. Beron's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a sneer.

"You think your fire can harm me?" Beron taunted. "You're weak, Eris. Always have been."

Eris lunged at his father, his flames blazing with an intensity he had never felt before. Beron tried to counter with his own power, but Eris was driven by a force beyond mere magic—a deep, primal need to protect, to avenge, to end the cycle of cruelty once and for all.

The fight was brutal, a clash of wills and powers that shook the very foundations of the palace. Beron fought back fiercely, but Eris was relentless, his determination unyielding. For every blow Beron landed, Eris struck back harder, his flames scorching through his father's defenses.

In the end, it was not just Eris's power that won the battle, but his resolve. With a final, devastating blast of fire, Eris overwhelmed Beron, the flames consuming him completely. Beron's screams echoed through the halls, but Eris did not relent until his father was nothing but ashes.

Breathing heavily, Eris stood over the remnants of his father, the reality of what he had done sinking in. He had killed Beron, ended the reign of terror that had plagued his family for so long. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find you.

Ignoring the stares of the palace staff and the whispers that followed him, Eris continued his search, his heart heavy with the weight of his actions. He had to find you, to make sure you were safe. Nothing else mattered.

As he raced through the palace, his mind was filled with thoughts of you—your smile, your touch, the love he had realized too late. He prayed he wasn't too late to make things right, to save you and your child from the fate his father had so callously decreed.

And then, as he turned a corner, he saw a familiar figure running towards him. Lucien, his face pale with worry, his eyes wide with fear. Eris's heart clenched at the sight of his brother, but there was no time for reconciliation now.

"Eris!" Lucien shouted, skidding to a halt in front of him. "You have to come quickly! She's in danger!"

Eris's blood ran cold. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with urgency.

"She's in the alley, near the east gate," Lucien panted. "She needs help, Eris. She needs you."

Without another word, Eris took off, his heart pounding with fear and determination. He would find you. He would save you. And nothing, not even the memory of his father's cruelty, would stand in his way.

Eris and Lucien raced through the palace halls, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The urgency in Lucien's voice had ignited a fire within Eris, and his only thought was to reach you as quickly as possible.

As they sprinted, Lucien glanced sideways at Eris, his brow furrowed with confusion and worry. "Eris, why didn’t you respond when I called out to you earlier? I saw you in the streets, but you just kept walking. I thought something was wrong."

Eris's mind raced, trying to recall the moment Lucien was referring to, but it was a blur. The past weeks had been a haze of anger, regret, and self-imposed isolation. "I didn’t hear you, Lucien," he said, breathless, his tone tinged with frustration. "I’ve been… dealing with things."

Lucien's eyes flashed with a mix of concern and exasperation. "You didn’t hear me? Eris, I shouted your name. You looked right at me, and then just walked away."

Eris shook his head, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I was lost in my thoughts. I had to get away, to think. Everything with her, with you… it was too much."

Lucien’s expression softened slightly, but the urgency in his voice remained. "I understand, brother, but right now she needs us. She’s in labor, Eris, and we need to get to her before it’s too late."

The words hit Eris like a physical blow. Labor. The baby was coming, and he wasn’t there for you. His heart pounded harder, and his pace quickened. "I won't let her down," he vowed, more to himself than to Lucien.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

[papyrus-14567]

Yippee so I finally decided to do a masterpost:3 welcome to the broken multiverse blog:3

Where random stuff happens& chaos

I am a non binary lesbian I use they/she pronouns I'm a minor, this is a art blog & ask blog to:3, also dni proshiper's it's just if it's a child x adult then that's weird, homophobic dni, pedophile's dni,transphobic dni,zoophile dni, racist dni,I well sometimes just post about stuff I remember, broken multiverse is now open for ask well the bad guys are,I may try to animate but I use ibs paint for animation and I don't have a YouTube channel so I can't post it,I also use flipacilp rarely, you can call me by my oc's name↑

Fandom's I'm in:

Undertale

Sans Aus

Dandy's world (when I'm bored)

Lmk(when I'm bored of sans aus)

mlp(I sometimes draw mlp art)

Regtelevator:3

epic the musical

Murder drones

Object show

Bfb

Class of 09

Gravity falls

TADC

Mouthwashing

One wheat mark

Heathers the musical

Tpot

Sonic

Cookie run kingdom

Extra info:

I don't mind if anyone sends ask I am barley a sane creator:). I keep forgetting to finish comic's.i have art block most of the time.most of the stuff I draw goes unfinished:),my birthday is July 10th<3

Updated: 1/4/25

Projects I'm currently working on↓

•Broken multiverse

Projects I'm still working on↓

•my oc's backstory's

stuff I'm planning on↓

• opening ask

Note I can not donate

Ask oc's:D!↓

Party is open for ask:D

[thealtoduck]

Alive

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, kidnapping, brainwashing, child abuse. General violence, gun use, reader is a assassin, people get hurt…

Y/c/e = Your color eyes

Summary: Peter has to save Tony from a cold blooded assassin… + backstory stuff in the end…

(A/n: Reader is based on the character Widowmaker from Overwatch and the story is based on the Overwatch short ”Alive”.)

(A/n: Btw, Hi, It’s been a while)

——

Peter’s pov…

Peter entered the large convention center, it was filled with banners saying ”STARK” as well as new inventions on display. It still felt unreal that Tony Stark himself had personally invited him to such an event.

Lots of business and investors were in attendence to see what new tech ”Stark Industries” were bringing to the table, making Peter feel slightly out of place among them. He looked towards the big stage, where Tony and Pepper would soon be holding a speech regarding their future plans for Stark industries.

Peter looked around, the security seemed extra tight, which was understandable considering the combined net-worth of the people in the room could probably buy a planet.

Peter went along with the crowd gathered around the stage waiting for Tony Stark and Pepper Potts to come out. As soon as they did applause thundered through out the convention area.

Tony and Pepper stepped up to the podium and Tony Stark spoke up in the mic saying ”Welcome everyone…”

Your pov…

From the building across you looked down on the convention center with an icy glare. Then you jumped and fired your grappling hook and swung to the top of the convention center.

You snuck carefully in to the building and using your recon visor allowing you to locate the guards. You silently knocked out the guards on the top floor one by one. Then you found the perfect angle to set up and you brought out your rifle looking into the scope and searched for your target…

And then your crosshair landed on him, Tony Stark…

Peter’s pov…

As he watched Mr Stark speak Peter felt something, his spider senses told him that something was wrong. He looked around quickly but everything seemed fine. But his spider senses didn’t let up, Peter moved through the crowd towards the bathroom and sprinted inside.

He stripped out of his suit, revealing his Spider-suit underneath, he thought best to wear it since trouble is known to follow Tony Stark. He hid his clothes and started patrolling around. Then he saw it, on the top floor a sniper was aiming straight for Tony and was about to pull the trigger.

Peter quickly reacted swinging himself up to the sniper and he knocked the assassin to the side just as he pulled the trigger making the blast of the gunshot cut through the air. The gunshot had missed his target but alarmed Tony and the crowd. Peter looked as the sniper stood up and looked at him.

His visor had seven glowing red eyes and the visor shifted revealing your intense cold y/c/eyed stare. Peter said playfully ”Trying to crash the party” thinking he’d make easy work of the sniper. The sniper stood up as his rifle shifted. Peter’s spider sense suddenly flared up again and he dodged to the side as the assassin fired his rifle which had shifted from a sniper to an automatic rifle, firing quick shots his way.

Peter found cover and quickly had Karen cut in to the security guards communication channel. ”Mr Stark is in danger, shooter on the top floor, I repeat shooter on the top floor!”. A stern voice shouted back ”This is a secure channel, no one's a-”. Peter cut him off saying ”Tony Stark's in danger, get him out of here!” Peter commanded.

Peter then noticed the rifle shots had stopped he carefully peaked out and noticed that the assassin was nowhere to be seen, he carefully snuck out hiding towards the edge of the balcony floor to see that they were evacuating Mr Stark towards the exit.

Peter then caught a glimpse of something or rather someone outside on the roof top across from the convention center. Peter knew there was little time to he took a running start and rammed himself through one of the windows and swing to the other side of the street.

He landed a bit away from the shooter and as he ran closer to him, his spider-senses tingled once more but before he had time to dodge a hidden mine exploded setting free a gas that caused Peter to start coughing, he stumbled and fell and landed right before the assassin’s feet.

The attacker pressed Peter to the ground with his foot and aimed the sniper rifle right in his face, saying in a mocking tone ”Such a sweet foolish boy”. Peter stopped coughing as he heard him cocking the rifle. Without much time or thought Peter fired a web at the assasins face making him stumble back.

Peter stood back up as the assassin ripped the webbing of his face and then the two were at a standstill, simply staring hatefully in each other’s eyes. On the street below them Mr Stark had successfully been escorted in to his car that was now starting to drive away.

The assassin gave Peter one quick evil smirk and started sprinting over the rooftop set on following the car, Peter quickly gave chase behind him. The assassin dropped more venom mines but Peter quickly learned to dodge them.

The sniper was fast and agile as he had managed to get a decent distance between Peter and himself. He saw him stop dead in his tracks and take aim on the speeding car below. ”No!” Peter shouted loudly but the sniper took the shoot.

Peter watched in horror as one of the car’s front tyres was shot out causing the car to make a drastic turn and crash in to the side of a building. ”Oh no, nonono” he said to himself, praying that Mr Stark, Pepper and Happy were okay.

The assassin looked at Peter with a smirk and said coldly ”Looks like the party is over”. Peter felt rage quickly build up inside him and he tackled the assassin to the ground, holding him down. ”Why?! Why would you do this?” Peter demanded feeling tears stinging in his eyes below the mask.

The assassin didn’t even flinch at his words and simply started laughing. Then Peter felt a strong wind building up behind him and heard the spinning blades of a helicopter. He looked up seeing a helicopter hovering above the two.

The sniper had used Peter’s distraction to attach his grappling hook to a nearby water tower. He then grabbed Peter by the waist and looked in to his eyes saying ”Adieu, chéri” tumbled backwards making the two of them fall off the building and in to the alley bellow. The assassin quickly let go off Peter and activated his grappling hook, pulling himself up to the roof top once again.

Meanwhile Peter landed flat on his back on the ground as pain spread all over his his body. Luckily for him, thanks to hightened durability he seemed to not have broken anything. He quickly tried to stand up but stumbled and immediately fell again.

He watched as the helicopter swiftly flew away from the scene, taking the assassin with it…

Two days later…

Luckily no one died, Mr Stark, Pepper and Happy managed to get away with only a couple of bruises and one or two broken bones. Peter himself was mostly just covered in bruises on his back from the fall.

He went to visit Tony who was in bed rest at the Avengers compound, he brought a stuffed bear and a ballon that said ”Get well soon”. When he found him Tony had a couple of hologram screens open in front of him. He noted Peter’s presence and said ”Come inside, kid”.

Peter quickly found himself apologising ”I’m so sorry, Mr Stark, because of me you ended up like this”. Mr Stark looked at the brown haired boy in disbeleif, ”Peter, if weren’t for you i’d be dead, i should be thanking you” Tony told him and said ”Thank you for saving me, Parker”.

Peter put down the stuffed bear and ballon by Mr Stark’s bed and found himself asking ”Mr Stark, who was that?”. Tony then enlarged the hologram screen showing it to Peter. ”I had to go through some of Nat’s folders to find out” Tony explained as Peter looked at several notes and pictures of the asssassin.

”His name is Y/n L/n” Tony said. ”About twelve years ago several Shield opperatives and agents grew disillusioned with the organisation and turned their back on it and started Talon, a new organisation who’s methods were rather extreme” Tony explained.

”Shield and Talon fought one another on several occasions but one Sheild agent remained a thorn in Talon’s side, Gérard L/n, Talon wanted him dead but he always managed to get away. So they set their sights on his family. In the dead of night when Gérard was away and his wife was sleeping, they kidnapped his 12 year old son” Tony continued.

”They submitted him to intense brainwashing program, neural reconditioning and torture. They broke his will and supressed his personality, they reprogramed him into a sleeper agent. Gerard devoted Shield's every resource to recovering his son, and it wasn't long before the operation produced results”.

”Shield later sent several agents on a rescue mission where they found him unharmed. His agents saved Y/n, and a medical and psychological evaluation after the kidnapping found him to be apparently no worse for wear and he returned to life with his mother and father. But two weeks later his Talon programming was activated and he killed his father in his sleep” Tony said coldy.

”He then returned to Talon. At his behest, Talon completed the process of turning him into a living weapon. He was given extensive training in covert arts, and agreed to participate in an experimental marksman program, where he was trained by the best in the use of a sniper rifle”.

”Talon’s geneticist, altered Y/n’s physiology to improve his aim, drastically slowing his heart, which numbed his ability to experience human emotion. It dulled the pain of what he’d done, while heightening the charge he felt on the hunt. The slowing of his heart rate allowed him to become an exceptional sniper” Tony finished.

Peter then read Y/n’s field name out loud ”Widowmaker”. ”He widowed his own mom” Tony explained. Peter just stood there in silence after all he learned about the assassin, the only words he could find were…

”Holy shit”.

[beannary]

OK so I dont really like this but this 2012 tmnt mermaid au has been driving me INSANE so here are some mermaid designs for the boys (which I might change if I draw more stuff for this au) and some lore for the au under the cut!

also Donnie is ftm and Leo is mtf and those are the facts! (Donnie did do top surgery on himself, do NOT ask me how he did that underwater safely)

(just a quick note: I am using some japanese mythos for the mermaid part but I'm also being loosey goosey with it alskjdfh)

ALSO slight tw for cannibalism? or like cannibalism adjacent behavior

There is a yokai described in Japanese literature called the ningyo, a creature that is half human and half fish. Legend says that if you capture a ningyo and eat its flesh, that you will be granted eternal life. Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki were familiar with these legends, though Saki always believed in them more than Yoshi. Saki believed in the legends so much that he became obsessed with finding the legendary ningyo and becoming immortal after consuming its flesh. Yoshi accompanied his brother on these ventures, more out of a sense of familiar duty and a need to watch out for his younger brother than an actual belief in the ningyo.

And of course, it just so happens that the brother who does not at all believe in the existence of yokai would be the one to find one. Yoshi encounters Tang Shen, a ningyo who has been living throughout the local freshwater river system. And suddenly Yoshi realizes that Saki's quest for murder might actually come true since apparently these ningyo are very much real. So now whenever he accompanies Saki on his hunting quests, he does everything in his ability to try to dissuade Saki from his plan, and when he realizes that isn't going to work, he starts to sabotage Saki's efforts. And Yoshi does this because well he kept in contact with Tang Shen, and the two became close friends, and son fell in love, bridging the gap between yokai and human.

They can't get married, obviously, Tang Shen is fully a yokai, but they build their lives together and eventually Tang Shen falls pregnant with their daughter Miwa. The two weren't entirely sure what to expect of their child, but Miwa turns out to be a completely normal human child.

Over the years as Yoshi and Tang Shen's love and family grew, Yoshi started pulling away from his birth family, and more noticeably, from Saki, who was you know pretty angry with Yoshi who seemingly disappeared on him with no explanation. Saki channels his anger into his search for the ningyo, and it takes three years but eventually he does finally find one.

Around three years after Miwa was born, Tang Shen and Yoshi welcome in four new kids! Quadruplets! Three boys and a girl. And these four, unlike Miwa, seem to all be fully ningyo, which very much surprised Yoshi and Tang Shen (both the fact that there were four kids and those four kids are all mermaids) but hey, they knew their genetic situation would be weird and they were fully ready to hop into raising these four.

It's only a few days after the birth of their quadruplets, so soon after that they haven't even given them names, that Saki stumbles upon the home of Yoshi and Tang Shen. And He Is Pissed. Not only did his BROTHER ABANDON him but he abandon him to start a family with this yokai? The yokai that he's been hunting all this time? And Saki, like in canon, kills Tang Shen and Miwa. (Or well you know, he kidnaps Miwa and renames her Karai but Yoshi thinks Miwa is dead)

Yoshi manages to get away with the quadruplets in the chaos, and he tries so hard to establish a new life for himself in Japan, but no matter where he goes, Saki manages to find him. Eventually Yoshi gets desperate enough to flee the country, and he finds himself in New York City!

But meanwhile back in Japan, Saki did in fact end up eating Tang Shen but idk how he realizes it but he figures out that he didnt get immortality, and so he concludes that oh, Tang Shen must have been tainted somehow by her relationship with Yoshi, which sucks because now he has to find a whole other ningyo to get immortality. Luckily he happens to know of four ningyo that he would be more than happy to kill, which is basically Saki's drive to finding and killing the Hamatos.

Anyways that's all I have so far!!!! I'm trying to think about how they would live in NYC, if they can somehow become human (in maybe like an H2O just add water situation) or if they are stuck in the water all the time.

I'm leaning towards them being able to shed their fish tails if even only for a small amount of time, just so they can still be ninjas and train on land, since I think Yoshi would still want to train them to defend themselves. I think that if they can be human for a bit, they still get dried out really easily so they can't stay out of the water for very long, probably not long enough for them to go to school full time, so they still live super isolated lives. Or maybe Yoshi figures out a way to train them to fight in the water? Idk suggestions are appreciated!

They do eventually meet April and Casey, I think April is gonna be on the swim team and so she's a fairly strong swimmer (for a human) and so she spends a lot of time in the water with the hamatos which they appreciate a lot! I think maybe Yoshi isn't a super strong swimmer so as much as he tries to spend time with his kids he can't really.

Casey is still on the hockey team and he can't swim, the hamatos try to teach him but they fully dont know how to swim with legs and so they are Bad tm swimming teachers salkdjfh.

[wudlund]

GROWING UP LEGACY CHALLENGE

* ˚ ✦

| by wudlund

i wanted to create a legacy challenge that focusses on the parent-child relationship and how that impacts their adult life. (i know growing together would be the perfect pack for this challenge, but i can't afford it rip)

-> this has not been playtested so pls let me know if anything is too difficult or doesn't work :)

-> included packs: get to work, outdoor retreat/jungle adventure, city living, get together, seasons, cats & dogs, discover university, high school years, parenthood, strangerville, island living, paranormal stuff, snowy escape, cottage living, nifty knitting, eco lifestyle (if you don't have a pack, just exclude that part of the challenge)

-> for each generation, they should complete their aspiration, master any skill(s) i've outlined, complete a collection and master their career (if relevant) the recommended world is only my opinion, you do not have to live there :)

-> whenever 'parent' is mentioned, i mean the founder/heir before as some generations do not specify a spouse (they are secondary characters here, babes)

GEN 1: The Parental Scriptures

You grew up hopping between various foster parents and children’s homes. You vowed to adopt as many children as you could handle as an adult and make them feel as loved and welcome as possible. Incorporating your passion for writing, you write novels about each of them throughout their lives.

Traits; Family Oriented, Childish & Good

Aspiration; Big Happy Family

Career; Writer

Collection; Postcards (recieved from grown up children living in different locations/worlds)

Max Skills: Parenting & Writing

Recommended World; Henford-on-Bagley

Start as a Young Adult

Have an 8 sim household (can be a single parent for ‘hard mode’ or married), adopting 6/7 children

Write 6/7 books (corresponding with however many children you have)

Name each book after the child that it's about

Hire a nanny to help with the children

Celebrate every holiday fully (e.g. decorate to the max)

Help children with homework and interact with them as much as possible

Take lots of pictures of each child at each life stage (e.g. toddler, child) and decorate your house with them

Go on holiday to a vacation world every summer with all your children

Buy all grandchildren a toy for their first birthday (aging up into an infant)

Don’t die before becoming an elder (this will be important later !)

GEN 2: The Malevolent Amalgam

Growing up, you despised your parent. They were so overbearing and involved in your life, something burned inside you. You channelled your rage into criminal activity and found a love for experimental dishes. You hatched a nefarious plan to get revenge on the parent that you hated so much.

Traits; Evil, Mean, Hates Children

Aspiration; Public Enemy

Career; Criminal

Max Skill; Mischief

Collection; Experimental Food Photos (inspiration for murderous plan)

Recommended World; San Myshuno

Have 2 best friends in childhood who you pull pranks with

Skip school/play hooky regularly

Have a child by accident with someone who is similar to your parent (at least 2 of the same traits)

Have one child who you are very distant from

Have other parent of child die by cowplant or denizens pond ("accidental")

Never celebrate holidays (cancel them when they start or remove from the calendar -> however you may want to keep them for future generations)

Instead, go on vacation to any vacation lot without your child or partner

Learn Pufferfish Nigiri

Kill parent with dish

When your child moves out, give them 1200 simoleons

GEN 3: The Questioned Innocence

Throughout your childhood, you were very close to your grandparent, who died under very mysterious circumstances. Once you were old enough, you dedicated your life to investigating the death of your grandparent, finally finding out the truth. You begin to wish you’d never started investigating.

Traits; Genius, Loyal, Paranoid

Aspiration; Strangerville Mystery

Career; Detective

Collection; Fossils (clues about grandparent's death)

Max Skill ; Logic & Medium

Recommended World; Strangerville

Start with 1200 simoleons (after purchasing lot)

Keep the toy/soft toy from your grandparent for the rest of your life

Have 3 children

Buy them all a newer version of your favourite toy (different swatch)

Live on a remote lot (to avoiding your investigation being detected)

Complete the Strangerville Mystery

Confront and fight your parent in adulthood and have max negative relationship when they die

Contact your grandparent from beyond the grave and have them move into the household as a ghost

GEN 4: The Sidelined Affinity

Your parent loved you but never had much time for you, being so absorbed by their work. You maintained a positive relationship with them, but decided to take your life in a different direction. Beginning freelance work at the start of your adult life, you quickly realised animals had your heart.

Traits; Cat Lover, Dog Lover, Clumsy

Aspiration; Friend of the Animals

Max Skills; Veterinarian & Dog Training

Collection; Feathers (mementos of your pets)

Recommended World; Brindleton Bay

Meet someone as a child and date through your teen years until the start of young adulthood

Regularly get boba tea with your pets

Always have one cat and one dog in the household

Work in any freelance branch you choose through young adulthood

Have one child by accident in young adulthood

Buy a vet clinic on your birthday into adulthood (cheat for money - it's a gift from your parent)

Adopt another child later

Marry a spellcaster as an elder and become a spellcaster yourself

Take in your grandchildren after their parent dies

GEN 5: The Regimented Defense

You grew up seeing how unattached and careless your parent was. You hated it. Life is meant to be structured. There are rules. You always knew you were destined for bigger, better and more organised things.

Traits; Hot-Headed, Perfectionist and Proper

Aspiration; Bodybuilder

Max Skills; Fishing (only peaceful time in your life)

Career; Military

Collection; Fish

Recommended World; Oasis Springs

Join the Scouts as a child and get all trophies

Marry childhood sweetheart in early young adulthood

Have 2 children, use strict parenting methods

Sign both children up for after-school clubs

Both children must earn Good Manners trait from childhood

Set an early curfew for both children

Mount one of each fish you catch

Your spouse has an affair in adulthood and elopes with their partner

Have the workaholic lifestyle

Die in adulthood (you can cheat this to be any death - like dying on duty)

GEN 6: The Detached Secrecy

You learned early in life how unpredictable and fleeting life is and how futile attachments are. You decided to never allow yourself to get tied down and live life as meaningfully and freely as possible. Any commitment scared you, leading to you exploring all corners of life and finding out what it truly means to live.

Traits; Adventurous, Noncommittal, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration; Serial Romantic /Live Fast

Collection; Frogs (exception to the rule of 'no attachments')

Career; Secret Agent

Max Skill; Rock Climbing

Recommended World; Mt. Komorebi

Do not complete your aspiration as a child (can be any aspiration)

Complete the Live Fast aspiration as a teen

Drop out of High School early and move out of your grandparent's house

Never marry, date different people sporadically (never for longer than a week)

Have triplets - you will probably have to cheat this :)

Give them names beginning with the same letter or names that are very similar

When one child demonstrates an interest in fame, actively discourage them

Have a frog that you are a little bit too attached to

Retire and move worlds (must be a different climate to one you were living in - e.g. mt. komorebi to sulani)

GEN 7: The Unsatisfied Luxury

You actually might have had the most average, normal childhood ever. One of three children, you didn't even have individuality to your name. Nothing spectacularly out of the ordinary. Although, you never did find out what your parent’s career was… probably something normal, right? You set your sights on something a little less ordinary. You wanted to be rich.

Traits; Materialistic, Self-Absorbed, Ambitious

Aspiration; Fabulously Wealthy/Admired Icon

Max Skills; Charisma & Dancing

Career; Retail Store Owner

Collection; Crystals (imagine they are rare jewels etc.)

Recommended World; Del Sol Valley

Have lots of friends as a child/teen

Be Prom Queen

Work on the Admired Icon aspiration as a teen

Own a retail store, selling very expensive items

Become famous (at least Rank 4)

Have 4 children with a big celebrity

Own a fancy dog (e.g. poodle, bichon frise, pomeranian)

Have a messy divorce from the parent of your children, fighting regularly

Lose relationships with children

When you die, have no strong relationships (no more than acquaintances with anyone)

GEN 8: The Inspired Modesty

You got to see first hand what a life of money and fame does to a person. You knew you wanted something more modest, finding your purpose in life through painting. You had a turbulent family life growing up, so you channelled those feelings into paintings.

Traits; Art Lover, Gloomy, Lactose Intolerant

Aspiration; Master Painter

Max Skills; Painting & Cross Stitching

Career; Painter

Collection; Seashells (you find beauty in everything, no matter how small)

Recommended World; Sulani

Buy most of your clothes via thrifting

Join the cheer team but move to the football team later in high school

Live on a 20x15 lot

Dumpster dive for furniture etc.

Use the recycler for trash

Sell your work on Plopsy

Find your soulmate at work (also a painter)

Have 2 science babies

Have close relationship with only your first child

Paint portraits of your spouse and children

Make cross-stitched hoops as gifts for your children's birthdays

Have spouse die just after second baby is born

Never remarry

Heir must be the second child

GEN 9: The Broken Machinery

After your parent's death, you detached yourself completely from your family, swore off relationships and delved into your studies. Your remaining parent tried to connect with you but you felt incomplete, missing someone you never knew.

Traits; Genius, Geek, Socially Awkward

Aspiration; Computer Whiz/Whiz Kid

Collection; Voidcritters (as a child)

Max Skills; Rocket Science & Robotics

Career; Engineer

Recommended World; Britechester

Complete the Whiz Kid aspiration as a child

Join the Chess Club in High School

Have one best friend growing up (never speak again after school ends)

Attain Distinguished Physics Degree from Foxbury Institute

Meet another friend at university

Get a cat after leaving university

Be friends for at least 2 months before starting romantic relationship (fearful to lose them like you lost your parent)

Have a child together in late adulthood

Your partner must be revealed to be an alien after you become romantically involved

Build rocket ship

Travel to sixam with your partner

GEN 10: The Last Hurrah

You admired your parent for being so skilled and intelligent but you just weren’t up for that. To be honest, you didn’t have the energy for it. You never aspired to much but you were happy.

Traits; Lazy, Cheerful, Unflirty

Aspirations; Party Animal/Joke Star

Max Skills; Charisma & Comedy

Collection; Gardening (have a little herb garden)

Career; Odd Jobs

Recommended World; Henford-on-Bagley

Go to prom with your best friend

Have a games room in your house

Never marry but have multiple long term relationships

Have no children

Have a big dog

Have lots of close friends and party with them regularly

Create and maintain a club

Attend the Henford-on-Bagley village fairs (you do not have to compete, just engage with it)

Visit every bar and have a drink in every world at least once (like a pub crawl)

Have the people person lifestyle

Live on the same lot the founder lived on (the house may be different)

if you play this, pls use the #growing up legacy challenge tag so i can see your posts <3 - essie xo

[mgcoin]

<< WELCOME TO MGCOIN >> -- an indie, selective and private roleplay blog that portrays ʟᴇᴇ ᴍʏᴜɴɢ-ɢɪ from ɴᴇᴛꜰʟɪx ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ: ꜱQᴜɪᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ as written by Azazel (21+). !!This blog is not affiliated at all with the show nor owns the character!!

Please only follow if you are an RP blog and are over 18+ as themes of violence, threat, and at times sexual nature can/may occur. If you are not an RP blog or are below 18, you will be blocked!

Spoilers will be present but they will be tagged accordingly!

Please do not bug me for replies, I shall get to them when I can! I also run another blog which has a backlog as well so please take that into consideration too!

You're gonna see a lot of not very safe for the eyes things on this blog most likely, triggers will be tagged of course as ( 'usfw' ) so if you want to get a head start, block that tag!

Big thanks for reading the rules up there, if you want info about the muse it's below the cut! And if you wanna plot something, my DMs are open! <3

resource creds: noahsresources

The Muse:

Name: Lee Myung-gi + MGCoin (Youtuber Name) Age: 30 Occupation: YouTuber (Cancelled) / Participant of the 2024 Squid Game Relationship Status: It's complicated / single Sexuality: Bisexual Family: Unnamed father and mother, unnamed child (with Kim Jun-hee)

Lee Myung-gi was once a successful YouTuber and an avid cryptocurrency trader who ran a channel called "MG Coin", where he gave out advice on cryptocurrency investing to his fans. He was also dating a woman named Kim Jun-hee, who became pregnant sometime towards the beginning of 2024.

Soon after, Myung-gi promoted a new coin called "Dalmatian" and stated that everyone should sink every last penny into it. The cryptocurrency turned out to be a scam, and when Dalmatian's creators pocketed the money and ran off, everyone who'd invested in the coin lost ₩15.2 billion collectively.

Facing arrest for fraud and breaking multiple communication and investment laws, Myung-gi became a fugitive from the law. He shut down his YouTube channel and went on the run, fleeing to the Philippines, and Jun-hee broke up with him. Jun-hee attempted to keep in touch with him due to her pregnancy, but he ghosted her for six months causing her to believe he had been discreetly murdered.

Myung-gi was contacted by the Salesman in a subway station sometime around September 1, 2024. He invited him to play a game of ddakji in exchange for money, slapping him whenever he lost. Afterwards, he gave him a contact card to enter the Squid Games, and he received a call from Jun-hee, which he ignored, unaware she had also received a contact card. With his debt totaling ₩1.8 billion, Myung-gi decided to join the games in order to win money.

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 7: Anagapesis

Summary:

Welcome to Miranda's hate men club!

The movie on the TV is distracting, but not enough to steal the attention of Eveline from the black camera in her hands. Even the rapidly changing pictures with different characters do not catch her eye. 

There was a time when she loved to sit in front of the TV for hours and watch the different channels. At first, she only watched children's animations - the events that could not happen in real life seemed to be terribly interesting for her, consuming her free time with ease. 

Over time, her interest shifted to films with real actors. The horror genre was her favorite, mainly because she could easily predict what was going to happen. Miranda had to stop her from watching too movies containing blood and murder after that, they intrigued her. But her attention did not stay long on them either. 

Eveline has always loved animals. Therefore, she was very happy when she found the channels describing the wild life of the different species. When the wild animals' instincts to kill were awakened, however, and she was there to watch, Eveline decided she would never go near those canals again. 

She tried watching cooking, baking, and cake-making shows with her mom and sister, but those things were way too boring for her. And just like that, her interest in the world of television was washed away almost as quickly as it had come. 

With no access to internet, which Miranda has described as too dangerous of a place, the little girl's days are dull and boring. Even the boredom ,from all the books with which she tried to cheer herself up ,had become a close friend already. The mansion feels like a prison for her young soul. 

Still, she preferred this prison rather than her previous one.

Eveline's fingers lightly brush over the screen of the camera in her hands, then they press the button to turn it on. The frames on the TV change at the same time as it lights up. 

The black-haired girl remembers this camera very well. She's had it since her early childhood, which she never managed to live the way she wanted. For her, it is not just an object, but a casket of memories that she deeply cherishes. 

The first photo reminds her of the memory that the camera is not entirely hers. Stolen from the hands of the first person who directed the lens to her, the first person Eveline saw and remembered as a superior personage demanding obedience.

The photo is simple - Miranda's long fingers spread above Evelyn, trying to get the camera back. The quality is not good, and the image itself is blurred, suggesting that the photo was taken very hastily and by inexperienced, small hands.

The following photos are so similar that if it weren't for the dates, one would think they were taken one after the other. White walls, white laboratory coats, medical gloves, white masks, the same faces covered by them. Eveline as a child. Eveline together with the well known scientists. Eveline with Miranda. Miranda. Miranda and Mia. 

The girl skips through all the photos with the brunette, unable to look at her face, to bear her kind look and concerned eyes. The former feeling of love for the woman is now replaced by indifference.

A small smile appears on her face, seeing one of her favorite people in the next few photos. When Miranda came back into her life, Eveline was horrified, not because of the scary woman in front of her, but because of the little girl next to her. She knew that Miranda did and would always prefer her daughter rather than the failed experiment that Eveline was.

She hated Eva at first, she despised her. Slowly realizing that the intentions of the mini-copy of Miranda, however, were not to totally alienate her from her creator, but on the contrary, to accept a single failure in their lives, with love, not disgust, made her absolutely adore the little girl , which she now proudly called her own sister.

The following photos are Evelyn's cheerful memories - those with her new family. Even locked in the lonely mansion - they are happy , together. 

The last photo in the little girl's old camera is of you. Without your knowledge and permission, of course, the shot only represents your back. Your face is not present, but Eveline knows very well who exactly is in the picture and what it represents. The black-haired girl is guessing her boredom will only fully die when her family is complete again. 

Only if her mother isn't so keen on the past. Even Eveline herself has given up on it. 

Someone angrily sits down on the couch next to her, almost on top of her outstretched legs, and huffs, picking up a remote and quickly flicking through a few channels.

"You're rather grumpy today,Eva" - the camera is carefully turned off and placed on the table in front of them as the girl speaks to her sister- "what's the matter? Your pets flew away?" 

"Butterflies, not pets"- Eva deeply cares about them and doesn't like it when Eveline throws jokes about them left and right like that- "and it's not them , they listen to me. I'm mad because..." 

Her last sentence is murmured, and instead of finishing it , she turns her head to a side to observe her sister's facial expressions as a question falls from her lips. 

"What is your opinion about our new babysitter?" - when Eva wants a serious conversation, she starts to sound nearly exactly like her mother. 

"Well she's definitely someone much different than the others" - she says that as both a good and a bad thing - "but i like her...she is , she is nice." 

"Even after she insulted you so casually?" - a blonde eyebrow lifts in suspicious manner. 

"She didn't mean that" - at least she hopes so - "I'm sure she was just...why are you even asking me about this?" 

Eva crosses her arms in front of her chest and purses her lips. Her head slowly lifts and shifts from side to side to be sure noone will hear her as she speaks. 

"I don't like her" - she declares - "in fact, i cannot wait for her to leave already!"

"Why?" - Eveline forces a smile as she too, looks around the room , thought she's not scared of someone hearing her talking bad about you, instead she's ready to defend you - "i know you're not keen on other people lurking in our home but at least give her a chance, she's trying." 

"Trying a bit too hard" - the girl scoffs, her tone a bit more louder than before - "Have you not seen her intentions towards mom?" 

"Intentions?" - Eveline is no stranger to the many other babysitter's tries to befriend or some even seduce Miranda into giving them her money, thought she's sure this isn't your case. 

"The other day i saw them baking together, baking!" - she repeats as if it's something unbelievable - "you know how much mom hates to have another person in the kitchen while she's there. Not to mention she was all over her" 

Eva shapes the story in her own liking, ignoring the fact that it was Miranda hoovering over you and not the opposite. Eveline listens carefully. 

"Or should i bring up the fact that she's already spending more time in mom's office than mom herself!" - the flame in Eva's eyes is no other but one born by anger - "even slamming and locking the door shut as if she owns the place , ridiculous!" 

Eveline shifts in her place as she continues to listen to the many encounters Eva has became a witness to between you and Miranda. 

"Eva, you really shouldn't spy on them like that" - the girl is older , she can quickly put the pieces together and take a wild guess in what kind of proximity has grown between you and her mother. 

"And if she hurts mom?" - she throws her hands in the air , trying to get back to the point - "i shall be there to help her" 

"Mother is literally the last person she would hurt" - in reality you are not even able to even try and injure Miranda in some way - "i think you're just a bit worried mother will focus her attention on someone else" 

Eveline wanted to say jealous instead of worried but she knows Eva will get even madder. And she's not in the mood to annoy her sister. 

"Mom's kind love is often mistaken for weakness" - Eva's voice changes , a hint of sadness, of pity, in it as she looks down at the camera left on the table - "both of us know that" 

Yes , Mia is a dark spot in both Eveline's and Miranda's memories while Eva doesn't even want to remember her long lost father or the years when her mother was still weak as the sick child Eva once was. 

Silence grows between the two girls. They look around the room, trying to avoid each other's gaze. Both lost in thoughts about you and your staying in the mansion. 

"You lost a bet" - Eva whispers, a grin twisting her lips upwards, as she shatters the lack of sound around the room. 

"I did?" - the other girl points at herself, confused. 

"You said you won't talk to her for at least a week" - it's clear for Eveline who her sister is referring to -"after she called you a freak" 

"Crazy!" - Eveline snaps , making Eva flinch - "not a freak." - she breaths in and out, with flaring nostrils - "And i don't remember making any bets with you, Eva" 

"I'm sorry..." - sometimes the blonde girl doesn't realise the weight of her words , she didn't aim to hurt her sister's feeling. In her effort to cheer her up , she managed to bring her mood even lower. 

Maybe it's the effect of being isolated from other people. Eva is not sure how to communicate outside her comfort circle - which is Eveline and mostly her mother. 

"It's nothing" - lies , Eveline can't stand that word - "freak" , however both girls bonded by sisterhood don't possess the power to be mad at eachother for long. She grabs Eva's shoulder with a glowing smile - "what do you want me to do for you?" 

"You have candy?" - Eva adored sweets, it was the first thing Miranda gave her as a food after she came back to life. From there on she demanded candy almost everyday. 

"Not at all"- Eveline shakes her head. 

Eva hums, lost in deep thinking processes of what exactly she demands. Her expression changes into a cheerful one as an idea illuminate in her head. 

"You'll let me pierce your ears!" - she exclaims. 

"Absolutely not" - her sister is quick to refuse - "no, don't even give me that look" 

"Oh, come onnn" - she grabs her sister's folded arms and tugs on them as she tries to make her look at her - "we've wanted matching earrings for like forever! And mom is always too busy to take you to get your ears pierced." 

Eveline gives a glare at Eva's shining golden earrings , they are simple, with not much of decorating, in order for them to not be heavy. Then her eyes shift to her begging expression and the puppy eyes she likes to make when she's in a need of something. Eveline surrenders. 

"Fine" - she stands up to get her camera , Eva immediately following after her - "just promise me you know what you're doing" 

"Of course i do! Let's go!" - and just like that she drags her sister out of the living room up the stairs to the bathroom where she can prepare the needed stuff. 

In reality, Eva has no idea what she's doing. 

*****

Miranda does not exist. 

Everyone has a bit of information about themselves posted on the internet, wanted or unwanted. Everyone but Miranda. Not a single photo, site, link, social media profile or anything at all matches with her name. Absolutely nothing.

Miranda does not exist. Nor do her children in that regard as you can't find any information for them as well. You're desperate, in urgent need to find something to use against that vile woman. 

You're not only desperate but hopeless as Miranda has everything about her covored, even after trying a few other browsers the results remain the same. It's like the woman has disappeared from this earth. Or she never lived on it in the first place. 

In some final attempts to turn the tables and make a winning move in Miranda's game , you decide to search the name of the woman she has been chatting with. Her mysterious affair, Mia Winters. 

Lucky for you a few things pop up. Firstly you go through her social media, she's not a open woman as she rarely posts. But you do note pictures taken with her friend or husband. Deciding this doesn't interest you enough, you go through the other shared information about her. 

Around 4 years ago she had found herself in a terrible accident along with a family of four in Louisiana. The mystery of their death is yet to be discovered. The article says she managed to run away together with her husband, who came to rescue her. Rumour has it the family was actually a group of criminals, kidnappers and murderers. 

All kind of theories , as the main reason for the death is announced as - "poisoning caused by hydrogen sulfide gas erupting in the ground". Nobody is believing that. 

Someone... had obviously covered up the murders.

Your head begins to hurt from all the comments and theories about the incident. People who were clearly not involved in the whole thing discussing it like it was thier job. Sick. 

The case , however, is long closed. And by what you know - Mia is healthy and happy, though you can't decide if you like her , judging by her chats with Miranda that you saw. You don't want to take sides , especially the blonde woman's one, but you can't see Mia in a good light - not after acknowledging she has a husband. And she still runs after Miranda like a lost puppy. 

The effect she has on women must be insane, you don't even want to think about it. Especially in a situation like yours. 

The laptop in front of you closes and you unfold your legs from your sitting position on the bed. You head to your closet so you can get changed for the day. 

After changing from your pajamas, you quickly exist your room and run downstairs for another day with this weird family. 

.

.

.

There is not a single painting in Miranda's mansion that expresses something different than a beautiful portrait or a full body drawing of a woman. Her neglection of men is on another level, it's almost funny. 

Since the rooms were empty as you stepped down, possibly too early for the kids or Miranda herself to be up, you decided to just walk around and pay needed attention to smaller details in the decoration. 

The mansion's interior is absolutely fabulous. And those paintings are more than alluring. They stay perfectly on the walls , illuminating the atmosphere. You go through every single one of them , carefully reading the names and authors on the small metal boards under them. It feels like an art museum. 

One specific painting catches your eye. The woman in it sits on a throne, way too big for her body, as she stands surrounded by men , covored in black and red clothing. The painting is dark , as the only light in it falls from the windows and the angle that is showed plays a role of an obstacle for the observer , covering the woman's face in pure darkness. In one hand she holds a bloody sword, in the other a half broken crown. Her hair is the most interesting thing in the whole painting- white as divine snow and fluffy clouds. A lifeless body lies unmoving at the base of her legs , towered by her creepy shadow. 

'The forgotten heir' - is the name of the painting, its author is a french man from centuries ago, his full name lost in time,as only his first name is attached to the metal board under the painting. 

"Devine, isn't she?" - you flinch upon hearing Miranda's voice somewhere behind you. She's still a bit too intimidating for you, but you don't get as surprised as before when she sneaks up around you, hoping to easily scare you. 

"Beautiful, indeed" - you agree with her , while allowing her to get closer , her gaze , however stays fixed on the drawn woman - "as well as your other paintings" 

"Thank you, i do choose nicely when buying" - her visible preference for women in all of those paintings is hard to miss - "each one of them has an individual,fascinating story." 

"And this one?" - you point at the faceless woman on the throne. Miranda smiles. 

"My favourite" - funny enough it's the one you liked the most too.

"Her story, i mean" - Miranda's lips drop down, as well as her good mood - "what's the forgotten heir's story?" 

She steps forward with her head slightly bowed, her hair falling from her neck to her back like an autumnal waterfall of leaves as her silky touch of fingers trails ghostly across the canvas of the painting.

"Back in the days It wasn't uncommon for kings to have affairs and along with them many, many bastards" - her voice starts to sound like a lullaby, more melancholic than ever - "when it came to queens having those problems, however, the case was different" 

You observe closely, the slow movements of her fingers along the broken crown, the excitement in her eyes as she watches the painting from beneath her eyelashes. She looks more fond of the painting than any other furniture in this mansion. 

"She was unlucky" - Miranda's chin slightly lifts up to point at the mysterious woman - "to be born a woman , from her mother's sinful acts on top of that. An unwanted child receives no love. An unloved heir receives no crown." 

"But she has one..." - you whisper, your finger lifting to point at the woman's right hand. Confusion overfills you - if she desired the crown, then why break it? 

"Left for dead on the streets, still as a weak child , she had only one goal in her life. Revenge." - Miranda ignores your questions, continuing her story with little to no care if you are listening or not - "dead people don't talk , and she died the moment they threw her out of the royal castle- her mother killed her, getting rid of her mistake. That's the most fascinating thing about her - she took what was originally hers without murmuring a word." 

"How?" - the blonde woman somehow managed to completely pull your interest in her story, locking it between her soft words. 

"Some say she joined a cult" - Miranda laughs, and you do as well, though not completely getting her point - "in reality she convinced a group of criminals to follow and serve her. The reason was simple - she saw them not as people but as monsters, just like everybody else, but she accepted them for what they were. And the most important - among them monsters she was the biggest one." 

The strongest, the most cruel, the most blood thirsty. Miranda is almost describing death herself with those adjectives. It's clear she feels a strong connection to this woman , a connection you cannot understand. 

"Forgotten heir , silent death, lady of blood" - she counts all of the woman's nicknames on her fingers - "her names long lost in history, along with her story. Pity , she managed to kill her mother , father and siblings at the age of 18 , gaining back her throne." 

"She was real?" - you don't notice when you run short of breath, and your question comes out rushed and hitched. 

"Of course she was" - Miranda stares at you with a grimace, as if it was a crime to ask such a foolish question - "she's a big inspiration for me" 

"You clearly like her a lot" - the painting itself is the biggest one in the mansion, the frame is yellow golden with refined, precise elements. A clear favourite - "but why?" 

"She was... everything i couldn't be." - Miranda takes her time to form her sentence the way she wants it , you've noticed long ago she likes to do that before speaking, so her words can come out perfectly lined with eachother - "when i found myself in a similar situation. That was long ago, of course." 

"Like what?" - you laugh - "you were in a cult?" 

A sharp glare makes you cough and straighten your back. She really can't take a joke. Point taken,Miranda. 

"Not a cult" - her tone is surprisingly not that harsh - "more of a religion..." 

Miranda's eyebrows furrow and her last words die silently the moment your phone rings. The awful sound rudely interrupting the moment between you. You quickly pull out your phone, surprised to see Philip's name on the screen. 

You give Miranda a begging look and she sighs in annoyance, waving her hand in the air, and with that you get your permission to pick up. 

"Hellooo, darling!" - he exclaims, then he quickly jumps into a question, not giving you time to react to his unusual cheerful mood - "are you free this weekend? Because i am , and I'm considering taking you out , how's that?" 

Unfortunately for you, the decision is not yours to make. One shake of Miranda's head reveals to you that you won't be going. She's busy which automatically means you are as well. 

"I can't..." - you begin to excuse yourself - "i have work, and you know I-"

"Oh come on! That old woman can't keep you on a leash forever" - good point, you hate to disappoint him again. But in desperate times , you need to make some choices that might not be always pleasing. 

"I'm sorry, maybe next time?" 

You hear a scoff, and for some reason you search up Miranda's eyes for support. She steps in closer , making sure you know she's there for you. 

"It's always next time" - his voice slowly fills with poisonous anger - "and when it's that going to fucking happen?" 

"No need to curse" - now that he's being louder, you're sure Miranda can easily overhear your conversation. And her messing in your are failing relationship is the last thing you want. 

"I'm so sick of you" - his words strike your heart like metal blades. 

"Philip-" 

"You get mad when we're not spending time together but when i propose to do something together you always refuse!" - his screaming is now uncontrollable - "well I'm sick of it!" 

"Just calm down" - you're not fond of his fast aggression trait, at all , he's always doing or staying stuff he doesn't mean and then he's sorry for them. In the past he at least apologised. - "please, just-"

"You know what?" - he scoffs again - "fuck this, i know how to have fun on my own" 

The line cuts off just before you can talk back to him. You grip the phone harshly in your hand while biting your lips in anger. Perhaps you would let the tears gathering in your eyes and the burning feeling in your throat roam free in your offended state if Miranda wasn't right next to you.  

You know she already doesn't like you, you don't want to let her see you on your lowest. 

"Are you alright?" - the last thing you imagine her doing is asking you this. Caring about you. 

"It's nothing" - your lies burn your tongue - "my boyfriend is just-"

"Ungrateful?" - she suggests. 

"That , he is" - you confirm. 

"But that's not the thing that's making you this..." - her eyes quickly scan your body, from top to bottom - "vulnerable..." 

"It's not" - you agree , as if enchanted by her words - "I'm just scared he'll easily replace me" 

"Why not replace him first?" - a tempting suggestion, but not for you. 

"If i do , if i decide to break up with him" - you pause, gathering your thoughts and connecting them into the right sentence - "all those years I've spent with him will seem pointless" 

"But if he does it then it's alright.." - Miranda murmurs , there's something in her voice that you can't name , something personal.- "tell me , darling, is he cheating on you?" 

She thinks that's the reason you can't let go? Is that really the reason? Is yours even valid at this point? 

"No" - you quickly say , however unsurenes changes your answer in the flash of an eye - "i mean - I'm not sure. He's always so distant with me, like he doesn't really care but i know...i hope he does." 

"And if you could get your answer" - she moves closer to you - "would you do it?" 

"To know if he's cheating?" - Miranda nods in response - "it's not possible to-"

"Hypothetically" - she cuts you off - "would you, darling?" 

Your answer is honest. 

"Yes. Absolutely yes." 

"Good" - she's pleased. 

A cry cuts through the thin , cold air of the mansion with ease, ending any shared words between the two of you. A cry devoid of pain but eager for help. 

It's practically almost impossible to react as quick as Miranda did. To turn on her heel immediately after hearing her daughter calling for her. Like an instinct. 

Only a few seconds later Eveline comes running into the room , followed by very clearly worried Eva. They are both panting as they stop thier hurried steps in front of Miranda. 

The girls both stare at you, Eva grimaces but her eyes shift at the same time with Eveline's towards Miranda. You're not needed in their situation. 

"Evie , what's wrong?" - her soft voice manages to convince the black haired girl to move her hands away from the sides of her face , allowing Miranda's palms to grab her cheeks - "what's that? Are you hurt? Show me."

She's careful, yet her something in her eyes shatters upon seeing her daughter's bleeding ears. A needle is still attached to one of them. 

"What have you done?" - she sounds concerned, anger has no place in the current situation. She gently removes the needle from her wounded flesh and kisses her forehead. Then she looks towards her other daughter - "Eva?" 

"How did you-" - she flinches , her shoulders roll back and she clenches her jaw, bristling like a cat - "in my defence , she-" 

"I'm not mad , just -" - she shallows , her words lost in her throat, at a moment like this Miranda is forced to choose a side between her daughters , she hates to lecture them - "how could you do that?" 

"She lost a bet , she said it was alright" - Eva has the coping mechanism to blame others for her mistakes, though she quickly realises thas - "she- , we just wanted matching earrings, that is all" 

"You could have just asked me" - Miranda's gentle hands stroke Eveline's hair , in an attempt to bring her comfort. 

"We did and you said-"

"Eva." - the woman has never used such a serious tone with her younger daughter. It makes both you and her flinch in suprise. 

"I'm sorry" - Miranda tilts her head towards Eveline, hinting that the apology should be for her , Eva follows her lead with a shy voice - "I'm sorry, Eveline" 

It doesn't take long for them to make up, especially with Miranda clear promise to take Eveline to get her ears pierced. Miranda's attention in talking to you, however, slowly gets lost around the mansion as you walk back to your room.

.

.

.

Later that day Miranda comes to you with an unusual request. The zipper of her dress is down and she needs an extra pair of hands to pull it up. You find it difficult to understand for why exactly she decided to come to you, though no complains slip from your lips as you do , in fact, help her. 

"Where are you going tonight?" - you ask in curiosity, grabbing a hold of her perfectly styled hair and carefully placing it aside. 

"Work" - again, her formal clothing is a little bit too much for work. You sigh. 

"Just work?" 

"Curious, are we?" - your fingers tingle in desire to touch her bare skin. Her back is weird. You can't decide if the black , curved lines on her skin are tattoos, or just a condition she can't handle. It fits her, on its own unusual way. 

You find yourself allured by it , by her , by your desire to explore with touch , with fingertips. 

Black suits her. Her dress is long, almost touching the floor, the bottom slightly flared, but hugging every curve her body snugly. The fabric looks soft , it shines in the light, and the pattern is intricate. The neckline of the dress is low, showing off her collar bones and a bit of cleavage. You can't miss Miranda's multiple earrings and necklaces, perfectly complimenting the look. 

She looks more than gorgeous and you're too sacred to admit that. 

You slowly drag the zipper up , she stands even taller with her heels. Not something you mind but it definitely makes it harder for you to fully pull the zipper up to her nape. 

"Thank you" - she whispers, then she processes to explain how she'll be late and how the dinner is already prepared in the kitchen. Her usual mom stuff. 

"Have a nice evening, Miranda" - you wonder if certain Mia is going to accompany her. But you reject that idea, it's not your right to think about this. 

Miranda doesn't come back home for the whole night. You know that because for some reason - you waited for her. 

***** 

Your phone rings again, for the third time in the past hour. Philip's name written on the screen. It's surprising how his pride broke just a few days after your last conversation.

You decide to pick up, but your gaze doesn't leave Miranda, who is currently listening to Eva talking about something that deeply intrigues her curious soul. 

They are in the same room right across from you, but far enough away in the other corner so that you can't really hear their conversation. 

"What do you want?" - you asks with a sharp voice, phone glued to your ear. 

"Can you talk?" - your boyfriend nervously, but surprisingly politely , questions you - "is this a good time?" 

"Does it matter?" - you snap at him - "speak." 

"Look um..." - he hesitates , you can clearly hear his nervous footsteps in the background, guessing he's taking laps around the room - "can we meet up and talk? It's important." 

"I've told you already - I'm busy" 

"I don't want to discuss this over the phone, darling please-" - he sounds really desperate, but your little talk with Miranda boosted your confidence a little, or maybe a little bit too much. 

"You lost your privilege of wanting and deciding already" - you can almost see his face from the other side of the phone, sense his shock. You know Miranda is smiling at you, as that burning feeling of being watched makes your heart pump harder - "and don't call me that" 

'Darling' is another privilege he lost during your last conversation together. 

"Fine" - he surrenders - "don't you dare complain about me not warning tho-"

"I don't have all day , Philip" - in reality, you aren't even busy at the moment. 

"Last night i went to have a drink with the boys" - he unsurely begins to explain, a hint of fear in his voice, of regret - "and i might have had a few too many glasses but there was this woman-" 

"Did you cheat on me?" - you strike the question straight up like a fast moving bullet.

"I was drunk!" - he defends himself - "but gods, this woman - she , she looked exactly like you i-" 

"I can't believe you've done that" - you grab your forehead, lowering your head along with the volume of your voice - "again, Philip, fucking again" 

"You're not listening to me" - he sounds absolutely pathetic, begging for you to let him explain - "she was like , like your twin. At least during last night, in the morning...that was a complete different woman , darling" 

"And why are you telling me this?" - you snap at him - "haven't i suffered enough because of you?" 

"Because she knew about you.I never mentioned you to her , but she- , god..." - your boyfriend's next works are maybe the only thing he has said to far that sounds so certain - "she told me I'm a fool for cheating on you, she told me i don't... deserve you, at all." 

"You don't" - there goes everything, all those years or friendship and later on romance. You can't even bare the sound of his voice anymore - "you truly don't" 

"I'm sorry" - an apology without change is manipulation. Philip is wrong. He's not sick of you, you are sick of him. 

You despise the poison he's constantly pumping in your veins. Not anymore. 

"We're over , Philip" - you hang up immediately, leaving him no time to react, let alone say something in his defence. 

You might look unbothered, but you are almost certain you can feel your heart shattering. It's a bit too much , the pain and regret. The unsureness and sadness building up in your eyes.

As you run out of the room , Miranda can't help the cunning smile urging to awaken on her face, still pretending to pay attention to her daughter. Her gaze follows you until you completely disappear from her sight. 

Not for long , she hopes. 

-

Anagapesis- No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved.

[literallyangelshaw]

Intro Post Redo

⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ 𓂃★ ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚

/) /)

(｡•ㅅ•｡)〝₎₎ Azzy's Intro! ✦₊ ˊ˗

. .╭∪─∪────────── ✦ ⁺.

Welcome dear <3, I'm Azzy!

I also commonly go by: Karma, Sabrina, Rayla and occasionally Angel

Here are the Basics about moi

- 16 years old

- Happily Married to my darling @spuffyfit

- DID | ADHD - Both have been diagnosed.

- They/Them, Nonbinary, Omnisexual

- Hellenic Polytheist; Hera Devotee

Now for Interests!

- Greek Mythology

- Audio Roleplay

- Astrology

- Fashion

- Crystals

- Jewelry Making

- And Much More!

Onto Fandoms!

- Redacted Audio

- Castle Audio

- Barbie

- Arcane

- EPIC the musical

- Murder Drones

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- And Many More..<3

And Lastly my other socials/blogs and my tags here on tumblr!

Literallyangelshaw on Discord and Tiktok

I also run an Audio Roleplay Channel of my own called Karmic Audios on Youtube

I also run several Roleplay blogs for a small multitude of fandoms

@ihearasimplemelody - My "Treasure" OC (Redacted Audio)

@verenasvicinity - My "Bestie" OC (Redacted Audio)

@ninjagosfinestandsexiest - Cole Hence (Ninjago)

@hermajestyqueenpenelope - Queen Penelope (EPIC the musical)

@goddessofmarriage - Hera (EPIC the musical)

@littlealphalena - My David/Angel Child OC (Redacted Audio)

@theywantnavi - My "Sweetheart" OC (Redacted Audio)

@forbiddenchaosincarnate - Anarchy, an OC (Ninjago)

And Tags!

Karmic antics - general tag, used for all my posts

Karmic writes - for writing, headcanons, fanfics, etc.

I'll make a separate post for tags eventually since I don't have many as of yet!

Thanks for reading dear, it was a pleasure meeting you <3

[ricardian-werewolf]

Ruleth England Under a Hogge

Chapter 3: Thus Saith the Lord

Summary:

Richard is forced at knife-point to come to terms with what his reign has meant for his only surviving child. Ensconced in the safety of engagement, Cecily finally gets associated with Ravka, its people, and the king's mysterious ailment that has come to her through unofficial channels only.

Notes:

TWS: Discussion of Eugenics, Fascism, murder, domestic violence, serious mental illness.

Tagging: @lordbettany @dreadbirate @rovinglemon

Waterloo Station.

Richard could only watch in wide-eyed horror as his daughter’s train pulled from the station without him.

Blood - from such a small cut! - spilled from his chest in rivulets. The armor had shattered the blade’s tip, yes, but the wound had still been made. His facade of indomitable strength had collapsed. Yet, only slightly. He had to make this a rallying cry, a declaration of war against Cecily and her household-to-be. Rubbing his forehead, Richard stepped into the shade of an alcove as his blackshirts swarmed to protect their king. Ripping open his shirt, he grimaced. The armor that his daughter had so assumed was merely an undershirt. The blade she wielded had been rusted by years of Flanders soil and so cracked when plunged into his flesh. Richard examined the wound a moment more then buttoned his shirt and tightened his tie. At once, breaking through the crowd, James Tyrell - a rat faced man with wicked eyes, came to his side. “Should we stop the train, your Grace? Have Cecily hauled back to London and tried as a pariah ought?”

If Tyrell had been expecting a yes , he was shortly and sorely mistaken. Richard gave him a dark look and then, backhanded Tyrell across the cheek. The silver of the signet ring on his pinky slashing a cut into the soft flesh. Before the man could think to cry out, Richard leaned yet closer and grabbed Tyrell’s collar.

“She will be allowed the decency to escape. Let her survive in a court where she knows not the language or customs. Soon, the errors of her sins will have her kneeling at my feet. With luck, I’ll have the foresight to cleave her head from her shoulders.” Chewing on a hangnail, Richard adjusted the lapels of his cape and strode across the station to his waiting car. He’d stood here just a few years ago, welcoming the young princes from their safe-havens. Then, he’d murdered them himself and the throne was his.

Settled in his seat, only then did Richard realize that Jeeves had fled. Seemingly operating on other orders, the long-suffering valet had rid himself of Richard’s pins, protection, and all honor. Sniffing, Richard lit himself a cigarette and watched the city-scape of London roll by. He had an upcoming dinner with the German ambassador to worry about. France’s attempts at Fascism had been so poorly accepted with the February 6th coup d’etat that Richard’s hopes of seeing a 4th Republic France bearing the Fasces was dashed. He had put money and hopes into L’Émeute des vétérans succeeding. But with this counter-revolt fought back by the anti-fascist parasites popping up all over France, fear began to coil in his gut. Maybe he would have the East End torched again. Another round-up of the new immigrants. Go about breaking down doors and hauling out dissenters. The camps in the midlands needed more…

Labor . Opening his briefcase handed to him that morning by his private secretary, Richard skimmed through telegrams, missives and more pieces of statecraft. However, his hand paused when he settled on a simple cream folder of manila titled simply:

Gnadentod.

England had a long history of Eugenics worming its way into the lexicon of the society, bolstered by Social Darwinisim, empirical superiority and blatant racism. Yet, this was more insidious, beneath the surface. And Richard had been the one to ignite it. Not to save his own wretched, twisted soul, but for Cecily’s. If the government and the state came for others, maybe they would overlook her. Maybe the deaths of thousands of other feeble-minded children and adults who weren’t adding much to the gene pool - more so polluting it - would save Cecily from the surgeon’s scalpel and reaper’s scythe. 

He could live with it. Perhaps he would even go and witness some of the roundups. Make speeches. Every word spoke to rile a hungry crowd of animals who wanted these people dead. Dissenters would be crushed. He could do that. All of it was just actions. Death took and took, distinguishing not the sinner or the saint. But as long as Cecily breathed, he was content. He would look the other way when mothers screamed at him to return their children. Let them take that grief unto their shoulders, a burden that would no doubt crush them like fine glass.

“Where to, your Grace?” His driver asked.

Richard grimaced. He could go after Cecily, break her into pieces no bigger than his thumbnail and feed her bones to his pigs, or he could stay. Staying behind meant continuing to drag England kicking and screaming into the era that it deserved. Losing Cecily meant that she could be easily corrupted by the Eastern influences of Communism. Yet, she was already far too mired in that mindset. He hadn’t been blind to her childhood training sessions in the East end, nor had he raised a brow at her reading The Daily Worker and The Communist Manifesto . What had come to a head was the General Strike of 1926, which Richard had brought out the police to crush. The army had given support, and veterans once more tore one another to pieces with bullet and bayonet. Cecily had been 26 at that point, and he’d spotted her amongst the strikers. A misplaced bullet to the spine would have cut her down. The shot misfired. The shooter was killed publicly outside of Saint Paul’s, and Cecily had been packed off to Middleham for the rest of the year. The public had howled hopelessly for their beloved Princess’s return, what with Edward’s death still so fresh-

Richard flinched . He’d not meant to kill his son. But the urge to, the sight of him so drunk and so stupid , had guided his hand. He regretted it, but not in the way a normal father might. He regretted killing such a fine piece on the chessboard of power. Edward had been set up to wed with one of Heinrich Himmler’s daughters, and that alcoholism had developed as a result. Something simply had to be done. Richard had taken the blade and the action. It would have been perfect only had Cecily not been there to see it. The shock of it, thank god, blotted out the incident to mere hazy fragments. Combined with the affects of her constant morphine usage to wipe out the memories of the trenches, she was in no place to remember much of anything . She’d been packed off to bed and in the morning taken up to Oxford as a surprise. There, she’d been stuck in Saint Hilda’s College and given the option to Read History.

She’d sprung at the chance. Richard had doubted that Cecily would survive her first term. She’d come out with first class honors in modern history. He’d hoped she would have failed her first year examinations. Yet, somehow… she’d not. Perhaps it was just stubbornness or anger or… His gaze turned to the window, which beyond lay the empty platform that’d borne the train to Os Alta via Berlin. Some part of him, that old fear, rose its ugly head. There was another reason for her survival. Something that had carried her through the years of pain, of misery. Nursed her wounds when everyone else had turned their back. Lehzen hadn’t been brought in until her breakage in 1929. This wasn’t some sort of childish affection, nursed between two young people. Love. True, affectionate feeling between two people who’d never met, yet written letters of a sort for years . The letter Nikolai had written to Cecily as an official opening couldn’t have been her first. Somehow, they must’ve figured out how to write while ignoring the censors. Richard gritted his teeth so hard that he heard the golden crowns of his back molars crack . Shaking his head, he pressed a hand to his brow and sighed. His driver waited with wide, expectant eyes. He still hadn’t given an order on where they were to go yet. Grumbling, he spoke:

“The Senate House.”

“Right away, your Grace.”

The car leaped at once into motion. The procession of armored cars, Rolls Royces and a motorcade all followed swiftly after their king. It was, he noted, uncannily close to how a hunting procession closed in on the prey. His fingers fiddled wordlessly with the wedding band. As the car moved silently through the streets of the City, he thought hopelessly of a woman with striking ginger hair and blazing green eyes that could arrest even the fairest of souls. However, within that love and longing, burned a hatred and a hunger to see her again. She’d once held a knife to his throat when the darkness had begun to whisper sweet words in his ears, and he’d laughed her off.

Now, he wanted her like some sort of starving animal. He’d exiled her to the furthest reaches of the empire, a place not even where his best spies could reach. She’d gone too, with his own lady mother. Good riddance to both of them, he’d cried to the air at the time. But now? 11 years had passed since he’d killed the princes. Cecily probably didn’t remember her mother nor her Grandmother. He hoped she didn’t. Desperately. How he hoped with all his heart that Anne Neville had met a painful ending on some foreign shore. How he hungered for their confirmations of death.

His fingers rubbed over the wedding band again, and he tugged it off. Holding it in his palm, he regarded the inscription. Loyaulte Me Lie. Richard rolled down the window as they were roaring over the Tower bridge, and tossed the tiny ring with its emerald jewels into the roaring swell of the Thames. Let some mudlarker find it. He would not let the past bind him to his sins. 

He settled back in his seat and uncorked a hip flask of malmsey wine which he sipped. The honeyed sweetness settled easily on his tongue and he sighed. Such was the life of a king.

Death followed him, sinking its claws into his shoulders and twisting his spine. Leaning back, Richard closed his eyes.

Not even sleep would bring him the peace of the virtuous.

Arriving in Ravka by train was an experience Cecily wasn’t used to. 

Her father’s diesel monstrosity pulled in at the central station inside Os Alta’s modern expansion sometime after the 10th morning bell. Cecily found herself being swept through crowds of passengers and tourists by two well-dressed army soldiers. Her trunks and bags weren’t torn apart for illicit items, instead gently inspected by two purple clad fellows that she knew were Grisha who were able to meld materials and chemicals. Refugees from the expanses of Ravka dealing with some sort of blight crowded the cow-pens, snarling at the customs officials about what the king was doing to address these issues. Cecily struggled to not clap her hands over her ears as the noise reached a deafening pitch.

“Your papers were pre-cleared, Moya Tsarevna, ” One of the soldiers murmured as he lifted a velvet cord and passed her off to his partner, who brought Cecily through a wooden side door. Quiet murmurs followed in her footsteps as the general Ravkans cast words over their new queen’s attire and hesitancy. Cecily turned to look back at them, noting the gold-work and architecture of a station built on the blind hopes of the Sun Summoner tearing down the Fold. The waiting refugees noted her in more detail, seeing the stag emblems on her coat and the armband at her arm. Some crossed themselves and murmured the royal prayer of Ravka, while others made signs of warding. 

She was a pariah and a Queen in one moment. How the tables turned. 

“W-what’s he like?” Cecily asked as she was nudged into a motor-car. The taller of the two soldiers, wearing a uniform more ornate than the other, asked;

“Who?”

“His Majesty, The Tsar.”

“Ah.” The man’s eyes glittered. “Eccentric. But, I sense you’ll be a good match.”

Cecily’s stomach twisted into knots as the car lurched forward in a cloud of blue smoke and roared through the streets. Cars hadn’t come fully to Ravka yet, and as such many peasants and nobles alike preferred horse and carriages as transport and conveyance. 

“The capital is set to get trams by the new year. See, Moya Tsarevna .” 

“Really?” Cecily breathed, craning her head. Her hat, affixed with a simple peacock feather and tilted brim, was clamped tight in her hand. She didn’t want it to blow off, and muss up her hair. She leaned out of the car and noted the cobbled streets that were being laid with tram-track. Her eyes widened in joy and delight at the blatant communist hammer and sickle draped from an apartment building and she looked out again for any signs of fascism. 

She finally remembered the officer’s name at last - Dominik Vertov, and turned to him, asking innocently: “Has fascism made its way to Ravka?”

“Not before you, your highness.” 

Cecily’s lips thinned and her hand slipped to the silver boar pin on her lapel. Of course. She wasn’t here just for marriage or to escape. Fascism had to spread to the people in order for this to work. But Nikolai must’ve had to know of her dissidence…

Unless he too harbored ideas of fascism? That thought made her shudder with barely contained fear. Returning her gaze to the window, Cecily watched walls of white stone rise up around them. They clattered through a former portcullis, over a stone bridge of the same dazzling white, and entered a whole different world. Where the outer ring of the city was similar to many of the villages her train had passed through, this was a city of well-paved streets, gardens and parks. Fountains gushing clean water marked central squares and she could see the signs and advertisements of department stores in the corner of her eye. No telephone poles reached skywards, nor telegraph lines, and she saw many homes with quiet mews behind their houses to store cars and buggies. 

“The palace gates are just ahead.” 

“Is this a Vauban construction?” Cecily craned her head up to regard the walls of this older city, noting the structure and almost star-like shape of the outer wall. Dominik’s gaze slid to the driver, who blinked in welcome surprise. 

“Yes, Moya Tsarevna. It was constructed sometime in the late 17th century, before Vauban died.” 

“He came this far east? Remarkable.” Cecily adjusted her cape’s collar. At her side, Lehzen squeezed her hand forcefully. Cecily smoothed over a yelp of pain and shot her governess a dark glare. She had been behind Cecily since they’d stepped off the train. She had no idea where her two friends from Berlin had gone. “I thought you were supposed to stay in London.” She murmured softly. Lehzen’s eyes glittered as she leaned forward and tapped Cecily’s chin with a clawed finger. Forget the dragon of a nursery story - Lehzen was a Goliath creature that would drag Cecily-Anne kicking and screaming into this Fascist idealization of a wedding. What was worst of all, however, awaited her in her trunks.

Staring down at the black uniform, Cecily bit back nausea. At her side, the two people she’d made the stop in Berlin to collect regarded the uniform with varying levels of disgust and horror. The man at her left lit a cigarette and tugged it from his lips. The woman to her right knelt before the trunk and fidgeted with the birch-wood edging. 

“Did… you pack this?” 

“No.” Cecily shook her head. “I didn’t ask for this. It’s…” She sighed and pinched her nose-bridge, causing her glasses to fall to the floor with a clatter . The man bent down to pick them up and Cecily smiled.

“Thank you, Gereon.” She murmured, wishing for the ability to speak German with no one able to understand them. Yet, Lehzen did, and her maids that she’d brought for Cecily did too. Gereon gave her a half smile, and returned to smoking his cigarette. At Cecily’s side, the woman - Charlotte - lifted the uniform from the trunk between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Well.” She examined the jacket and the skirt, noting the collar points on the jacket. Disgust marred her face. If any of them had their way, this would be kindling in the fireplace. Cecily longed to throw it there, but she knew exactly what would happen if Lehzen found out. Her back hurt enough already. More wounds would only worsen the mess that this was.

She examined herself in the mirror as Charlotte held up the offensive uniform. She’d worn the armband before, and hated it. Yet, this… this was different. The symbol wasn’t the flash. It wasn’t blue on white.

It was black on a white circle.

There was no lightning bolt, no reassurance of the monstrous that she wore was familiar. Fear curdled her tongue. Looking at Gereon, she whipped off her glasses and pressed her palms to her stinging eyes. She wavered on her feet for a moment, then almost pitched sideways.

Charlotte’s hand to her arm caught her. Cecily fell against the taller woman, sobbing. “I-I-” She breathed. “I can’t do this.” She wept. “I can’t meet him wearing that ! He’ll think I'm a monster, already corrupted.” Hysteria crept into her voice and she pressed her streaming eyes against Charlotte’s shoulder blade. 

“Or not.” Gereon reminded. “He has been writing to you since you were children.” He lifted her face and wiped her streaming eyes with a tissue. “I’m certain that he knows deep down, instinctively, that you wear a monster’s pelt because not out of following orders or some other benign, innate excuse to uphold the status quo.” He paused to give the armband a dirty, rage-filled look. 

“But because you, until now, have been offered no other choice .”

“No other choice?” She breathed.

“You were twenty-one when your father took the throne, yes?”

“Yes.” Cecily hiccuped as Charlotte fed her sips of tea from a crystal glass. “It was a few months after you and I met.” She turned her head to let Charlotte wipe her eyes more clearly, and stared at herself in the mirror. 

“Why does the flash not invoke the same response?”

“I believe you know why.” Charlotte murmured. Cecily nodded mutely. Of course she knew why . The fact it had been the symbol of English Fascism after the white rose was derided by her father wasn’t lost on her. She’d grown used to the symbol slowly. Like being boiled alive in a cooking pot as if she was some sort of amphibious creature. Too hot, and the panic would set in. A slow boil, and she would be dead before she could even scream. 

It had taken her mother, her grandmother, and her siblings. She was the last surviving woman in her family, the last child of her father’s lineage. 

And by that record, if she died, the female Plantagenet line died with her. So, she once more tempered the rage that roared within her to become banked coals, and steered herself to be dressed. The uniform was laid at the foot of her bed and she watched out of the corner of her eye as Gereon and Charlotte beat a hasty retreat. Lehzen and her ladies came in from the dressing room mere moments later.

“Now then.” Lehzen clapped her hands together. “Let’s get this over with.”

Loyalty binds me . Cecily thought numbly as she cast her gaze to the massive gold double-headed Eagle of Ravka that stood over the fireplace. She examined its claws, which held three arrows in one claw and the Tsar’s mace in the other. She wondered if the arrows being tied with the three ribbons of the Grisha orders meant anything. 

I am the monster. The monster is me .

I have brought Ravka’s darkness upon us.

Cecily did not open her eyes as Lehzen and her maids dressed her. She felt her hair being lifted from the nape of her neck to be crimped and waved. The sharp stink of aerosol spray hit her nose and she winced. A smack to her face stilled her. Her eyes popped open. Between the gaggle of liveried servants and Lehzen’s sharp face, Cecily caught sight of a ginger-haired woman pacing the expanse of her sitting room.

“W-who’s that?” She coughed.

Lehzen froze dead. Her face turned the color of spoiled milk, and she looked at the head maid in wide-eyed fear. Speaking rapidly in German, she hastened to the other maids. “Who let her in?”

“I did.” A voice rang out, distinctly masculine.

Cecily’s eyes, which she’d squeezed shut again, popped open. Standing in the doorway to her sitting room was none other than Nikolai Lantsov. He wore a simple black linen shirt and a richly embroidered waistcoat that hugged his waist nicely. His legs were clad in black velvet breeches embroidered with fire-lilies that flowed up the sides. He didn’t wear any stockings, allowing his calves to show off nicely in the summer warmth, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. Standing where he was with his hands pushing the doors of her room open, anyone would have swooned dead away.

Cecily merely grimaced.

She allowed Lehzen to button up the blasted coat and to stick her feet into a pair of jackboots. She couldn’t look him in the eye as the maid tightened the armband around her arm. Yet, she saw the way Nikolai’s jaw locked and his eyes smoldered with rage.

“Please, leave.” Cecily ordered the maids and Lehzen, who gave her a dark glare. However, amazingly, she assented . Cecily watched Lehzen reach for her sewing kit and sweep the maids out. As soon as the pocket doors had snapped shut, Cecily tugged the armband off, and kicked off the jackboots. 

Gereon’s words swam in her mind. 

Until now, You have been offered no other choice.

Looking him finally in the eye, Cecily calculated the mental load that seeing his betrothed wearing the uniform of the national socialists would cause. Nikolai’s eyes narrowed as he watched her throw the armband across the room, and his face cracked just enough for a smile.

“I had a suspicion that the portrait of you with your father wasn’t all you.” He murmured. Cecily’s eyes widened in welcome, if somewhat shocked surprise. He suspected beyond mere imagery? She was going to faint if he continued down this line of flattery that would have her no doubt throwing the engagement ring at his feet. 

“Who is that with you?” She asked as she cleared her throat to distract him from the rising blush on her cheeks. She leaned slightly to catch sight of the ginger-haired woman, wondering briefly if it was the Tailor Genya Safin or someone of the palace servants. Her gaze however, did not deceive her with created lies. As Nikolai stepped aside, Cecily found herself face to face with an almost mirror image of herself, yet with ginger hair instead of inky black, and emerald eyes instead of blue. Her face was set the same as Cecily’s, with the same small lips and fragile features, though the woman’s eyes burned with the same fire of small-sized righteousness.

“Cecily?” The woman whispered. “Cecily-Anne?” She came forward with the hesitant steps of one unsure of herself, and fell still at Cecily’s wide-eyed glance. Some part of her burned with angry tears, for it recognized the woman ‘ere her. That recognition was wrong , of someone she had not seen since her 5th nameday, a woman and name cursed never to be spoken or seen of again. She briefly remembered the sight of images of the woman before her being put to the torch, and her father’s tears over such a crime. But, then came the rewritings of love ballads containing her name, and even whole histories. “Anne Neville.” Cecily breathed wordlessly. “Mama.” The word slid from her lips without any attempts to check herself, and she startled at the sound. She’d not once cried for her mother since she had been five. Now… she was faced with the sight of her, clad in this monstrosity of cloth.

“My sweet, darling girl.” Anne reached up to touch Cecily’s face and Cecily jerked back, frightened. What was this all meaning? Had Nikolai captured her mother as a bargaining chip to ensure her marriage, had she hurt her? Had he gotten her grandmother as well? Had he tortured them? Hurt them in any way?

“Y-you monster!” She screamed, light crackling across her flesh like a whip-crack. She lurched forward, intent on doing anything, something to the Tsar. Maybe ripping his eyes out? Yes . Tear those pretty eyes from his skull and run him through with your knife . The monstrous voice within her chorused, baying for blood. The light within her surged and she rushed Nikolai, her hands locking around his throat, when the light within her exploded out in a blinding flash , and suddenly all went black. Looking down into his face, her fingers so close to the pupils she could see them dilate, her eyes widened as his eyes bloomed black , and his teeth sharpened to become jagged shadows.

What in the hell am I getting myself into? She thought hopelessly as the light exploded out of her a second time, and sent her flying through the air. She hit the ceiling with a sickening crunch , and fell back to the floor. Inky darkness swooped in on her, cradling her form with tender fingers, and she gave in easily. The pain of it all was simply too much to handle.

Distantly, she was conscious of two things - the first being that her mother was alive, and the second being that Nikolai was not all he seemed.

End of Chapter 3. 

[canetetienne]

Where: Olivier's Appartment When: Early morning, after the awards afterparty @mrofontaine

In the dimly lit alleyways of London, Étienne moved stealthily like a caged beast, his veins coursing with a storm of fury. From the moment he found out about Lisette, with clenched his fists, he knew this rage was different, raw, untamed. It wasn't just the betrayal by Olivier that ignited the inferno within him; it was a culmination of every slight, every injustice Lisette would have to encounter in the grasp of the savage Russians.

His heart pounded like a war drum, each beat fueling the flames that consumed his soul. The memories of Frédo's guiding hand, the one who had shown him a path among the shadows, now felt like distant echoes drowned out by the need for vengeance. Étienne had always prided himself on his restraint, on his ability to channel his anger into calculated moves on the chessboard. But now, it was as if the floodgates had burst open, releasing a storm of wrath that threatened to engulf everything in its path.

Every step he took towards Olivier's apartment, sent tremors through his body, a testament to the turmoil raging within him. The air crackled with his volatile energy; his usually composed demeanor was replaced by a primal brutality, his eyes blazing with an intensity that bordered on madness.

Étienne knew that he was stumbling on the edge of oblivion, that the abyss of his rage threatened to consume him whole. But in that moment, as he stood knocking on his friend's (a term so loose in his mind in that moment) door, he welcomed the descent into darkness. For among the wreckage of his shattered restraint, lay the promise of retribution.

As the door to Olivier's apartment opened, a chilling silence hung in the air like a cloud. Without a word spoken, Étienne's fist exploded from the shadows, connecting with Olivier's jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the blow sent shockwaves rippling through the room, shattering any semblance of calm that remained.

He didn't give the man a chance to react as Étienne's vice-like grip seized him by the throat, his fingers digging into skin like steel. With a merciless shove, Étienne hurled Olivier backward, his back colliding with the unforgiving embrace of the wall, the relentless pressure bearing down on him.

"You were supposed to look after her." He finally said through his gritted teeth. "Not fuck around with a low-life Rutherford." His voice, low and gravelly, carried a chilling undertone of menace. "You take what's mine, so you look after them." He'd never forgive for what happened to Lisette, the mother of his child, the mother of his adopted children. As Étienne's fingers tightened their grip around Olivier's throat, each digit like an iron vice closing in, crushing the very breath from his lungs.

In that moment, Étienne loomed over him like a vengeful specter. It was a primal fury, untamed and unyielding, a force of nature unleashed upon the world with no remorse or restraint. There was little restraint left in him not to murder the man in front of him, little reasoning to forgive, yet his grip loosened slightly, albeit not fully.

"A promise to you, Olivier Fontaine. Anything that gets done to her, will be done to you." Étienne, a man of his word, always honored his promises with unwavering resolve, each vow etched in stone and bound by blood.

[daisyachain]

Another axis for story description should be Homeliness vs Exoticism.

Homeliness: Some depictions of real or real-analogue places are rooted in an understanding of the logic of that place. Geography/climate is described as welcoming or at least non-hostile. Customs are treated as common-sense. Details of everyday life are accurate.

ex. Oofuri shows life in a major Japanese urban area with very little deviation even in the name of story convenience. The logistics of train rides, local landmarks, sunset, and distances factor into the plot.

ex. Infinity Train Book 4 sets its real-world portions in the Canadian music scene during like one of two 5-year periods in history when the Canadian music scene was ever relevant. Its characters’ backgrounds are rooted in two real-world demographics (third- or fourth-generation Japanese-Canadians whose parents grew up in internment camps, first-generation Korean-Canadians whose parents were displaced by the Korean War) and their backgrounds match (Ryan’s family are more assimilated, Min-Gi’s are less).

Exoticism: Some works depict settings with no understanding for why the community depicted came to exist in that way in that place. Worldbuilding doesn’t add up. Rules of culture aren’t explained and have no reasonable basis. Any questions about the setting are shut down or are answered with absurd responses. The setting is bizarre, hostile, impossible to understand, difficult to question. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; just as homeliness enhances realism or emotional connection, exoticism can enhance performance. Depictions of real-world customs are outright false, inaccurate, or twisted.

(loose) ex. 1990s-2000s DC Gotham City depicts a version of New York that gets razed to the ground every 6 months and never gets any new buildings. The people living in it are hardened criminals, child vigilantes, and also murder victims, with nobody apparently working in insurance. The city is full of glowing green chemical vats while also, apparently, being the home of the nation’s ruling class. There’s an evil clown there. The place is not meant to feel real, it’s a caricature of 70s NYC as depicted by conservative news channels. The real forces and pressures that created 70s NYC (waves of immigration from Europe in the early 20thC, hostile WASP power structures, the Cold War turning the federal government’s resources to overseas imperial conquest) don’t really exist except by implication.

ex. Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time has dozens of gimmick fantasy cultures that function by nonsense rules designed to waste the reader’s time and put female characters in situations that only he, personally, finds sexy.

In-Between: Then other depictions have a grab-bag of the two. Some rules about the setting are treated as normal, others are nonsensical or shown to be strange. There are outright mistakes, but there’s an effort at accuracy. Something like that.

ex. North American writers using the UK as a setting while writing with US colloquialisms and demographics.

ex. Pathologic, which scores full points on the Homeliness scale except for the treatment of the Kin characters, who are firmly on the Exoticism end of the spectrum.

Homeliness and Exoticism don’t have to be determined by the creative team’s ID. A lot of US writers treat the US with Exoticism by having 0 clue about the history of their country and writing about its customs without any sort of context or understanding for where they came from. Writers from one region can do enough research with enough good will to treat another region with Homeliness. The above Infinity Train example is a piece of work by a US team set in Canada that feels really homey from a Canadian perspective. Admittedly these are 2 really similar nations, but I’ve seen US writers fuck it up before. Can’t ever expect anything from those mfs.

[dcarsi-95]

Ideas for FNAF-Based Story

I’ve had this idea for probably less than a year now about making a story inspired by the Five Nights at Freddy’s franchise, as well as by Welcome to DreamWorld, a video story arch series on YouTube also inspired by FNAF made by YouTuber Rainbott, whose videos I definitely recommend checking out, as I find their story also mighty interesting.

Now, of course, this story of mine I’ve been thinking of making goes by the name of Fantazmoland, and it broadly focuses on one of the founders of this theme park called Fantazmoland experimenting on human souls and putting them into inanimate objects to give them life, and while the rest of the plot may be strongly inspired specifically by Five Nights at Freddy’s: Security Breach, I picture it going on an otherwise pretty original path, and I intend to elaborate on it more in a following post.

Recently, however, I’ve been having this other FNAF-based story idea that bears a plot structure pretty similar to the first three FNAF games, mostly games 1 and 3, as well as an element or two from Sister Location, as I’ll elaborate on in a little bit, and it’s probably not as original as I intend Fantazmoland to be, though I’ve thought of a few twists, and I’m not quite sure if I’m going to incorporate it into my Fantazmoland story or just make it a separate story of its own, but I’m hoping you guys can help me out with a little advice and/or some suggestions, and I mostly came up with it as a sort of coping mechanism.

You see, the idea for this latter story came to me not long after having watched this episode of the Roxanne Wolf and Gregory Show, and for those who aren’t familiar with it, it’s a VRchat video series in which Roxanne Wolf and Gregory share a YouTube channel and have many adventures, and in which Roxanne has assumed the role as Gregory’s adoptive mother as of more or less somewhere around the latter half of last year.

Now, as you may have already found by now, in that specific episode I’ve just mentioned, Roxanne briefly alludes to Gregory of a past instance in which she’d once tried to…*gulp*…eviscerate him; now, I don’t know exactly when this happened, as I haven’t seen all of the episodes so far—and I’ve struggling to work up the nerve to watch the ones prior to one in which she’d finally repaired after having been shattered—or for what reason (but if any of you are already familiar with this series, feel free to inform me), despite playing the role as Gregory’s adoptive mother, though I’d initially presumed that it’d happened somewhere during her shattered phase, where she was lacking emotions as well as any motherly feelings she held for Gregory that had been induced by a maternity chip that was then lost after she got shattered — but, of course, any episodes I’d watched taking place after she got repaired make to mention of such evisceration, and instead mention a completely different thing she’d done to Gregory during her shattered phase which I won’t waste time elaborating on, but was, in my opinion, not quite as bad as trying to gruesomely murder your surrogate child.

Regardless, I still found it pretty whack to think that Roxanne would stoop to such a low as to murder a child just because she lacked a maternity chip and didn’t perceive herself as a mother figure to Gregory, and wouldn’t have expected such a thing before. Even Glamrock Freddy in Roxanne’s apology episode expresses his surprise and disappointment towards Shattered Roxy’s actions towards Greogory (though, of course, he wasn’t referring to any attempts at murdering or disemboweling Gregory), stating that he “felt like Gregory was a safe one, and that [Roxanne] would never do anything to him, maternity chip or not.” And while this isn’t the case, as you’ve most likely have already seen by now, I’d sometimes picture Roxanne excusing herself in saying that she’d “never been a big fan of kids,” not that it’s any valid or justifiable excuse for attempting cold-blooded murder.

With that in mind, I’ve also then tried to imagine how she might’ve tried to resume a “normal” life if she actually had succeeded in murdering Gregory, trying to resume her usual routine of performing in front of other children, only to then think to herself, “Ugh, great! I now have to deal with more snot-nosed brats” and that it might then lead to something of a child-murder spree probably not at all too dissimilar to when William Afton had murdered all those children in earlier FNAF games.

So, as a sufferer of OCD, and thusly often facing frequent torment from such thoughts, I’d come up with a story that kinda goes along pretty similar lines, focussing on a serial child-murderer born from being stuck in a position where she’s forced to attend/cater to/deal with children for most of the time despite having a strong distaste for children; this murder spree, of course, being catalyzed possibly from having first murdered a child or a couple or so children under her especial care, more or less essentially holding the role as children to her, be they biologically born to her or adoptive.

Now, of course, unlike my Joe the Slasher story idea, this isn’t simply about a serial killer murdering multiple kids; there’s an additional twist to it, also. I’ve pictured the souls of the children this story’s focal killer had murdered come back to haunt her and seek revenge against her. So far, the structure of this here story seems more or less kind of a rip-off of the FNAF franchise (especially FNAF 1, 3, and Sister Location), as I’ve pictured it involving the children’s spirits possessing animatronics, mannequins, or other anthropoid figures resident to whatever establishment our main villain works at, probably killing other employees therein as they mistake said employees for their murderer, as she most likely had her face hidden with some sort of mask or something while she’d killed those kids in order to hide her identity, and said murderer ultimately facing a death not unlike that of William Afton when he became Springtrap, and likely also coming back in sequels in a very similar fashion also.

However, I’ve tried to add some tweaks and more or less original twists to my story in attempt to make it less of a FNAF-ripoff.

For starters, our main villain is female, and whereas William Afton was English/British, I’ve considered making my villain possibly French if not American; in which case I’ve even picked out a name for her: Guadalupe Moreau, often called “Lupe” for short. And while I know Guadalupe is more of a Spanish name than a French one, I figured it can be excused considering how Spain and France are pretty close neighbors anyway — plus, “Lupe” sounds pretty similar to the French word for wolf, loup (masculine-tense, anyway…), making a bit of a nod towards Roxanne Wolf as inspiration for this character. I’d also pictured Lupe taking on the disguise of a mascot character who is also a wolf, sorta like how William Afton had taken on the disguise of Spring Bonnie when he was murdering those children.

Also, even though I’ve pictured her as having an aforementioned strong distaste for children, I’ve also thought that that might not have always been the case, and that she might’ve even started out as a more enthusiastic mother (or, at least, enthusiastic on becoming a mother, if she hadn’t been one already) before attaining postpartum depression after giving birth to a couple of kids, which later drives her to murder them, and then later a kid or two of hers she may’ve adopted some time earlier.

I’ve also strongly considered giving her the distinguishing feature of having heterochromatic eyes, with one being blue and the other green, and possibly even having a twin sister who also has heterochromatic eyes but colored in a reverse order to those of Lupe’s — not exactly sure what this twin sister’s role would be in the story, though I’ve had the vague concept of Lupe impersonating her after possibly eliminating her one way or another, this kinda taking inspiration from the “Miracle Child” episode of the Harmony and Horror video series made by another YouTuber by the name of Battington.

As to what role or occupation Lupe plays in the establishment the story takes place in, I’ve been indecisive as to whether it be as an entertainer for the kids if not some music performer like Roxy (but then what might be the point in the animatronics there?) or at least some sort of attendee to the kids, or possibly being the founder of the establishment alongside her possible sister, much like how William Afton was the founder of Fazbear Entertainment.

Secondly, the setting for the story might not necessarily be at a pizzeria, but maybe instead some sort of burger joint, though I’ve lately been having the idea that it may be a daycare, having gotten that idea from a video my YouTuber cha.momilie called Barbara’s Daycare, in which case I’ve come to strongly lean towards the idea of Lupe being its founder, having at least once been an aspiring mother herself at the time of the daycare’s founding.

Thirdly, if it helps, it the story might not even have that analogue horror plot structure where its a bunch of fragments one has to piece together in the right way and the big reveal comes later, and may instead be related completely through Lupe’s perspective — or maybe the story does come with some puzzle pieces that can be put together.

I guess it doesn’t matter too much if it’s a bit similar to FNAF, because it’s not like I necessarily intend to profit off of it; it’s just harmless fun and a therapeutic way to cope with my troubling thoughts concerning Roxanne Wolf in that one YouTube video series.

So, any thoughts or suggestions for this story from you guys? Please leave a comment and let me know. I’ll be introducing more concepts to this in later posts.

[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour: Top 5 Reasons to Read WE’LL NEVER TELL by Wendy Heard!

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the TBR and Beyond Tours blog + bookstagram tour for the latest YA thriller from Wendy Heard, We’ll Never Tell! I’ve got all the details for you below along with my Top 5 Reasons to Read, so let’s go!

About the Book

title: We’ll Never Tell author: Wendy Heard publisher: Christy Ottaviano Books release date: 16 May 2023

An ambitious and juicy whodunit doused in Hollywood lore, perfect for readers of sexy summer thrillers like The Twin by Natasha Preston and The Agathas by Kathleen Glasgow and Liz Lawson.

No one at Hollywood High knows who’s behind We’ll Never Tell—a viral YouTube channel where the anonymous creators trespass behind the scenes of LA’s most intriguing locales. The team includes CASEY, quiet researcher and trivia champ; JACOB, voice narrator and video editor, who is secretly dating EDDIE, aspiring filmmaker; and ZOE, coder and breaking-and-entering extraordinaire.

Now senior year is winding down, and with their lives heading in different directions, the YouTubers vow to go out with a bang. Their last episode will be filmed at the infamous Valentini “murder house,” which has been left abandoned, bloodstained, and untouched since a shocking murder/suicide in 1972. When the teens break in, they capture epic footage. But someone trips an alarm, and it’s a mad dash to get out before the police arrive—at which point they realize only three of them escaped instead of four. Jacob is still inside, slain and bleeding out. Is his attack connected to the historic murder, or is one of their crew responsible?

A week of suspicions and cover-ups unfolds as Casey and her remaining friends try to stay alive long enough to solve murder mysteries past and present. If they do, their friendship may not survive. If they don’t, the house will claim more victims.

Add to Goodreads: We’ll Never Tell Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | Indigo | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Wendy Heard is the author of suspense and thrillers for adults and teens, including THE KILL CLUB, SHE’S TOO PRETTY TO BURN, and DEAD END GIRLS. Wendy has spent most of her life in Los Angeles, California, which is on fire more than she would honestly prefer, and can often be found haunting local hiking trails and bookstores. She loves all things vintage and has a collection of thrillers and adventure books from the 80s.

Connect with Wendy: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | TikTok

Top 5 Reasons to Read

1. We’ll Never Tell is the kind of YA thriller that keeps me coming back to the genre!

2. The tension ratchets up slowly from page one until I was flipping pages so quickly I had to go back to make sure I didn’t miss something.

3. Wendy Heard (can’t believe this is my first book by her!) had me bouncing back and forth with theories about what was going on the entire time to the big reveal, which I love when an author can do.

4. In addition to the thriller aspect, We’ll Never Tell also tenderly examines grief and the impact of trauma, specifically the loss of a parent, on a child and those around her.

5. The book also explores generational trauma and the idea of whether we are destined to repeat the past mistakes of our ancestors.

6. Bonus reason: I absolutely loved the connection to old Hollywood (even though “old” in this case is, like, 3 years before I was born, lol) and the inclusion of news clippings and letters!

RATING: 5 stars!

**Disclosure: I received an early copy of this book from the publisher for purposes of this blog tour. 

Make sure you check out the bookstagram tour too! You can find my post here, and the full schedule is here.

[widowed-mistress]

Do I have an obsession, yes?

Is it getting bad because I can't write dialog and have little to no stories on ao3 with this concept? Yes! Will I fix the issue? Also no!

Here we go!!

Why More Steve Harrington is Finney Blake Stories Should Exist:

1. As is, Finney Blake and his sister have a power that basically makes them oracles or profits. Imagen him dressed to the nines in an outfit that embodies that, you're welcome baby girl Steve Harrington believers.

2. His horrible experience with the Grabber would provide a solid outline for the harsh words he uses in season one while also making his return to goodness one that makes sense. He was wildly abused in his hometown, so he aimed for the top when he was given a chance to start over without ever actually laying his hands on someone. When he realizes he's become what he hated most, he works to redeem himself.

3. Ghost children. Ghost children follow him around, why do you think he handles the party so well?

4. There are several deaths in Stranger Things that never get brought up again, so I will. His home is now a safe haven for all those lost souls. I want him to make amends with Barb, I want him to hold Max telling her everything Billy saying he wished he told her with such confidence that she finally believes him. I want that.

5. I want him to be able to channel ghost energy. That's it. Imagen him summoning spirits of past experiments to help hold the Mind Flayer back when it went to attack Billy.

6. His arm is mint. Okay, losing a fight to Billy? Understandable. Loosing a fight to Jonathan? I love my him, but no. ESPECIALLY when Steve can bat a fucking demadog easily. This man was holding back because the last time he truly fought, he killed a man.

7. There are so many ways he could have ended up in Hawkins.

Gwen was murdered by someone who suspected her of working with the Grabber because of her inside knowing to the murders. The parents of their mother then offers their home in Hawkins as long as the dad works for their company, wanting to do right by his child and wanting a fresh start, he says yes. The name gets changed to fit their higher image and Steve is left in the mansion alone, a bargaining chip for his grandparents to show that they are in fact caring for the family of the lost daughter.

His aunt and uncle take him in, but not Gwen for sexist reasons, after their home is deemed unfit when questioning him about the Grabber.

His dad hits well with the life insurance and moves them to start away from the horrors that happened.

8. I want Hopper to be related to Vance Hopper, like cousins or something. That's it.

9. Imagen channeling ghost strength? Or even better him being able to communicate with El in that void because of his abilities.

10. If you want a song fic, fucking Bloody Mary is right there.

11. I want the angst of people around him reminding him of all the people he's lost. It would make his need to be needed even stronger. Moreover, his sense of devotion and desire to protect would be through the roof.

12. I really like the idea.

That's it, that's the post.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Death Nut Challenge: Truth or Dare Edition

AN: white boy with a lil habanero lmaooo

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend play truth or dare with a little twist

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Requested by my cutie pie @wittyjasontodd 😘

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

"Baby, come on! It'll be fun!"

"Babe, there is a picture of a skull on fire on the outside of the package. Your definition of fun and mine are apparently completely different. Can we just have sex instead?"

"Will you stop being a big baby? And later."

"But I'm your big baby."

"Jackkkk."

"Okay, fine. But you better have 911 on speed dial."

"You are so dramatic. But I forgot you Anglo-Saxon and shit and think pepper is spicy."

"If you put too much it is!"

"Shut your peanut butter chicken making ass up!"

"See now you being rude. That's an Anglo-Saxon delicacy."

"You love me anyway and you're lying. Now let’s start."

"So how does this work?"

"Okay so there are five different levels of hotness. Either you answer my question or you have to eat one."

"Seems easy enough."

You had bought two packages, one for you and one for Jack.

You simply slid them out of the package and Jack immediately made a face.

"They even smell hot."

"Where's Urban? I'm going to need him to film this."

Urban agreed to filming the two of you without a second thought knowing that his best friend couldn't handle anything spicy.

"Okay, Urb. Are we ready?"

He simply nodded as you started the video.

"Welcome to the death nut challenge featuring me Y/N and my Anglo-Saxon boyfriend...."

"Hey!"

"Yall know him as Jack Harlow though. And he cannot handle spicy food."

"I need a bottle of ranch right now."

You immediately rolled your eyes.

Him and his ranch obsession.

"Why are you so dramatic. It won't be that bad."

"Speak for yourself! I barely survived going on Hot Ones!"

"But you made it though. Maybe I should have asked Urban to do this."

"No! Come on, I'm ready."

You rolled your eyes and looked at the questions that people had sent into your YouTube channel.

"First question is for my big baby."

It was now Jack's turn to roll his eyes at you but then waited for you to continue.

"What’s the first thing you would do if you woke up one day as the opposite sex?"

"That's easy. Make sure the homies get some."

You rolled your eyes as you heard Urban laugh before passing the list of questions to Jack to read you the next one.

"Urb! Don't encourage him!"

"Okay miss mamas, what is the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?" Jack asked with a smirk because he knew what the answer was.

"Whaaa.... I gave you an easy one!"

"Answer the question mamas or eat one. I know the good girl persona is a front."

"Go ahead and answer, Y/N, now you got me curious." Urban replied from behind the camera. 

"Curiosity killed the cat!"

"And satisfaction brought it back, baby."

"Hand me the damn package. Can't stand your ass. Are you trying to get me arrested?"

"Nahh your 'this will be fun' head ass is mad now."

You forgot how competitive your boyfriend would get and how he never hesitated to play dirty.

"Jackman all imma say is don't go to sleep tonight."

"So now you're threatening me?"

"Maggie and Brian come get your child."

"Stop stalling mamas."

"Okay, okay."

You removed the first one and simply popped it in your mouth and began to chew while Jack was looking at you with wide eyes.

"You just ate that like it was nothing."

"I mean it was spicy but not unbearable."

"Hmm.... I'm about to win this shit because I don't plan on eating any."

You were losing.

You now had only 1 left in the package and wanted to kill your boyfriend.

Your eyes were red, but you were taking it like a champ and wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you distraught.

"Baby girl, you're looking a little red over there."

"Jack I will murder you if you don't shut up."

"Are those tears in your eyes I see?"

"You can barely see on a good day anyway, so the fact that you can see that is surprising."

Urban almost choked on the water he was drinking before busting out laughing.

"Nuh uh mamas. That wasn't nice! How you gonna do your man like that?"

"I be telling yo ass to wear yo glasses, but you don't listen. Bumping into things and shit."

"I'm not even that bad!"

"Says who?"

"Me! But I can damn sure find that pussy though."

"JACKMAN!"

"What?"

"Next question is for you. If I gave you a free pass to hook up with one celebrity, who would it be and why?"

Jack's eyes suddenly went wide as he looked over at you.

"I'm waiting big baby."

"Nah, absolutely not. You about to hang it over my head if I answer this."

"Just say it. I won't get mad." You responded while smiling and pinching his side at the same time.

"Ouch! Did you just pinch me?"

"No, first you can't see and now you're delusional."

"Look I value my life so hand me the package."

Once the package was in his hand, he picked up the first one and stared at it.

"Stop stalling."

"I'm coming, don't rush me."

"Stop making excuses."

Jack first licked it before putting the entire thing into his mouth.

Only 30 seconds had passed before you thought your boyfriend would pass out.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus. This shit is HOT!"

"It literally hasn't even been a minute yet. And why are so red all of a sudden? I guess that’s the Anglo-Saxon in you. White boy with a little habanero my ass."

"Babe, shut up! I need water."

"Urb, can you get his dramatic ass some almond milk?"

Urban came over and handed Jack the almond milk and Urban wanted to do nothing but laugh.

“Damn, she wasn’t lying. You are red as hell.”

“Both of yall get on my damn nerves.”

Jack drank half of the glass before looking at you with tears in his eyes.

“I’m not playing this game anymore. My ass is done.”

“Clearly, because that was only the first one and it wasn’t even that hot!”

“Just for that, I should put my mouth on your other set of lips. I bet you would change your mind then.”

“You not about to come anywhere near me until that shit wears off. You not about to have my shit tingling.”

“Are you really about to post this?”

“Yes, Jackman. We discussed that in the beginning. And it’s your turn to ask me a question.”

“Fine. Can we have sex now?”

“JACK!”

When Jack had finally got himself together, you went to sit on his lap and simply kissed his cheek. He gave you a glare and rolled his eyes.

"I am never doing that with you again."

"My big baby is so dramatic. But now that we aren't in front of the camera, who would you sleep with?"

"Y/N...."

"Well?"

"I'd rather eat 20 more than answer that. You about to put me on punishment if I tell you."

"Well, mine is Drake." You replied while shrugging and attempting to get up at the same time, but you were pulled back down as Jack looked at you in disbelief.

"WAIT, WHAT!?"

Taglist:

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@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

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@gbaabyyyy

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@midnight-star47

@jackharlowsbabe

[dungeonaspects]

Warforged Druid

"If you do not take the time to hear the birdsong, smell the pines, or feel the ground, what on earth is the point of living?"

The old world watches on at the inexorable march of time, the rise and fall of kingdoms, the structures built and the reclamation of the wilds. While not above interference, often it proves more hassle than it's worth since even a forest burnt to cinders will, of course, regrow vibrant and beautiful.

Yet something has stirred in the deepest recesses of nature, the unknowable force that guides all life has noticed something on the next horizon, the red star rises. For the first time in eons the powers that be reached out into the ether and found a soul that will retain the balance of life, the threat far greater than even the gods realise.

The soul was taken, softly, gently. The being it was had been washed away, the pure, innocent soul taken into the force of nature and given new purpose. The child was born of heartwood, the new bark as soft as fresh yew.

It stepped onto the fertile soil of the deepest forest, feeling the life beneath its feet, the birdsong reaching its ears, the scents of the trees on the breeze. It stumbled along the forest floor, watching the world in wonder, the sunbeams glistening through the canopy, the deer watching it curiously, snorting slightly as the child brushed over the fur completely unafraid.

The child doesn't know how long it wandered the forest, only that after the aimless walk and many cycles of light and dark it had grown taller, its bark now hard. It had met with dryads and satyr, learning some basic language and more ways of the forest.

It learned the ways of nature, to hunt, to live, to feel the will of the world in its purest form. It would live as each animal it saw until it learned everything it could, the wolves welcoming the strange biped as a member of their pack, the deer herd wary of the stranger until the child could walk among them without hesitation.

Once the child's understanding was great enough they could take on the form of each creature, something the child revelled in. Often it would exert itself to exhaustion trying to maintain the form of whatever animal it found itself captivated by at that time.

After so many cycles the child found itself on the outskirts of the forest, the familiar canopy vanishing above to show clear skies and gentle rolling hills. As it stared off into the wide open land a form stepped up beside it.

"There is so much to see out there little one, and I hope you see it all." Came a soft voice.

An ancient satyr stood stooped beside the child, a spear gripped firmly in their hand, they offered the spear to the child.

"A gift from myself, sung from the most ancient elder tree I know of." The satyr said, a slight quaver in their voice.

The child took the spear, it was light, the wooden edge of the blade keen, but the warmth of the haft comforted the child. Without looking back the child walked into the world, unaware of the satyr vanishing behind them, a single prismatic tear rolling down their cheek.

Some Ideas

With this character I felt that they should be innocent and wonderful, naïve about the world yet hardened by lessons few get to experience. I love druids but they become hard to channel their class when you need to investigate why a royal was assassinated when there's little link to nature etc.

With this character they are in tune with nature in a fundamental way but comes with an innate curiosity that can make them want to experience everything. They'll become a bounty hunter for the thrill of the hunt, slay a cult to be hailed a hero, solve a murder mystery because the mystery is so exciting.

Plus you can play them however you want, circle of stars as they observe the heavens, circle of the land (change the origin landscape to suit your chosen circle), circle of spores as the fungi sit within your wooden heart. I love circle of the moon myself but that's just my preference, I like the idea that the transformation also changes the form and nothing else, as in you have a living wood wolf or bird, feathers of leaves and claws of thorns.

In terms of wildshape I've always made sure my character and players spend time with the animal their trying to emulate, studying them, living with them. I dislike the idea, they saw a turtle once now they can be a turtle, get them to follow the creatures, learn their habits, their place in nature. It means you don't just sit on a stump in a forest and meditate, you hunt among the wolves, forage with the bears, stay wary next to your rabbit brethren.

I just like a curious little creature looking to experience the world.

As for deeper backstory bits the calamity that comes is of course up to the DM, talk to them about what would upset the balance of nature so much that nature itself would interfere. Also I do like the idea that your soul used to be something else, an ancient druid passing on who dedicated their past life to nature? Or maybe a soul destined for hell, given another chance to better the world?

The questions about your previous life can begin to conflict with your current self, having to explore this conflict with your DM and fellow players as you grapple with who you are. Perhaps some flashbacks are in order, dinner with a family you don't recognise, a flag you can draw but no one knows about. (You don't have to be from the current time, nature don't care, you could be from millennia ago).

As for the spear speak to your DM, I like to have an item from the past that you can link your character to, great for PC to PC conversations and maybe getting a weapon that can grow with you and have hidden abilities may let your DM go hog wild with development. Plus if your weapon breaks or gets stolen you aren't just happy to grab a new one.

As always all this is changeable, play this character how you want, a super efficient killing machine or a pacifistic innocent looking to better the world, or anything in between. I love when someone takes an idea as a springboard and takes it that bit further, and if you do please let me know, I love hearing about it :)

Art by: Jason NguyenPRO Absolutely stunning piece, the detail on the face and armour, how the leaves form the cloak. And oh god the spear is beautiful, elegant and dangerous. This is so fantastic, thank you

https://www.artstation.com/contests/ancient-civilizations/challenges/14/submissions/13640#submission-update-49355