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serialunaliver · 7 months

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"black cat girls" "golden retriever boys" what about us cotylorhynchus girls?

Cotylorhynchus is an extinct genus of herbivorous caseid synapsids that lived during the late Lower Permian (Kungurian) and possibly the early Middle Permian (Roadian) in what is now Texas and Oklahoma in the United States. The large number of specimens found make it the best-known caseid. Like all large herbivorous caseids, Cotylorhynchus had a short snout sloping forward and very large external nares. The head was very small compared to the size of the body. The latter was massive, barrel-shaped, and ended with a long tail. The limbs were short and robust. The hands and feet had short, broad fingers with powerful claws. The barrel-shaped body must have housed large intestines, suggesting that the animal had to feed on a large quantity of plants of low nutritional value. Caseids are generally considered to be terrestrial, though a semi-aquatic lifestyle has been proposed by some authors. The skull of Cotylorhynchus shows the typical caseid morphology with a forward sloping snout, very large nasal opening, a skull roof with numerous small depressions, and a very large pineal foramen. The latter is wider than long as in Ennatosaurus and thus differs from that of Euromycter which is subcircular.[2] The number of teeth in the upper and lower jaws ranges from 16 to 20. In the upper jaw, the anterior teeth are long and slender, while those behind decrease in size posteriorly and are slightly spatulate. All the marginal teeth have their distal end slightly inclined towards the interior of the mouth and the top of their crown each have three small cuspules arranged longitudinally. These teeth also show an enlargement of the central part of the crown.[3] In the lower jaw, the anterior teeth, not denticulate according to Olson, are shorter and tilt slightly forward. Other lower teeth are similar to those in the upper jaw. The postcranial skeleton is massive. The ribs are very long, heavy and curved to form a bulbous body. Ribs are present on all the pre-sacral vertebrae and the first caudal vertebrae. The five posterior presacral ribs are fused with the transverse processes of the vertebrae. The sacrum contains three vertebrae. The neural spines of larger specimens become proportionately taller, especially in the pelvic region. The limbs are short and strong. The femur is characterized by its proximal end having a broad shelf marked by a margin slightly overhanging the dorsal surface of the femur. The pes and manus are broad and short, and terminate in strong, sharp, and curved ungual phalanges which must have supported powerful claws. Muscle and tendon scars are very developed.[3]The genus Cotylorhynchus is represented by three species, the largest of which could reach more than 6 m in length. However, a study published in 2022 suggests that the genus may be paraphyletic, with two of the three species possibly belonging to separate genera. The genus name Cotylorhynchus comes from the Greek kotyle, cup, hollow, and rhynchos, beak, or snout. The genus was named so because of the nasal opening which is surrounded by a depressed, cup-shaped bony surface.[1] The genus Cotylorhynchus contains three species which differ in size and proportion, C. romeri (the type species), C. hancocki, and C. bransoni. In C. romeri there are two size groups which presumably represent sexual dimorphism. There is no size overlap between adults of C. romeri and C. hancocki, but larger specimens of C. bransoni have roughly the same dimensions as smaller specimens of C. romeri.[3] In 2022, Werneburg and colleagues suggested that the species C. hancocki and C. bransoni might not belong to the genus Cotylorhynchus. These authors consider that a detailed revision of these two taxa is necessary to clarify their status.[4]

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 2 months

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Tavros: iN CASE NOBODY TOLD YOU TODAY, yOUR TEETH LOOK SHARP, yOUR VISAGE TERRIFIES MEN, aND THE CROWN OF FEMURS ATOP YOUR HEAD IS DAZZLING

#homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #tavros nitram #mod terezi #thanks dude i needed to hear that today

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

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*hands over a pair of femurs of questionable provenance* How about a little Billy Baston effect with our favorite ghost kid? Danny finally accepts the crown as the High King of the Infinite Realms, but, as the crown is placed on his head, something happens. It could be he’s surrounded by an energy cocoon, regressed to his core, but whatever it is, it freaks out everyone except Clockwork. CW is the only one who remembers the last coronation, and reassures everyone that the Crown is just optimizing the strengths and mitigating the weaknesses of the new king before letting him rule. When the Crown is done, Danny’s ghost form looks like a fully grown adult in his early 20’s. BUT, when he changes back to his human form, he still has the body of 14 (or 15 or 16) year old Danny Fenton. Confusion ensues!

this.

this is so sick. Gotta love Danny having the physical body of Dan Phantom. That certainly doesn't mess with his psyche at all. none whatsoever. mhm. nothin.

#dpxdc #Reverse Captain Marvel in the best of ways #danny phantom #dc comics #dp x dc #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #doctormead

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strawberrylemonadeswagtourney · 11 months

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please give a warm welcome to the 64 contestants of the strawberry lemonade swag tourney, part two !!

we have 23 returning competitors and 41 brand new contenders vying for the crown ! starting on 07/05/2023, we'll start voting to determine which of these pink and yellow characters is the swaggiest of all time !!!

ROUND ONE MATCHUPS

PART ONE - 07/05 Phoenica Fleecity - Epithet Erased VS Yoomtah Zing - Epithet Erased Lickilicky - Pokemon VS Galarian Slowpoke - Pokemon Cherrim - Pokemon VS Shiny Weavile - Pokemon Dakota - Total Drama VS Sugar - Total Drama Geoff - Total Drama VS Jacques - Total Drama Princess Carolyn - Bojack Horseman VS Francine Smith - American Dad Kouign-Amann Cookie - Cookie Run VS Birthday Cake Cookie - Cookie Run Pastel Meringue Cookie - Cookie Run VS Butterbear Cookie - Cookie Run

PART TWO - 07/06 Dee Dee - Dexter’s Laboratory VS Helga G. Pataki - Hey Arnold! Amitie - Puyo Puyo VS Harpy - Puyo Puyo Ulala - Space Channel 5 VS Schall - Pop’n Music Iris - Pokemon VS Ortega - Pokemon Bonita Femur - Monster High VS Gooliope Jellington - Monster High Viperine Gorgon - Monster High VS Gigi Grant - Monster High Love Momozono - Fresh Pretty Cure! VS Ageha Hijiri - Soaring Sky! Pretty Cure Sayla Mass - Mobile Suit Gundam VS Satoko Hojo - When They Cry

PART THREE - 07/07 Pasca Kanonno - Tales of the World: Radiant Mythology VS Lilith Aileron - Tales of Destiny Poppy Pipopapo - Kamen Rider VS Regina George - Mean Girls Utena Tenjou - Revolutionary Girl Utena (Manga) VS Giorno Giovanni - Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Nui Harime - Kill la Kill VS Shirahoshi - One Piece Princess Peach - Mario Series VS Lucia Nanami - Mermaid Melody Ami Onuki - Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi VS Umbrella Renoir - Skullgirls Foxy - Ace Attorney VS Regina Berry - Ace Attorney Isabelle - Animal Crossing VS Pearl - Splatoon

PART FOUR - 07/08 Giovanni Potage - Epithet Erased VS Kazuichi Souda - Danganronpa Elise - Story of Seasons VS Miu Iruma - Danganronpa Kaede Akamatsu - Danganronpa VS Maribelle - Fire Emblem Awakening Effie - Fire Emblem Fates VS Forrest - Fire Emblem Fates Princess Eilonwy - The Black Cauldron VS Charlotte La Bouff - The Princess and the Frog Saki Tenma - Project Sekai VS Princess Zelda - The Legend of Zelda Hikaru Hoshina - Star Twinkle Pretty Cure! VS Mana Aida - Doki Doki! Pretty Cure Wanda - The Fairly Odd Parents VS Barbie - Barbie Franchise

#strawberry lemonade swag tourney #round one #mod post

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pyode-luar-ke · 2 years

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Could I request a fic with a reader who collects bones (or does some form of the taxidermy) (Personally I just pins bugs and make stuff out of bones)

I just think it would be a neat idea for a fic.

memento mori | gn!yautja x gn!reader

A/N: happy one-day-belated halloween!! 🎃🎃👻👻 this request had really good timing lol. very on-brand for the season. hope y’all had a good all hallows eve!! 👻🎃👹

i also think it’d be neat if a yautja were to ever come across a human who’s a taxidermist or otherwise has a morbid profession. i can’t remember exactly, but i’m fairly certain that yautja only collect skulls and spines, and just destroy the rest right? idk lolz, it’s my truth then

enjoy!

summary: comparing collections.

word count: 708

content: 18+, gn!reader, gn!yautja, no gendered pronouns, slice of life, established relationship, mention of blood/gore, mention of death

—

They do not understand your affinity for your craft.

All the exoskeletons of insects and beetles, fragile animal bones, bird feathers, butterfly wings... They do not understand why you collect them, why you pin them, why you create dioramas with them, why you hang them on your walls and present them with pride.

It is strange, they think, that you marvel at items both dead and inconsequential. It'd be slightly different if you hunted the creatures you displayed, but you don't. You do not have the honor of the kill. Instead, you forage for the bones, feathers, and exoskeletons— You call yourself a collector.

Sometimes though, you have access to the corpse of some Earthen animal— usually small, often easy prey. With the pelt and an armature, you stuff the animal back into shape, as if you are Paya and grant it a form of second life. They will admit that those creations of yours, the taxidermy, are their favorite.

But they still simply do not understand.

Yautja collect the skulls. Sometimes the spine. They do not concern themselves with the lesser, weaker bones— tibias and fibulas, phalanges, ribs, femurs, ulnar and radius', humeri— not to mention easily breakable parts like feathers or insect wings. Those are unimportant pieces, parts of the body that have no meaning, no purpose to serve for harvesting.

Those parts are easily broken, destroyed, or lost. They get in the way and take up space. Yautja especially find no interest in colorful beetles, degradable feathers, or incredibly fragile insect wings. That would be foolish.

The th’syra is the only part that matters.

And sometimes the spine— But that is besides the point.

Yet they find themselves grateful for your craft. Your profession allows for you to be less... disagreeable with their way of life.

You are no stranger to blood, gore, and entrails— The sticky, oozy wetness of the insides of the body when they are fileted or disemboweled to the outside. Nor are you to the dead, or death itself. It is all as much a staple in your life as it is theirs. Should the Black Hunter visit you, they would even go as far as to presume you wouldn’t be afraid of him either.

When they brought you a th’syra for the first time— a sterling white ooman one— you hadn’t blanched or fainted or had some other too-ooman reaction. Instead, your eyes ignited with wonder and awe, and when they placed it in your strange, soft hands, you kissed its crown and said, “Thank you.”

That was when they knew you were their lifemate.

Yautja hunt. They kill and maim and take trophies and build their honor. The bones they take are sturdy, durable— The th’syra is symbolic of Paya. First and foremost, they are offerings to Her. To win many is to garner Her favor and success for future kv’var.

You collect. You create for aesthetic purposes. Your bones, feathers, and insects are meant to be reminders of what once was, morbid nostalgic memories of animals that have lost their living breath. You give the dead a new purpose. They pose, lifelike, on your walls or are pinned in clear boxes.

It is strange, they think.

They watch as you place a preserved butterfly on their trophy wall. It is pinned perfectly against the bamboo back of the shadow box. The butterfly is wholly intact and undamaged, as if you’ve simply frozen it in time.

It goes in the spot where they’ve designated it to go: Next to their kiande-lou-dte’kalei th’syra.

So strange, they think.

“Here.” You are smiling, your hand is outstretched to them. They look, and you are holding a small skeletal creation, made from miscellaneous bones and twine. Their mandibles click, and they take the gift from you, their claws scarcely brushing the soft flesh of your palm.

The strange bone gift is easily breakable, fragile, and inconsequential, but to them it has all the meaning in the universe. It is sacred, holy— You breathed new purpose like life into it.

You smile when they whicker, content. You flash all the teeth in your mouth, and they should feel challenged, but they are not. They are too happy to care.

They want to see more.

—

yautja translations

Cetanu → The Black Hunter, Yautja death god kiande-lou-dte’kalei → Xenomorph queen kv’var → hunt/s ooman / oomani-di → human / human female Paya → Yautja creation goddess th’syra → skull/s

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #yautja fanfic #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja x human #gn!yautja #gn!reader

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neptuniadoesstuff · 17 days

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"Queen of Thorns"

(TW/CW: Some bl00d)

Yeh more art of the Kasikah ver of Phen 228. But this time I drew on paper. (Aka the weird line art thing from yesterday)

Anyway uh... context, in Kasi's SV Lore, they are refered to as the Queen of Thorns (& a mother of many children) also bcs Phen kinda has a crown of Thorns in the original image, so, why not make this drawing. (Not on digital tho bcs I'm unmotivated to draw on digital as hell)

I kinda made this bcs I wanted to bcs the 'Mother Phen" AU takes place in SV. (While not really Canon to it, it's kinda of a goof AU I made up bcs in its clear that, Phen is NOT A MOM NOR A QUEEN OF A CULT nor is Kasikah a demonic entity that consumes yur spine & makes have locked in syndrome)

Anyways imma prob draw more pics with this weird ver of Phen 228 I made. (Plz don't get mad at me)

Character: Kasi!Phen (Aka just Kasikah as Phen 228)

Art: Mine.

No program bcs this is 100% traditional art.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my Blog's pinned project clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PEASE CREDIT ME!

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jgmartin · 11 months

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CACKLE HILL

[TW: graphic, gore]

The house sat as a broken, teetering tribute to the dead, perched atop Cackle Hill like a crown of rotting lumber. It was an old property. Shambling. Many years ago, it belonged to a wealthy aristocrat named Erich Cackle. The story goes that Erich had a taste for delicacies. He imported fine foods from all around the world, everything from snake wine to escargot.

Why?

Well, he loved to taste things. He delighted himself with new flavors, new culinary odysseys. At one point, he decided to try human meat. And at one point, he decided that he liked it very much.

Today, it’s estimated that over a hundred different corpses litter Cackle Hill. It’s officially recognized as a burial ground. A final resting place for a legion of people with no name and no history, no record of their existence besides the occasional femur rising from the dirt. One Halloween in 1989 though, Cackle House added a new page to its book of nightmares. A page that our town would never forget.

That night, four children climbed the hill. They crawled through the thickets and thorns that encircled the mound, and then crossed into the home of Erich Cackle himself. The infamous cannibal. All four of those kids? Massacred. They’re still finding pieces of them today.

Ever since, the house has been closed off. Out of bounds. The authorities claimed it was out of respect for the deceased, for the dozens of unmarked graves that covered the property, but the locals knew better.

The locals knew that Erich Cackle had never been tried for his crimes. They knew that he lived a full life, one with blood on his hands, hair in his teeth, and human flesh in his stomach. They knew that despite being dead for over a hundred years, Cackle still lived in his old house. They knew he watched the town from atop his hill– that he hungered for that most exquisite taste that he could no longer have.

Or at least, that’s what you’d hear on the playground. Around campfires. It’s what your older brother would taunt you with before turning off the lights for bed.

Stories like that were, and still are, magnets to children. I think that’s why our parents constantly regurgitated warnings to avoid Cackle Hill, to steer clear of it at all costs. But urban legends have a special pull on the sixteen-and-under crowd, and one night, many years ago, my friends and I learned we weren’t immune.

I think that’s why we did it, really. The three of us.

I think that’s why we crawled through the bramble that encircled the hill, why we suffered the thorns that pressed in on us like a barbed-wire fence, and braved the house of a cannibal on Halloween night. I think that’s why we made the worst mistake of our lives.

The passage up the hill was awful.

The thick bramble blotted out the moon like curtains to a window. We navigated by feeling alone with Landon in the lead, Wendy behind, and me in the rear.

A blanket of thorns pressed us down, preventing us from being able to even crawl. Instead we slid across the ground like worms. My heart worked overtime as my muscles burned, each movement more difficult than the last. It took us over an hour to make it up the hill, and once we did we needed another ten minutes just to catch our breaths.

As we did, we realized how isolated we were. At the top of the hill you couldn’t hear the cars zipping along the streets below, and even the army of trick-or-treaters looked like little more than smudges as they marched back home for the night.

It was just us there, all alone at the top of the world.

Well, us and Cackle House.

It stood twenty feet away, a tall, teetering structure with a crooked shadow. The front of it was adorned in broken windows and rotting wood. Its walls, now sagging and crumbling, looked to have once been painted white, but all that remained of that were chips of discolored beige.

I pulled my jacket tighter about myself. It suddenly felt cold. Frigid.

“I didn't think it was possible," Wendy remarked, "but this place feels even more haunted than it looks."

Landon smirked. “That’s just what they want you to think,” he said. “Dead people are just bones in the dirt, Wend. There’s no such thing as ghosts. My brother told me the only reason they say all of that stuff is because there’s actually a lot of valuable junk inside Cackle’s house– they just don’t want kids looting the goods."

Goods or not, it was hard for me to imagine looting anything from that house. It was a tight enough fit coming up here with just the clothes on our backs, let alone getting back down with a backpack full of antiques. The thorns had already cut my arms to ribbons.

“Whatever,” Wendy said. “Let’s just hurry up and get this over with. This place gives me the creeps!”

Landon rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a girl. Man up."

She planted her hands on her hips. "Ever notice how it's always the women who survive in horror movies? Maybe it’s because we're not idiots."

"Whatever you say," he said with a laugh, digging in his pocket and pulling out a flashlight. He flipped it in his hands. "If I was in a horror movie I'd probably outlive everybody– monster included.”

"Oh yeah?" I said. "And how's that?"

“Because,” Landon said simply, turning on the flashlight. “I always come prepared.” He stepped up to the battered front door and gave it a tug. It opened easily, inviting us with a low groan. He craned his head inside the doorway, sweeping the light around as if to make sure the coast was clear. Then, satisfied, stepped into the darkness.

I followed.

Inside, it was a mess. Cobwebs lined every corner of every ceiling, and what walls weren’t decorated in peeling paint were covered in faded graffiti. Beer bottles lay strewn about here and there. Old ones. Probably from a couple decades ago, back when the bramble wasn’t too overgrown to traverse. A scatter of chairs filled the dining room, three in pieces and spread out across the floor, and another bo-wlegged and weary, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Dust covered everything. Bugs skittered across the countertops, spiders and cockroaches alike, standing guard over a row of black-and-white photographs. Still lifes from a different time. One photo pictured a smiling man, his teeth a snaggle that jutted out in odd directions. The man’s eyes were sunken. Hollow. His fingers were long and skeletal, draped over the shoulders of two sullen-faced girls.

“That’s him,” Landon muttered. “Erich Cackle himself.”

Wendy shivered beside me. “Ugh. He looks even creepier than I imagined.”

I had to agree. There was something about the photo that made my insides squirm. Maybe it was the empty look in Cackle’s eyes, or maybe it was the fear that seemed to dance in the eyes of the girls. They looked uncomfortable. Deeply so.

“Those are probably girls he ate,” I said, my stomach turning. “Do you think they had any idea what he was going to do to them?”

Landon pulled open a drawer in the next room over. The kitchen. “Probably,” he said loudly. He appeared around the corner with a rusty carving knife, waving it around with an expression of mock-derangement. “Think he cut up any kids with this? Looks rusty. Could’ve been he never cleaned the blood off.”

“Oh, come on!” Wendy groaned. “Seriously, Landon. People were murdered in this house and you’re making more insensitive jokes than my dad. Put that thing back.”

“What, Wend?” Landon said with a cheeky smirk. “Everybody knows that Cackle loved chowing down on kids. Have you read his journal clippings? I found some online, and in one of em’ he said he thought kid meat was juicier than steak and twice as delicious.”

“Ew,” Wendy said, crossing her arms. “That’s disgusting. Even for you.”

Landon brought his arm to his mouth, and pretended to give it a chew. “Yum!” he said. “You guys want a taste?”

A clatter sounded from down the hall. My heart leapt into my throat, and I turned gazing down the dark corridor, terrified I was going to see Erich Cackle’s ghost.

“What’s up?” Landon asked me, taking his arm out of his mouth.

“Did you hear that?” I said.

“Hear what?” Wendy said, shaking her head.

“Be quiet for a second. Listen.”

We stood in silence. My ears strained, doing their best to parse through the pitter-patter of roving insects and the unremarkable groans of an old house settling. “It sounded like somebody dropped something,” I muttered. “Like they bumped into a table, and something fell off of it.”

“Ghosts? Oh, hell yeah!” Landon flipped the carving knife in his hand and tossed the flashlight to Wendy. She caught it with a frown. “Don’t worry,” he laughed. “If Cackle jumps out at us, I’ll gut him like this.” He pantomimed shoving the carving knife into his stomach, complete with a goofy, tongue-lolling expression.

Wendy groaned.

Air touched my neck. A soft breeze– but warm and humid. Like somebody’s breath. I gasped, wheeling around fast enough that I stumbled into Wendy.

Landon snickered. “Oh come on! Not you too, Ian. See what you’ve done, Wendy? You’re scaring him.”

Wendy shot him a scathing look. She turned to me, put a hand on my shoulder, “Is everything alright? You look stressed, Ian.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just… Don’t like spiders. Thought maybe I felt one land on me.”

“I don’t see any,” Wendy said, checking me over helpfully.

“Thanks.”

Landon heaved a sigh. “Alright, maybe you guys are right. I thought this place would be a little more haunted house and a little less… well, drug den.” He kicked an old beer bottle into the wall and it shattered. “This place is kinda just a giant moldy dump, isn’t it? Tell you guys what, why don’t we check out Cackle's bedroom, and if that’s a dud– we can head out.”

“Fine,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes. “Hurry up and get this over with. The longer we spend here the more I think I’m gonna get bit by a rabid racoon.” She pushed past him and opened a door at the end of the hallway. “Well?” she said, tapping her foot expectantly.

Landon shrugged, then took off toward the door. I followed him.

But then something hit me.

I doubled over, retching. The stench from the open door was unbearable. Rancid. Grotesque. It smelled like a blended mix of pig shit and perfume. I pinched my nose shut, gagging as I looked up at Wendy and Landon. They looked at me like I was having a fit.

“You don’t smell that?” I asked, grimacing.

They exchanged looks. Wendy shook her head. “No, I don’t smell anything– well, nothing new. Sorry, Ian.”

"Maybe your gigantic nose is just better than ours?" Landon offered.

“Oh screw off,” I grumbled, stepping toward the bedroom. "Let's just get this over with."

Landon grinned.

Cackle’s room wasn’t the mess I expected, but it certainly wasn’t in great shape. At its center was a large bed, draped in old blankets covered in fungus. Cockroaches roamed across the surface. As Landon swept his flashlight over them, they spread and scattered, disappearing off of the bed and beneath the floorboards. Wendy shuddered. “Disgusting…”

On either side of the bed loomed two large dressers, both finely carved. On top of them sat a forest of beer bottles. In the far corner, tucked away in a mess of cobwebs and dust, stood a tall mirror. A crack ran down its center. Curious, I decided to give the mirror a closer look, but the closer I got the worse the putrid smell became. My stomach twisted. The scent bordered on unbearable.

“Alright,” Wendy muttered. “There you go, Landon. We saw the bedroom and there’s no ghosts. Let’s go.”

“Hang on,” Landon said, passing her his flashlight. He slipped past me to more closely examine the mirror. He stopped in front of it and cocked his head to the side, gazing at his dusty reflection with strange fascination. He stood like that for several moments. Then his head snapped forward and he stared at the floorboards. He tapped his foot against one. It groaned. He tapped another, and this one replied with an echo.

“I think there’s something under here,” he said softly. He lifted his foot, then smashed it down on the suspect floorboard. Once. Twice. The board warped, but it didn’t break. He frowned.

I shifted, beginning to feel uneasy. “C’mon, man. We don’t need to trash this place any more than it already is. Let’s just get outta here.”

“One second,” Landon said, brushing past me and snatching the flashlight from Wendy. “Let me see if I can find a hammer first.”

Before either of us could protest, he was gone. His footsteps creaked along the twisting hallway before fading entirely. Wendy and I stood in the dark. I don’t think either of us dared to move, not when we’d already seen a handful of used needles scattered around the house. The only light we had came from scraps of moonlight, fractured and broken, filtering in through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

“Okay fine,” I said to her. “You were right. You’re always right. This place? It’s a total creepshow and we shouldn’t have wasted our time coming up here.” My nostrils ached with the smell of something rotting.

“I know,” she said tersely. “But you know how Landon gets. Once an idea enters his head, there’s no talking him out of it– we’ll just let him see what’s under the room, and then we’ll leave. Last thing we need is him throwing a hissy fit.”

“Good point.” The two of us stood there in silence, waiting seconds that turned into minutes that soon began to feel like hours. I didn’t know what Wendy was feeling. I never thought to ask. But I knew what I was feeling– terrified. I’d felt a creeping dread since first stepping into that room, and it had only gotten worse.

A creak of footsteps sounded from down the hall, coming our way. A flashlight glow appeared on the open door, growing brighter, casting a larger, more looming and twisted shadow as Landon neared. When he stepped back into the room, he looked odd.

It was his face, I think. It seemed different. It’s hard to describe, but the carefree aloofness I’d known in Landon since preschool was missing. Absent. Something had replaced it, and that something was calculated, serious.

“Ready?” Landon said, in a voice not at all his own.

Don’t trust him.

I whipped around. I’d just heard something… a voice, speaking to me. It wasn’t Wendy. It was a man, but I couldn’t place it for the life of me. My eyes scanned the bedroom. They drifted over the shadowy bulge of the bed, the towering dressers and then settled on that mirror. That awful mirror. It made my skin crawl just looking at it and then–

“Jesus!” I exclaimed, stumbling backward.

“What’s wrong?” Wendy asked, following my gaze to the cobwebbed mirror. “Was it another spider?”

I shook my head, my voice sputtering and panicked. “No. It was… It was a reflection, I think. I swear I just saw eyes in the mirror watching us.”

Landon clasped my shoulder, squeezing hard. “Poor Ian just needs a break from the scary bedroom. He can go down first.”

“What?” I said, feeling disoriented. My mind was still reeling from the shadow in the mirror. “Why me?”

“You're the tallest,” he reasoned. “Since we can’t tell how far the hole goes down, you’ll have the shortest drop.” He gave me an uneven smile. “Safety first, right?”

I looked at Wendy, but she knew as well as I did that Landon wasn’t one to be talked out of a plan. I sighed. The sooner I did this, the sooner we all left. “Fine,” I said, holding out my hand. “But I want the flashlight.”

“Sure,” he said.

I reached for it.

He pulled it back. “Not yet though. I’ll throw it to you once you drop down. I don’t want you falling on top of it and breaking it, not when we still need it to get out.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Landon didn’t seem at all like himself. This version was cold, indifferent, and uncomfortably calculating in ways I’d never seen my best friend act.

“He has a point,” Wendy said in a small voice. “Don’t worry, Ian. I’ll make sure he tosses it.”

“Whatever,” I said, shaking my head in exasperation. “Have it your way.”

Landon’s mouth split into a wide smile. He dropped to his knees and lifted his hammer over the floorboards. It came down with a deafening crack. The wood, old and rotten, splintered easily. As Landon smashed away at it, his expression turned ravenous, vicious, he seemed to take a bizarre pleasure in its destruction. Wendy and I watched. I still wonder if she saw in him the same thing I did then, but I never got a chance to ask her.

When Landon finished his work, he sat back on his heels. He panted, gazing at the jagged hole of splintered wood he’d carved into the floor, and said, “That should do it.” He lifted the flashlight and beamed it down into the hole. I couldn’t make out a damn thing. It was like the darkness was too thick for light to break through. Again, that feeling of deep unease ran through me.

“We’ll be right here,” Wendy said, squeezing my arm in encouragement. “Don’t worry.”

I shook my head, the insanity of the situation becoming impossible to ignore. I couldn’t do this. There was no way I was jumping down into a hole I couldn’t even see the bottom of– why was that so hard for my best friends to understand? “Look guys,” I said diplomatically, “I’m just not feeling it. I’m sorry but–”

A hand shoved my chest. Hard. I gasped, my mind spinning as I realized I was falling, as I realized one of my friends had just pushed me into the hole. I shot out my arms. I tried to catch myself on the sharp ridges of the hole, willing to suffer some cuts and scrapes if it meant saving myself a broken leg, but it was no use.

Screaming, I fell.

Pain found me. It ripped through my tailbone like a gunshot. I cried out, knowing I’d crashed into the bottom of that dark pit, and I wondered how far I’d fallen. My eyes blinked back tears. I couldn’t see a thing. The only thing I was aware of was how much pain I was in.

“Landon!” I heard Wendy shriek above me. “Are you crazy? You could've killed him!”

“Sorry, Wends!” he laughed, sounding more like himself… or at least, an approximation of himself. “I didn’t mean to shove him that hard. Scouts honor. I was only messing around!”

I groaned, looking at the two facing swimming in the darkness. Landon and Wendy. I must have only fallen six or seven feet, but it felt like an eternity. It was also too far for me to get back up on my own. I’d need to find a ladder, or a rope. I pushed myself to my feet to begin my search–

And crumpled to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Wendy called.

I grit my teeth, whimpering in pain. “It’s my ankle,” I said. “I fell on it, and I think it might be broken. I can’t stand up.” I screwed my eyes shut, my eyes watering. I’d never broken a bone before.

“One second,” Wendy shouted. “I’m going to go find a step ladder”

She took the light and disappeared, leaving me and Landon alone.

“Thanks, asshole,” I seethed. “Why’d you have to push me? Are you nuts?”

But Landon didn’t respond. In the darkness, he appeared as little more than an unmoving silhouette, but somehow I got the impression he was staring at me. Like he could see me in a way I couldn’t see him. I heard him tap his hammer against the palm of his hand. I heard him begin to hum, quiet and soft.

“Have you got your phone on you?” I asked, swallowing my pain. “You might need to call my parents– not sure I can make it out of here. Even with a ladder.”

Landon didn’t answer. He continued to hum, slapping his hammer against his palm. My skin crawled. He was watching me. I knew that. I could feel it.

“I’m talking to you!” I shouted, my pain burning through my patience. “Are you listening? I’m fucking hurt because of you asshole, so stop being a creep and answer!”

No, a voice whispered.

I froze. The voice hadn’t come from Landon above – it had come from down here.

My heart pounded. I stared blindly into the darkness, doing my best to parse through the shadows but couldn’t see a thing. A dull thud met my ears. It sounded close. I shifted backward, sliding away from it only to hear what sounded like breathing in the dark. Heavy, ragged breathing.

“Hello?” I gasped.

Something shifted in the black. It sounded like footsteps sliding through dirt, moving slowly, steadily in my direction.

“Landon…” I stuttered. “There’s somebody down here, man!”

No response. Landon kept humming, kept tap tapping his hammer against his palm.

Once again I tried to push myself to my feet. Once again, pain exploded across my ankle. I collapsed into a heap of hyperventilating terror. That thing, whatever was down here with me, shuffled closer still. Panicked, I scanned the dirt floor with my hands, feeling for something, anything, that I could use to defend myself. A rusty knife. A big rock.

Nothing.

Wait.

What was that?

My hands closed around something long. Metallic.

A screwdriver.

“Hey,” Wendy’s voice called from above. “You still alive down there?”

“Get me out of here!” I shouted. “There’s somebody fucking down here!”

Wendy blinded me with the glow of the flashlight beam. “That’s odd,” she muttered. “What’s somebody doing down there?”

What– how the hell was I supposed to know? “Wendy I’m ser–”

“–did you happen to see this mirror, Ian? The one in the bedroom?” Her voice sounded distant. Dreamy. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it’s a real beaut. Now, can you please get me the fuck out of here like RIGHT NOW?”

Why was it so difficult for them to understand I was in trouble down here?

In danger?

Something crashed next to me. I scrambled from the sound, realizing moments later it was the legs of a ladder. The ladder creaked and groaned, its frame bending as Wendy clambered down it, followed by Landon. He jumped onto the dirt.

“You nearly bashed my brains in!” I shouted, furious.

“What is this place?” Landon muttered, ignoring my outburst. “It feels nice. Drafty.”

I studied him warily in the flashlight glow. What had gotten into him? Landon was acting totally bizarre– calling this place nice, drafty? “No idea,” I seethed, “but I think there’s somebody down here so hurry up and help me out.”

“Heard you the first time, Ian,” Wendy said, sweeping the flashlight over the musty crawl space. The beam revealed several thick wooden support frames, stacked together close enough that they almost resembled a twisting corridor. A labyrinth. Scattered all across the ground were fat feces and animal bones.

But no sign of anything else.

Wendy brushed past me, her eyes almost as wide as the smile she wore. Minutes ago, she’d seemed to detest this house, but now she seemed in awe of it. “It’s a total maze,” she breathed. “This crawl space just goes on and on, doesn’t it? There are so many twists and turns down here. I bet you could get lost.”

“How much do you wanna bet there’s something incredible down here?” Landon asked, looking at her with wild eyes. “I bet we could find some old handbags made of human skin if we poked around. A souvenir like that would sell for big bucks.”

“Why don’t we have a look?” Wendy suggested.

Landon and her linked arms.

The idea of Landon going into the dark with Wendy made my skin crawl. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but this Landon wasn’t the Landon I knew, the Landon I grew up with. He was something different. Maybe, something dangerous. Not a minute ago he’d nearly caved my skull in by dropping a ladder on it.

“Don’t,” I said.

The two turned to look at me. Their faces were hard to see beyond the glare of the flashlight, but they looked somehow hollow. Vacant.

“Why?” asked Landon darkly.

“Because I wasn’t kidding before. I saw something down here earlier. Maybe it was just an animal and you two scared it off, but what if it wasn’t?” I swallowed. “Look, let’s just get out of here. It’s late. I’m hurt. Help me up the ladder and let’s all go home? Please?”

Wendy eyed me. “You saw something down here?”

“Well, no. I meant to say I heard something–”

Landon slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Ease up, Ian! We won’t be long. Just do us a favor and try not to piss your pants while we’re gone. The last thing I need is you reeking like a diaper while I’m carrying you down the hill.”

Wendy laughed.

The two took off, their silhouettes shuffling between the support beams, before disappearing around a sharp bend. I swallowed. My skin prickled with goosebumps, and I became acutely aware of how thirsty I felt. Sitting here like this, it was worse than any broken bone. Here, alone in the dark, I felt vulnerable. Open.

A minute passed.

Then a few more.

“Guys?” I called. I couldn’t see the glow of their flashlight anymore. How far did this crawl space go on exactly? It seemed much larger than the footprint of the house above, but maybe I was just imagining things–

Wait.

That sound.

My heart raced, my pain fading beneath a wave of adrenaline. It was the breathing. The same heavy, ragged breathing I’d heard in the darkness before had returned. Except this time it was closer. This time it was next to my ear.

I lashed out. My arm swung in the direction of the breath, my screwdriver held firmly in my grip, but I connected with nothing but open air. “Wendy!” I shouted. “Landon! There’s something here!”

They didn’t respond.

“I’m serious!” I said, and by then I was practically screaming. “Get back here! I’m not kidding around!”

Silence.

Then, from the shadows, a voice. This one high-pitched. Childlike.

Run, it told me. Run now, and don’t stop.

I scrambled away, putting my back against a support beam. I felt like a cornered gazelle. Where was Wendy? Landon? They had to have heard me by now, I’d been shouting at the top of my lungs…

Another voice reached my ears. This one a voice I recognized, and somehow, that felt all the worse.

Landon.

His voice was low, quiet. He sounded like he might be just ahead of me, somewhere in the near that sharp bend where I’d watched him and Wendy disappear just minutes earlier. He’d turned off the flashlight, though. Without it, I couldn’t see a thing.

“Now that we’ve got him here,” Landon said, “I think I’ll bash his brains in. Tenderize them. Then, I’ll give you the first bite.”

“No,” Wendy replied, her voice reverberating all around me. “I want to cut him open and see how much I can eat before he dies.”

“Greedy,” hissed Landon.

“I thought the whole point of bringing him here was so we could take our time?”

“It was, but I wanted to play with his brain, not stir up his guts.” Landon grunted. “Where did you put the saw?”

This didn’t sound a thing like the friends I knew, yet it was unmistakably them. My body quaked. It trembled. Running on instinct, I shot toward the ladder, pain be damned, and gripped the highest hand-hold I could reach. With an agonized groan, I heaved myself upward.

The rung shattered.

I crashed to the dirt, crushing my ankle beneath me for a second time. I screamed in pain. In the dim light spilling from above, I could barely make out the specter of a jagged bone piercing my skin.

“Help!” I shrieked, praying somebody might be walking by Cackle Hill. Maybe they’d hear me. Maybe they’d come rushing up and burst in and–

No. It wasn’t any use. I knew full well that it was late, much too late for people to be going for a stroll near Cackle Hill. And even if they were– how were they going to help? It took the three of us an hour just to make it through the bramble to the house. I didn’t have an hour.

I wasn’t sure I even had a minute.

The sound of footsteps met my ears, accompanied by a low humming. A figure approached in the darkness. Wendy.

“He’s kinda cute when he squirms,” she said.

She held something, patting it against her side. A saw. Rusty, and metal.

“Wendy,” I said, lips trembling. “Stop messing around, alright? I’m not kidding. I’m hurt, and I need help. Okay?”

But Wendy didn’t answer. Instead, she took a shambling step forward, her head snapping to the side, her body moving like a puppet on strings. Her tongue darted across her lips. They split into a manic smile.

Landon stepped into view beside her, his hollow expression lit up by fractured moonlight falling from the hole above. He slapped the head of his hammer against his palm. He hummed along with Wendy, the same song, but out of sync. Detached. Empty.

It matched the expression across his face.

I knew then that my friends were gone– something had crawled beneath their skin and stolen their faces. Something had taken them. Possessed them.

“Let’s savor this, Ian” Wendy. “You and me. Let’s try to enjoy this moment as much as we can, okay?”

“What… the hell does that mean?” I whimpered.

“He’d like an example,” Landon said, “Go on. Don’t be shy, Wend.”

Wendy’s tongue fell out of her mouth. It slowly swept up and across her lips, and all at once, she lunged at me. I shrieked in agony. Her sawblade dug into my shoulder. She carved it back and forth. I roared as it tore into my skin, my blood seeping down my chest and through my jacket.

“Stop!” I screamed, writhing.

But Wendy was gone. My friend was gone. This monster wearing her face stared at her work with manic glee, utter derangement dancing in her eyes as she did her best to tear my arm from my body.

My other hand, still gripping the screwdriver, moved on instinct. I swung at her. I swung with everything I had. I heard a wet popping sound, then watched as Wendy’s mouth dropped open. The gleam in her eyes died. She teetered on top of me for a moment, before falling forward with a soft groan.

A river of red flowed from the side of her head, the screwdriver wedged firmly in her skull. Her blood dripped onto my face. My eyes. I gagged, crying out as I tried to push her off, but Landon was quicker. He clambered on top of her corpse, knocking the wind from me in the process.

“Don’t you ever fucking relax?” he said.

I grunted, twisting and writhing. It was useless. In my state, moving Wendy’s body was hard enough, but both of their weights combined were impossible.

“Your friend wants me to tell you it’ll be easier if you close your eyes,” Landon said, raising the hammer. “But I disagree. I like seeing the lights go out.” He brought it down on my forehead with a crack.

My vision blurred. His silhouette became a mess of shadows. Everything from smells and sounds and even the sickening taste of Wendy’s blood became a slurry of madness. Faintly, I could tell Landon was lifting his hammer again. I could tell her was looking to finish me off.

My hands scrambled across the dirt floor. I felt around desperately, searching for anything I could protect myself with– and my fingers closed around something small. Something sharp.

Landon swung. This time I swung with him, throwing my hand upward, jabbing at him– no, jabbing into him. His eyes went wide in shock.

But it wasn’t enough. I was too slow.

The hammer struck my temple, and my world faded to black.

I awoke to a bright room, with dozens of lights shining down on me. I tossed and turned in an ocean of sheets. My head pounded. I felt disoriented– like I was still half asleep.

“Oh, Ian!” a comforting voice said. “You’re awake!

The voice was cozy, familiar. It felt warm to my ears.

My mother.

I blinked, becoming aware of her rushing to a man in the corner of the room. Get the nurse, she told him. And hurry! The man did not seem happy, but he listened to her all the same.

As my vision adjusted, I realized I knew that man too. He was my father.

My dad left the room, the double-wide doors swinging behind him. A moment later, he returned with another man in light-blue hospital scrubs.

“How do you feel?” my nurse asked. He buzzed around me like an over-vigilant hornet, checking the readings of various instruments as he made notes on his clipboard.

“I feel… a little woozy,” I told him. “Sick.”

He nodded. “I’m not surprised. You suffered a severe concussion.”

“Oh?” It was all I could manage.

“Your skull is fractured,” he explained. “But it looks like you’ve avoided the worst of it. No brain damage. You’re likely to experience migraines for some time, however. Do you know what a migraine is, Ian?”

I tilted my head up and down. Even nodding was difficult. My whole world remained a blur– so much so that I almost missed another person entering the room. A woman. She was wearing a dark jacket, with stern eyes. I didn’t recognize her.

“Where’s Landon?” I croaked to my mother. “And Wendy? Are they okay? I had a really bad dream and–”

My mother choked back a sob.

The woman with stern eyes cleared her throat. She put a hand on my mother’s shoulder, and stepped forward to the side of my bed. “Hello Ian, I’m a detective with the police. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Sure…” I mumbled.

“I need to know if you remember anything about Halloween.”

I wracked my mind. Thinking was hard. The landscape of my thoughts felt like quicksand, falling through my fingers as soon as I reached out to them– but then certain pieces began to jump out at me. Memory fragments.

“I remember going up Cackle Hill,” I said, slowly. My eyes cautiously swiveled to my father, quite certain I was going to be grounded for life for just admitting I’d trespassed on that property. But my father didn’t get upset. He just stood there, gnawing at his lip. I decided to take that as a good sign, and pressed forward. “I went into the house with my friends Landon and Wendy. It was pretty gross. All we saw was some old photographs, a lot of spiders, and this creepy old mirror that…”

I paused.

There was somebody else there with us, wasn’t there? A voice, I thought. A presence.

“So far that matches what we have,” the detective said, referring to a notepad in her hand. “Around 2 a.m., we received several 911 calls from residents in the vicinity of Cackle Hill, claiming they heard shouts for help. Four officers were dispatched to the house via helicopter. They located you unconscious in the crawlspace.”

I took a sharp breath. It was only then I realized I had plastic tubes stuffed into my nostrils, rigged to an oxygen unit next to my bed. Breathing felt difficult. Harder than I remembered.

The detective cleared her throat. “We found you lying beneath the bodies of Landon Mattews and Wendy Song.”

My heart pounded. Somewhere in the room, a machine began to beep more rapidly. “What happened?” I asked, panic slipping into my voice.

The detective exchanges a look with my mother. She takes a deep breath. “Your fingerprints were found on an old screwdriver and a rusty nail. Do either of those objects mean anything to you?”

My thoughts raced. “Should they?”

“Presumably. They were the objects you used to murder Wendy Song and Landon Matthews, respectively.”

I sucked in another sharp breath. Machines sang throughout the hospital room, their choruses rising to shrill new heights. I suddenly felt hot. Unwell. I’d killed my friends– murdered them. It was enough that I felt numb all over, like my entire body had been crushed beneath the weight of the nightmare itself.

Like it wasn’t even there.

“What we’ve been so far unable to explain, however,” the detective continued, “is the fact that both Landon Matthew’s and Wendy Song’s corpses were partially consumed at the time they were located. Their faces, particularly their cheeks, had been badly bitten. We found traces of their DNA in your teeth, and presently, we believe we’d found evidence of their consumption in your stomach.”

I wanted to vomit.

My mother stepped forward. She raised a hand to the detective, and spoke with a hoarse, broken voice. “That’s enough,” she said. “He doesn’t need to hear that. Not now.”

No, I didn’t need to hear that. Not now. Not ever.

But the detective paid my mother a frown. “Unfortunately, he does. Based on lab analysis of the bite marks, it’s likely that your son not only murdered his classmates– but partially cannibalized them. I’d like to know why. So, I think, would their parents.”

My head spun. How could this be happening? I’d never– there was no way…

“Jesus Christ!” my father shouted, shocking me. My father was normally a quiet, stern man and difficult to get a rise out of. “Look at him, lady! You think he had a choice? You think he crawled underneath their bodies? No! They were trying to fucking kill him and he defended himself!”

My mother pressed a soothing hand against my dad’s chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. It seemed to calm him somewhat. But only barely.

“Self defense is entirely legal,” the detective agreed, “but cannibalism is not self-defense.” She rounded on me, getting right up next to my bedside, leaning down so that her and I were eye level. “But the thing I’d like you to help me understand, Ian, is who the other bite marks belonged to.”

“O-other bite marks?” I sputtered.

“Yes. In addition to those found on their cheeks, your friends also had bite marks on their arms and legs. Strips had been torn clean. Who attacked them in such a savage manner is something that we’ve thus far been unable to determine, but we do know those marks were made by human teeth.”

A shiver ran through me, but whether it was the drugs coursing through my veins, or the sheer horror I felt, I barely registered it. My body felt frozen. Unable to move.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sorry… I didn’t see anybody else.”

“You’re certain?”

Something bubbled up inside of me. Horror, frustration, self-loathing and shame, coalesced into something like rage, and I finally snapped. “Why would I lie to you?” I shouted. “My best friends are dead and I’m sitting here with a busted ankle and tubes sticking out of me, and you’re telling me I ate them, and now you’re calling me a liar?” Tears poured from my eyes. My mouth trembled with sobs. “What’s wrong with you?”

The detective’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t… feel it then, did you?”

I blinked back the tears. “Feel what?”

She looked to my mother and father, and then to the nurse. Her eyes swam with horror. All three of them looked away from the detective, almost as though they couldn’t bear to get involved.

“I’m sorry to be the one to show you this,” she said, eyes downcast. Reluctantly, she pulled back the sheet covering my torso. With every inch the sheet moved, my heart pounded.

I watched it pound.

I watched my lungs contract and expand. I watched my body, or what was left of it, go about its business as though my torso were transparent and not split open. Tubes spilled out of me from all angles. So many of my organs were missing.

Along with my arms. My legs.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry. It was all I could do to stare at my hollowed out body in silent horror.

“Whatever took those bites out of your friends…” the detective began, unease in her voice. “We think they also dismembered you, Ian.”

She paused. Gave herself a moment to take a deep, shuddering breath. “They chewed your limbs to the bone, then laid them next to you in a cross. We discovered a small incision made into your side. From what the surgeon suspects, that incision was used to reach inside of you and pull out pieces of your organs. Not enough to kill you. Just enough to taste.”

The detective lowered her eyes

“We found your appendix partially devoured on the far side of the crawlspace, as well as various pieces of your large intestine scattered throughout the house. All partially consumed. Mercifully, your wounds had been cauterized. That’s probably the only reason you're still alive and breathing."

My mind felt blank. I couldn’t process what she was saying. Sure, it was true that I was alive, but did that matter anymore? Could I even exist in a state like this? Existential panic like I’d never felt began to crash in on me like a collapsing dam.

"Ian," the detective said. "If you have any idea who did this to you, I need to know now. Whoever did this to you could be out there intending to hurt more people.”

Whoever did this to me?

My heart pounded. I watched it beat, thump thump, and I knew the detective was right– whoever did this would hurt more people. Maybe not today. Maybe not for another decade even. But they would, eventually.

I knew that for certain.

"Ian?" the detective pressed. "Please. Our clock is ticking on catching this monster– anything you know. Anything you can remember. Do you know who did this to you?”

Of course I did.

I think everybody in that room knew, even if they didn't want to admit it. All of them, standing there and looking at me like I was the victim of some sick junkie or escaped asylum patient. None of them wanted to believe the truth. None of them wanted to accept the fact that the man who fed on my insides was already dead.

He'd been dead for over a hundred years.

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ndostairlyrium · 1 year

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OC approval gifts tag meme

I was tagged by @greypetrel and @blightbear to list what gifts would have my ocs give approval à la origins style! Thanks luvs ;; I love these games so much!

Ela:

Copper bracelet. A cheap accessory, possibly a souvenir, shaped like a crown of laurels

The dialog you could have before acquiring that item would be focused on nostalgia and how she liked to browse those kitschy souvenir stands at the city gates when she visited it with Fergus. They would wear disguises and just spend the day without a single worry, for then being horribly scolded by everyone back at the castle. It would take a lot for her to open up about her roots, so prepare yourself with a ton of gifts that would require killing dragons and spoiling an armory.

Hawke:

Seeds. A tin box engraved with the depiction of a poodle containing mixed seeds

Cabbage, onion, turnip, celery, and carrot. Vegetables he was used to treat back home. He doesn't talk much about his past history as a farmhand, it's something you have to unlock after a few conversations because it's a rather sensitive topic to him - if this was ME this would be a post-loyalty mission cutscene. He really doesn't have much space to cultivate things for himself in Kirkwall, the exception being aromatic herbs. But a box of seeds that suggests him that the countryside is still there whenever he's done with city business? Oh, he's enthusiastic! It means future, and before getting those he was afraid there was nothing left for him.

Ankh:

Expired gift card. A distressed voucher for The Wonders of Thedas with an undead dressed all fancy riding a monocycle

This item has no use, except that it gives her so much serotonin you'd need to dam it or else it would go overboard. She's very passionate about undead and moving skeletons, you can say she loves them to death. She thinks that what possesses them has a distinct curiosity that most people lack and they just want to roam around and see the world. "They wanna be here and be themselves, and nobody acts like that anymore. Demons reflect our imperfections, but also our deepest desires and we are terrified of them because of that. The more we accept our flaws, our interests, our core, the less those entities have power over us. Just let them be and they would do no harm. Also they're fucking hilarious, look at that femur doing kickflips to stay in place!" It doesn't take much to get this information, but it would take a lot for her to discuss her history with questioning authority over drastic decisions - you can unlock it after she receives the card. She would tell you the story of a bad breakup that led her to find an undead threat that her Keeper handled poorly because she choose conveniency over logic. That episode helped her to build the person that she is and the card is a reminder that her uniqueness makes her stronger and better.

I'm tagging (with no pressure whatsoever): @bruxbea @underneathestars @sparatus @that-one-halfwit @moxxihodunk @tatert07s @ratajota @melisusthewee @ladyfenharel

#tag meme #oc approval gifts #ankh #kerry #elanor cousland #kerry as samvise gamgee confirmed #going through my likes and follower list for tags was a lovely experience I really hope I'm not being annoying with it :'#feel free to ignore really

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rom-e-o · 7 months

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The Sun and Her Star (Constance/Ebenezer)

@quill-pen I got to thinking more about Starry's birth, and oof.

Trigger warning for birth-related descriptions and semi-graphic imagery. Nothing tooo intense though.

A nurse stood in the doorway to the master bedroom, hands splayed outward defensively to fill the doorframe as best she could. “Sir, please, it’s not customary for you to—”

“To hell with your bloody customs!” the man beyond the threshold said, his voice deep yet string with panic. “My wife is giving birth! I hear her screaming!"

"I understand you're upset, but Mr. Scrooge-"

"'Upset'? You think I'm ONLY upset?"

Constance felt searing pain down her midsection. Pain surged like fire behind her eyes, and whenever she opened them to try and find her husband, blinding whiteness made her whimper. The pain she felt was worse than when both of her femurs had snapped in half after being pushed down the stairs years before.

The pain was blinding. Every passing second felt like a thousand-year war to stay awake. Then, worst of all, there was the smell of blood. Blood and bile. All hers.

“E-Ebenezer…” she whispered as another incredible flood of pressure tore through her. She tried to extend a hand in the direction of his voice.

She heard frantic footsteps. Seconds later, a familiar hand gripped hers like a vice.

“Connie, my sunflower…” Scrooge whispered. His voice was feather-soft but frayed at the edges with a terror she shared. He placed a kiss atop her knuckles, pressing his lips hard into her skin. “I’m right here.”

She turned her head in the direction of the voice. This time, when she opened her eyes, she saw his visage over her.

As expected, he looked about as swell as she did. He was still handsome – she’d always find him handsome, but he looked haggard. The labor had gone on for hours, and neither of them had slept. The birth had started shortly after midnight, and now, the rays of dawn were starting to warm the room and fill it with the telltale, rosy glow of early springtime.

The once serene bedroom was now filled with nurses and medical professionals bustling about. Magda, who would have normally been preparing breakfast, now sprinted back and forth bringing the midwife with all the hot water and towels she could possibly need.

“Constance, you need to push again,” one nurse said, her face buried beneath a bloodied swatch of cloth that was draped over the woman’s knees. “Nothing’s happening.”

Push again? She could barely stay awake.

“I…I…” Constance stammered, the ability to make words leaving her. “Y-Yes, I’ll push.”

Bracing herself, she rose to her elbows. Filling her lungs with air, she ground her teeth and tightened her muscles with all her might.

Seconds later, the midwife chirped up merrily. “Good! The baby is crowning! We’re head-first – good.”

Despite the excellent news, Ebenezer remained focused on his wife and trying to comfort her through the very obvious pain she felt.

He dabbed her forehead with a cold cloth, knowing she hated the feeling of being sweaty. She gave him an appreciative smile that, while beautiful, he knew was forced. Her strength was waning, and she was trying to be strong.

The only panacea was Ebenezer at her side, squeezing her hand and stroking her sweat-drenched hair.

As she gazed into his slate-blue eyes, she felt tears well up in hers. With no voice left to speak, she hoped he could read her mind.

I don’t want to leave you yet. I want to meet our baby. I’m not ready. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you. I love you. I love you I love you love you love you so much.

All other sights and sounds faded into white noise around her. The pain she felt deafened her and made her vision cloudy. It felt like the world was drifting away from her, or perhaps that she was drifting away from the world.

“Connie, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice breaking as she gently shook her. When she didn’t respond, fear gripped his chest. “Connie? Constance? Constance!”

“Sir,” a nurse piped up, her voice measured despite the situation, “Keep your voice down—”

“Help me get her upright!” Ebenezer pleaded. He jumped up and slid his arms down Constance’s back, lifting her torso off the mattress so it could rest on his chest. Gravity would help, right? Why the hell did women give birth laying down, anyway?

When he felt how cold her skin was, he let out an inadvertent sob.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not to her.

“Sir, she—”

“She’s unconscious!” he cried. Tears poured down his face now. The man was white as a ghost, his eyes red and hands trembling. He looked like an embodiment of fear itself. “Please, please help me!”

Her body moved on its own. Unable to voice her confusion, she could only focus on her breathing as she felt her body lift from the mattress and slip into a kneeling position on the bed. He felt weightless and lead-like all at the same time.

Almost immediately, a wave of relief washed over her. Ragged breaths escaped her, and her choked sobs of pain turned choppy and frantic.

The baby was coming. It was coming, and she didn’t have to push as hard.

Letting gravity aid her, the surges of agony shifted into a sensation more akin to cramps. Strong aches radiated from her abdomen and all the way to her thighs, sides and buttocks. There was pressure on her bladder, and a stretch in her vagina that rendered her speechless with pain.

Watery voices around her pleaded for her to stay awake. Not to push, not to fight, just to stay awake. To stay alive.

Then, minutes later … euphoria.

A loud gasp escaped her as the pressure evaporated, her knees went slack and … she heard the sound of crying. A baby crying.

Two strong, familiar arms embraced her and kept her from toppling over and off the bed. Constance felt she familiar shape of Ebenezer’s chest, his aftershave and soft pajamas sensations she pinpointed as unequivocally his despite being on the brink of sleep.

“It’s a girl!” one bystander cried merrily.

“Red hair, just like her mama.”

“Hurry, bring me a clamp!”

Magda let out a sob of relief, and Prudence whimpered from beyond the door.

While joy radiated around the room, Constance felt weak. Empty. Achy.

Thankfully, the person holding her sensed her discomfort, and immediately laid her down. She lay supine, breathing steadily, her cheeks streaking with silver trails from her tears. She felt dizzy and too warm all at once, and all the noise in the room made her nauseous.

Then, she felt him.

His hands cupped her ears, helping to shield out some noise, as she felt his forehead press to hers. The brush of his muttonchops was undeniable, and she felt his nose press into her cheek.

“Constance. You did it. My brilliant, beautiful girl…thank you.”

He repeated her name like a mantra, arms holding her close despite the blood and bodily fluids that soaked her and the bedspread.

“Are you with me?” he asked, his voice soft and afraid. “I’m sorry I moved you. I-I…are you hurting? What can I do?”

The redheaded woman stared up at him in a daze. Then, her dry lips formed a smile. She kissed his cheek gently, which took more strength than any feat of strength she’d ever had to accomplish before.

“T-Thank you…” she croaked. "I-I'm here."

At hearing her speak, it was as if a spell of terror was broken. With a cry of elation, all the emotion he felt poured forth. He squeezed her tightly and kissed every inch of her face.

The onslaught of affection went on for half a minute until he realized she probably needed space. He stepped away briefly to dry his eyes and collect himself. Magda went to the man’s side, rubbing his back and whispering sweet words to him.

While they talked, another nurse began to help her change out of her soiled bedclothes and into a fresh nightgown. The gown was long and white; a little austere for her tastes, but so comfortable that she actually moaned as she was tucked in. Ebenezer laughed from the other side of the room, still shaking with relief.

Once she was cleaned up, the nurse came around the bed carrying a bundle in her arms. When she saw tiny hands stretch out from the bundle, the skin as pink and wrinkly as the belly of a newborn kitten, all the pain from before was forgotten. She found the strength to lean forward, but to the nurse’s chagrin, and opened her arms. “I-Is that…?”

“Yes, this is her,” the nurse said. Her professional medical decorum from before had melted into something more gentle as she stared down at the recovering woman. “Congratulations, dear. You’re a mother.”

A mother.

A small, swaddled baby with reddish-brown hair was deposited into Constance’s arms. She reflexively tucked the baby close to her chest, patting her protectively.

Now beaming from excitement, she mouthed for Ebenezer to join her, as well as Magda. The two edged closer, Ebenezer taking the lead.

When he drew close enough to gaze into his daughter’s eyes, he shivered and drew in a steady breath. “Gods, she’s so beautiful.”

The small baby was barely a minute old, and already looked entranced by the world around her. Wide, crystal-clear eyes glanced around the room with evident curiosity.

“She’s gorgeous, love,” Magda said while using the corner of her apron to dab her tears. “Just like you.”

The newborn's cheeks were flushed bright red, and her tiny nose had an owlish shape that Constance knew would give her a Roman profile as stunning as her father’s.

“Welcome, you amazing girl…” Constance whispered. The redheaded baby, her eyes large and crystal-blue, stared back at her mother like a mortal glimpsing a goddess.

“My beautiful star.”

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge netflix #scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode #starla dogoode #tw birth

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bekandrew · 7 months

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Little Shop of Body Horrors

Even flesh-horrors have to have hobbies. Come into the workshop. My pack priest Delta in their shed from that time the local Sabbat took over a farm. They're teaching a young Lasombra about being a pack priest while they work. Oil on Canvas. Print available: https://bekandrew.artstation.com/store/art_posters/g5JL9/little-shop-of-body-horrors [Alt ID: side view of humanoid monster with two sets of eyes, two mouths, purplish skin covered in scarification designs like scales and a dragon, black hair tied back in a bun with a braid of flesh, and a crown of short antler-like bone horns wearing casual clothes molds a femur like clay in a dimly lit shed filled with other body parts. There's a workbench the monster is sat at. A young woman sits facing the monster. End ID.]

#queer artist #trans artist #print #print for sale #my art #art #artstation #horror #body horror #organs #tzimisce #vtm #vampire the masquerade #bones #halloween #vampire #sabbat

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vincent-sinclair-deserved-better · 1 year

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Circular Gallifreyan shenanigans

Finished:

Sentences:

The Sinclairs love you (thesinclairsloveyou, no outer circle)

Your f/o's love you (yourfo'sloveyou)

Your teeth look sharp. Your visage terrifies men. The crown of femurs atop your head is dazzling.

Your brain is a bag of marbles dumped onto a hard floor, rolling into corners unknown.

Didja bring a friend or didja find a bear?

Names:

Bo, Vincent

Fang, Ace,Payton, Anna -> misspelled Fang, technically it now says Fath xD

Orian, Bex, Tyler, Meg -> forgot to erase a line in Tyler

Loveless, Meadow, Kim, Mari -> Meadow is missing the A

Nymphie, Demy, Lily, Demetria

Jack, Jill, Sol, Mint

Imelda, Izzy, Drew, Moth

Urls:

shonkgobonk

the-pinstriped-hood

Sketchs/scribbles:

Names, August 2022

March 2023

Progress pics:

Your brain...

Your teeth look sharp.

The crown of femurs atop your head is dazzling.

#cylas speaks #cylas makes stuff #circular gallifreyan

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storms-path · 9 months

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FFXIV Write 2023 Day 13 - Check

Arashi awoke to pain.

“Hold still, I’m still working here,” was the brusque reply, followed by a hand forcing her back down. Arashi just about had energy enough to turn her head to the source of the voice, eyes still blurry. Fareena (or the green-ish blob that was probably Fareena) was rolling something around her leg, something white and long. It hurt. But she wasn’t the voice. To her right, Stalwart’s arm (again, probably) was keeping her neatly pinned down as a steady stream of aether flowed from her into Arashi’s broken body.

“Smashed ribs, broken femur, cut in more places than I care to count, one bad enough to require immediate stemming. Fareena, apply pressure on her right hip, that’s where the cut is deepest.” Fareena complied without a word, for once robbed of pithy comments. “What was that thing? Surely it couldn’t have only been a man, surely…” Quieter, low enough that Arashi had to strain to hear it. Something was wrong with one of her horns. It felt lighter.

“Y’shtola…” she managed to gasp out, voice rough and unsteady.

“Krile’s tending to her. She’ll live, if only just.” Stalwart’s own voice was strained, devoid of her usual tone. “You, on the other hand, nearly bled out before we could get to you.” Arashi’s vision was getting clearer, clear enough to see the tears staining Stalwart’s face.

“Sorry,” was all she could manage. Fareena grunted, perhaps in amusement or perhaps in admonishment. Her face gave nothing away. “The others? Alive?”

“Thanks to your idiocy, yes.” Stalwart must have been terrified to be this terse. “We were too late to save Mefrid, he was gone as soon as the sword pierced his heart. Several other resistance members are too injured to fight any time soon. But you held off that monster long enough for us to evacuate.” At the cost of yourself, was the unspoken conclusion. Arashi was sure she heard Fareena muttering something to herself, perhaps that the reckless Au Ra reminded her of herself. Somehow that was worse than Stalwart’s comments.

Arashi’s gaze was drawn to something in the corner, something red peeking from a rough length of cloth. Fareena followed her gaze to the object, then quickly looked away. Arashi furrowed her brow in confusion before realisation clicked. Her sword. Or what was left of it. The crown prince of Garlemald had shattered it like a child’s toy. The best craftspeople of Idyllshire had come together to gift her that blade, and now it was barely more than a hilt and a jagged edge. Utterly useless. To its side, tucked against the wall of the dingy tent, was her mother’s blade. Sheathed and waiting patiently. Her only choice now.

“Where are the others?” Arashi asked, her strength slowly returning despite the pain.

“Taking stock of their losses,” was Fareena’s reply. Her dry undertones were also vacant, her eyes harder than Arashi had ever seen. Making ready to pack up and move, from the sounds of it. Their spirit broke when your sword did.”

Nothing for it, then. Arashi slowly pushed herself up, ignoring Stalwart’s shocked gasp or Fareena’s warning glare. “Take me to them. Carry me if you have to.” Her voice brooked no argument. “Or else I’ll crawl there myself.” She wouldn’t abandon the fight, not now. She’d never be able to face Lyse again.

Fareena and Stalwart exchanged a glance, then looped their arms under Arashi’s shoulders and lifted her to her feet… and past them, into the air. Arashi’s squawk of surprise was quickly shut down by Stalwart’s glare. “It’s this or nothing.” Her voice brooked no argument either. Together the pair half dragged, half carried Arashi out of the tent and into the night, to the dimly lit command table where the leaders had gathered. Alphinaud was speaking, making some grand point about a war on two fronts and dividing the enemy’s attention. None of them noticed the trio approaching until Arashi spoke up, willing her voice to be as clear as it could.

“Then we take the fight to Doma.”

Silence erupted, then a chorus of alarm, surprise and dismay. The Warrior of Light was swiftly ushered back to her tent… after she made Alphinaud promise not to leave her behind.

Doma. Her sister. Her home. I’m coming. Wait for me.

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #cw: descriptions of injury #arashi washi #stalwart mountain #fareena hagen #arashi got fucked uuuuuuup by zenos at rhalgr's reach #to the point where she spends most of the trip to doma locked in her cabin recovering #it's something i figured right after seeing that whole instance unfold for the first time #but now i finally get to write about it #yaaaaaay trauma!

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snippity · 2 years

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Crowned in Mandibles, the Starved Priestess She grew up among the ropeways and stalactites of the Castles in the Ceiling, where she reveled in change, strength, and faith. Her birth name was Femur Biter, for the way she gnawed at them; her mature name was adopted upon ascension to the priesthood of Hvezda, the Moon-Mother, where she read prophecies in glim and blessed amulets for warriors before raids. When the sounds of battle rang out from within Hvezda’s shell and the Starved were called to war in Parabola, she followed through as a warrior-priestess. It was there that she found appreciation in the skills of London’s shapelings, and the possibility of collaboration with London’s own free peoples.

Commission for @hotshotblackburn of his Starved Man OC! (Description above written by him.)

#fallen london #failbetter games #art #digital art #commissions #body horror #teeth //#ask to tag

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thevanishingmuffins · 2 years

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ok this quote is part of a tumblr post that I obviously didn't save cause I sometimes don't think